Page 9 of Immortal Sun (Dark Olympus)

CHAPTER 9

CYRUS

“Better to fight and fall than to live without hope.” —Volsunga, ch. 12

I start eating and ask the server, Mara, to bring out Cleo’s food in another few minutes.

The food tastes stale.

It always does.

You eat to survive. That’s something I’ve learned. You do not eat for pleasure; pleasure draws you astray more than anything. It’s why there are lines even I don’t cross. I never have. My self-control is one of the reasons I am who I am, without it—I shudder to even think what would happen.

I watch Cleo out of the corner of my eye while I sip my coffee. She touches the walls with care, with love, as if she’s seen them before.

Many have, they just don’t remember. That’s what Chaos does to you after all, it’s why she should not exist. She was the last brought into this world twenty-six years ago and so she will return, how tragic, if only she’d been born two minutes before her brother, then Chaos’s power would have gone into him—not her. Mere minutes and her life would have been given to her freely. Mere minutes.

It will be a kindness, like showing mercy to the tiny little ant that thinks it has purpose before squashing it beneath your shoe.

I wonder if she’ll faint like everyone else. I’m sure all the trapped immortals here in this end of the city are already taking bets. I’m completely convinced that Anubis and Cassius already have a running pot in Seattle at SYN one of Anubis’s competing bars, in the actual nice part of the city. Sometimes I hate that demon.

I get up when she makes her way around the corner, curious as to what she’s going to say about the décor.

My boots click against the hardwood floor, people look up from their tables and nod in my direction.

Lesser gods, stuck here having failed their trials, know when to honor one going through it. They touch their finger just below their right eye—the Eye of Ra and casually get back to their meals. They know I am almost finished—they know that I will ascend to my place while they will forever be stuck here.

I’m thankful they waited until Cleo was out of sight.

They typically wait when it comes to outsiders, but some are forgetful, especially the younger ones who don’t really even know their own history—just that they have to respect the old immortals, specifically the ones that are actively in their human trials like myself.

Lights flicker as I walk toward the restroom area and the final hallway that leads to the manager’s office.

Cleo is leaning as close as she can to the wall, intently examining the wood and frowning. She shakes her head, then grabs her phone from her back pocket and begins typing furiously on it like the phone personally offended her in some way. “No, no, that can’t be right.”

“What can’t?” I casually lean against the opposing wall.

She jumps a foot, nearly dropping her phone to the floor before tapping the screen again. “You scared the hell out of me.”

She still doesn’t look up but points at the wall in frustration. “Is this a joke?”

I take a step toward her. “That depends. Is it funny?”

“Laughable, actually.” She seems pissed. “I mean this is your place, right? And you’re the CEO of Raaiden, it doesn’t make sense that you’d put this up here.”

Ah, so it’s going to go that way. Of course.

She taps her finger against the wall as if I can’t see it. “This isn’t accurate. Why would everything be accurate in the decorations but this?”

“And the ‘this’ you’re referring to?” I play dumb and walk closer until I’m a foot away from her pointed stare and palpable annoyance.

She points at the wall again. “Osiris was good, faithful. He saved his people—and Ra, well Ra basically did nothing but get chased by Chaos. If anything, Ra just looked down on humanity and watched after fighting off the end of the world over and over again. The— the?—”

What’s this feeling in my chest? Mild annoyance? Is this what getting insulted by a human feels like? I’m trying not to get irritated but the more she talks about the “myths” and what she “knows,” the angrier I become, the more I want to take her back to the house and shove her into the mouth of the cave where she belongs. Let her learn her lessons in real time, with real monsters and heroes and see how she reacts. History does, after all, repeat itself, and quite often people are too stupid to listen every single time it does. Myths? Sure, I’ll let her get away with saying that for today. It will make the ending so much sweeter. They say that the more you terrify people, the more you can control them; fear, after all is the greatest power some have—and I have enough to give for an eternity. A blessing? Absolutely. A curse? Naturally. I nod my head as she keeps talking as if I give a rat’s ass that she’s upset over something she knows little to nothing about. I calm the rage within and draw in a deep breath.

“…and Ra didn’t save the world. He went to the underworld to keep the serpent from making sure the sun didn’t rise. It was a made-up story for people to be able to understand the sun and the moon. Basically, out of all the stories I’ve read here, the one that seems the least realistic is the story of Ra. Osiris I can understand, Apollo and Mars? Sure.”

“Ah, are you Egyptian then?” I snap, interrupting her. “That you would know so much about our history.”

