The Wicked Within (21 page)

Now or never.
And I sure as hell hoped I had the power to resurrect Athena’s child, because if I didn’t . . .

The long, checkered aisle, flanked by columns and flags, and the balcony of the second-story gallery spread out before us, leading my gaze straight to the nave’s sanctuary and altar table. Athena sat on the table, swinging her feet, watching me as we approached. High behind her and the table, my father was bound to the massive sanctuary statue, each wrist tied to the columns that framed the statue. His feet were together and shot through with an arrow that pinned them to the stone beneath. Athena’s version of a crucifixion.

I gritted my teeth, forcing calm into the anger I had at seeing him like that. My dad’s head lifted, and he paled. If he had his way, I’d be fleeing past The Rim by now. But that wasn’t me. I’d always come for him.
Always.
Whether he liked it or not. He’d do the same for me.

Artemis and Apollo stood at the end of the aisle, one on either side, intimidating as hell in their battle regalia. There was no sign of Horus anywhere, and I had a feeling something had gone wrong, terribly wrong.

Athena gripped the edges of the altar table where she sat, her attention glued on me. There was no expression on her face, which surprised me because I expected her to be smiling in that arrogant, knowing way of hers. But there was nothing but intensity. She must believe she was close to being reunited with her child.

I passed Artemis and Apollo, Kieran sticking to my side. I’d been told that after the war between the gods, after Athena had gone nuts and killed her father and his supporters, the surviving gods had fallen into line, Athena too powerful with Zeus’s lightning bolt and his Aegis, a powerful breastplate and shield that made its wearer virtually indestructible. Eventually she’d lost the Aegis. And yet her brother and sister remained by her side. I knew from Menai that Athena had some hold over Artemis, but as for Apollo, I had no idea why he stayed with Athena.

Athena wore her awful bodysuit, made from the dark-olive skin of the Titan monster Typhon, sewn together, hugging her body from neck to wrist to ankle, sometimes shifting and moving, like a living thing on her body. Novem legend differed from what the rest of the world knew; the Aegis Athena had lost was actually made from the skin of the king of the Titans, Zeus’s own
father, Cronos. When Zeus, and then Athena, wore it in battle, it made them invincible.

“You have the Hands, gorgon?” Athena asked in a neutral tone.

“I know where they are, yes.”

Her earthy green eyes flared with desperation and hope. She hopped off the altar and strode across the crimson carpet. At nearly six feet tall and standing two steps higher, she towered over me. “You will revive my child?”

I swallowed. Inside I was shaking, and it took some effort to keep the trembling from my voice. “If you agree to leave me and my friends, my family and theirs, my descendants and theirs, the city and
everyone
in it alone, unharmed—by your hand, your command, or your influence—forever.”

“That is a tall request for one so . . . small.”

“A small concession compared to holding your child again. After I do this, you must also agree to remove my curse.”

Her full lips dipped into a frown. “Anything else?”

“No, that about does it,” I answered, noticing that she seemed a little pale, her breathing subtly shallow. She hadn’t fully healed from our last meeting.

“The Hands,” she prompted.

I drew in a deep breath and glanced at Kieran. Together we went to the right side of the church and found the long marble slab etched with the name
ANDRES ALMONESTER Y ROXAS
.

Athena knelt down. “Here?” she asked, her voice tight. “Beneath this stone?”

“Yes. That’s where Josephine hid them.”

Please be right, Sebastian. Please be right.

She waved us away, her focus on the stone as she ran her hands over the surface. A faint green light appeared beneath her hand and traveled around the seam of the slab. As she lifted her hand, the stone rose. The sound grated through the cathedral. A thud shook the floor as she set the heavy stone aside.

I held my breath as she peered inside, using her power to raise the Hands from their hiding place. My breath caught in relief and wonder. They were just as I remembered. A stone basket cradled by two strong hands, broken off at the wrists. Athena grabbed the statue with care. As I stared at her profile, I could only imagine what must be running through her head and her heart.

Finally she rose with her treasure. Her throat worked, and I caught the briefest flash of emotion in her glistening eyes. Anguish. Pain. Fear of feeling happiness just yet. As she carried the basket to the altar table and placed it on top, I noticed Artemis had tears in her eyes.

