South of Surrender (Hearts of the Anemoi) (5 page)

He met Ella’s concerned gaze and searched for a response that wouldn’t offend her. Given what Eurus did to her, he could never deny her the right to hate him. He couldn’t deny that a part of him did, too. Finally, he managed a small, tired shrug, and said, “He’s still my brother.”

Chapter Five

Boreas, the Supreme God of the North Wind and Winter, couldn’t escape the deep sense of foreboding that had weighed so heavily on his shoulders all summer. From the moment he’d found his brother Zephyros cradling Ella’s human corpse last March, he’d known—no matter how he turned the problem of the feud between the Anemoi brothers over in his mind, not all of them came out alive. And that was before the Olympians had handed down Eurus’s death sentence.

This whole situation would only get worse before it got better. That was half the reason he’d been spending so much time these past months at his son and daughter-in-law’s home in the human realm—over his dead body would he let the fighting breach the happiness they’d recently found together.

As if reading his thoughts, Zephyros appeared in the center of Owen and Megan’s living room wearing human street clothes.

“I’ve been expecting you,” Boreas said.

Anger and restlessness poured off his brethren from the West and ricocheted around the comfortable, welcoming space, filled with family photos and baby toys. “What are we going to do about Chrys and Eurus?” he asked, his vivid blue eyes flaring in agitation.

“Good question.”

It was exactly what he’d been mulling over. Leaning against the molding of a window, Boreas let his gaze wander outside as he pondered his answer. He squinted against the bright September sun. In the yard next door, Owen’s neighbor Tabitha Wilder knelt in the grass. Boreas watched her patiently weed the flower bed in front of her porch. No matter the season, the woman seemed to enjoy spending time out-of-doors. And while he’d rarely noticed her have company, she always appeared content, the hint of a smile on her face, as if she took joy from whatever she put her mind to doing. Not that he was keeping tabs.

He turned back to Zephyros on a sigh. “Because it is his season, Chrysander is the strongest among us right now. He has decided this is his fight, and he will not be dissuaded.” Not that Boreas was happy about it. Not at all. It had been one of the worst summers on record—devastating storms and flooding rains alternated with intense heat and suffocating humidity. It was the kind of weather that had once led humans to fear the Supreme God of the South Wind and the turbulent, crop-destroying powers he possessed.

“He may be the strongest right now, but clearly he hasn’t been able to bring Eurus to heel.”

“No.” Boreas was equally troubled by Chrys’s seeming inability to defeat their malevolent brother.

“Something’s not right, Boreas.”

“I agree,” Owen said, coming down the steps into the living room.

“Teddy asleep?” Boreas asked. He adored his one-year-old grandson, the other reason he spent so much time here.

Owen nodded, dragging a hand through his black hair. “They both are. I’ll be glad when the baby comes. This pregnancy hasn’t been nearly as easy,” he said. “Hey, Zeph.” The gods shook hands.

“Megan is strong. She will be fine.” Boreas hated to see his son’s worry, but he couldn’t have been prouder of the man, the father he’d become. Since he’d earned a reprieve from his duties as a snow god nearly two years before, Owen had proven himself made for fatherhood.

“How much longer will the Olympians wait?” Owen asked. After the near-tragedy with Ella in March, Mars had delivered the message that the Olympic gods wanted Eurus dead. Thankfully, they were willing to let the family handle it. So Aeolus, the storm god father of the Anemoi, had been forced to agree to the death sentence, but it was Chrysander who took up the task.

Zephyros shook his head. “For now, they’re allowing it to remain family business. But Mars has been full of meaningful looks that make it clear their patience won’t last forever. Honestly, I’m surprised they’ve let it go on this long.” He crossed his arms and looked between the other gods. “Now, summer ends in three weeks. Olympians aside, this needs to be over before fall starts and Eurus comes into his season.”

Boreas glanced out the window again. Tabitha was looking toward the house. The sun’s glare probably kept her from really seeing him, but he still stepped back, his heart suddenly in flight from the brief eye contact. Apparently being an ancient god didn’t save you from developing a crush on someone your heart and guilt would never let you have. “Let’s find Chrys and figure out what is going on.”

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Zephyros said.

“Sometimes, this demigod thing sucks.” Owen’s lips pressed into a line. As a demigod, Owen’s powers were neither as strong nor as lasting as that of the Anemoi. Elemental travel as far as the Realm of the Gods would drain him.

Boreas shook his head. “You have a family to take care of now. Let us handle this.”

His son gave a tight nod. “Talk some sense into Chrys, will ya?”

Zephyros scoffed. “Like talking to a damn brick wall.”

Owen chuckled. “Yeah, I don’t know any other Anemoi like that.”

“I never really liked you,” Zeph said with a mock glare.