Cleo winces. “Let me guess…you’re, um…”

“Egyptian.” I snap. “So, before you start putting down the silliest stories of them all,” I lean in and tap her on the temple. “Use what the gods you disrespect gave you.”

She hangs her head. “Sorry, I got caught up, maybe it’s because it pisses me off more than it should, when gods get glorified for nature or when they get praise. The moon causes gravity, right? And yet we have a God of the Moon, a God of the Sun. It’s science, so while I love reading stories it’s escapism to me, nothing more and I think it’s cruel.”

“Cruel?”

“To offer hope to people who have none.”

“Can you touch hope?” I ask. “Can you touch trust? Faith? Is it tangible? Can you taste it, Cleo?” I corner her against the wall. “And yet people still cling to it as if they can dig their hands through it not knowing that at the end of the day, the sand will eventually slip through the cracks, but that doesn’t mean it was never there to begin with, does it? Hope is just like that sand that slips, it existed even if at the end of the way—it is lost.” “Who, I wonder…” I touch the old picture of me shoving a spear through Apep’s heart. The picture depicts my last and final attempt at trying to save the world. Arrogant, yes, so very young and arrogant. If only the world knew. We are both slaves to each other, slaves to the power we seek. Both are slaves to their own blood—in order to stay strong.

Ra became what people believed.

A slave to Chaos.

A monster.

If you’re the slave, the man owning you is the monster.

If you’re the monster, those who fear you are your slaves.

Perception is everything.

“Want me to tell you a story?” I ask. “Over breakfast, maybe? I can hear your stomach growling from here.”

Cleo’s still frowning at the depiction. The truest one of them all. “Sure, yeah, I am hungry.” She looks over her shoulder twice before we finally walk back through the pub to sit at the bar. I motion for Mara to bring out the food and hot coffee. I ordered Cleo extra eggs, bacon, sausage, and toast—to make her glow with health of course.

The sun demands a glowing sacrifice after all, like the stars in the sky.

I pull out her chair. After she sips her coffee, she takes a bite of bacon then covers her mouth in shock.

“Did you think anything I touched would be bad?” I laugh. Humans can be so funny sometimes. “The food is farmed locally, very good, all creatures treated nicely, and we use every part, but don’t worry you didn’t get any liver in yours.”

She makes a face. “Really?”

“Don’t knock it until you try it.”

“Do you eat brain?” She drops her bacon onto her plate and makes a comical face that has me instantly checking myself and putting my walls back up.

“Okay, not everything.” Well, there was that one time we tried it with Cow, but that was a very bad day for everyone, never piss off a goddess. “I’ll talk, you eat, and then we’ll tour the local museum where we keep the artifacts your brother was so obsessed with before we start our training when the bar opens.”

She nods and takes another bite of her eggs, her posture relaxed toward me, probably because she’s eating at the moment and her defenses are down. It gives me time to stare at her pretty side profile, her jet-black hair is pulled back in a ponytail, her tight sweater accentuates her small curves in a way that would make anyone look. She needs to eat more, but she’ll learn—eventually. Food is for strength, and she’ll need all the strength she can get in the next week where she thinks she’ll be reunited with Jake and hopping on a ferry home.

“Okay, so where’s my fairy tale? Or the story you promised?”

“How about we start with the vampires. Did you know some believe them to be a created race just like angels?”

“Both of which aren’t real.” She points at me with her bacon. “But go on. I’m intrigued.”

“People believe them to be abominations out to kill everyone, but what if I were to tell you there’s research that states their bloodline is angelic. A created race to help wage war on behalf of the Creator, a part of an army. What if I were to tell you we have proof Fallen Angels exist and have some of their very swords in the warehouse?”

Her eyes widen.

“Furthermore,” I lean in. “What if I were to tell you, that I’m right, and you’re wrong. The gods people worship are created beings from some of the most powerful deities in the world. Werewolves rule the earth—the dirt itself. Watchers sit on each continent protecting humanity from immortals that want nothing more than to rejoin the heavens but have messed up too many times to hear the song of the skies again, the song of the stars. They were born to hear it and without it, they lose their souls and feed on humans to get high. I think I’m getting off base and scaring you, but again, they’re just stories and fairytales…according to you, nothing is real.” I lean so close that my mouth nearly brushes hers. “And yet your heart is beating so wildly against your chest that your lips tremble to speak truth.”

Truth is always stranger than fiction.

Cleo frowns and looks away down at her napkin. “I think you may be rich and extremely smart, but you’re full of shit, how could you have proof?”

