Chapter 27
"How is your head now?" Storm asks when I come out the shower room, seeing him sitting on the sofa with a black glass bottle in his hand. He takes a long sip as I close the shower door and walk over to sit next to him. I choose to sit close even though there is plenty of room. Maybe the head injury—that I wouldn’t let Killian heal and take from me—is making me braver than usual. Storm doesn’t move, instead he just lets me rest against his side.
"Sore. I can't believe I didn't see that flying ice sphere," I mutter, placing my hand on the lump on the side of my forehead, where it is still throbbing after earlier today. Killian and Jade blamed themselves for the accident, Seth couldn't stop laughing at the fact I ran away from practice fighting, and Storm carried me back to the house when I woke up, despite my several protests about it all being embarrassing.
"You were running away from Killian like he decided to stab you or something," he chuckles before his face darkens, and he takes a long sip of his drink that smells like some pretty strong alcohol. "I thought you guys looked pretty close before that happened." I try to ignore the jealous comment, knowing that Storm isn’t going to make me feel bad for anything with Killian. Storm doesn’t own me, nor has he made a move to suggest he wants to be more than a friend. I also know literally nothing about him, other than what everyone else in this prison knows. As much as I don’t like to admit it, Vivian was right in some ways. Storm is a closed book and keeps everything locked away tight.
"Hand that over," I say, holding my hand out for the bottle, knowing that I could use a drink. Storm shrugs before giving me it, and I take a long sip, the unfamiliar liquid burning my throat almost instantly. I cough a few times, thinking the closest thing I've tasted to this is whiskey, before I can even speak. "What the hell is this stuff?"
"Honestly? Who knows?" he tells me. That isn't concerning at all. "A pleasure god who lives in here makes his own drinks, and he gave me that a while ago, telling me it would 'chill me out'."
"Does it?" I ask with a little chuckle as I rest back on the sofa, well aware that at some point, either Storm or I have moved closer to each other. Our legs are now pressed tightly together.
"I wish," Storm replies as I take another sip and hand him the bottle back, watching as he takes a long drink. "Nothing can erase the past and make everything less stressful. Not even this stuff." I’m surprised by his comment, because that is the first time I’ve heard him comment on anything to do with his past.
"We know each other now," I start off as he hands me the bottle back, and I drink some for bravery. "Will you tell me what kind of god you are?" I ask, reminding him of the first time I asked, and he asked me a question right back. What happened with me isn’t a secret though, so I was just teasing him, and I’m pretty sure he knows it. The last few weeks, Storm has asked a load of questions about my past and my life before here, but he never asked about what I did to get here. Storm leans back, placing his arm over the back of the sofa, his fingers finding their way into my hair.
"If you will do something for me, then yes," he replies and moves his gaze from me to my hair as he gently twirls the curls around. “You have exquisite hair, you know that?” I can only nod, words escaping me.
"What do you want?" I eventually ask him, and the question seems to linger between us as he looks down at me, facing me as he takes the bottle back, bringing it to his lips. I never knew it could be sensual to watch a guy take a long drink, but holy gods, Storm makes it borderline erotic. Not that I'd tell him that. I'm pretty sure he knows it anyway from the smirk on his lips.
"A lot of things, Karma, but this time, I want you to be my date to a party next weekend," he tells me. “We celebrate the changing of the seasons, the way my parents once did many years back. Next weekend, we change from autumn to winter.” Even though he is asking me out on a date—which god, makes me nervous and happy at the same time—he sounds sad. I just wish I could understand him more to know why it does. I know he is old, like really old, but it sometimes feels like he has been in a trance for a long time. Just frozen in this prison, waiting forever to escape. Then he looks at me, and somewhere in his gaze, I see something familiar.
"You are asking me out on a date? Again?" I ask with a cheeky smile. “Is there any chance of getting stopped by your ex-girlfriend on this one? Not that I’m saying yes.”
"That tour wasn't a date, I was teasing you. I want a real date," he responds, tilting his lips up. I’ve cheered him up a little bit.
"And that's the price to know all your secrets?" I ask, well aware of the way he is looking at me, the sweet musky smell of whiskey on his breath as he awaits my answer.
"Not them all, but some, yes," he replies. Damn, I knew it wouldn’t be that easy. “What do you say? I promise you will love the party." His hand finds itself on my shoulder, resting there, and damn I can't say it doesn't feel good when he is touching me. What the hell is in this drink? I take the bottle off him, drinking more before answering. I need something else to focus on that isn’t Storm before I do something stupid like kiss him. God, now I can’t stop thinking about what he tastes like. Whiskey and bad decisions most likely.
"You have a date then," I say, knowing I’m too curious to say no to that. It’s like hovering peanut butter in my face and expecting me not to want it. God help me. I have a date with one of the most attractive and charming men I have ever met. They say curiosity killed the cat, and I'm not even a cat, but curiosity has the better of me. Or Storm's abs do. I'm not sure which one it is. "Now out with it, what are you?"