Now it was all up to me.

But first we had to make our bargain binding. The doors to the cathedral slammed shut with a heart-stopping bang, Athena using her power to cut off my main escape route. When the sound faded
away, she said in a low, emotionless tone, “Step up to my altar.” A shiver crawled up my spine.

Squaring my shoulders, I left Kieran with what I hoped was a reassuring nod, stepped onto the raised sanctuary, and walked to the altar.

At the table, I looked at the child inside the basket, eyes open, its body covered in a blanket, one chubby hand clutching the end. A bowl divided into two separate sides appeared on the altar, along with a thin, wicked-looking blade, a quill, and a thin strip of ancient-looking paper.

Athena repeated the promises I’d ask her to make and stated that by blood, she was bound to them, with Artemis and Apollo serving as her witnesses. She cut her finger, squeezed several drops into the bowl, and then dipped the quill in, using the liquid as ink to write down her vows. Then she turned around and slid it toward me, picking up the knife and handing it over.

I took it. The handle was warm. “Your blood goes in the other side of the bowl. You write your agreement below mine, that you will faithfully attempt to resurrect my child.”

“You really think I can?” She was betting an awful lot on an unproven ability.

“I would not be here, and you’d be dead already, if I thought otherwise.”

It was now or never. I glanced at my father again, then over
my shoulder at the door. Horus wasn’t coming. Sebastian . . . he would be here soon, I hoped. I faced the altar, slit my finger, and then wrote my promise. Athena took the paper and snapped her fingers, and flames began to eat away at the edges, releasing a blood-tinged smoke that rose up in the shape of our words and then disappeared.

In the ensuing silence, the distant sounds of the battle ebbed into the church. Doubt skated along my nerves. Doubt that I could do something so unusual. I’d changed Sebastian back, but he’d been stone for a short period of time, and I’d been hyped up on adrenaline and emotion. This child had been trapped in stone for a thousand years. . . .

My father cleared his throat, the sound bouncing around the lofty space. I knew that was to remind me of my training, of everything I’d learned so far.
Okay. Focus, Ari. You do this right and Athena is gone for good. Out of your life. Out of your father’s life. Out of New 2 for good.

“Okay,” I breathed. I could do this. I reached out and placed my hand palm down over the baby’s chest. My eyelids slid closed, and with that I imagined a wall, one that held my power, falling down. My curse rose fast, always there, just lurking, waiting for the opportunity to strike, my power growing more volatile and impatient with every day.

All right, Selkirk, do your thing.

T
HE DOORS BEHIND ME BANGED
open so hard, one split and the other flew off its hinges. I spun around. A wizened old figure appeared in the doorway, shuffling in with his staff to support him, a hood drawn over his head.

The River Witch stopped in the aisle.

What the hell?

Athena came around the altar and stopped next to me, livid. The witch lifted his wrinkled hand and pulled back his hood. My heart stopped. As the hood was dragged slowly off his head, the old face changed, like he’d peeled away a layer of deceit, leaving behind a beautiful woman with red hair, porcelain skin, and the features of an angel.
A pretty witch
, Crank’s voice reminded me. Had she somehow seen beyond the disguise?

And if the kids
had
left with her, then where the hell were they?

The cloak dropped to the floor. The witch was dressed for battle, her hair braided at the sides and pulled away from her face, her staff at the ready. A strange shimmering black breastplate was molded to her body, covering her torso, neck, and arms. Ancient designs filled the plate.

“Hello, Athena,” she said with such underlying pleasure I knew we were all going to be in a world of hurt.

Athena marched off the altar and down the aisle like vengeance reborn. As she reached out to grab the witch, the witch held up her hand, and Athena stopped. Just
froze
.

“How
dare
you interrupt!” Athena railed. “You, more than anyone, know what I have lost!”

“Aye, and I lost too. Or do you forget? You stole
my
child! Mine! Did you think Zeus wouldn’t notice you switched our children? You sacrificed
my
child to save your own, and it didn’t even work! He knew and took yours anyway. Do you know what he did to my child? He tossed her from the window of his temple, just threw her away.”