“Guess you’ll find out later today when you explore, also, if you see a demon don’t run from it, just tell it to stop chasing you. Using words always works, they can’t fight against the spoken word unless they have a soul and those are still being restored as we speak.”

She shakes her head. “You’re so damn convincing, have you ever thought of going into acting? Not that you need money but you’d make a killing.”

“Ah, I’ve killed enough.” I wink.

She laughs. “Okay, killer, what about Egyptian mythology since it seemed to ruffle you up a bit. Any deep insight Dr. Cyrus?”

I nearly drop my coffee cup; the way she says doctor does things to my chest. I feel hot. I know she’s teasing me, but I like it. After a deep breath I continue. “Egyptian mythology is a bit different. They were a race of people who believed fiercely in the afterlife but in a need to keep it quote unquote fair, they said as long as you had enough coin to balance out any sort of sin, you’d gain entry to the afterlife to see your family. But if you’re weighed and found wanting, you are lost.”

“Unfair.” She sighs. “Not everyone had money and if they did it was to feed their family.”

“Then they should have lived perfect lives, I suppose.”

Her eyes narrow as she takes another bite, ketchup catching on her lower lip. “That’s impossible.”

I lean in and brush my thumb over her lip. It’s instinctual. I’m her boss. What the hell am I doing? But touching a human, touching the last one. Why is it so damn tempting? My thumb skips then pulses like a heartbeat from that single touch.

After an initial start, she freezes, eyes wide. A vein visibly pulsing in her neck.

“Sorry, you had some food there.” I wanted to touch her even though I’m not supposed to yet, I felt—a primal need to touch. I lean back. “Well, I guess there’s always another option isn’t there?”

She wipes her napkin across her mouth. “What?”

I lean and whisper. “Pray to the gods yourself, pray to Olympus and ask for them to take you if you have no coin, they might just give in and allow you to pass into the afterlife, they aren’t without grace. Especially if you have someone waiting for you.” I’m not sure why I say it, but I continue. “If Jake were hypothetically gone, wouldn’t you give anything to see him again? Desperation makes us do crazy things, Cleo.”

Her fork drops out of her hand, clattering against the floor. “What?”

I reach over the bar and hand her a new one, then I fold my arms over my chest. My clothes feel too small sitting next to her, my white cable knit sweater feels toxically normal and choking along with my jeans. “Why kill when you can imprison? Why take away power from this earth when you can feed from it? The gods are no longer heroes, Cleo.” I’m talking about myself of course. I know who I am, what they’ve turned me into during these trials in order to ascend to the mountain .

When she says nothing, I continue. “After all, a balance must always exist between good and evil. But I will say this,” I look out the window, across the street at the competing pub. “It’s much easier to appear perfect and good when you shower power and gifts on your people than when you punish them for wrongdoing, when you give them consequences for their actions rather than looking the other way. But sometimes, a curse can become a blessing because one thing they don’t teach you at all those fancy universities…” I lean in and crook my finger.

She frowns and gets just close enough to hear my whisper. I can hear her heart pound in her chest, I can count her inhales, exhales, my tongue slides out across my lower lip, the air itself is permeated with her scent.

“The fates are tied together in an impenetrable cycle of pain and torment.” I smile in pure satisfaction. “After all, blood begets blood. There will never be a true winner in this universe, and so—” I jerk back before I do something I won’t be able to undo. “The bloody cycle of sacrifice to the gods continues—some say to this day.” I wink. “Then again, it’s just a story, right?”

Cleo stares down at her plate, then back up at me, her curious multicolored eyes don’t lock onto mine anymore, but at my chest. She folds her hands. “So, if this was real, what do the gods sacrifice now? In order to keep their power? If you were to make this into a Hollywood blockbuster?—”

“Damn Hollywood can’t even get their stories straight.” I have so much more to say on that subject, but last time I went off on a tangent I made a little kid cry about his favorite superhero, so I bite my tongue.

“Come on.” She smiles jolting me out of the memory of the kid dressed like Shazam using the power of the sun and lightning and me screaming liar . “What would you sacrifice?”

“The only thing you can.” I shrug. “What you cherish the most.”

“And what do you cherish the most?” She has no clue. None.

I stand and grab another sip of coffee to give myself some time for the damning answer. “I cherish protecting people that I love, so in turn I would sacrifice just about anything that will bring me to that point even if it means I have to commit heinous crimes again and again.”

“You’d sacrifice your animals? Your brothers? What do you love more than that?”

I study her, holding my silence while I consider her question.

The sky. But I settle on something else that means the same thing to me. “Peace,” I finally say. “But that’s pretty unobtainable these days, don’t you think? After all, it’s just a fairytale, a wonderfully interesting story of people with magical powers who save their people?”