"A higher god. The god of weather to be precise," he calmly tells me, and I nearly choke on thin air as I try to even process that. I grab his hand, turning it over and not seeing the dragon mark they all have. “Our parents both named us in the literal sense. Another thing we have in common.”
"You don't have that mark, so that can't be true," I say, lifting his hand and turning it over. I can see his other hand, knowing it’s not there. I must be shocked, because I don’t even realise I’m holding Storm’s giant hand until he links our fingers. My hand fits almost perfectly into his, like a tiny little doll slotting in a pocket.
"They gave themselves marks as a reminder of my betrayal and to erase their history," he tells me as he takes the bottle back. "My adoptive brothers and sisters would never want to forget what happened between us."
"Holy Batman, you really are a higher god," I mutter as he drinks more and hands me the bottle like he knows I need a drink. His eyes leave me and go to the painting above the fireplace, the faces are hauntingly bright in the dim room.
"Yes.”
"What happened to you?" I softly ask, because I can sense a little bit about his fear. I never understood what I was feeling from his fear before, but it makes some sense now. He fears family.
"I was the first born of all my siblings, and somewhat grew up alone as my parents couldn’t have any more children. My mother, a very powerful goddess of life, adopted my twin sisters and blessed them with incredible powers like my own. I was ten. My adopted twin brothers were born three years later by the same human mother who gave up my sisters. My parents gave them powers and made them immortal like us. One big happy family…what a joke that ended up being. I helped my parents bring them up, told them it didn’t matter that we weren’t related by blood; they were my family. My father, a god of earth, died when I was eighteen. It was a price of giving my adopted siblings all that power and immortality. My mother passed away from sadness not much later.
“I ended up alone, bringing up two sets of twins with insane powers that were hard to control, immortality that they wasted. This was around four hundred years ago, if you want to know my age. We were not the only ones with powers, but no one could challenge us, so we naturally became the leaders. Therefore, the title ‘higher gods’ was founded," he pauses, clearing his throat and holding a hand out for the bottle. After a long drink, he carries on with his story as I’m stuck in shock and silence. "We ruled peacefully for a long time, happy with our lives...well, so I thought. I found out my adopted brothers and sisters had a secret place, a building where they experimented and tortured both gods and humans. I believe the powers my parents gave them made them cruel and insane. They became monsters. I destroyed the place, letting the people free, and called my siblings in to explain to them how wrong it was what they were doing. I planned to help them, teach them right from wrong somehow. Our parents created peace, and that is what we needed to carry on, or we risk the entire world. I thought that they understood, that they listened to me, but I was wrong. So fucking wrong.
“They found unbreakable chains, the only thing in the world that can hold a higher god down, and tied me up after a long fight I almost won. I let them win because I couldn’t kill them. I should have killed them, I know that now, but back then, I saw them as my only family left. They threw me in here with all the creatures, gods and humans they had messed with and said I betrayed them. They built the prison with their powers to keep me in, and the only thing they left me with was that painting as a reminder. This place is their grave of secrets, starting with me."
"What crazy assholes," I blurt out. "You brought them up when you didn’t have to, and they betrayed you. Not the other way around."
"They don't see it that way. I've heard nothing other than their cruelty over the years in here, and I know there isn't much left of the siblings I grew up with," he despondently tells me. "And a sick, crazy part of me still wishes my siblings weren't completely lost."
I freeze, my whole body filling with cold fear as I suddenly realise I killed one of Storm's brothers, the brothers he clearly loved at some point and wishes were good somehow. Looking up at the painting, I see the higher god I killed almost instantly and know now why he looked familiar. That’s why Storm’s last name was familiar to me: it was the same as the Karma job on my hand.
"It's okay, you know? My fucked up past isn't something to get upset over," Storm says, moving his hand to my shoulder and gently stroking my back. When I look back at him, I want to tell him everything and hope he can forgive me. It was an accident...but he might not see it that way. A deep part of me isn’t ready to lose my friendship or whatever this is between Storm and me. I also don’t want to tell him something so terrible when he is trapped in here forever. He clearly has suffered enough. I keep my selfish lips shut, even when I know it’s going to destroy me not to tell him.
"You're immortal," I decide to say instead, because I need far more of this drink and a bucket of courage to tell him the truth right now.
"Yeah...it comes with more problems than it is worth at times," he replies.
"You really shouldn't ask me on a date," I blurt out. “I mean, the justice twins are immortal, so you should date them really.”
"They aren’t my type or gender, darling. I know this is complicated between us, but hell, for once, I want to do something reckless and crazy just because I want to," he says, reaching up and tucking a little bit of my hair behind my ear. "And trust me, I want to spend time with you, my little Karma."
"You're going to break my heart; I know it and so do you," I gently mutter, knowing it's true, and hell, so does he. I'm going to end up like Vivian at this rate.
"Maybe, maybe not," he replies, before pulling away and standing up off the sofa, clearly done with this conversation. "Night, Karma."
"Night, Storm," I reply, drinking some more of the bottle he left with me, before putting it on the floor. I curl up on the sofa, looking up at the painting which I now know haunts more than just me.
Chapter 28
Seth
