Dark Descendant

TWENTY-FIVE

I stood on the shore of the pond, chilled down to my bones in sympathy for Anderson as I watched the ripples from his dive glide over the glassy-smooth surface. With the full moon hidden, the only light came from the ambient glow of the nearby city. It was enough that I didn’t feel completely blind, but I was uncomfortably aware of the blackness of the shadows—shadows that could hide anything.

Figuring a little paranoia might be healthy under the circumstances, I put my backpack down and rooted through it until I found my gun. I pointed the gun at the ground and kept my finger off the trigger, remembering how badly I’d been startled earlier by the deer. It wouldn’t do for me to fire blindly out of startled reflex if another deer made an appearance.

Anderson’s head broke the water at the center of the pond. Immediately, steam rose from his skin. The shadows hid his expression, and I didn’t dare call out to him. He dove again after a few quick breaths, his feet flashing up into the air as he went straight down.

Did that mean he’d found her? If he was still looking, he should be swimming forward, not straight down. Right? I held my breath in anticipation. It was all I could do not to cross my fingers like a superstitious child.

He stayed down a long time, long enough for me to worry that something had gone wrong. For all I knew, the Olympians had pet monsters that lived in the bottoms of ponds. I had yet to fully embrace the magic I’d already witnessed, and I’d been slow to ponder what my newfound knowledge of the supernatural meant to the rest of my narrow view of the world. I shifted uneasily from foot to foot, hoping like hell he would hurry up and surface before I felt obligated to go in after him.

Moments later, he bobbed to the surface once more, sucking in a great gasp of air. I opened my mouth to call out to him, too curious now to worry about who else might hear me, but before a sound left my throat, I was blinded by a bolt of lightning, traveling horizontally across the lawn.

The lightning hit the surface of the pond, and I heard Anderson’s strangled cry of pain. The residual energy of the bolt lifted me off my feet and tossed me onto my back. The gun fell from my fingers as I hit the ground, and a clap of thunder resonated so loud it sent a spike of pain through my head.

Woozy, blind, and deaf, I retained just enough brain cells to know holding still was a bad idea. I rolled over until I got my feet under me, then broke into a stumbling run, having no idea where I was going. I could have run straight into the icy water, but, for once, luck was on my side, and I managed to stay on the smooth, grassy lawn.

My hair rose on end, and I instinctively dove forward just in time. The next lightning bolt struck the ground just a few yards away. I clapped my hands over my ears to dull the roar of the thunder as I squeezed my eyes tightly shut. I was close enough to the point of impact that the electricity in the air made my heart beat erratically, but at least it was beating.

Once again, I forced myself to my feet. Even through my closed lids, the flash had been hell on my night vision. However, I could see just well enough to point myself toward the trees before I started running again.

A third bolt incinerated a tree seconds after I made it into the cover of the woods. The concussion knocked me down to my hands and knees, but I was up and running again in a fraction of a second. There were no further bolts as I zigzagged through the trees, slowing my pace just enough to keep from tripping over roots and sprawling on my face.

My ears popped and my vision started to clear—not that I could see much in the darkness. But the return of my physical senses signaled the return of my higher reasoning as well. If I couldn’t see in this darkness, then probably my enemies couldn’t, either. However, they could hear me crashing headlong through the underbrush. My flight was making me more conspicuous rather than less so.

I forced myself to slow down, sucking in one calming breath after another. I hadn’t caught even a glimpse of our attacker, but since Alexis was a descendant of Zeus, it seemed a logical conclusion that he was the one who’d thrown the lightning bolts. And, while the bolt in the water wouldn’t have killed Anderson—at least, not permanently—it would certainly have disabled him for a while.

Anderson’s “treaty” with the Olympians obviously wasn’t anything close to bulletproof. Perhaps Alexis had only been taking advantage of a perceived loophole when he attacked Steph, and the treaty itself was still nominally in place. Maybe that treaty meant Alexis would fish Anderson out of the water, then let him go. But though I’d been forced to retreat, there was no way I was going to abandon Anderson and hope for the best.

Of course, I wasn’t sure what use I was to Anderson in the current situation. My gun lay abandoned on the lawn somewhere, and though I’d have loved to call for help—for the backup Anderson had failed to bring with him, the idiot!—my cell phone was in the backpack at the edge of the pond.

I stopped for a moment to think, listening intently for any sounds of pursuit. The only sound I heard was the wind whistling through the branches above. No doubt Alexis thought I’d done the sensible thing and run for my life.

It was hard to get my bearings in the depths of the darkened woods, but I’d always had a pretty good sense of direction. I relied on that sense of direction now as I attempted to steer myself back toward the security camera I’d knocked out of position earlier. I managed to find it, then groped around on the ground until I found the rock I’d thrown at it. As weapons went, it wasn’t much, but it was heavy enough to do some damage if I threw it just right.

Heading back through the trees toward the pond, I hoped I wasn’t making the world’s biggest mistake.

The situation was pretty damn grim. Alexis, looking smug and superior, stood by the side of the pond. Beside him stood another man—unfamiliar to me, but with a haughty bearing that immediately pegged him as another Olympian. They watched the water as a third man towed an unconscious—or maybe temporarily dead—Anderson toward the shore.

Three men, one rock. I didn’t like the odds. I tried to spot my gun in the grass, but either the shadows hid it, or one of the bad guys had picked it up.

The third man labored out of the water, visibly shivering as he dragged Anderson’s limp body through the shallows and then up onto dry land. Neither of the Liberi looked inclined to help, and I guessed that the third man was a mortal Descendant—a lesser being from the Olympians’ point of view.

“Bind him,” Alexis commanded.

