Resonance 4th Edits - Bleeding Worlds Bk 3 (13 page)

Even as the two men shrank away from Marie’s fury, Adrastia stood impassively.

“It was his plan from the start. He believed staying behind would make Fuyuko look better, meaning no restrictions on her access to the formula. He also thought his life depending on her success would provide her more incentive.”

“Great.” Marie paced, her arms flying about so fast, they blurred. “And none of you thought that was a stupid idea?”

“We didn’t know,” Brandt blurted out.

He shrank away from Marie’s glare that said she didn’t really expect, or want, him to talk.

She turned on Adrastia.

“So are you telling me he shared this plan with only you?”

“I am.”

“And you expect me to believe he would share a plan like that with you, who he hardly knows, but wouldn’t share it with the rest of us who are practically his family?”

“You’re demonstrating why he did it, right now,” Adrastia said. “He knew you would never let him go through with it, so he didn’t tell you. Since I was going to be present for his conversation with Fuyuko, he discussed it with me ahead of time.”

“Well, that’s just great. So we have no formula, no leader, and nothing but a jump drive with a bunch of prophesy bullshit.”

“You looked at the content on the drive?” Adrastia asked.

“I started to. And honestly, I don’t see why you cared so much about it.”

“Then perhaps you should let someone
else
take a look.”

Brandt moved between the two of them, his hands outstretched, his face filled with the real fear he could die.

“Both of you need to step down,” he said. “Marie, Jason told us to leave without him. He could’ve come, but he chose to stay—so I believe it
was
part of his plan. We may not like it, but right now, we have no choice but respect it. And you…” he said to Adrastia. “I’m hoping when he discussed this “plan” with you he made it clear he had an exit strategy.”

“I am the exit strategy,” she said.

“Oh fuck.” Marie punched her fist against the van, causing it to tip up on its opposite wheels. “That’s awesome. Just awesome.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Brandt said. “I’m not saying you aren’t all bad ass and stuff, but it seems a little much to think you can save Jason when he’s stuck in a military facility surrounded by Anunnaki.”

Adrastia didn’t bother to look at him.

“I’m sorry if my suggestion to have someone else look at the drive came off as an insult, but if you couldn’t find any value in it, then you missed something.”

Faster than Brandt could blink, Marie was an inch from Adrastia’s face—who, despite the invasion of her personal space, didn’t flinch.

“Then maybe you should just tell me, if you’re so brilliant.”

Adrastia said nothing, just pierced Marie’s skull with her stare.

“God Damn Ageless Ones,” Marie cursed, turning away from Adrastia and tearing at her hair. “You always think you’re so superior, and all you ever do is speak in riddles.”

“You’re right,” Adrastia said. “When you never age, everything becomes a game, and you rarely feel the need to be brief because all you have is time. I’m sorry. And I should be more mindful. Time isn’t as unlimited as it used to be. The prophecies I put on the drive are from Elaios, who told Woten the original prophesy of Ragnarok. I also included the notes from the historian Herodotus, who was an Ageless One and spent centuries researching to find the truth behind prophecies and myths. Its importance lies with deciphering the clues for defeating Woten and the Aesir.”

“But couldn’t that prophesy have come true already?” Caelum asked. “We were told sometimes prophets had visions of future events on alternate Earths. It’s the reason why they sometimes get things wrong.”

Adrastia nodded.

“I know. And it’s why I spent an eternity ignoring prophecies. But Elaios was the Fallen who faced Gwynn in Brantfield eight years ago. She said at the time he was the Harbinger of Ragnarok’s coming. The Gwynn you know saved his world, so if he is the harbinger, then it’s yet to happen.”

“But what about Cain?” Marie said. “He’s Gwynn too.”

“Yes, and I’ve followed him for near every breath of his life. The prophesy of Ragnarok has never happened.”

“So your money is on it happening soon,” Brandt said.

“The Norse cosmology consisted of nine worlds,” Adrastia said. “Precisely the number left after the Cataclysm. There is only one Woten, and he still lives. And the great wolf Fenrir stirs beneath Asgard, but is still bound by the magics of the Aesir. So yes, I believe Ragnarok is coming. And I think those prophecies and research are the only things that can help guide you to victory.”

