Chapter 45
Topp Blatz hated himself more than usual today. He should have been proud of himself. It wasn’t an easy feat to trick Elysia Parker, but he’d been counting on their tenuous past to kick up enough emotion that she missed the truth. Still, it stung she’d so easily believed him.
The venom and hurt in her voice had been real, reminding him of how deeply he had fucked up while they were together.
The image of her face and ribs smashed, breath rattling as she damn near died at the House still haunted him.
It was a miracle she’d tolerated his presence at all since then, but she’d done more than tolerate him.
On some level, she’d forgiven him. That much had been clear when she showed up at the temple of Ration and Reason, destroyed and looking for a friend.
He’d blown that to smithereens now. She’d told them the plan was to retrieve the talisman location.
Per the usual, she’d failed to mention a few key details like the part where she planned to use the fated scissors to tear up their tapestry.
He’d only known about the scissors because Maya had warned him that Elysia might show up with them and that he shouldn’t touch them if she did.
He’d ducked out for two reasons: Maya was going to double-cross her, and he wanted to be able to swoop in when she did.
Obviously, nothing had gone to plan.
Rollickus fidgeted next to him anxiously, trying to peer around Topp’s massive shoulders and failing.
“Stay back, will you?” Topp growled. He wasn’t in the mood. He needed Rollie for what was to come, and he liked to think Rollie benefitted from him, but once again he found the road to patricide to be a lonely, assfuck of a thing.
“Is she gone?” It was Lucy squeaking away now. The money he would pay to be able to travel himself, so he never had to watch her drool over Timmons again.
“No, she isn’t fucking gone. For the millionth time, I will tell you when we can enter.”
Clothes soggy and boots filled with water, none of them were having a good time, but it was a waiting game now.
The ramshackle cottage in Briar’s Cove of Lyden, the island kingdom near Kava, looked like it was one bad storm away from caving in, and he was tempted to help it along.
Truth be told, the shit weather might have been partially his fault.
Wiping water off his brow, he glanced at Rollie. “You’re sure they’ll be able to help?”
Rollie yanked at his wet clothes, making a face. “Not at all. I’ve told you that, but what else are we going to do?”
Topp nodded, going back to his watch. There she was, the demigod, once dead, but now very much alive princess of Kava, holding his ex-girlfriend hostage. Gods, was he the only remotely sane person in his entire family? Aggravated, he pushed his questions away.
She’d seen the monster their father was becoming and tried to stop him only to end up murdered herself.
And fuck, maybe Elysia’s pale-ass death god didn’t deserve to run the death realm, but from what Oren had told him…
Aidan was the most responsible among them.
Painfully aware of his duty and role. They all knew about his rough start and none of them blamed him.
The other gods had received warning and consented to their godhood.
Aidan and his friends had been murdered and reborn after saying no.
Maya was straining a pot of tea now. He’d loved his sister. Mourned her every single day of her absence and relied on her memory to carry him through his worst days. But the woman humming and stirring sugar into a teacup wasn’t the same person he’d known.
She didn’t just want the death realm. She wanted to unleash the dead and force the fates to bend to her, weaving new stories that suited her aims. She had a prison full of creatures she could control and had no qualms about doing so.
Their father wanted to kill magic and conquer kingdoms, but his sister wanted to bend the line between mortality and death.
The vision she had painted him had chilled him to his core—she spoke of Aidan as rigid in his role, but Topp couldn’t think of anything more terrifying than the death realm spilling over into the mortal realm.
Look what had happened to Kava from a simple deal gone wrong.
Decay. Illness. Death. He had no interest in the laws of magic as it applied to the mortal physical plane, but it didn’t take a genius to understand it would not end well.
Ten minutes later a door slammed, and Lucy perked up. “She’s gone.”
“You’re sure?” They couldn’t risk her seeing them.
“I managed to ride her coattails all the way here. Are you seriously questioning whether I can tell if she traveled?”
