“Oh, Morrigan leaving you again was quite real,” Discordia informed him, still wearing David’s body but revealing her mannerisms. “I had no part in that. As soon as she found out you killed the liminal’s lover, she left without a word. It’s been days and she still hasn’t returned. That’s how I’m certain no one will come looking for you as you rot away down here with no blood, no books, no fire, no wife—nothing but damp earth and misery.” She smiled and sat back down in her chair, crossing one leg neatly over the other. “It’s my guess that Morrigan finally made her decision. You had to know she’d eventually choose your brother. She always does, no matter how many times you try to fool yourself. I mean, look at me. I’m deliciously handsome, am I not? You’ll never be good enough for her—why else would she completely abandon you without telling you where she was going?”
Lucius didn’t respond. He knew she was just trying to provoke him, but her words still managed to sting. He’d been down here for days? He licked his lips, disappointed they no longer tasted like her.
“In fact, I found this earlier, hidden in your chambers.” Discordia pulled out an old book that had been wedged behind her chair.
Lucius winced. He had stolen it from under Libraean’s nose, trapped in conflict for weeks whether to read its contents.
“Apparently, you also doubt her, otherwise you wouldn’t need to read what he added to her memoirs.”
“I didn’t read it,” he growled.
“Then allow me to assist.” Discordia flipped through the pages. “Ah, right here: ‘She could no longer bear to be associated with Set, the detestable god of death, realizing that although he pleased her physically, she did not love him. Instead, she found herself drawn to the light, seeing freedom from bondage in Osiris’s eyes. To her, he represented goodness, and his unwavering love for her meant that she was also good. For every note he wrote to her, pledging his devotions, he received one in return, where she poured out her heart to him in verse.’ Did you know that bit? That she wrote to him as well? Surely you knew that.”
Lucius was silent.
Discordia continued, thoroughly enjoying his discomfort. “‘On the night she finally escaped from Set, she found refuge at their Earthly palace. After her sister had fallen asleep, she returned to the Nile where she met Osiris and taught him how to make the physical act of love. So strong was the love between them, that she became the first goddess to produce godly sons in her womb. Though the lovers were elated, they feared Set’s retribution and hatched a plan to deceive him. The pregnant Nephthys went into exile, hiding away until her children were born.’”
“I know this story, love, you’ll have to do better than that,” Lucius finally spoke up, though a dismal feeling had crept into his chest.
“And yet, you still keep believing she won’t run away…oh, now that is amusing.” She snapped the book shut. “That is precisely what she just did.”
Again, Lucius was silent.
“The most curious part of it all, is that I cast a spell long beforehand that would make reincarnated gods lose their memories. It was originally intended for Hera and Athena, should they make their way to Earth after I killed them. Yet when Morrigan and David rose to Earth, waking up to each other with no memories, they still fell in love. In fact, they fell in love again in Romania, and again in recent days. That is a love that transcends all time—the truest love of all. You have no part in any of it.”
“Are you going to continue your blathering or can the corpses eat my flesh now?” Lucius asked, though he struggled not to succumb to his emotions.
Discordia smiled. “Though you present me with a face of stone, you know my words strike true. Tell David I said hello when you see him in Tartarus.”
Lucius blinked. “You sent him there?”
“It was a happy accident,” Discordia informed him. “The Watchers tried to convince him to kill you again, along with the others, but he refused.”
“You plan to return and kill the rest of them with both of us gone,” Lucius realized.
“I promised the African gods I would spare Anubis and Thoth, but I will absorb the rest of them. If I am going to be the only goddess left on Earth, then I should be all-powerful. Oh, and I suppose I can tell you now—I pretended to be Anubis’s wife so I could steal some of his magic. I was so deeply inspired by the story of this place, that I decided to be the one to raise the dead and tear you apart. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to kill your wife. Goodbye, Set, and good riddance to you. You have been a pain in my side for far too long.”
Lucius snorted, causing her to whip around.
“What is so amusing?”
“I am not the pain in your side, Discordia. Morrigan is. You loathe her because you cannot be her, although you have spent your entire existence trying to do exactly that.”
Discordia flinched ever so slightly behind David’s frown.
“The only reason you hate me is because I won’t use you as her substitute. I won’t pretend along with you, no matter how clever your disguise. I know the difference between a real goddess and an imposter. Because that is what you are: a miserable fraud who has to scrape and claw her way into becoming something that can’t even come close to Morrigan’s magnificence. Even if you succeed in killing her, you will never, ever be the Great She.”
She slammed him with the fire that rushed out of her fingers, but all it did was heat his skin enough to melt the chains from his wrists. “Damn you,” she sneered as he smiled triumphantly.
She turned, focusing her energy on the ground instead. It trembled in response, and soon rotten fingers and decrepit arms clawed their way up through the dirt. She gave him one last victorious smile before abandoning him to the resulting chaos. Lucius soon found himself boxed in by dozens of reanimated corpses wearing nothing but bits of putrid skin and moldering linen as they reached for him out of their bed of dirt.
He noticed someone else standing in the doorway, shocked to see it was Libraean, who stared at the scene unfolding before him with wide eyes.
“Discordia has been masquerading as David,” he called to him as he began to pool together his powers of fire, the nearby torch growing in flame. “Tell the others and when they don’t believe me, have Thomas look at him.”
“We already know—let me help you,” Libraean called back, though he seemed frozen by shock, unprepared for the nightmarish visual assaulting his senses.
“Open the portal to Tartarus,” Lucius said as one of the undead finally pulled itself free. It lunged, and he snapped its neck hard enough that the force removed its head. Lucius threw it against the wall with a resounding splat, but its jaws continued to open and shut after it landed in the dirt, its rotten tongue lapping the air in fruitless fervor. “Open the portal and get out of here as fast as you can.”
Libraean stayed frozen as he took in the implication of what was just said.
Cahira streaked into the room, also stopping dead in her tracks. “What the he—”
“These are undead; you cannot control them like you can animals,” Lucius informed her, growing more frustrated with the interruptions as he narrowly avoided another corpse that lurched in his direction. “I’m taking them with me to Tartarus—I believe David is trapped there. I will also look for your wolf. Now help Libraean open the portal and get the hell out of here so I don’t take you both down too!”
Cahira nodded, her expression shifting between hopeful and worried as she grabbed Libraean’s hand, pushing her power into his palms as he closed his eyes in concentration. Lucius ripped the head off another creature, catching Cahira’s attention with his eyes. “Tell Morrigan—” His voice caught in his throat. “Just tell her I still love her.”
Before Cahira could respond, he let go of every emotion he had been holding in—from the refreshed agony of losing the twins to the thought of Morrigan leaving him again—letting his anger extend from the tips of his fingertips, embodying the dragon in human flesh, until the entire chamber was consumed again by flame, taking the reanimated corpses down with him.
CHAPTER 8
THE HANGBE WARRIOR AFRICA
sandrine
She saw the buzzards circling above, but was not afraid like the others. She heard a few weeping nearby, moaning for their mothers, but she knew better than to indulge in such things. She had to save her strength. There was no one coming to rescue them—they had to save themselves or die.