“Fenrir dies in the legend,” Marie said.

“Yes,” Adrastia said, “it does. And knowing that ahead of time allows you to plan a strategy to prevent it.”

“Can we do that?” Caelum asked. “If everything, even the structure of the universe, is aligning to follow Ragnarok, is there any changing it?”

A wide, genuine, smile spread across Adrastia’s face.

“I’m already working on it.”

Sophia was finishing placing some cups of tea on the table as Gwynn and Pridament returned to the cabin.

Gwynn noticed Pridament giving a wink and nod toward her.

“So…” she said, “are you ready to have an honest discussion with me?”

Gwynn stammered, trying to find the right words.

“I haven’t been dishonest,” he finally managed to say. He cringed at how sheepish and pathetic the words sounded.

“Omission is still a level of dishonesty,” she said. “After everything we’ve been through, don’t you think I’m a little more intuitive? You don’t think I recognize my daughter?” She pointed toward the door.

“You knew?”

She stormed up to him, her eyes just as disappointed as angry.

“No, Gwynn. I carried her inside me, watched over her every second of life, noted every change and new hair, but I didn’t recognize our daughter’s eyes staring back at me from that woman’s face. But
somehow
, you magically
did
. Are you really that egotistical, because I thought I married someone better than that.”

Gwynn looked to Pridament for support, who held up his hands and gave a
this is your mess to fix
, shake of his head.

Gwynn took her hand, tried to channel as much of himself into the point of contact he could, so she might feel his heart.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re right to be mad. I should’ve come to you right away, but I was having problems processing it myself. I just didn’t even know where to begin.”

Her free hand stroked his cheek.

“Silly man, you just talk. Where you begin and where you end doesn’t matter. I could’ve saved you a day of agonizing over things if you’d just come to speak with me. Then you’d realize I’ve known for weeks you would be leaving.” She put a finger over his lips to shush him. “Yes, I’ve still had dreams. Not as many as before, but I still have them. In some ways, they seem even more accurate—maybe because there’re fewer worlds of opportunities. But I’ve known our daughter would show up and take you away for a while. And I can’t say how long you’ll be gone, or what will happen while you’re gone, but I know you will come back to us.”

“But is it worth it?” he asked. “Did you see that part of it?”

She smiled.

“No, I didn’t. But sometimes life is about faith and risk. Right now, I know you—and by association, us—are at risk until you’re able to find your powers again. If our daughter has fought her way to you saying she can return that power, then I think you need to go with her. No, not need, you
must
go with her.”

“You don’t even know the full story,” he said, trying to keep hopelessness from making his words sound angry. “About how she came here and why. I’m not sure this would be so easy for you if you knew.”

“What? That I die because of Cain?”

Gwynn stepped away from her, his heart slamming against his throat so hard he thought he might choke.

Sophia nodded knowingly.

“I’m right, aren’t I? I was only guessing, but it makes the most sense. It was either me, you, or the world in general. Either way, she came back to help you destroy Cain, didn’t she?”

Gwynn let the story tumble out in a torrent of words seemingly beyond his control. Telling Pridament seemed easy in comparison. Relating the story to Sophia, of their unhappy future and the life he doomed their daughter to, stabbed at his chest and made his eyes burn with tears that wouldn’t fall.

“You know the Gwynn who sent her back isn’t you, right?” she said when he’d finished.

She giggled at his befuddled expression.

“She told you, something changed along the way. Yes, some things, like you joining Suture and coming to Asgard, remained constant, but the Cataclysm, you losing your arm, were all things she didn’t know about. She didn’t even know the changes Woten went through. The life she had is only a story now. We’re similar characters, but we’re not bound to the same plot. You need to go with her. Perhaps the power she thinks you can have is what will tip the scales. Maybe the only way to make sure that sad future doesn’t come is by going with her.”

“And what if going with her creates that future instead?”

“Daddy?” a small, sad voice said from the hall leading to the bedrooms.

Gwynn rushed to his daughter, kneeling down to her level so he could scoop her into his arms.

