Younger Gods 1: The Younger Gods by Michael R. Underwood Page B
Authors: Michael R. Underwood
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grandeur. The world is not for us, Esther. It’s not ours to inherit. The war is over, the earth is for humanity.”
I stood tall, looming over Esther. Instigator of the end or not, I was the tallest branch in the family tree, that much was true.
“Leave, Esther. I can’t let you hurt anyone else.”
She laughed.
“And who will stop me? You? I taught you how to fight, how to draw upon the Deeps. A circle of the city’s strongest magi couldn’t stop me, but the shy little bookworm will do it? What are you going to do, quote the family histories at me?”
“I’m not alone. And with each Heart you take, more of the city will be against you. And next time, you won’t be able to strike with surprise. All of the guardians know you’re here now,” I bluffed. Doubt would not sway her. My confidence was false, but if I could give her even the smallest pause, it could save lives.
And this was my dream, after all.
I reached out and changed the setting, turning it into a police station, filled with NYPD officers.
Esther laughed. “The wolves do not scare me. I will see this city burn, if that’s what is required. And I don’t need you to return to the fold to plant the seed. There are . . . other interpretations.” Her mouth twisted into a cruel smile, and my confidence vanished.
But why was she appearing to me in my dream, if not to lure me back? To scare me? To bait me into revealing what I knew? No matter her agenda, my best recourse was to end the dream, cut off the connection.
But considering that I’d never been able to wake myself from the dreams of prom night, that option seemed far easier thought than done.
CHAPTER
NINE
I awoke with a start, leaping upright in the bed, which meant hammering my forehead into the ceiling.
“Eleven hells,” I muttered, rubbing my head. These bunks had been made for shorter folk. I could only sit up on the bed if I slouched a half-foot, curling up on myself. I lay back down on the bed, glad I’d not woken Carter. But when I looked over, he was just gone. A late night, perhaps, or a rare evening when he was entertained at the abode of a liaison rather than bringing her here. Whatever the reason, I was thankful. I’d be able to think as I woke.
The harsh red light of the clock on Carter’s desk showed 5:13. I’d slept far more than usual. A strange sort of gift. But if it took a sorcerous visitation from my sister to sleep through the night, I’d prefer the terrors.
There’d be no use trying to get back to bed, so I climbed down from the loft and began to put myself together for the day, mind spinning through possibilities. The sky outside was still dark, only the barest hints of blue showing at the edges of the window.
I made ready, and when I returned to the room from the shower, I saw Carter standing by his closet, wearing green-and-orange brigantine armor with a long black coat over it, in a South Asian style. And among his closet of sports equipment were a bow, arrows, and a spear. Either there were even more sports than I thought, or something was seriously wrong.
“What is going on?” I asked.
Carter whirled in place, holding the spear at the mid-haft, point facing me.
“Don’t get in my way, Greene,” he said. “I know what your family is doing here.”
Surprise struck me from several directions at once. How could he know? What were the weapons? Was he a hunter? How did he know about Esther? What did he know about my family?
“What?” I said, an exemplar of equipoise.
“Your sister attacked the mage’s council and left four people dead. I’d kill you right here if it wouldn’t mean getting kicked out of school and having to go back to my backward family.”
“How?” I asked, making my way through one-word questions, still too tongue-tied by the idea that Carter, of all people, could know about the world behind the veil. When my sister talked about sheep, she meant people like Carter—self-involved, led by their desires.
“You
I stood tall, looming over Esther. Instigator of the end or not, I was the tallest branch in the family tree, that much was true.
“Leave, Esther. I can’t let you hurt anyone else.”
She laughed.
“And who will stop me? You? I taught you how to fight, how to draw upon the Deeps. A circle of the city’s strongest magi couldn’t stop me, but the shy little bookworm will do it? What are you going to do, quote the family histories at me?”
“I’m not alone. And with each Heart you take, more of the city will be against you. And next time, you won’t be able to strike with surprise. All of the guardians know you’re here now,” I bluffed. Doubt would not sway her. My confidence was false, but if I could give her even the smallest pause, it could save lives.
And this was my dream, after all.
I reached out and changed the setting, turning it into a police station, filled with NYPD officers.
Esther laughed. “The wolves do not scare me. I will see this city burn, if that’s what is required. And I don’t need you to return to the fold to plant the seed. There are . . . other interpretations.” Her mouth twisted into a cruel smile, and my confidence vanished.
But why was she appearing to me in my dream, if not to lure me back? To scare me? To bait me into revealing what I knew? No matter her agenda, my best recourse was to end the dream, cut off the connection.
But considering that I’d never been able to wake myself from the dreams of prom night, that option seemed far easier thought than done.
CHAPTER
NINE
I awoke with a start, leaping upright in the bed, which meant hammering my forehead into the ceiling.
“Eleven hells,” I muttered, rubbing my head. These bunks had been made for shorter folk. I could only sit up on the bed if I slouched a half-foot, curling up on myself. I lay back down on the bed, glad I’d not woken Carter. But when I looked over, he was just gone. A late night, perhaps, or a rare evening when he was entertained at the abode of a liaison rather than bringing her here. Whatever the reason, I was thankful. I’d be able to think as I woke.
The harsh red light of the clock on Carter’s desk showed 5:13. I’d slept far more than usual. A strange sort of gift. But if it took a sorcerous visitation from my sister to sleep through the night, I’d prefer the terrors.
There’d be no use trying to get back to bed, so I climbed down from the loft and began to put myself together for the day, mind spinning through possibilities. The sky outside was still dark, only the barest hints of blue showing at the edges of the window.
I made ready, and when I returned to the room from the shower, I saw Carter standing by his closet, wearing green-and-orange brigantine armor with a long black coat over it, in a South Asian style. And among his closet of sports equipment were a bow, arrows, and a spear. Either there were even more sports than I thought, or something was seriously wrong.
“What is going on?” I asked.
Carter whirled in place, holding the spear at the mid-haft, point facing me.
“Don’t get in my way, Greene,” he said. “I know what your family is doing here.”
Surprise struck me from several directions at once. How could he know? What were the weapons? Was he a hunter? How did he know about Esther? What did he know about my family?
“What?” I said, an exemplar of equipoise.
“Your sister attacked the mage’s council and left four people dead. I’d kill you right here if it wouldn’t mean getting kicked out of school and having to go back to my backward family.”
“How?” I asked, making my way through one-word questions, still too tongue-tied by the idea that Carter, of all people, could know about the world behind the veil. When my sister talked about sheep, she meant people like Carter—self-involved, led by their desires.
“You
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