The coffee cup in her hand trembles before she sets it down, spilling coffee on the counter. “Yeah, sorry just a really sad and scary story.”

“The best ones always are.” I say, voice low. “Let’s go, no more talk of stupid immortals dipped in Chaos.”

I say it on purpose as we walk past the door, knowing he can hear me. I can smell him anyway. He’s on the other side of the street spying on us.

It’s one of his many bad habits.

“Whoa!” Cleo stops on the sidewalk right before we’re about to walk across the street and meet the devil himself. She points toward the old town center, people always say it reminds them of a movie, with all of the little cafes—five to be exact, circling the large fountain in the middle of the square. I rarely look at it, the memories are still too fresh despite being old. It’s a picture of Ra and Apep fighting each other, a flash of lightning divides them down the middle and above them sits, the remaining twelve deities. I’m still pissed that Mars had the fountain built when I failed the first night only to be stuck here to stare at it until now. He’s an asshat. I think Anubis laughed for a week straight that Mars would mock me like that. Then again, Mars didn’t fail his trials.

Gaia in all her glory with her flowing black hair and tanned skin, the statue has her looking like a Roman goddess, but I know her true appearance, she’s absolutely stunning, with tanned brown skin, bright yellow-brown eyes, a strong nose, and full lips. Her body is shaped for birthing the world, full hips, long legs—she is, after all, the mother of all. And Cronos was born out of the cries of Asia long ago until being adopted as a deity by the Greeks and Romans. I feel my sigh down to my very soul, the burden is heavy again, the need to return to them. I clear my throat and look above the fountain. “That large clock above Town Hall carries the countdown to the eclipse, and the fountain is to honor the gods of old.”

“It’s a battle between Egyptian and Greek gods.” Cleo tilts her head. “Why is it that I haven’t read about this battle?” She laughs like it’s funny when it’s nothing short of a tragedy that started this all, including her end.

“Yes.” I deadpan. “That’s exactly what we’re doing here, keeping all the secrets of the world in that one fountain.”

“Ah, so if I dig beneath it I find treasure?” she teases.

I force a smile even though there would probably be a bit of truth to that, though I doubt the things she wants are cursed artifacts Mars left for some poor human to find. “Possibly, you never know. Old areas of cities hold secrets and magic.”

A woman and her small girl pass us quietly, the woman stops briefly and inclines her head, then stares at Cleo long and hard. The daughter is human—the woman isn’t, thus her greeting. She knows exactly why Cleo is here and who she is.

I’m ready to tell her not to, but I’m too late, as the woman reaches for Cleo’s hand and presses a silver coin against her palm. She closes Cleo’s fingers over it. “Mubarekt.”

Blessing.

“Thank you.” Cleo obviously knows a bit of Egyptian. “That was kind.”

The woman tugs her black scarf over her head and rushes past us with her little girl. It won’t be the last time Cleo sees her.

“Shall we?” I offer my arm.

Cleo nods and takes it. She looks up toward Ken’s island and the rugged Olympic Mountain Range in the distance. I miss it. I’m full of longing and desperation.

“It’s beautiful.” Her clear voice interrupts my thoughts.

“It really is.” I say honestly pulling my gaze away from home. “They say the forests still mourn the loss of the gods.” I point at the mountain range. “It’s just a myth but at night locals still see fires up on Mount Olympus, they say the gods rest there waiting for worship.”

She glances back at the range. “If they were real, they’d do a better job, don’t you think?”

I shrug. “If humanity deserved it, maybe they’d feel the need to step in more often.”

“Touché.”

We reach the other side of the street.

“What’s this I hear about gods and Mount Olympus?” Apep winks at Cleo, refusing to even look in my direction. Bastard. “You telling silly stories again, Cyrus?”

“Apep,” I say his name like a curse. His hands are shoved in his impeccably sewn navy three-piece suit, and his smile is so smug I want to strangle him. With an icy smile and equally frozen gaze in his eyes he tilts his head toward Cleo.

“Back from your quick trip?” I ask in annoyance as Cleo and I stop to talk to him. Ignoring Apep is just as impossible as Apep ignoring me. People give us a wide berth as they pass us by and then suddenly the sidewalk on our side is completely empty.

The townspeople know what Cleo doesn’t. Nothing good ever comes from an encounter between me and Apep, at least right now we have a buffer.

“Yes.” He looks to Cleo. “Ah, the girl from the ferry. Glad to see you made it into our sleepy little town safely.” He leans in. The last thing I need is for him to smell his own power on her.