“Allie, what’s wrong sweetheart?” he asked.

“Are you leaving?”

Gwynn stroked her hair.

“Not if you don’t want me to,” he said around the increasing lump in his throat. “I’ll stay here and keep you safe if that’s what you want.”

“No, no,” she shook her head violently. “You
have
to go. The bad man who isn’t you will hurt you otherwise.”

Gwynn looked to Sophia and Pridament for help. Both exchanged equally alarmed and confused looks.

“Allie,” Pridament said, “what do you mean the bad man who isn’t daddy?”

“The man who looks like Daddy, but isn’t him. He’s not a nice man—he wants to hurt Daddy. If Daddy stays, he will hurt him.”

Sophia knelt down, wrapping her arms around both Gwynn and Allison.

“Did you dream this, Sweetheart?” she asked.

“Mhmm,” Allison nodded.

The color drained from Sophia’s face. Gwynn guessed his did the same.

“So you’re saying…” Gwynn gulped some air, “you want Daddy to go?”

She pressed her face against his chest.

“You need to,” she said, her voice muffled.

Gwynn buried his face in her hair. There was no holding the tears back.

“Ok, Sweetheart,” Gwynn said, “Daddy will go. But I’ll hurry home to you, ok?”

Allison raised her head, a smile on her face, and planted a kiss on Gwynn’s cheek.

Pridament cleared his throat.

“I’ll stay here while you’re gone. The munchkin and I have lots of lessons to go over anyway.”

Gwynn nodded.

“Thank you. I’d feel better knowing Sophia had some help.”

“You think I need help?” She scowled playfully at him. “I’ve gotten more than decent with guns and swords over the years. I think I’m capable of caring for myself.”

“I’m fully aware.” He kissed her forehead. “But if something happens, it never hurts to have a lightning god to help you out, right?”

She shrugged, signaling admission of her defeat.

Fuyuko checked her watch.

“It’s time,” she called to her team. “Our ride will be at the airport in thirty minutes.”

“Cutting it a little close, aren’t you chief?”

“Don’t worry, they’ll wait.”

She worried their banter might sound stiff and forced. Fuyuko had spent the past few hours slipping discrete notes to her team, explaining her suspicions and warning them to prepare.

The ones who merely nodded she expected to survive. But there were a few so brainwashed by the glory of the Pantheon they couldn’t fathom being betrayed by one of its members. She wouldn’t mind being wrong this time—she
hoped
she was wrong.
 

Which meant the likelihood of her being wrong was close to zero.

Life rarely delivered on hopes.

And yes, she was cutting it close. The airport was a strategic asset—meaning numerous defences. If they arrived too long before the plane, they’d be sitting in the middle of the tarmac with no cover and assaults on all sides. But, if the attack happened too soon before their ride came in, the tower might divert the plane. Once Anubis showed his hand, every minute they spent on Egyptian soil would be a battle.

They arrived at the room where Jason was being held. Three armed members of Anubis’ militia blocked the entrance.

“We’ve come to collect our prisoner for transport back to the Americas,” Fuyuko said.

These three know something is coming.
 

She could see it in the bead of sweat running down the one guard’s forehead, or hear it in the stammering voice of another who said he would have to call someone for authorization. The third one would be the first she’d put down when the fighting started. Unlike the other two, whose nervousness would make them sloppy, this one hummed with a near gleeful anticipation.

“Yes,” Fuyuko said, “go ahead and call.”

He fished a cell phone from his pocket and stepped away from the assembled group.

For the entirety of her time at Suture, Fuyuko heard drawing power from the Veil referred to as “tearing the Veil.” The issue with that approach was it alerted all but the dullest of Anunnaki. So she’d spent the past few years learning to draw on the Veil with the slightest touch. She’d never told anyone, but she referred to it as “grazing the Veil.” She tapped the Veil for the tiniest shred of energy and focused it to heighten her hearing.

“Yes sir, they’re here.”
 

The militiaman whispered so low into the receiver, even with the Veil’s blessings, Fuyuko strained to hear.

“You only need to stall them for one minute,” came the reply. “The rest of our men are in position and heading that way now.”