“You betrayed me first! You should have kept your mouth shut and kept the prophecy to yourself. You knew what would happen once you uttered those words, Dora! You damn well knew it would be the end of my child!”

The River Witch was Anesidora. The Pandora of legend.
Athena’s first creation, and the one who’d uttered the fateful prophecy about Athena’s child.

Kieran moved to my side as Artemis and Apollo held arrows notched against the strings of their bows, but had yet to raise them. Menai, I noticed, had appeared at the broken doors, her bow drawn as well.

“These long years I have waited, satisfied in the knowledge that I took your child from you, that your attempt to save your child failed. But then when she came along”—Dora flicked a glance at me—“I knew I’d have the most glorious justice. Do you know the rest of the prophecy, gorgon?” she asked me. “That
child
will be sought and found by those wanting to ignite the Blood Wars. He will lead an army against the gods. He is of goddess and vampire, able to consume the blood of the gods, to draw their very essence into his body. And Zeus was the first fated to fall. Do you really want that evil walking this earth?” She turned to Athena. “I
had
to tell. Your son put all of us in danger.”

“My son is not evil!” Fury shook Athena’s voice. Ironic coming from a goddess who had embraced evil ever since her child was taken. But it also meant the baby’s father was not Horus. So why the hell was he here and wanting to kill Athena?

The father was a vampire. Athena had not denied it. So who was he? Then I remembered what Sebastian had learned from his mother’s things. Josephine’s grandfather had been captured by
Athena. In the tenth century. The attempted murder of her child by Zeus and subsequent War of the Pantheons also occurred in the tenth century. Could Josephine’s grandfather have fathered the child? Could that be the source of Josephine’s hatred for Athena?

“Now it matters not,” Dora said. “Your son will live, but he won’t live beyond this night.”

Athena broke through Dora’s power and slammed her palm against Dora’s solar plexus, sending the witch flying backward. She slammed into the massive organ on the second-story balcony. Athena spun around, her eyes blazing at me. “You. Protect my son.”

Stunned by what was happening, I didn’t answer. Athena appeared right in front of me, her hand squeezing my throat. “I do not make bargains unless I have insurance. Melinoe is in the Underworld right now with your mother’s soul. You protect my child and we complete our bargain, or her soul is obliterated.”

Athena’s bright, angry gaze fell on Kieran. “And you, Celt. Think you, your brothers and sisters are safe in the afterlife? Get in my way and they’re all destroyed.” Done with her threats, Athena turned back to the organ. She had a witch to kill.

As she swept past Artemis she said, “Watch Ari, don’t let her leave.” To Apollo, she said, “You’re with me.”

They strode down the aisle, then leaped onto the second-story
balcony and wrenched Dora from the broken organ. As the pipes knocked and fell, earsplitting tones reverberated through the church.

“What the hell happened to Horus?” Kieran asked.

Artemis’s head whipped around, her eyes wide. “Horus is here?”

I didn’t answer.

“No,” she breathed, her face going pale. Artemis ran toward Menai, grabbing her daughter and pulling her to the corner, their heads bowed together.

Athena threw Dora to the aisle below. The witch smashed into the tile, leaving a small crater. Dora’s chest and stomach shook. She was laughing. Slowly she pushed to her feet, ducking supernaturally fast as Apollo’s arrow blew past her head. “Come to me, my horrors, my spites and vices. Come out and defend me.”

The strange, high-pitched sounds I’d heard outside Josephine’s house came zipping through the door and into the church, trailing lights and peals of laughter. I remembered why they’d sounded familiar. I’d heard them another time too. At the River Witch’s house in the bayou, in the clay jars.

“What are those?” Kieran asked.

“I think those are the things that escaped Dora’s jar.”

“Some,” Dora said, somehow overhearing me. “Not all . . . ”

The vices and spites transformed from tiny lights into hideous
monsters, demons straight from hell with huge, muscular black bodies, light spilling from cracks in their skin. Athena cursed, attacking the horrors with Apollo. When one was shot through the forehead with an arrow, it simply pulled it out the other side and kept fighting. When Athena shot another with lightning, it burst into a million tiny sparks only to re-form.