Grim forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Preparations are being made, and I’ve already entrusted Timothy and Vivien to see that you are properly dressed for the occasion.”
I forced a smile. If the god of the dead thought playing dress up would mitigate my fears about mingling with the literal gods I had crossed, he’d gotten the wrong memo.
I started to head out but paused and looked back. “You really don’t think he’ll show?”
Xander's reaction was explosive and violent, a storm of emotion that tore through the air around him. At Grim’s suggestion, his newly calm demeanor shattered into fragments, leaving behind a raw, unbridled rage that seared my skin. I didn’t fully understand the reason for his outburst.
Grim leaned his arms on the bar in a surprisingly human posture.
“The last time Xander was among our kind, he was attempting to rally us against Aten who was making moves to become the one true god. We didn’t believe him. And it’s what led to his death.”
My heart suddenly seemed too big for my chest. Xander died some several thousand years ago when he went against Aten alone. I’d learned that the spirit or soul or whatever you want to call it—of the gods returned to a place called the cradle of life where they arise again centuries later. However, Xander almost immediately returned to physical form. Having not laid in the cradle long enough, his powers were volatile and overcharged, causing power surges that would continually fry his own brain and body.
He’d suffered more than anyone, all because he tried to do something about the danger when no one else would.
His sacrifice saved everyone else, but no one saved him. Not until I came along with the Blade of Bane, where he demanded I keep killing him until he’s put to rest for good.
And then I brought back the god responsible for his death.
“How did...” I trailed off, thinking better of my question.
“Burned him to death I’m afraid,” Grim said, his own expression contorted with pained lines.
Oofta. Not that I imagined being murdered in any way was pleasant, but imagining Xander burning to death made me positively sick.
Leaving Grim, I walked straight to Perkatory to order myself a quad shot red-eye from Aaron. There would be no sleep today. Because I’d be damned if I went to face the immortals without putting back at least one monster in the box.
Which meant I had to take a different tack.
Thirty minutes later,I parked outside Echo’s warehouse. I traipsed by unused machinery to the back elevator, down past the cameras and automated guns that dropped from the ceiling as a security measure and into the secret lair.
Echo’s massive space was half tech heaven with several dozen screens showing different anime shows, news programs, and surveillance cameras. The other half of the space resembled an old grandmother’s living room. Antique floral couches spread out over a generous, patterned rug, protecting the living quarters from the cold concrete floor.
It looked like Batman’s grandma had decided to move into the Batcave.
“What took you so long?” Echo asked in her usual clipped tone, and thick Filipino accent. Echo’s face reminded me of a scowling bullfrog with her wide features and narrowed bulbous eyes. The short, stout woman’s walking cane was set off to the side of her computer command chair. Short, pudgy fingers flew across the keyboard.
“You should have come sooner,” she scolded again, without looking up. “We’ll find them. We’ll find them all,” she promised.
The idea that I could use my fae contacts to help track down potential god targets only just hit me.
Apparently, Echo had been waiting for me to come to the realization on my own. My molars rubbed against each other in a punishing grind, as I accepted the extent of my own ignorance. It wasn’t like me to overlook resources.
“Why didn’t you callme?” I asked. That call could have gone two ways.
Echo’s fingers paused for the briefest of moments. Then she went on typing, forgoing a real answer.
But then again, there was another reason I’d stayed away. Someone I’d been avoiding.
With a quick glance around, I found only Echo’s two rabbit familiars, one the size of a medium dog, and a small white one with a dark circle around its eye. Lulu and Darth Vader. They were snuggled together on the couch resembling two different sized loaves of bread.
The door swung open to what I presumed to be the rest of their underground home. My heart jumped in my throat.
Echo’s husband, Ryuki, tottered in with a tray of tea. The sparse Japanese man gave me an impish grin I couldn’t help but return.
“She’s not here,” Echo said, still not facing me though her gruff tone softened.
“Oh,” was all I said. I wasn’t going to pretend I didn’t know who Echo was talking about.