Panting with exertion, Alexis’s flunky turned Anderson over onto his stomach, then dragged his hands behind his back and secured them with a pair of handcuffs he drew from his sopping pants. Unlike Anderson, he’d gone into the water fully clothed. I suspected he was regretting it now as the wind gusted over his wet skin.

“M-may I t-take him now, my lord?” the Descendant stammered, hunching his shoulders and crossing his arms over his chest as if that would keep him warm.

My lord? Talk about delusions of grandeur. Unfortunately, the question made me realize the treaty was truly out the window. I had no doubt the Descendant was asking for Alexis’s permission to kill Anderson and steal his immortality.

“Not yet, Peter,” Alexis said in a tone of almost affectionate condescension. “I’d like to have a few words with him first. Why don’t you run back to the house and put on some dry clothes? He’ll still be here when you get back.”

Peter got to his feet and actually bowed to Alexis. I rolled my eyes, amazed at Alexis’s arrogance even as I tried to figure out how to take advantage of the slightly improved odds. I wondered if Konstantin, the self-proclaimed king, knew Alexis was having people bow to him and call him “my lord.” I would have thought Konstantin the type to reserve such accolades for himself alone.

Peter trotted off to the house, leaving Anderson lying on his stomach in the grass. I couldn’t tell whether he was breathing or not. I’d like the odds a whole lot better if he were conscious. I didn’t know what his capabilities were—other than that Hand of Doom thing, which I didn’t figure he could pull off while in handcuffs—but as long as he was just lying there, any heroics I tried would be useless. Even if I managed to take out both Liberi with my one stone, I wasn’t Maggie, and I wouldn’t be able to carry Anderson to safety.

I wished like hell I could figure out a way to take advantage of Peter’s absence, but with Anderson out cold, there was nothing I could do.

“You really mean to do it?” the second Liberi asked as soon as Peter was out of earshot.

Alexis nodded. “I was happy to bide my time, but if the fool is going to deliver himself to me with a pretty bow tied around him, I’m not going to refuse the gift.”

The other guy looked uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot. “What about Konstantin? He won’t be happy.”

Alexis dismissed Konstantin with a negligent wave. “He can hardly complain about me eliminating his greatest enemy.”

“If he wanted Anderson dead, he would be dead by now. There must be a reason he hasn’t killed him yet—”

“Enough! If you’re feeling squeamish, you can tuck your tail between your legs and go running back to your master. I won’t hold it against you, as long as you keep your mouth shut. And you will keep your mouth shut, won’t you, Dean?” This last was said in a menacing croon designed to turn blood to ice.

“O-of course,” Dean stammered. “I mean, I’m not going anywhere. I’m on your side, always.”

On Alexis’s side of what, I wondered? Was there dissension within the ranks of the Olympians? I had sensed some undercurrents between Konstantin and Alexis when I’d met them at the Sofitel, but I’d assumed much of that was playacting, meant to emphasize how big and powerful Konstantin was.

Anderson coughed loudly, and everyone jumped—including me—though we’d all been expecting it. He turned over onto his side and coughed some more, painful, racking spasms that brought up gouts of water and made him gag. But at least he was alive, and awake. I hefted my stone, but until Anderson had quit coughing, I doubted he would be in any shape to take out whichever Olympian I didn’t hit.

I decided that as soon as Anderson was able to breathe without retching, I’d take out Alexis. I had no idea which divine ancestor Dean was descended from, or what powers he might have, but I did know Alexis could throw lightning bolts, and those were a dangerous long-distance weapon. I had to hope that whatever Dean’s powers were, they weren’t much use in a fight.

“It never occurred to you that there would be extra security on your lady wife once you took a Descendant of Artemis into your household?” Alexis mocked, though I wasn’t sure Anderson could hear him over all the coughing. “I never took you for a fool, but then women do tend to have a negative influence on masculine intelligence.”

Still coughing, though not quite as desperately, Anderson managed to push himself up to his knees. I still didn’t think he was capable of doing anything really useful like fighting or running.

A flash of movement in the distance caught my eye, and I realized I was running out of time: Peter was coming back. When he got here, he would kill Anderson, and that would be that.

Of course, Peter was only human for the time being. I hefted the rock, wondering if I could put enough oomph into my throw to kill.

The thought shocked me, but only for a moment. I wasn’t a killer, but I wasn’t some helpless damsel in distress who would stand horrified and useless on the sidelines, either. I knew next to nothing about Peter, but if he was in cahoots with Alexis, then he was a bad guy, period. I wouldn’t feel bad about killing him.

At least, that’s what I told myself.

“Stay out of this, Nikki!” Anderson suddenly shouted, his voice loud and clear despite all the coughing.

I was so startled I almost dropped my rock. Dean jumped, and Peter started running faster, but Alexis just laughed.

“You think she hung around to try to save your pathetic hide?” Alexis asked through his laughter. “Or is that supposed to make me paranoid?” He looked straight at Anderson, not glancing away for a moment—proving how unthreatened he felt. Of course, his cronies were doing enough looking around; he didn’t have to. I huddled down lower behind the bush I was using for cover.

Did Anderson know I was here somehow? Had that been an actual order? Or was Alexis right, and he’d just been trying to distract the opposition?

The moment of indecision cost me, and by the time I made up my mind to ignore Anderson’s command—if it even was a command—it was too late. Peter had drawn a gun—my gun, I suspected—and was pointing it at Anderson. If I managed to clock him with my rock, the impact might cause him to pull the trigger. I didn’t dare risk it.

Feeling a little like that useless damsel in distress after all, I remained crouched behind the bush, hoping Anderson had some kind of a miracle plan up his sleeve, because I was plum out of ideas.