Chapter 35 #2
He shuddered. “They hit me a few times.”
My blood boiled, and I muttered a curse through my teeth.
“Are you actually a goddess?” he whispered.
“No, I’m just a person.”
He was quiet for a while. “How do you know?”
“Well, I’m pretty sure I can die,” I answered, realizing that beyond that, I had no idea.
“Who is the God of Death?”
I shivered. “I don’t know.”
Where were they taking us? Juck usually talked about the Voiceless in Sin City, but after my conversation with Wolf, I realized I had no idea where the God of Death might be.
The scope of how much I didn’t know felt overwhelming.
Talmar had seemed willing to answer all my questions last night. Maybe I could get more answers.
“Hey, you,” I called, my eyes on the Voiceless holding the horse’s reins.
He turned and stared at me, but his lips were stitched closed. I decided to try, anyway.
“Where are we going?”
He looked behind me and signed something with his hands. I glanced back to see a Voiceless with unstitched lips riding toward us. I recognized Talmar as his horse fell alongside ours.
“What is it you need, Goddess?” he asked.
It was so strange looking at them in the daylight. They were still horrifying with their stitched lips and blackened eyes, but they looked more like what they actually were—creepy-ass men with peeling face paint and tattered robes.
“Why hasn’t everyone removed their…” I gestured to my mouth.
“Not everyone has earned that privilege,” he answered.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to know how that privilege was earned. “Where are we going?” I repeated my original question.
“To the God of Death.”
I huffed an annoyed breath. “ Where is that?”
“The Sanctum.”
I glared at him. Was he doing this on purpose? “For fuck’s sake, where is that?”
His expression remained steady, seemingly unbothered by my attitude. “It has been known as ‘Sin City,’ but the God of Death has renamed it the Sanctum.”
Finally, an actual answer. I remembered Wolf talking about the Sin City Uprising. How long ago had he said it’d been? Ten years?
“Renamed is a shitty way to describe slaughtering innocent people and seizing control.”
“They would not have been harmed if they had not resisted.”
I bit back my fury and instead asked, “Who is the God of Death?”
He blinked, a hint of surprise in his eyes. “You do not know the God of Death?”
I glared, waiting.
“The God of Death is the head of the seven gods, the one true God. Only he can grant the honor of his true name.”
This speaking in cryptic, non-answers thing was going to be the death of me. “Ok, who are the other gods?”
He frowned as though he disapproved of my ignorance but answered, “the Goddess of Fertility, the God of Fire and Destruction, the Goddess of the Harvest, the God of Knowledge, the Goddess of Love and Beauty, and the God of Justice and Order.”
Now, I frowned. The people of Carth worshiped the God of Justice and Order, calling him the true god, but I had no idea he was one of the seven Voiceless gods.
Carth had always portrayed the Voiceless as barbaric heathens—a laughingstock.
Did they know they shared the same god? Then, another thought occurred to me.
“You already have two goddesses. Why can’t one of them be the Goddess of Life? ”
He gave me a pitying look, and my hackles rose. “Fertility and the Harvest are not the same as Life.”
“You mean you twisted your made-up religion to fit the story you chose.”
“You have the power to heal, and yet you think this is made up?”
“The people at Carth certainly think so,” I shot back.
A knowing sneer crossed his face. “Yes, the Justice Keepers, with their narrow minds and rigid laws, believe they alone hold the truth, but they are looking at a tiny fragment of a greater whole. They are like children holding a pebble and believing it to be the entire mountain. They have forsaken the other gods in their ignorant pursuit of a world already lost. We see the pebble, the mountain, and the entire cosmos beyond.”
“Good for you,” I muttered under my breath, then louder asked, “How many Voiceless are there?”
He smiled wide, cracking open the healing puncture wounds on his face again. “We are in the tens of thousands.”