I immediately shove her behind me, something I’ll probably regret because it shows weakness, protection, and the last thing I will be doing is protecting her; quite the opposite actually.

That’s new, normally he stalks them until the time is up and then he chases them until the sacrifice before we go our separate ways. The fact that he’s even speaking to her is strange. Then again, he always does like to taunt me. This could be a new hobby of his, taunting the last sacrifice because he knows I’m more powerful and can do nothing to stop me. He can only annoy me to death.

If I could kill him right this second, I would, but that pesky balance exists still.

I look back at the flames lining the pub wall, they start to flicker. People look up from the streets and walk quickly by.

Maybe one day I’ll find a way for his death without ruining the balance of the sun and the moon.

“Thank you,” Cleo says cheerfully diffusing the situation. “For the talk on the ferry. You were right about it eventually being okay. And you were very kind.”

“Kind,” I repeat. Is she on drugs? Kind is the last thing he is. “Yeah, well, Enki’s father has the potential to be nice I guess, though he just rarely uses it. A little rusty, hmmm, old man?”

Cleo frowns up at me. “He can’t be over forty.”

“I assure you he is,” I say low in my throat, while Apep smiles down at her, teeth clenched.

“Botox does do wonders these days, right, Cyrus? It’s… shall I say downright magical?”

The need to choke him is so strong that my nails are managing to dig into my palms, creating tiny creases. I’m sick of his mind games, and sick of him in general. Instead, I give him a polite smile and grip Cleo’s hand, I’ll regret it later because she’ll have questions about why I’m actually holding her hand, but for some reason having him around her makes me want to commit violence despite knowing their connection.

At least more than usual. “We should be going.”

The smell of the Puget Sound fills the air as several people move from our side of the street closer to the water. Sadly, they’d rather take their chances with drowning than be that close to me and Apep when we’re talking.

I tug Cleo away as gently as I can, but she still stumbles and waves back at Apep.

When I look over my shoulder, his eyes swirl a deep blue then blacken to utter darkness as if reminding me that the time is near.

And time is one thing we both have too much of and not enough of in these situations.

“That was rude.” Cleo slips her hand away from me. She crosses her arms over her chest and inhales the thick salty air, then exhales abruptly like I’m causing her anxiety.

“Sorry. I just didn’t want you flirting with a criminal.” I shrug and keep walking like I didn’t just drop a bomb.

She jogs to keep up with me and grabs my elbow. “Criminal?”

“Now look who’s touching.” I grin down at her irritated expression along with the hand that’s still touching me.

She drops her hand. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I liked it.”

“That borderlines on sexual harassment,” she points out. “Remember you are my boss.” She frowns as if she suddenly remembers that I’ve touched her many times today. It’s normal, they’re so used to it, it doesn’t feel foreign and then they suddenly wonder why they were okay with it.

“No, that’s just the truth. People are usually afraid to touch me. It’s been a while.” I keep walking but glance over my shoulder.

Her expression is uncertain; she’s wondering if she made the right choice in coming here, I can see it in her eyes. I wonder if the only reason she isn’t panicking or questioning a lot of things she’s seen so far is because of the proximity to her missing brother. Something I knew about before she even arrived, and something I refuse to help her with in order to get her to stay. The more she searches and finds dead ends, the easier it will be for her to ignore all of the chaos swirling around her. Acceptance is key.

I sigh, walk back to her and offer my elbow. “Just kidding, ask anyone, I’ve hit half the town.”

“Really?”

“No.” I bark out a laugh. “But I can promise you, that I would never touch you, really touch you, without permission.”

She snorts. “Reassuring.”

My smile is cruel. She really has no idea what her future holds, but one thing I can guarantee—there will be a lot of touching.

Something dark swirls in my soul, I embrace it and inhale the sea air, tasting the particles on my tongue of all the many animals that live in the water along with the death and destruction that lingers just below the surface, if I close my eyes I know I’ll see the souls, begging to be set free from the depths of the underworld. Cleo is already looking around again as we walk, completely oblivious to my thoughts and that of those around her as people give us a wide berth and look at her like she’s meant to be worshipped. She doesn’t seem to notice it. She’s solely focused on her brother, as well as herself. Yes, this one is definitely different. Maybe I’ll try to keep her longer than usual. Though I know I can’t, it’s a nice little fantasy, selfishly taking something for no other reason then I find it fascinating, rather than giving it away for the betterment of myself and the world.

