Sin City Goddess (18 page)

More prey.

Yet the bird seemed to want only me. I helicoptered around the space, flapping my wings, considering my options.

Who had sent it here? Or had it simply escaped and sought me out to take revenge on me for banishing it to Tartarus?

It dove down, near the statue of Dionysus, Apollo, and Aphrodite, releasing droppings on the gods’ heads. They sizzled and melted the statues instantly.

Uh-oh. I had forgotten all about the poison. The bird’s excrement was poisonous.

It flapped back up and shot a metal feather at me this time. I batted it away with my sword. I watched as it pierced a plaster wall.

I dove for the bird, sword ready to slice through its crane-like neck, but at the last minute it darted away and fired another feather, which tore into my thigh. I left it there, ignoring the pain, feeling only my fury.

The crowd gasped. There were so many people. Where had they all come from?

The bird must have sensed my concern, for it spotted a weak member of the herd and dove for it. A young lady on a cell phone.

It took off after her, but I was lighter, faster, and I got there first. I scooped her up, then put her back down again. I told her to run, and she did. Behind me, I heard a scream as the bird deposited another dropping, this time on a woman’s hand. It looked to have burned her. I could smell the singed flesh.

I couldn’t save them all. I had to end this.

“Hey, you overrated piece of scrap metal! Come after me. Or do you prefer the blood of the weaker species?”

The bird looked at me, its eyes molten lava. It hovered.

“What’s wrong? Are you chicken?”

Stymphalian birds detested being called chickens.

The bird squawked and blasted me with feather after sharp feather. I managed to smack away one after another with my blade. I heard a window crash, then screams. The humans panicked. The smart ones ran.

The bird looked around the room, seeming to formulate a plan. I caught the eyes of the hound and nodded.

I knew what it was doing. If it couldn’t kill me, it would kill someone, anyone.

After a few tense moments, it zeroed in on its prey.

A baby in a stroller.

The mother was pushing the stroller, just entering the area of the talking-gods statue. She hadn’t spotted us yet.

The bird zipped its wings back and dive-bombed toward the baby with its spear-like beak.

I flew in front of the stroller, kicked it back, somersaulted, and pointed my sword at the Stymphalian’s eyes.

“Indigo, now!”

The dragon breathed a fire so hot, so intense, it melted the bird’s beak right into the floor.

The rest of it twirled and crashed, screaming as it fell. The monster fired off three more feathers as it descended, one of which hit me in the shoulder.

But before it could make a final stance, Cerberus sank his teeth into the bird’s neck, killing it.

Right before our eyes, and the eyes of every human who stayed to watch the entire display, the bird melted into a heap of liquid metal.

There were cheers, applause.

“That was amazing!” said the woman whose hand I suspected had been burned. She rushed toward me.

I glanced down. It seemed to have healed instantly. But I know I had seen it burn. Smelled it, even.

In Olympus, that wouldn’t have happened. She wouldn’t have healed. Perhaps here the laws of the Universe worked differently.

People were applauding and congratulating us on a well-done show. Except for the shopkeeper whose window had been smashed. He was looking for the responsible party. I
retracted my wings away, sheathed my sword, and called to the hellhound.

As we ran past the statues of the gods, I noticed that they were still melted. My own injuries still pained me.

Did that mean the humans would be spared devastation by a demon on this plane if a god killed it, but the gods themselves would not fare so well?

I wasn’t certain. I had never battled the monsters of Tartarus in this realm. But I knew one thing for sure.

We were down one portal to get home.

Chapter 30

He was nervous today. His partner had finally showed up in town, but he hadn’t come by to see the girls yet. Said there would be a surprise for him.

He hated surprises. He liked to be the one who did the surprising. Still, it could be something fun for the party. Toys, maybe? Or maybe another girl. That would sure save him a shitload of hassle.

He went to get his to-do list. The playmates had all been fed already. The place was clean. He had gotten the supplies. Looked like that was it. He put the list away.

He wondered how his partner would take it that he’d had to let one go. He would understand, he was sure. His partner knew what it was like. Knew the need. The hunger. You had to feed the beast within, or it would eat you alive.

They’d been working together a long time, and he had done most of the dirty work, after all. His partner owed him. It wasn’t easy finding these girls, getting them alone. Not to mention what he had to do to the friends.

Good thing he had his secret weapon.

He ducked his head into the room to see how everyone was doing. Two of the girls were playing cards. They seemed to enjoy the fact that they could still lead a regular life. Of course, he had to chain them, but you could still play gin
rummy with the cuffs on. One thing they had to admit: he treated them well.

Except the troublemaker. He hadn’t carved her eyes out yet, but he was still thinking about it. The strangest thing was, even the lack of food didn’t seem to break her. Nothing did.

Until he had opened the blinds.

She had whipped her head away from that Vegas sun so fast, you’d think it had burned her skin clear off.

So he left them open. Nobody was gonna see her anyway. Not where they were.

And it worked. Before he had done that, he could have sworn the bitch was getting stronger.

How was that possible? How could a girl get stronger when you denied her food, water, and exercise?

She had head-butted him the other day, the fucking whore. He had hauled off and cracked her a good one for that, but she had just looked at him with those creepy eyes like twinkle lights. Damn, did he regret the day he’d picked her up.

