Chapter 19 Fool Me Twice
FOOL ME TWICE
Acacius
“I only did as you requested!” Torin frantically scraped across the sable sand, crawling up to his knees.
Acacius stared down at the middle god of night through the slits of his mask. It was amusing, watching him attempt to flee.
An arid, black desert surrounded them, spanning as far as the eye could reach. The clouds wept in charcoal gray, casting an ominous shadow over the landscape. An inescapable mouth—a piece of Tavora.
Acacius crushed the sole of his boot against Torin’s back. The god slammed down onto his stomach.
“You were to duel with her.” Acacius crouched and ripped Torin around by his shoulder.
Strands of his dark hair stuck in the corners of his lips. His wide, panicked eyes scoured the large animalistic skull that masked Acacius’s true face. “I-I did! Lord Acacius, you were there! I fought her—”
Acacius’s fist collided with Torin’s nose. A satisfying crack reverberated up the High God’s arm.
Acacius let out a satisfied grunt, his neck slowly rolling around his shoulders in a small arc.
The violence felt good, a release of nerves clumped in his chest. Since Torin and Marina’s duel, Acacius couldn’t peel away the image of Torin bashing her face into the stone, again and again. The fracturing of her face, it tightened his chest.
A wicked smile broke apart his mouth, and he punched the god once more.
“See what we are doing here, Torin?” His knuckles kept on. The bones in the god’s face were shattered, barely holding together the battered skin of his cheeks. “I wouldn’t call this a duel, since you aren’t fighting back.”
The deity collapsed to the ground.
Acacius held Torin up by the collar of his shirt, continuing his assault. Blood speckled Acacius’s mask like bursts of oily paint. Under the mangled meat of the night god’s face, the sunken holes of his skull were visible.
Torin coughed and choked, spitting out teeth and stringy, sanguine globs.
Acacius cocked his elbow back. “Learn some etiquette, middle god.” His fingers tightened into his fisted palm, and his divine power streamed up the length of his arm. This time, he would remove Torin’s head from his shoulders.
She’s on our side.
Acacius froze.
Inside of his mind, a channel blossomed.
The calling of one of his Heraldic Olethros.
He accepted the invitation, and the sight of his creature opened behind his eyes.
The Herald showed him its memories in glimpses: how Marina had tracked it down in the streets of Hollow City with another god at her side, the destruction of their fight, and those cursed thorns pinning the creature to a slab of brick.
There was a twinge in his chest, distant through the layers of his clairvoyance. The Himura witch’s words resounded through his mind as the connection to his Herald decayed.
“M-my Lord… I will”—Torin took a wheezy breath, the damage on his face regenerating slowly—“do as you say… next time.”
Acacius’s pulse elevated, and he tightened his grip on Torin’s collar, the fabric wet with gore. It pushed under his fingernails.
All this time.
She worked with Naia to protect the child, as well as another god to track down his monsters in the city and wipe them clean.
Without realizing it, he’d been fighting against her this entire time.
Acacius ground his jaw against the stinging of his eyes, his heartbeat pounding painfully in his chest.
He expected his rage to consume him, for his unyielding need for Ruin to bubble up inside of him and steer his actions. All this time, he’d been telling himself that if he destroyed her life, caused her great woe, this hollow cave in his chest would fill.
A melancholic grief stretched across the empty space instead.
Acacius threw Torin backward.
The god fell onto his elbows, relief drooping what was left of his brow. “Th-thank you for another chance, L-Lord Acacius.” His teeth regrew and chattered as he said it.
Acacius stood up and turned his back on him, glaring out into his Stygian wasteland.
She played me again.
From the moment he tracked her down to that fucking arena, she’d been waiting for him, wanting to be found. It was so calculated and methodical, so like her, that it sickened him. It’s why she pretended not to give a damn about anything. That dead look in her eyes had been so convincing.
I do not care about anything anymore.
And he’d believed her, like the fool he was.
Beside him, a slit appeared in the air—a thick, cobalt cut that led to the center of Tavora. It was an inky indigo throat to Chaos itself. A grim clicking sounded from within it, a raptorial warning, and a mangled, bestial creature slowly climbed out of the chasm.
“The Daemon Olethros.” Torin whispered the realization like a prayer.
“Devour him,” Acacius murmured, lacking his usual fervor when commanding the beasts of his realm. His limbs hung heavy at his sides.