Topp started walking to the cottage, his heart suddenly thumping harder. He’d made a promise that night in the House, and in spite of his failures along the way, he intended to keep it now. Love or hate. He would do what he had to, to keep them both alive.
Leaving Kava had granted him something beautiful.
Yes, Rollie drove him insane, and had almost gotten him killed multiple times, but the last few months had given him distance, perspective even.
He wasn’t any less angry. He still barely controlled his temper and wanted to leave everything for the woods.
Unlike Elysia’s poignant speech at the safe house, he didn’t see a love or future for himself.
But the fact that she had found that? It made him wonder if maybe, there was simply something better for him than this.
And to find whatever that was, he needed to keep his head and stop cutting through his relationships like they were deadweight.
He glanced at Rollie beside him and resolved to build alliances rather than competition if they made it through this and the death god’s gambling game took off. Easier said than done.
Jogging ahead, he tried the front door only to find it locked. Frustration bit through him, but he directed it, gathering the wind like it was his to command. Grunting, he released the gale, forcing it at the front door. The metal hinges flew off and the weather-worn door shattered inward.
Steps behind him and huffing, Rollie finally reached the cottage porch. “Gods, you’re dramatic.”
“Worked, didn’t it?” Topp stepped over the debris, his ears alert for any sudden sounds, but there was nothing. Stalking through the cottage, he walked straight to the only closed door. His hand hesitated on the knob for only a second, and then the door was open, and his heart cracked.
Still in the all-black clothes she’d worn in the warehouse, Elysia was on the bed. Her skin rippled and shimmered unnaturally, and her eyes were no longer a sensual, liquid brown, but iridescent with light.
“Rollie,” he managed to choke, but Rollie was already shoving past him, checking her vitals with an efficiency that surprised him.
“We need to move her. Lucy, let’s go,” Rollie barked. Lucy broke into motion, grabbing Topp’s hand as she passed before slipping her other hand into Rollie’s.
They landed in a heap on a cold white dusty platform. Topp stood, scooping Elysia into his arms, not so much as glimpsing the extraordinary sights around them before walking inside the temple. Shifting Elysia’s weight, he took hold of a skeletal hand and pulled once, twice, thrice.
The clanging resounded, echoing throughout the eerie chamber, and he waited with Rollie and Lucy shivering behind him. Finally, the floor opened, and two women emerged in plain black robes.
Topp didn’t wait for the priestesses to greet him. “You need to tell your god that Isamaya Blatz is coming and not to take her deal.” He clutched Elysia tighter, pain leaking into his voice. “I promised she wouldn’t die—not because of me. You have to save her.”
Two women hovered over Elysia’s supine form. They’d laid her out on a long stone table, and with her dark hair splayed out around her the scene looked far too much like a funeral rite. Skin shimmering and eyes iridescent, he knew she wasn’t dead, but it was still unsettling.
Fear and uncertainty sharpened into a much more comfortable foul temper. “Can’t you do something?”
They shouldn’t have come here, but he hadn’t known where else to go. It wasn’t like they could travel her to the death realm.
The woman with tight, twisting braids and sculpted muscles turned to him. “She cut through the tapestry of life?”
He didn’t care for her disturbed expression or questioning tone. Both were unnatural on her and told him well-enough how fucked they were.
“Yes, she wielded the scissors even though she’s not a god and ripped their magic.” Impatience rode his voice. He’d explained this ten times by now.
Nia, the woman’s name was Nia. She heaved an exhale and spoke to her partner. “Gather everyone. I can’t imagine what will come of destroying the tapestry of life, but it may mean that some of Aidan’s restrictions are gone. We will call on him.”
The shorter priestess, who had initially been chatty until he’d bit her head off, nodded and raced down the hall.
“You’re going to call on him?” His skepticism was obvious, but it was Rollie who talked him down in his own irritating, but factual way.
