Chapter Twenty-One #2
Also at the same time, the sun god snapped his fingers.
At once, the sky ignited from his obedient sky star.
The verb fit. Like a newly combusted rocket, the atmosphere was black then white, dark then dazzling, causing everyone on the road to gasp and shield their eyes.
Drivers braked. Women shrieked. Children yelled. A lot more people cussed.
Until they didn’t.
Wen jolted, more stunned than before, wondering how and why she’d suddenly lost her hearing—only to realize that wasn’t reality either.
Her ears hadn’t changed. The whole world had.
The first sounds she identified were the music of a small waterfall and the Zen rhythm of commiserating crickets.
But she recognized her mistake about the latter once she raised her head all the way.
The “cricket wing” tinkles actually emanated from blown-glass orbs rigged with delicate clappers, hanging from dark wood eaves over a polished engawa veranda.
The long polished wood platforms framed two sides of a breathtaking garden.
The lush half-acre looked like something out of a stylized movie.
A red Guzei bridge with a Torii gate arched over a koi pond with picturesque lily pads, leading to a small island with black pine trees and camellia bushes.
Closer to the patio, more of the pines overlooked a rustic seating area next to a traditional Zen garden resembling a river with its artistically raked gravel.
She looked up to acknowledge Apollo was still right next to her, still roping one arm around her waist like they prepared to jump into a barrel and go over Niagara Falls.
Damn it if the exact idea didn’t appeal right now, especially with his thigh between her legs and his neck smelling like mist and minerals and musk.
What would that be like, really? An adventure for just the two of them, pursued for the sheer thrill of it? Nothing to stress or care about, except maybe adrenaline overload and screaming herself hoarse?
Well, and dying.
Yeah, there was that.
She’d leave and Genny would be all alone.
Open game for any other crime bosses needing a convenient captive—and then yet another target for a cretchity dickhead guard to move in and sneak her off to the middle of nowhere.
And there’d be no hope for her. No sister on the way with meds and rescue crows for her.
The motivation made it no easier to push back from the big Glow Worm, especially since his cement-grade pecs had to serve as her launch blocks. Coping with the commensurate blush got a little help from her sarcasm storeroom, vastly underused since they’d departed from his foyer.
“Well, that was an easier flight than the tornado flume express, so thank you, Captain.”
Major toss-up about whether the guy tossed his wry glance as comfort or torment. “No realm hop this time, so the fire flume wasn’t necessary,” he explained with the same cryptic charm.
“Oh.” She felt more comfortable about taking a longer look around. “So we’re still on mortal soil?”
“Less than a hundred meters from where we just stood. Welcome to Yamaterasu.”
“Which means . . . ?”
“Two things,” he supplied. “Yama means mountain. And Amaterasu is the Japanese goddess of the sun.”
“Who’s a close buddy, I gather?”
“To be honest, Ama prefers her place in Takachiho most times. The humans keep the grounds nice, and she can play JPop as loud as she wishes in the inner sanctum of the mountain. But when she ventures this direction for shopping sprees, she uses the guest room.” His smile twisted as if he’d just smelled stale fish.
“But don’t go in there unless you like being assaulted by walls full of pretty boy idols making finger hearts and teasing chiseled chest shots with open shirts. ”
“Noted.”
Her cheeks tingled from a little grin of her own, gloating guilt-free over the resentful twinges in his statement.
Like this male, the muse for several gloriously naked statues around the globe, had to fret over some pop idols with a few loose shirt buttons?
He was also a famous lover for Carnus, Hippolytus, and Adonis, among other gods.
Most obviously, she’d probably never get near the guest room, even if it had a name plaque on the door.
By the time she finished the pondering, Kaw arrived and alighted on a perch near the Zen garden arrangement. Ahhh. Much better acoustics, Anax. No offense against Kampachi-dori Avenue . . .
“I’m sure it’s taking none.” Apollo slipped off his house slippers and walked barefoot to Kaw’s perch on the veranda.
Wen knew she needed to follow but was clutched short by the sight of his steps, so regal yet stiff.
Not even twenty-four hours had passed since she last watched him move that way, from where she’d lain in bloody pieces on a frigid marble floor, but it seemed like an entire decade ago.
Long enough, at least, that she forgot the slicing pain of that moment . . . and only remembered the aches.
Pain from deeper inside.
The lock of her attention on him. The draw of her senses to him. The bizarre, building need . . .
Which then, just like now, was an illusion.
A trick of her psyche, turning her dread and stress into something more tangible. Primal. Reachable . . .
Another mirage.
Reaching for Apollo of Olympus was as realistic as envisioning a lightning bolt through Noa Ito’s heart.
Focus up, damn it. Lock in on the mission you can achieve. Get your ass out to that engawa and gived Kaw the intel he needs.
Now.
“Hey,” she greeted to the crow. “How are you holding up? Have you rested? Eaten?”
Awww, shucks. The bird canted its head and seemed to wink. You do care, Little Monster.
“Shut up,” Apollo growled. “She just wants to make sure you don’t plummet like a burned-out drone before you find her sister.”
Since fate seemed determined she give the god a few lasting bruises, Wen rapped knuckles against his upper chest again. “Be nice, damn it.”
Kaw chuckled. Apollo grumbled beneath his breath but quickly groused aloud, “I’ll go get you some fresh food and water while Irowen briefs you about Genny.
” He turned and headed for the main hub of the house, denoted by its fancier door and shiny blue tile roof, but halted to whip a glower over his shoulder.
“And Captain Kleos? She’s only Irowen to you. Understood?”
Kaw bowed his head and tucked his wings. Yes, Anax. Understood.
He didn’t move or speak again, until Apollo stepped inside and closed the big carved door. But once he relaxed and shook his wings, a corvid version of a grouse made its rasping climb up his throat.
This isn’t me being a kóta. It’s him being a malákas.
“I hate to agree, especially because of everything he’s doing for me, but I do.”
Wen tsked and stared at the big door under the blue tile overhang.
The wood, carved in a traditional Japanese art style, depicted a benevolent sun shining into a peaceful valley with deer and foxes.
She hoped Apollo had admired the art before stomping through the portal; they needed more of those enervating vibes right now instead of—well, whatever that weirdness just was.
“But hey, for the record, ignore him, right? You can call me whatever you want. Around here, being equated to a kaiju might even help my cause, right?”
Wise words from a wise human came the bird’s encouraging murmur. But right now, better use of our time is, indeed, talking about your sister.
“Also wise words,” she offered, stiffening her stance. “And I’ve got some concrete theories, though they’ll need some help from local experts.”