Page 165 of Dead Vengeance

That tap-scrape sound echoes off the walls as the god himself steps into view, one human foot touching the stone, the mirror-foot hitting it in tandem.

He’s just as terrifying, just as awe inspiring, but this time, there’s something different. This time, I don’t think I care what he might do to me. Because I can’t take this pain. I can’t. Archer healed five years of hurt, then life ripped a fresh hole clear through me.

“He took both of them,” I cry out, shocked at my voice stark in the temple, begging Tezcatlipoca. “That man. He took my brother. Then he took my love. I can’t stand it. I can’t.”

Tezcatlipoca surveys me coolly, then raises his eyes to Jem. Next, his head turns slowly to take in Marsden. He opens his mouth, and says, “What an asshole.”

Time stops. Stills utterly. There’s an ancient Aztec god of fate and creation standing over the dead body of the man of my dreams who just resurrected my brother in a London cemetery and… that’s his assessment?

It’s a fair one, but…

“Do you think there’s anything you can do?” Jem’s voice, clear and calm on the night, like he’s asking a plumber how to fix his tiling over a cup of tea.

“Can’t resurrect him,” Tezcatlipoca says. “That was his thing.”

“His…” His thing? What the fuck am I even witnessing? “But you’re a god! You’re an actual god. You can destroy worlds.”

“Destroy, yeah,” he mutters, giving me a shrug. “I can go find his soul for you, keep him for whenever—”

“Tez!” Jem cuts in sharply.

“Yeah, I know. It’s not ideal. But I can’t just…” He waves a hand, like any of us are supposed to understand what that means.

I cast my eyes back and forth between Jem and ‘Tez’, trying to divine whatever’s unspoken between them while they’re holding each other’s gaze. Jem’s eyebrows rise higher. Tezcatlipoca’s brow draws deeper.

“Please,” I rush out. “Please. If there’s any possibility, I’ll do anything. I’ll… I’ll go anywhere. I’ll find you whatever goods or treasures I can.” The idea slams back into me. “I can get your mirror! I’ll have it for you in a few hours. I won’t stop looking for it until I do. Please. I’ll do anything you want.”

Tezcatlipoca stalks over to me, beads and golden jewels clinking as he crouches down by my side. He runs tender fingers, now soft and flesh-covered, down Archer’s cheek. More tender than I could have imagined him being capable of. “He was a good one.”

“The best,” I agree, trying to hold back my tears. “I don’t think there was a cruel bone in his body. He’s the sweetest, nicest man. And this can’t be his time. It’s not fair. It’s not right. The world is not better for this. Please help him.”

His eyes focus on mine, and he looks into me. Into me. I can feel it. Like his mind has reached into mine, and it’s sinking threads all through me, down my throat and into my heart. He’s all inside me, poking and sifting in every corner. Then I hear a crack, blink, and he’s withdrawn, holding the mirror he’s snapped off of his leg, staring into it. “Liam Locke… you are… broken.”

“Um…” Yeah, that’s probably true. Feels a bit harsh, though.

“Tez, that’s not very nice,” Jem throws in, clearly in agreement.

“No, but he’s… He’s not working,” Tezcatlipoca says. “Like he’s supposed to. Shall I fix him?”

I stare at Jem, and he stares at me, and like Tez before, offers only a shrug.

Tezcatlipoca holds his mirror a little closer to his face, then mutters, “Can you live with the consequences…” But it’s almost like he’s not even asking me. It’s as if he’s asking the mirror.

“Consequences of what?” I whisper. “Of his death? Because no. No, I cannot. I don’t have it in me. But anything else—anything else in this universe—and I’ll take it.”

His eyes turn on me slowly. “That is what I see.”

Suddenly, his hand shoots out, his palm landing on my forehead, long fingers stretched wide over the crown of my head. Fear rips through me, but I hold still, hold on to Archer when Tezcatlipoca tells me, “All I ask for in exchange is one blood sacrifice.”

He squeezes, and a blast like lightning shoots through me. The world turns blinding white, pain sears into my temple. I fall back with a scream, writhing on the ground, my entire body liquid fire.

Then, as suddenly as it started, it stops.

Just stops.

Everything is quiet.

I feel the grass beneath me, damp and real.