All the blood drained from my face. I felt Roe twist to glance up at me, but I just stared at Talmar. He had to be exaggerating. That couldn’t be true. Talmar studied me, his smile turning smug at my reaction, and I tried to school my expression.
“Are the other gods at Sin City?” I hated that my voice shook.
“The Sanctum,” he corrected. “No, they have been separated, but the God of Death plans to unite them all.”
“What do you mean, separated?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
“The gods were once united in purpose, but over time, the other gods were swayed by earthly desires and corrupted. The God of Death saw the impending decay and sought to correct them, but they turned against him. He was forced to leave, to bide his time and gather a devout force to restore balance. The Voiceless are His chosen ones, destined to cleanse the world in preparation.” He paused, and that feverish light in his eyes shone brighter.
“You were always meant to be the guiding light, Goddess, a beacon of creation and renewal. But when the gods fell into discord, you were lost in the chaos.” He leaned even closer as we rode beside each other, and I instinctively tried to lean away, clutching Roe tightly.
“You are not just a part of this, Ember; you are the very heart of it. Life and Death are two sides of the same coin, and with your return, balance shall be restored.”
Breathe. I tried to remind myself as my head spun, but the fuzziness of panic crept closer.
“So I’m just as powerful as your God of Death if we’re two sides of the same coin,” I tilted my chin as I glared at him.
He gave me a patronizing smile as though I was a child. “Your power is great, Goddess, but do not mistake your strength for equality. Even life must bow down to death. Your power is meant to serve as a complement to His.”
Furious tears burned in my eyes. Of course. That’s what I always was, a tool for other, more powerful people to use. “If the God of Death is so powerful, it seems pretty fucking lazy that he didn’t fetch me himself.”
His expression darkened, and I knew I should have watched what I said, but my temper was slipping. “He did not come because He did not need to. He asserts His will through us, His prophets.”
“Or he doesn’t even exist.”
His knuckles cracked as he gripped his reins tighter. “You may be the Goddess of Life, but you owe your God your respect.”
“I don’t owe your god shit,” I snapped.
The Voiceless leading our horse turned and signed something to Talmar.
“Yes,” Talmar answered him, staring pointedly at me, “this resistance is a sign that Ember’s pride blinds her to the truth. It is our duty, painful though it may be, to guide the Goddess back to the higher path the cosmos has bestowed upon her.”
I pulled Roe tighter against me as my heart tripped over itself.
Talmar smiled, baring his yellowed teeth. “Do not fear the sacred rite of correction, Ember. Through suffering comes purification, and through purification comes understanding.”
I understood plenty. I understood the fear tactics. I understood the threat. I understood that we needed to get the hell out of here.
When I didn’t say anything, Talmar continued. “The God of Death is very real, just as these gifts he has blessed us with are very real.”
I glanced at him as he removed his single glove and pulled the sleeve of his robe up to his shoulder, and then I stared.
My brain couldn’t understand what I was seeing.
Instead of flesh, his hand and arm were metal.
It began at his shoulder, hydraulic pistons softly hissing as it moved.
What appeared to be metal tendons flexed, the hand opening and closing with a humanlike dexterity, and thick black tubes ran down the metal arm like veins.
The metal was dented and scratched as though battle-worn.
“It is through the God of Death’s power that we have been blessed with augmentation—a holy union of flesh and the divine. These enhancements are the instruments he has gifted us to bring balance to this world teetering on the edge of chaos.”
“Did he gift it after you lost your arm, or did he chop your arm off to gift it to you?” I muttered.
“It is a small price to pay,” Talmar replied.
I assumed that meant the God of Death wasn’t providing prosthetics to the disabled, but I pressed my lips together.
“These gifts bless us with a fragment of the God of Death’s power, lending us his speed and strength. The Black Veil, those who have proven their unwavering devotion to the God of Death, are even gifted the ability to block or sense the astral plane.”
“Are you one of The Black Veil?”
“It is my deepest desire to achieve such a blessing.”
