Chapter 2 A VENGEFUL SMOKE #2
Morning sunlight cracked through the dense clouds. Rays of amber shone from the skylights and reflected off the slate walls of the colossal hall, a smooth, mirrored surface like melted metal.
Acacius strode in pace alongside those heading toward the city. Alongside those who had never once seen his face. It was ironic, for they had not the slightest clue who he was without his eldritch mask.
He preferred remaining an enigma, as it was a small luxury to blend amongst them in secret without provoking fear or unease.
Grand columns lined the cathedral. Long, thick branches of ancient ash trees reached up toward the open ceiling, with marble fountains and gardens of narcissus and hyacinths adorning their massive trunks.
Individuals sat on the iron benches nearby in conversation.
Others sauntered around the sights, admiring the thicket of clematis and honeysuckle.
Acacius stepped out on an alabaster entresol at the end of the hall overlooking the city. Flanked on each side of the balcony were curved staircases leading out into the heart of Isolde.
The realm’s air was light, carrying the whisper of a breeze across his cheek. A reprieve from the rain that pelted down on the impenetrable glass dome encasing the city.
Acacius took in the view on his way down the stairs.
Paved veins wove in between the ashlar masonry.
Light flooding in from above slowly darkened, as if the clouds were digesting the sun.
A smoky shadow washed over the buildings, and the warm glow of the lampposts spilled like syrup along the streets.
Isolde stretched out as far as he could see, its structures layered and connected by steel bridges.
Brick stalls encircled the square—a god of nature selling colorful bouquets, paper crafts, artwork, and jewelry.
Children swarmed a stand serving ice cream topped with fruits.
Goddesses of music sang atop the platform in front of the ancient yew, its roots exposed and curling into the pavement like worms.
Acacius continued straight ahead, passing the open doors of coffee shops and antique collectors with customers pouring in and out.
The entrancing notes of the music and voices dwindled as he made his way to the end of the square and entered the Drefan district.
The streets opened. Deities loitered outside of the establishments.
Pinpricks of whirling tendrils snaked by as others teleported in between the crowd.
This sector of the city was a constant disarray of noise and the sharp, pungent scent of alcohol, braided with smoke.
Drefan district was known for housing nefarious entertainment.
Acacius slipped through the door with a crimson flower encrusted on the black glass.
Salon de la Rose Rouge.
Everywhere he looked were sleek marble surfaces and red roses climbing their pillars.
Glasses clinked behind the bar. The tables cluttered with occupants in formal attire swirling their wine and smoking rolled paper filled with an assortment of mythical flora, a drug easily obtainable from the various shops in this district.
Acacius exhaled, annoyed by how much the sophisticated lounge reminded him of his older brother. It was a place where he and Cassius regularly met to catch up. Even though Acacius visited the Land of the Dead nearly every day, he cherished Cassius’s invitation and attention.
Ignoring the echo in his chest, Acacius strolled across the room, stepping into the threshold draped in a blue hue of thick smoke. Velvet tufted furniture lined the walls.
A god was sprawled on one settee, pants undone, his head dipped back, expression arranged in one of pleasure with a goddess snuggled into his side. She nibbled on his neck while another god worked between his legs.
On the sofa across from them was a naked goddess propped on her hands and knees, one god slipping into her mouth, another two taking her from behind. Their moans sang under the sultry jazz tune playing over the speakers.
The salacious acts were a regular form of revelry for deities, regardless of the opulence.
Acacius slipped through the back door and took the staircase down into the basement, leaving behind the quiet, erotic atmosphere.
The first time Cassius dragged him to Rose Rouge, Acacius sat stiffly and complained the entire time about the clean, posh environment. It was beyond him why Cassius ever thought he would indulge in such a pristine place, despite its arousing festivities.
However, an hour or so later, Cassius downed his whiskey and loosened the tie around his neck, and then he escorted Acacius underground, revealing the basement’s grand secret.
While tasteful and elegant above ground, they operated a breeding of bedlam underneath.
The Pit was just as Acacius remembered. Glaring white lights hung over a deep, hollow bowl. Hundreds of bodies filled the area that surrounded the ring, jumping and swinging their arms in energetic cheers.
“Don’t let her win again!” someone called out.
Acacius stalked along the back row. From here, he had an unobstructed view of the two deities fighting within the dried basin.
“Fucking. Take. Her. Down!” another shouted.
Acacius crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, recalling all the times he stood in this very spot with Cassius, his brother observing with his hands in his pockets, pretending to be content watching a scene so disorderly.
Acacius pushed down the nostalgia and closely watched the High Goddess in the ring.
Her dark strands were pulled back behind her shoulders, leaving wavy bangs to frame her face.
She wore a low-cut body suit tucked into black combat pants.
Two slits exposed the skin of her hips above her waistband.
A silver body chain hung between her breasts, inciting gazes to their plump shape.
Long black gloves covered her drawn up fists, the material stopping halfway down her forearms.
The High Goddess’s biceps were toned, adorned by more silver jewelry, and the core of her abdomen flexed as she ground into a solid stance.
She held herself with a clear strength, eyeing the stocky god hopping around in front of her with a predatory arrogance.
He was bare-chested and broad, his muscles like cords rippling in the backs of his shoulders as he beat on his pecs, egging on the vociferous crowd.
Acacius relished the noise, the rambunctious energy, all vibrating through the soles of his boots. He smirked to himself, anticipation burning in his stomach.
A bell chimed, and the crowd burst into a loud cheer.