“What else are they going to do? Between the scissors and fate magic, and whatever your godsdamn sister did this isn’t exactly a normal situation for a healer.” Rollie’s brow lines deepened as he stared at Elysia’s body. “I told her not to trust you fucking Crown squinches. Sister included.”
Topp glared at him. “We didn’t know that was going to happen.”
“Still blame you.”
Nia draped a thick blanket over Elysia. “Come. You can watch if you’d like, so long as you don’t interfere.”
Curiosity brightened Rollie’s eyes, and Topp swallowed what he’d been about to say.
He really was trying to be less of an asshole—he knew the priestess was doing everything she could, but it wasn’t good enough.
All he knew was that it would be his fault if she died.
More than once, he’d almost changed his mind and warned her about Maya playing every angle she could, but Rollie had convinced him not to—he’d said that he was positive Elysia knew more than she was letting on.
That whatever she was up to was delicate and she was too smart to be unaware of his sister’s obvious machinations.
So, he’d agreed, and now she was dying.
The woman had spent her entire life avoiding his father’s execution squad only to almost die twice now from his shitty choices and his sister’s grandeur plans for vengeance and control.
He glanced up above them to the muffled sounds of feet stomping.
Maybe he should just let his bloodline die out with him.
His gaze flicked back to her. And maybe she should never come within five feet of a Blatz again.
Rollie paused in the archway. “Are you coming? I want to see this.”
Nodding, he selfishly allowed his hand to dust over her hip as he passed. When this was over, he wasn’t ruling Kava. He didn’t care who bore the crown next, but it damn well wasn’t going to be him.
Upstairs, the entire temple’s worth of acolytes stood in a layered circle.
Layer by layer, they began to chant until the resonance of their voices pitched through him in waves.
In the center of the circle, Nia painted a skull and dice on the temple floor with her hands.
Another priestess lit incense and wafted smoke until the air was saturated.
Nia poured dark liquid over her painting and arranged food and gifts as the litany continued.
The chanting increased until Nia held up her hand and at once their voices cut off.
“We call now on the god of the dead. King of the Deathlands, god that we serve, hear our petition and remember us.” Nia lit the paper she held in her hand and placed it on a plate to burn.
Curling and blackening, the petition went up in seconds leaving only ashes behind.
Wiping her fingers through the dust, she sprinkled it out over the floor, murmuring. “May your strength and wisdom prevail.”
The temple became uncomfortably quiet. Topp’s shoulders tensed as Rollie’s hot breath misted on his neck.
There were too many people in here, incense was tickling his fucking nose, and why wasn’t anything happening?
He moved from foot to foot in agitation.
Did these people even know what they were doing?
A man landed in the center of the skull, his smooth dark brown wings flaring wide. Ducking his head, he spoke softly yet his deep voice carried through the silent chamber. “Clear the temple. He’s coming.”
Instantly, as if they had drilled for this, the temple doors opened and everyone exited, fleeing down the temple steps.
Hand on Nia’s wrist, the winged man’s eyes landed on Topp and Rollie.
“Not you two.” He stood there, alert, and watchful, waiting until every last acolyte had poured out of the temple, and then he disappeared.
Rollie whispered from behind him. “Maybe I should call for Lucy. I don’t think we should be—”
A soot-like haze cloaked the room so darkly he could not see. The pulse in his throat quickened, and his hand shot out to grab at Rollie. He was right, they needed to get out of here. The blinding shadows cleared just enough to make out the outline of a tall, imposing figure.
“Where is my wife?” The voice that licked out matched the haze. Dark and dangerous, this was a god he had a feeling would have no qualms with burning him alive.
Dropping Rollie’s wrist, Topp adjusted his stance, bracing for the worst, but the god of the dead was already striding past him, calling out over his suited shoulder. “You’re lucky she cares for you.” And then he was gone, down the stairs into the true heart of the temple where Elysia waited.
Taking a breath, Topp and Rollie looked at each other and followed him into the dark.