Page 157 of Vengeance of the Gods

Vega sighed, slightly annoyed, but answered anyway. “Because wherever I go, Marlena will follow. I’m public enemy number one again after Demuto.” Did everyone in the room know what she meant by that? “I can’t be at the mines, or it’ll draw attention there while we’re evacuating. Staying here not only does the same thing, but it’s also a complete waste of my powers and abilities. If a fight breaks out, it’s going to be in the city. I’m most useful,” she sneered, “wherever the biggest threat is.”

“Exactly. I just wanted to make sure the rest of the room understood you weren’t making this choice to follow where I go.” He twisted back around and eyed the faces at the table. “Any questions? Complaints?”

Everyone shook their heads.

“Good. Let’s get this over with.”

“Oh no, I’m not riding with you two,” Meyer gruffed. “I’ll ride up front.”

Bridger snagged Meyer by the shoulder and led him into the cab of the military vehicle. “Yes, you are. Don’t be ridiculous. I can keep my hands to myself.” He patted Meyer on the back as he dipped into the backseat. Bridger held his hand out for Vega like they were loading up for a ball and not a battle. She placed hers in his delicately, winking at him. “I got enough last night to hold me over. I think,” he said under his breath, giving Vega a quick tap on the ass as she slid inside.

“Nope, no. That’s it. I’m outta here.” Meyer tried to scoot for the door, but Vega pushed his shoulders, sending him flopping back as she settled into the seat across from him.

“Relax, will you?” Vega sat on the opposite side of the cab, facing Meyer and crossing one leg over the other. “It’s been too long since we’ve spent any time together. I’d love to talk about how you froze instead of holding up your end of the bargain you came looking for.”

Meyer slumped in his seat, putting his arm on the rest by the window, and propped his head in his hand. Bridger plopped down beside him and stared at Vega with a lopsided smile. “If I sit too close I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.” He teased, his smile growing.

“Was I supposed to kill you in front of everyone? Why wouldn’t Scales or Spooky help you?” Meyer’s lips pressed into a tight line.

He did not just nickname Arlet “Spooky.”

As retaliation, she shot him a devious smile. “Bridger told me about the night he ditched you to come and track me down in Demuto. Is that why you don’t like me? Cause I stole your boyfriend?” Vega picked at her fingernails. The black nail polish she was known for had chipped off weeks ago, and who had time for a manicure these days? She honestly felt naked without it.

Death read her thoughts, and the very tips of her nails began to fade to black.

Vega hid her hands in the crack of her crossed legs, trying to stay present in the argument she’d just started.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough.” Bridger pointed at Meyer to sit back down. He’d hopped up, ready to strangle his best friend for saying anything. “If I have to be nice to your friends, you have to be nice to mine,” he said through lowered brows, trying to hold back his laugh.

Vega looked down to see her nails were black, as if painted by Death, but didn’t hesitate long enough for anyone to notice before crossing her arms over her chest, frowning. “Good thing you only have one.”

Meyer let out a snort, letting Vega know the spat was over.

They approached a town where parents sat out on their covered porches, already hiding from the early morning sun, watching their kids run out to the convoy as it drove by. Most of them waved, smiling ear to ear, while a few of the younger ones stared in amazement.

The further they got into town, the more obvious it became how little those here had. Their homes were crumbling in on them, holes in roofs being patched with whatever the family could scrounge up. Ripped up pieces of tarp, dried clay, scrap metal.

Kids ran around without shoes, and their animals were skinnier than Vega could stand to see.

“Does this not make the two of you sick?” Her eyes burned with the threat of angry tears. “People are living like this”—she pointed out the window no one could see into—“and we’re all sleeping in cush beds with absolutely no worry as to where our next meal is coming from.” Sure, Vega had worried about that and more in most of her lives, but only because a curse had made it that way.

A little boy sat on an overturned bucket, picking at a single slice of bread. He stared at it, ripping off a small corner before feeding the rest to the chickens pecking around his feet.

“Stop the vehicle,” she croaked. Bridger opened his mouth to say something, but Vega didn’t want to hear it. “I said stop the fucking vehicle!” Static had the hairs on their arms standing. She was seconds from turning the cab into a plasma globe.

Meyer slapped the hidden window between them and the driver. “Pull over.”

Vega flipped the bench seat she’d sat on forward, tearing through the compartments until she found what she knew would be stored inside.

Vega was out before they came to a slow stop, her arms full with rations of dried food.

People watched from their porches, tugging their children by the collars of their shirts to keep them from running out to greet Vega.

She approached the little boy on the bucket, his chickens running away, clucking unhappily while retreating. “Hi,” Vega said, sinking down to one knee in front of him. “I’m Vega. What’s your name?”

The little boy didn’t speak, his big green eyes scanning her.

“I have something for you.” After dropping the pile of meals by her down knee, Vega took two and extended them out to him.