She’d had a sister when he found her. But she didn’t fit the profile. His partner insisted on a type, for some goddamn reason.

What difference did it make? That’s what he wanted to know. Broads were broads. They all bled. They all had holes between their legs that needed fillin’.

But his partner had insisted. And now he was one short, goddammit. But there was time. They had a few days before the plan went down.

He went into the kitchen to fix himself a ham sandwich. His cell phone rang.

His partner was here.

It was time.

Chapter 31

I hurried back to the room to tend to my wounds, while Cerberus went outside to take care of business. My left wing was a bit sore, and I couldn’t understand why. Was it because I hadn’t been flying much? Was it muscle pain?

Archer was in the room when we arrived. I was surprised to see him, certain the meeting with Sam would have taken longer.

He glanced up from the laptop when I shut the door. He was wearing a smile until he looked at me.

He stood up. “What happened to you?” He approached me, leading me gently to the sofa by my arm. “Come sit down.”

I did, right after I pulled Indigo from my belt loop. She was still steaming from the blaze but no longer hot. She was resting peacefully, curled around the hilt of my sword.

Archer looked at the sword. It was apparent that he wanted to ask about our new roommate, but he seemed to decide that question could wait. He reached into the refrigerator and grabbed a red Gatorade. He handed it to me, and I drank the entire bottle in three large gulps.

I felt a little better after that, but my wing was still sore, not to mention my shoulder and my thigh where the metal feathers of the Stymphalian had ripped into my flesh.

Archer’s face was contorted into a strange combination of worry and anger. “What happened? Who did this?”

I told him about the bird, the battle, the portal, and the sword as quickly as my lips could move.

He ran a hand through his thick waves. “Jesus Christ, Tisi. You could have been killed.”

“But I wasn’t.”

He knelt down, studied my injuries, contemplating the best way to extract the weapons. Then he looked up at me, a cloud of darkness in his eyes.

“Could that happen? Could you be killed here? I mean, I know you’re a goddess and that technically you’re immortal, but—” He stopped when he saw the look on my face. “Shit.”

“It’s not likely when we have our full power and I have been gaining strength.” Not to mention using it up as fast as it came. “But yes, Archer. I can be killed in this world.”

He scratched his head, turned it away from me for just a moment. When he faced me again after a while, he wore a mask of determination.

“Then let’s find your sister and get the hell out of Dodge.”

I grinned.

“Why are you smiling?”

“Because I know that one. Hickok uses it all the time.”

Archer shook his head, but I saw a smile. He stood up and grabbed my hand. “Come with me, my goddess. Let’s get you patched up.”

I placed my hand in his. The moment I did, I felt an electric jolt that tingled my skin all the way to my wings. They fluttered.

Archer slid a sideways glance at them. “Oh, hell, it got your wing.”

“What?”
Oh no, not my wing! Not my source of power!

Archer gently lifted a few feathers. “It’s not bad. Just looks like a few feathers were clipped.”

“A few!” I tried to twist my neck around, but I couldn’t see the wound.

“Is that bad?”

“It’s not good.” I explained that my wings were my source of strength. Even one lost feather weakened me, and without the Fates here to repair it, I was that much less powerful.

“Let’s get you into the bathroom, and you can check it in the mirror.”

We climbed the stairs together, and Archer led me into the bath. He gathered some towels and wet one down. Then he paused, assessing my wounds. “I’ll be right back.”

I studied my wings in the mirror. The tank top was bunched up in the middle between them. At home, I had clothing specially fashioned to fit around my wings. If they made such garments here, I was not aware of it. Perhaps I should wear halter tops for the remainder of our mission.

There was just a trickle of blood on the shirt. All my feathers seemed to be there, yet one was lying at an odd angle.

Broken, but not gone. It could be taped. That would help it heal.

Archer came back with two small bottles.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Vodka. We need to disinfect the wound. Those things are metal. You don’t know where that bird has been.” He unscrewed the cap of one of the bottles.

“No way. I don’t want that stuff anywhere near me.” I backed up slowly, put my palm up to shield my face.

Archer looked at the bottles, then at me. “You don’t drink it, Tisi. I’m going to pour it on you.”

I shook my head. “Uh-uh.”

“It has to be done.”

“No. When I return, Hecate will give me a cleansing potion.”

“They could get infected long before that.”

I looked at the feather sticking out of my shoulder. It was dull, with specks of white smeared across it. “Looks perfectly clean to me.”

Archer smirked. “You’re being ridiculous.”

I gritted my teeth at him. “I said no.”

Archer shifted his stance. “Do you really want to be the goddess who conquered the great Stymphalian only to lose an arm from an infection left by its freaking feather?”

I rolled my eyes. It sounded stupid when he put it that way. “Fine.”

He came toward me. “Okay. I’m going to pull the blade out of your shoulder first. Then I’ll pour the vodka on it, then cover it with the towel.”

“Okay.”

He grabbed a washcloth and wrapped it around his hand, then put it on the blade. “Count of three. Ready?”

“Ready.”

“One, two, three.” Archer pulled the blade out, and it stung like a piranha bite.

“Ow!” I slapped him upside the head.