“W-w-wait!” Torin fumbled to sit up, his divine power gathering like static in the air.
The Daemon disappeared into Acacius’s periphery.
It sped forward in the span of a blink, catching Torin in the grasp of one of its four clawed hands.
Torin screamed, raking at the sand to pull away, but his cries quickly sputtered out as the Daemon snapped his neck. The malevolent sound was followed by the slurp and crunch of the beast feasting on him. It echoed across the nothingness.
The throb of her betrayal drilled through Acacius’s chest. It was unlike the first time she’d deceived him, where all he’d felt was uncontrollable fury and a desperation for vengeance.
Now, though, the pain webbed deeper, constricting around his heart like a laced corset. It was proof of the affection that he had for her—holding her close in the hot spring, admiring her on the altar, secretly wishing for her victory against Torin.
He might have fueled the war between them, but she’d only participated to trick him, keep him occupied and pull his attention away from the Himura demigod, from Hollow City.
Why? He couldn’t possibly understand her actions. Not after spending a lifetime despising Naia.
Acacius hunched over, catching himself on his knees.
He didn’t want to give up their game of back and forth, the intimate moments they shared. Without his revenge against her, he had nothing else.
You always chase distractions.
His stomach hardened, recalling her words before she impaled him after their dance.
Was that all she was? A distraction from his grief for Ruelle?
In between the fighting and sex, there had been moments, soft and tender, that he had refused to entertain. And now, the finality of his time with Marina felt like it was swiftly approaching.
Acacius’s breath went light.
You have always had a tendency to fall quickly and walk blindly until you spiral off a cliff.
Cassius’s words came back to him—words spoken centuries ago during a fight involving Finnian and Ruelle. Acacius could still recall his brother’s curled lip and disdain as he spewed out the acrid truth.
Though, now he couldn’t deny his habit to chase love, always at the expense of himself. He’d fallen for Marina’s tricks again, and this time, he was the only one to blame.
He stood at the cliff’s edge, and for the first time, his next step would be of his own will.
Her home smelled of warm vanilla and amber, a rich fragrance he savored.
The kitchen was divided from the living room by a countertop, the surface clean and neat, various wines and liquors tucked in its corner.
A vase of magnolias caught his eye on the glass coffee table beside him. He leaned down to catch a whiff of their sweet, citrusy scent. He was tempted to crush the delicate petals in his grasp but refrained, obeying the gut feeling that told him they had something to do with her father.
Instead, he straightened and did a sweep around her living room, eyeing the velour furniture and Renaissance portraits on the walls; the television on the wooden stand and the dozens of movie cases stacked on its shelves. Never in his mind would he have assumed she enjoyed such a mortal hobby.
Unable to flatline his curiosity, he walked the path of her home, surprised to find that it consisted of only one bedroom.
He ran his fingers over the black silk cloth tucked into her canopy bed, flicked the sheer draperies hanging from each corner, and traced the floral engravings of her wood dresser.
Her bathroom was elegant, an upscale room with a full vanity. Its countertop was organized with hanging jewelry and drawers of makeup. Until now he’d been convinced she only used glamor for her appearance. It was a surprise to realize she enjoyed the art of that as well as fashion.
He stared at the clawfoot tub, his brain conjuring her naked, relaxing in its clear waters. Back at the hot spring, she’d mentioned she enjoyed baths. At least that wasn’t a lie.
Acacius stalked back into the living room and peered out the sliding glass door to her terrace, filled with cast-iron furniture that was woven with intricate designs of vines and florals.
Beyond the terrace was a wide view of Tenebris. Its white-dipped peaks kissed the thick, indigo clouds—the midnight sky, a backdrop lit in a celestial lavender hue from the stars.
Buildings lined the steep cliffs, with warm lights decorating the streets. A moat ran between the jagged bluffs. It’d seemed the village had been rebuilt since his last visit.
He flicked his index finger against his thumb, his anger and anxiety frothing like sea foam in his system.
With a hiss, her bold presence filled the room.
Acacius continued to stare out through the glass. His divine power swelled like a cresting wave, begging to crash down on her.
She didn’t speak, and neither did he.
The stiff silence festered between them.
He wanted to give her a chance to explain. She was anything but stupid. If he were to guess, she’d have expected him to be here, waiting for her. Up until now, she’d been good about keeping her presence concealed from him in the city.
Her heels clicked across the hardwood into the kitchen, and she opened one of the cupboards.