She’s quiet the rest of the way to the museum her brother had been working with giving me time to actually look at her. I can’t see her different eyes, but I can see her side profile. She doesn’t smile often from what I’ve seen but when she does, it feels like the sun is shining down on you. Her smile is wide and free when she decides to show it. Her eyes are big and expressive, her dark eyebrows are often in a pondering slant like she’s asking internal questions about everything she sees, and she’s taller than average, around five foot ten. Typical, for someone like her. Her eyes widen as she points. “Is that it?”

Her excitement is tangible.

“Yes, it is. The building was transformed from a Christian church into a pagan ritual house before finally converting to the Egyptian Mythology Museum, to this day historians believe up to three hundred bodies are buried in the catacombs, though the last person who ventured in there never came out, we’ve closed them off since.”

Cleo stops walking and looks at the ground beneath her. “Why would they bury them under the ritual house? I thought ancient Egyptians did burials or cremation, wasn’t it believed that once you wrote your name in The Book of the Life for your family line you were granted one spell to help escort you to the afterlife? If you don’t have a burial then you don’t get your name written down and you don’t reincarnate.”

I smile down at her; it’s always fascinating to hear stories about yourself. “Some situations called for certain burials yes, but I’m going to let you in on a little secret.” I crook my finger toward her.

We stop walking, she leans in.

I smile at her eagerness and whisper, “You never truly die.”

She jerks back and frowns, though her smile is still present, the confusion is written all over her face. People hate being reminded they’re temporary, which is hilarious since they truly aren’t, they’re just…recycled. “You sleep.” I add, “You sleep for a long time and maybe you sleep forever, maybe you’re chosen to do something you never did in your first life. Haven’t you ever wondered about certain birthmarks, memories being passed down of places you’ve seen but never visited? I’m not saying I believe all of it.” I do actually, because of who I am, but scaring her this early on does nothing for any of us, I already traumatized her enough with the vampires and fallen angel talk. “But I find it interesting that humanity is so worried about death that they forget to focus on the gift they’ve been given—life.”

“Not everyone is like that, some of us focus on life.”

We start walking toward the steps. Even though it’s freezing, the sun burns down toward us, stretching its rays and reminding me yet again of the time and what’s to come. “And you?” I ask her. “Do you focus on life?”

Her cheeks flush pink. “I try as much as I can. Sometimes you can only take it a day at a time though, you know?”

“Your days as a human are limited.” I may be a monster but I’m always honest. We stop in front of the stairs as a crow flies over head, circling us, then the museum. I count the circles. Six times.

Even creation knows.

If only people were more observant of their surroundings. Ptah, one of the creators is watching and warning me. She’s the last, stay focused, do your job.

Cleo grabs my arm. “What do you mean my days are limited?”

I frown. “Cleo, everyone’s days are, you’re human.”

“So are you,” she says quickly as if to reassure herself.

I crack a smile. “We all have limits when it comes to time.”

She seems satisfied with that answer and turns toward the cement stairs leading up to the museum. The steps are painted in hieroglyphics that would only mean something to the locals and simple translations for someone with her.

I know the sad pathetic truth. They’re painted with the failures of the immortals that roam this town. The immortals that nobody will discuss.

Inti, who is my counterpart, part of the sky, the sun, he failed and now he is the last light humans see as he guides them to Anubis; they walk for days and then the light simply stops. He is their last warmth, and that is his punishment for failing.

Daggon, chief protector of Mesopotamia, creator; he still won’t tell anyone what he failed to protect and now he’s the chief of police.

And Enki, from Sumeria, God of Wisdom, Art, Mischief, Creativity—one of my best friends who revealed he fell in love with humanity so much he chose to fail in order to stay.

There are more, Aphrodite, Nyx.

I look away when I see Suen’s name. We still haven’t located her, but every time the moon rises, I hear her tears. She failed her trial on the last day—she saved a child from drowning in the tide and gave up her spot on Olympus because of it—the child she saved went on to become a world leader.

And yet, she still sobs when the moon is at its brightest. Humans don’t understand that when it turns red it is because her tears burn her from within and tears, emotions, they must be felt and expressed, no matter how you were created.

No matter what, a trial, a darkness will always come. Apep will always chase.

It has, it will, he will.

I look up as the sky swirls darker, the crow is long gone and in its place a menacing storm is coming. Figuratively and naturally.

How incredible that the very earth knows, the mountains moan and rumble, the sea shakes with fury, and yet everyone goes about their selfish daily ways without realizing that the sound of the cries from the very earth that they came from, are a warning.

Earthquakes.

Floods.

Fires.

Windstorms.

Death.

Destruction.

