Chapter 8 Silver
SILVER
It took me all of two seconds to realize that we were not going to find out anything here.
The safe wasn’t a deposit box as much as a deposit cave, easily large enough to fit a dragon or two, and it was full to the brim with, well, everything.
Specifically, everything that would have been available in the Bronze Age.
Chariots and musical instruments, statues of men, women, and beasts, swords, shields, the occasional phallus-shaped implement which I refused to identify.
The sheer amount of junk was staggering. Yet junk wasn’t the right word, because most if not all seemed to be made of pure, shining gold, and glimmered as though they’d been made a week ago, and polished to a shine an hour ago.
“Erm—” Our guide cleared his throat. “I believe the estimate of the items ought to be recalculated. The spell tends to measure the amount of gold more than the historical value. All things considered, I’d say you easily have ten times more gold than estimated.
For an exact evaluation, we’ll need to call in an appraiser. ”
I tuned him out, walking in in dazed wonder. I wasn’t even a history buff, and I was amazed. Next to me, Kleos and Lucian were so excited they practically vibrated.
“Just look at this!” one would say, while the other countered with, “I just can’t believe it.”
I bent to pick up a small dessert plate, carved intricately. It seemed to tell a story I couldn’t make sense of. What I did notice was the series of runes carved along the edges.
Until now, I would have assumed Cas was an Olympian—or at the very least, a god from their generation. Maybe not one of the twelve, but someone like them. He exuded more power than Cassius, effortlessly, and Cassius, son of Hypnos, son of Nyx, was a third-generation being.
Hypnos mated with a mortal, diluting his power, hence why Cassius wasn’t as scary as he could have been. Cas had to be a pure immortal. I placed him somewhere in that pantheon. But the plate in my hand?
“Look at this.” I handed it to Kleos.
She immediately started reading, as easily as if the runes were in English. “‘And so did the giants pay with their breaths and blood for the sin of trying the might of the gods who protect the land of the meek.’ Fascinating!”
“That’s Norse, isn’t it?” I pushed. “Not Greek.”
Kleos bobbed her head. “Well, yes, but I’m Norse—so to speak. Freya-me, not me-me,” she amended quickly. “And still she…I knew the Greek gods. Poseidon said he was known as Njor to the Norse.”
In short, this safe could belong to just about any divinity of any pantheon.
I sighed, forcing my gaze to return to Cas.
I did my best not to look at him directly.
Firstly because his incessant smirking made me want to punch him in his perfect teeth, but also because he unsettled me.
When he didn’t think anyone was looking, there was something downright terrifying about the way the blue in his eye shone, like a storm brewing.
The black iris was worse, too piercing, like it was analyzing me soul deep whenever I dared stare directly at it.
And occasionally, when I looked, I couldn’t help thinking pretty! Instead of remembering just how dangerous he was.
“Well?” I groused. “Anything jog your memory?”
I expected a big fat no. Instead Cas lifted his hand. The lightning veins along his skin flashed blue, and the next moment, a flat coin-size sphere flew into it. Cas stared at it as though it held all the answers to the universe.
“What’s that?” Kleos asked, stepping towards him.
Lucian blocked her path, frowning as he watched Cas.
I couldn’t blame him. I felt the sudden shift in the energy around us all, something cold as steel vibrating in the air.
But Cas only pocketed the sphere and shrugged, turning on his heels. “That’s all I need.”
I narrowed my eyes at my friends pointedly behind his back, wordlessly conveying my point. This guy absolutely knew who he was. Just was just hiding it from us. And that couldn’t be good. Kleos simply rolled her eyes in response. I wanted to shout.
One day, I was going to say the biggest I told you so, damn her. Hopefully, neither of us would be too dead to hear it.
My own safe was highly organized and completely logical.
“You’re Artemis,” Cas stated, or accused, the moment we entered.
On the left, there were weapons, arranged by age from what I could tell, though that was hard to estimate given the fact that nothing decayed in these vaults.
In front, there was an absolute wealth of taxidermy, which was ever so slightly creepy.
Deer and hounds, boars and bears. Several of the stuffed beasts were creatures of legends, not just animals.
Unicorns, griffins, a hydra. To my dismay, there also was a cage with a live animal, a large eagle who chirped so happily anyone would think it hadn’t been locked up for roughly three thousand years.
“Oh gods,” Kleos grunted, stepping forward, hands raised to check on its health. She gasped. “It’s perfectly healthy.”
“That’s a phoenix, I believe.” The banker cleared his throat. “It is no longer in the bank’s policy to keep livestock. You’ll need to take it with you.”
“Why wouldn’t we?” Kleos snapped.
I swallowed, a little disgusted with myself for locking it up in the first place.
No, not myself. Artemis wasn’t me.
There were roughly a million statues, and over half seemed to feature, well—me.
Some were giant, over ten feet tall, but even then, I could tell the subject was short.
The human-size ones were of a woman of my exact height, with a nose just like mine, a little turned up, and even that specific pointed chin I wasn’t fond of.
It was hard to tell anyone, including myself, that I wasn’t really Artemis with these statues locked in a safe that belonged to me.
I had to conclude that no one in her life had any imagination, because there were also thousands upon thousands of baubles that must have been gifts or offerings, most in the shape of a crescent moon, and the occasional little animal.
Game, mostly, though there were several hounds, and the cutest little wolf cub in silver.
Something else dawned on me. All these things felt like mine.
Even the creepy stuffed animals. I was utterly comfortable here.
That in itself made me highly uncomfortable.
I remembered what Apollo warned us about weeks ago.
When a god took over a human vessel, they fought for dominance and the god died.
Except I didn’t feel like I was fighting anyone.
I don’t know what you are, but my sister’s spirit didn’t attach itself to you when it recognized a fitting soul. You were born with it.
I hadn’t believed him, certain Apollo would do just about anything to protect his sister, including erasing me, but I suddenly remembered one thing. The reason they made him the god of prophecy was because Apollo was incapable of lying.
He might refuse to answer, or twist his words with more agility than a fae, but if he spoke clearly, it had to be the truth. And here, amongst Artemis’s treasures, I had to admit that I was at home here. These were my things.
I hated it.
I made myself turn to the banker, clearing my throat. “What about that third account?”