Acacius’s gaze jumped back to the brawl as the god stepped forward with an arm extended, his fist shooting toward his target.
The High Goddess swerved, hooked her arm, and plunged her knuckles into the god’s nose. The delayed, harsh crack in his face reverberated like slow-motion shattered glass, and the stout god flew backward.
He smashed into the wall of the ring. The impact rippled through the stone, trembling up Acacius’s shins. Like a pancake, the god peeled forward and fell face-first onto the ground.
The bell sounded again.
“Match over!” a voice announced through the speakers.
The crowd erupted.
Two individuals clad in robes entered the pit and dragged the god away.
“Who has what it takes to come down and face the night’s long-standing champion of the Pit?” the voice continued in a persuasive, marketer’s pitch.
Acacius’s smirk widened.
Finally.
After all the years of watching from afar, permeating mayhem to break out in the fights, he was finally entering the ring. It was something he’d avoided doing, to keep the attention away. Inserting himself among the calamity never ended well.
He pushed off the wall and fabricated at the entrance of the ring. “I’ll give it a go.”
A goddess with bright green hair stationed in front of the caged door gave him an unimpressed once over, popping her bubblegum. “All bets are on. You lose, you take nothing home. Got it?”
Acacius peeled out of his damp coat and tossed it aside. “I’ll gladly win then.” He stepped up to the caged door, adjusted the turtleneck collar of his shirt, and started rolling a sleeve up to his elbow.
She popped open the lock. “First one down loses.” She swung the door open. “Good luck, bud.”
Acacius sent her a cheeky smile. “Don’t need it.” And he stepped through.
He took position where the previous god had stood, assessing the High Goddess before him as he worked up his other sleeve.
She kept her fists elevated, blocking the bottom portion of her face, but Acacius could spot the fractures in her expression.
It appeared centuries of being forced to watch her during duels had not gone to waste.
There was tension around her eyes, dark and pooling with visible signs of emotion, the way water collected in a ravine. This was new for her.
Acacius planned to bleed her dry of it.
She scrutinized him, contempt so easily detected upon her face.
The High Goddess looked at him the same way she had looked at the idiot she’d nearly just put through the wall. All without the recognition of who he really was.
The irony pulled his lips into a wolfish grin. Adrenaline sparked in his veins, sending a tremor to his marrow.
Back in the Land of the Dead, the High Goddess had been too occupied with betraying him to realize his mask had fallen off during her hit. By the end of it, she’d killed her father and disappeared, just as he had—with Ruelle.
The High Goddess still did not know what his face looked like. Just as she did not know that retribution was right in front of her.
The palms of his hands broke out in a cold sweat. Pure, sweet indulgence.
He lifted his chin, acknowledging her with a sly head tilt. He was eager to bait her, to see her levelheaded demeanor fall into discomposure once she realized who stood before her.
Over the knuckles of her drawn fists, her gaze sharpened, solidifying some of the softness that now lived inside of it.
The crowd stomped their feet in a brutal beat.
Acacius’s heart rate pounded erratically against his ribcage.
The bell rang and the crowd roared.
The High Goddess made the first move, her body distorting and reappearing to the right—further away, then close again. A trick of the eye to cause distraction. He relied on the feel of her energy, like a compass following the heavy current of her aura.
Acacius ripped his head sideways.
She materialized to his left and reared her arm out. Acacius dipped his head to dodge her hit. Her fist soared inches from his jaw, the air around her enclosed palm enveloped by her divine power stinging his skin.
He matched her speed, ducking and swerving to evade her attacks. Her aim was precise, locking in for his nose, his ribcage, his throat. However, this was the most he’d ever seen from her. During the duels he’d witnessed, her nightrazers always did the work.
Acacius peeked over his shoulder, measuring the distance from his back to the wall.
The sharp end of her gloved thumbnail scraped across his cheek. His pulse fired and he cut his eyes back onto her, noting the dramatic transition in her speed.
She reared her other arm up and landed a punch. A collision of her knuckles against his jaw. The skin inside of his mouth ripped between his teeth.
Mid-hit, Acacius pushed back on his feet, diluting her blow before her strength snapped his neck. Copper filled his mouth, and he huffed out a laugh.
As a High Goddess, her abilities were more honed than most. She relied on her empyrean speed, but as an older god, he was much faster, and it was a pleasure to use it against her.
She swung again, and Acacius took the opportunity to catch her by the wrist. He stifled the deranged impulse to crush her bone to powder.
She reacted immediately to his touch, the way an animal caught in a trap panicked to fight free. He felt the resistance lock in her muscles as she cocked her head back and threw it forward, prepared to shatter both of their skulls.
Acacius slung her with full force before she could land the hit. Her back crashed against the wall of the arena. The strands dangling in her face stuck to her lips. A slight crinkle formed in her brow, and the venomous glint in her eyes dug needles into him.
A dark fervor coiled in his deepest parts, reawakening a ferocity that had been snuffed out the day of Ruelle’s death.
Marina went to propel herself off the wall, but Acacius rushed forward and caught her by the throat, pinning her in place.
Her arms came up, and he caught both of her wrists in between his fingers and slammed her hands above her head.
She thrashed in his hold. Her foot came up off the ground and Acacius crushed his hips against her stomach, blocking any space for her to rear her leg up and kick him.
He leaned forward until her breasts were snug against his torso, satisfied by the feel of her heartbeat ricocheting in his ribcage.
Oh, the fun he intended to have with her.
His mouth brushed the line of her jaw, up the side of her cheek, lingering near the shell of her ear. “Found you, Rina.”