Did they think they were so powerful to create all of that themselves?

Cleo smiles over at me as she keeps looking at the stairs then grabs my arm like we’re friends. It’s a normal human reaction to be drawn to something warm on your skin and face, to stretch for the sun is as normal as reaching for the stars—they can’t help instinct.

I’ve actually never gotten this familiar with any of them. But, I like seeing her expressions when she learns something new. She’s like a sponge soaking up everything she can, and I’m going to be the one that’s going to squeeze her dry until she can no longer breathe.

A few days ago, I would have called that poetry.

In this moment, I would call it a tragedy.

“As long as it’s not with me,” she jokes.

If she only knew.

I form my lips into a smile. “I know this isn’t typical, but you’ve been curious about your brother, why don’t we go in so you can see what had him so curious. We have a theme at both bars—clearly, and this will help you answer questions and entertain guests as well.” I smile for effect. “This is actually how I met and befriended him. This very museum, after this he wanted to see my private collection and well the rest is history.” I smile warmly. “Let’s go in, yes?”

Tears fill her eyes before she nods her head. “Yes, and thank you. You didn’t really have to do all of this on my real first day here. I should be serving drinks and cleaning, not going down memory lane with a man I barely know—my boss nonetheless.”

“Jake is a good friend. He would want this. Don’t you think?” I elbow her a bit. “Plus calling me boss makes me feel ancient and I’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime.”

The building has had added architecture to make it look more like places of worship for the ancestors with different pointed roof levels, and on the inside, fresh flowers and greenery always surround the sharp arched doorway.

“Welcome to the Seattle Mythic Egyptian Museum!” An extremely perky intern walks up to us. I clearly didn’t hire her. I hate it when they’re perky. She has bouncing dark curls and brown eyes. “Did you want a free tour? We have brochures.”

Oh hell, not the brochures she thrusts them out at us like she’s offering free money. Wow.

“We’re good,” I say through clenched teeth. The urge to fire her is strong.

She finally looks over at me and stumbles back. “Cyrus. I mean Mr.—umm…”

Shit, the woman even forgot my name.

Poor thing.

“What he means…” Cleo elbows me as if we’re that familiar, and I guess that’s not surprising. It’s normal when people meet me, and I used to get annoyed by it, so why am I coughing so I don’t smile? “…is we’re fine, he’s going to give me his own tour, right?”

“Exactly.” I hold out my hand. “Thank you, Anne, I appreciate it.”

I take her outstretched hand quickly so that Cleo doesn’t see the trembling fingers. Gently, I squeeze, then lean in and whisper in her ear. “Calm your chaos.”

Anne immediately relaxes her hand and pulls back then smiles brightly up at us, and then covers a yawn. “Wow, sorry just got tired. Thanks again, I’m gonna go… Enjoy and let me know if you have any questions!”

“Thank you,” Cleo says.

I nod while Anne walks over to the desk and slumps in her chair, then I pull Cleo in the opposite direction toward the Hall of Immortals.

She’ll be obsessed; it’s a gift, to give her knowledge before I take the last of her power.

We keep walking; she passes Zeus, Athena, then stops at Horus and myself in a very real looking altercation. “He’s not as big as I thought he’d be.”

I stumble and run into first her, then the plain gray statue, nearly knocking it to the ground and ruining centuries of curation. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

The statue is the only one that hasn’t been polished to perfection but left in its original state, looking old, sad, looming, destructive. Perfect.

“Ra,” she repeats. “He’s, kind of…” Is she seriously tilting her head right now? “…small and old.”

Did—did she just use her thumb and forefinger to show just how small? Seriously?

I gape at her, a bit horrified. “Do you know nothing of Ra’s strength?”

When she looks over, it’s a total look of I’m the idiot, not her. “Well, take Zeus for an instance.”

Oh shit, I might kill someone today. She’s insulting the history! Ra is huge!

Was.

Is.

Whatever.

What the hell?

“What about Zeus?” I jab a finger at the damned statue. I like him, I tolerate him. He has a farm with a chicken named PJ, who he refuses to kill but still. “He’s small, so very small, I bet his—” I take a deep breath. “He’s tiny. Minuscule compared to Ra.”

She shrugs. “Meh, I don’t know. I mean—” She looks over at Anubis and smiles. “Even he looks tall and godlike. Why do you think they made Ra look so small, then? Truly?”

Not Anubis. Literally anyone but Anubis.

My nostrils flair, and I’m about to tell her exactly what I think when the power fails around us, throwing us into instant darkness and near, absolute silence.

Shit.

Again?