“So, no, you’re not,” I sneered. “The God of Death couldn’t even send his most devoted to fetch me?”
Anger flashed in his face, but he seemed to swallow it down. “One of The Black Veil was with us, but he was unfortunately slain in the skirmish with the Vault’s Safeguard.”
He must have been the one whose body released the Shadowbane. “Do all the Black Veil turn into fucking biological weapons?”
“Yes,” he said so calmly that a shiver went down my spine.
“That is so fucked up,” I muttered.
“Even in death, the Black Veil carry on their divine work.”
I wanted to ask how they surgically implanted a device to go off after death and how they kept the Shadowbane contained, but he spoke again.
“Juck was a member of the Black Veil, which is how he kept you hidden for over a decade. I would assume that?—”
“Juck wasn’t a biological weapon,” I interrupted.
“He fled before that enhancement was gifted.”
“Wait, what do you mean, ‘kept me hidden’?” I remembered Wolf saying he couldn’t find me until Juck’s death.
“He could shield himself and any near him from the Astral Plane.” Talmar looked as though he’d swallowed something sour. “It is one of the greatest honors to be gifted such an ability.”
“What is the astral plane?” My entire body had gone numb.
Talmar frowned again, looking dismayed. “The Astral Plane is another realm that only the divine can access. It has no limits, no boundaries, and transcends our mortal senses. Your power flows through the Astral Plane and into you. Have you never experienced it?”
I swallowed hard and asked, “Can the God of Death access it?”
“Of course,” Talmar answered instantly.
I felt the blood rush from my face. Was Menace the God of Death? That sounded an awful lot like the place I went while drugged—the place where Menace always found me.
“What does the God of Death look like?” I got out.
“None may describe the God of Death,” Talmar said sternly. “Those blessed enough to see his face swear an oath of silence.”
Of fucking course.
Nemo had told me the god of the Voiceless didn’t have powers like Menace.
He could’ve been wrong, I supposed. I wasn’t sure I could explain why, but Menace had always seemed separate from the Voiceless to me.
For starters, I was sure if he was the God of the Voiceless, he would’ve said so—over and over.
The Voiceless seemed to get off on talking about their religion.
Unless Menace was also a prisoner?
I chewed on my lip. How would the Voiceless keep him a prisoner? He seemed far too powerful.
Should I try to contact him? My stomach flipped with anxiety. I didn’t know if I could , much less if I should. Would he help me? He would probably rage against someone else claiming I belonged to them. Unless he was the God of Death.
Was this what he was trying to protect me from?
I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to scream in frustration.
“Did you have any further questions?” Talmar asked.
“No,” I ground out. I wanted him to go away.
Thankfully, he bowed his head and slowed his horse, returning to where he’d been riding.
“Em?” Roe whispered, his voice full of anxiety.
I glanced at him, hating the fear that was pinching his little face.
“This is bad, isn’t it?”
I sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. “Yeah.”
“Are they gonna hurt you?”
“I’d rather they hurt me than you,” I muttered.
He fell silent for a few breaths. “I’m scared.”
“Me too,” I admitted.
He gripped my hands tightly, and I squeezed them back, and then we both fell silent.
He fell asleep again soon after, but thankfully, my fear was enough to keep me awake.
Time seemed to crawl by, and I couldn’t decide if that was good or bad.
The Voiceless were moving quickly but weren’t rushing, which told me they didn’t believe anyone was pursuing them.
I wondered where on earth the watchtower tunnel came out.
It could be anywhere. How the fuck would Mac find?—
Wolf.
My breath caught. If anyone could find me, it would be my brother. My heart ached as I remembered how I’d thrown his own trauma in his face and the cruel last words I’d said to him.
How about we make this real easy and just never speak again.
I forcefully swallowed the bitter tears in my throat. Trying to be inconspicuous, I pulled some long hairs from my head, letting them drift into the bushes. I could, at the very least, try to leave him a trail.