Kratos knows better. I’m sure he and Apep are still fighting. I’m sure Enki just sent some people cheerfully away, skipping, holding rolls in their hands.

Son of a bitch.

Thunder cracks.

Rain pounds the building making it sound like the ceiling is going to come down, and Cleo suddenly just shrinks in front of me and shakes her head.

“What? It’s just a little storm, it’s fine.” I reach for her.

She’s trembling, and then she grabs onto the Ra statue, without thinking I’m sure, as if he’s going to comfort her in that state.

I’m suddenly jealous of a rotting statue.

I grab her by the hand. “I promise the lights will go on really soon, the generator always kicks in during bad storms.”

“I h-hate the rain. I hate storms.”

I frown. I wasn’t expecting that, quite the opposite actually; normally the bloodline loves the storms because they cover up the sun. Huh, interesting.

“Well…” I pull her closer. “Why don’t we distract you a bit. Why do you think they made Ra smaller?”

She hesitates at first, her teeth chattering. “Because as a god he wasn’t very big, he just appeared that way from being in the sky.”

“Bullshit.” I draw her a bit closer still then lean in and whisper in her ear. “It was so they could feel bigger than the sun.”

Her little gasp makes me want to capture her lips, something I’ve never done with any of them.

The lights turn on, and I pull away.

She looks away, nostrils flaring. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate.”

“We all have our moments when we’re afraid,” I say gruffly, not wanting to admit out loud how much the touch affected even me. “Should we continue the tour?”

She nods.

I look back at the statues and flip them all off and keep walking, satisfied with my own disdain.

The rest of the tour is uneventful other than her running toward things like she’s a five-year-old who hasn’t been in a museum in her life, and while I tell myself I’m annoyed, I’m also filled with pride of my own heritage.

We have another hour before she suddenly gets tired and stops in front of the final case.

The book.

One that I haven’t touched in a very long time. It’s not refusal, it’s that the calling makes me sad, and feeling emotion makes my job extremely difficult.

“I haven’t seen this before.” Her fingers tremble and reach for the glass then pull back like she’s been stung. “The Ancient Gods of Egypt and the Fall of Heaven?”

“You know their names, I’m sure. It’s about the history between the Greek and Roman gods and how it links to fallen angels.” I look away, then I turn back and glance at her expression.

It’s full of awe and wonder. “I never knew a book like this even existed. Does it talk about their heritage?”

It talks about everything I don’t want to talk about. “It’s forbidden.” I smile sadly. “Some say to touch the ancient book is to kiss death on the mouth. You’ll die swiftly in a lust-filled view of destruction and never want to come back. Then again, that’s a fairytale. I mean, it’s just an old work of fiction.” Or knowledge, but it’s not for humans to know. I sealed it myself with the power of the Sun. And it will stay that way for an eternity.

She frowns, her hand raises again, shaking. She drops it. “Right, right, sorry I’ve just never heard of it.”

“Ah, seems like someone likes stories as much as her twin.”

She smiles up at me. “No, you’re probably annoyed I keep asking so many questions. I’m sorry, I know you’re really busy, or at least have been. Owning two bars and having a massive amount of employees can’t be easy to deal with, plus you said something about your private collection of artifacts. That’s a lot. I promise I won’t annoy you too much. It’s already been a long two days.”

Or eternity if you ask me, but sure, two days.

I take a deep breath and check my watch. “Well, since we can’t crack open that case without getting arrested, and the bar doesn’t open for another two hours. Do you want to see where your brother worked?”

I set the bait perfectly. I’m safe. She already trusts me. Touches me without realizing it.

Is fucking drawn to me like a moth to the flame.

She nods enthusiastically, and I almost start to feel guilty. See, this is why you have to control your emotions, it’s why you hone them, it’s why you don’t get distracted by tight sweaters and innocent smiles.

“Wait!” She grabs my arm, then drops her hand. “The police, I almost forgot, can you just show me where the station is so I can stop by later and get updates on Jake?”

“You already know the chief.” I say lightly. “It’s Daggon.”

Her mouth drops open. “You could have told me sooner.”

“You never asked, and I thought they’d been in contact.” I ignore her pissed off expression. “I’ll take you by before I show you his obsessive workspace.”

“Wait,” She frowns. “I mean I know he was studying over here but he had an actual workspace and everything?”

“The artifacts from the latest dig can’t be brought here until they’ve been studied,” I say strategically. “So we have the warehouse on property. My property. It’s just next door to Styx.”

I leave it at that.

And sadly, just like everyone else, she just nods as if it’s normal.

And here I thought she would be different.