“Except when I saved and protected Ella, you mean.”

The corner of his brother’s mouth quirked up. “Yeah, except then.” Smiling, he clapped Owen on the shoulder. “I’ll stay for a longer visit next time. Tell your prettier half that Ella and I say hello.”

They clasped hands and knocked shoulders. “I will. And I’m serious about Chrys. I’ve never seen such volatile summer weather, and it’s not like him to be so out of control. Something’s not right.”

The three of them traded glances, the truth of Owen’s observation pressing down on them equally. They said their good-byes and Boreas and Zephyros dematerialized. His brother’s agitation was apparent even in their elemental form, sending out tiny crackles of electricity and abrupt gusts of wind.

He’s here
, Zephyros said as soon as they crossed through the invisible shield of divine energy into the Realm of the Gods.
You up for this?

Chrysander’s residence in the south of the divine realm strained Boreas’s tolerance for heat, but he could handle it for short periods at a time.
Yes, it must be done
.

The further they traveled, the more intense the sun became. Golden light bathed everything as Aithiopia came into view. They zeroed in on Chrysander’s sprawling compound. His unique energy signature revealed he was here, but it felt…off somehow. A mere shadow of itself. Zephyros’s agitation flared.

They materialized in the lush entranceway to the compound, thick green vegetation and brilliant tropical flowers surrounding the area. The temperature pressed in on Boreas, the hot air more difficult for his lungs to draw in and out.

“Chrysander?” Zephyros called as they made their way inside. “Chrys?”

“This way.” Boreas led them down the main hallway toward the center of the compound.

“Why don’t you change? Aren’t they making it worse?”

Boreas frowned.

Zephyros gestured with a hand toward the fur robes Boreas had worn for millennia. He never even gave them a second thought anymore. “I am fine.” And, anyway, they’d always reminded him of his long-dead wife, Ori, so a part of him had continued wearing the ancient garb in remembrance of her. Now, it was as much habit as anything.

A blast of heat greeted them as they entered a long mirrored antechamber outside the ceremonial center of Chrysander’s compound. Boreas barely restrained a groan and Zephyros gave him another pointed look. But Boreas’s attention was on the two gods in traditional tunics standing watch outside the golden doors of the Hall of the South Wind.

Livos and Apheliotes, the Ordinal Anemoi of the Southwest and Southeast winds, dropped to a knee and bowed their heads.

“Rise,” Zephyros said. He nailed Livos, who also worked for him, with an expectant glare as the lesser gods resumed their position in front of the doors. “Let us pass.”

The gods exchanged glances. Livos shook his head. “It is not my wish to disobey, my lord, but he cannot be disturbed.”

“We must speak with him,” Boreas said. “It is urgent.”

“Perhaps on the morrow—”

“Damnit, Livos, I will not debate this. Step aside.” Zephyros got right in his subordinate’s face.

Boreas frowned. Livos would not put up such resistance unless… Apheliotes dropped his gaze and Boreas gave him a long look. Realization slammed into him, making it even harder to breathe. He braced his palm against Zephyros’s chest to get him to back down. “How bad is it?”

Livos cut his gaze to Boreas. For a moment, the answer was clear in the younger god’s eyes. Good gods.

A storm settled over Zephyros’s countenance and added a thick humidity to the dry heat of the chamber.

Seeing his superior’s temper about to run out, Livos spilled. “It’s bad. He only just managed to fall asleep. That is the reason I resist your demand. He must rest.”

“He’s so bad off he needs to sleep here?” Zephyros asked, pointing to the ceremonial hall. It possessed the highest heat of anywhere in Aithiopia. Livos finally nodded. “Then why the hell didn’t you take him to the Acheron?”

“He refused, my lord.”

“Damn it all to Hades.” Zephyros backed off a step and scrubbed a hand over his face. “What exactly happened?”

“I don’t know. He hasn’t said.”

“What are his injuries?” Boreas asked. “Zephyros could be of service.” His was the strongest healing power of them all.

Livos shook his head. “I don’t think so. And anyway”—the god looked between the Supreme Anemoi—“Chrysander expressly said not to involve him.”

Zephyros charged forward. “Damn bull-headed—”

Livos blocked him, and Apheliotes finally engaged, stepping into the scuffle to bar the doors. “My lord, please. It is worse than you think.”

Boreas grasped his brother’s shoulder. “What do you mean, Apheliotes?”

The god hesitated, then his shoulders slumped. “It will be easier if I show you.”

…

“This is so ridiculous,” Laney grumbled.

“Not if it will help you heal,” Seth said as he lifted her down from his truck seat. “I’m going to carry you in.”

“I can manage.” Fifteen stitches later, five in her hand and ten on her calf, Laney was told to stay off her feet.

“I’m here, Laney, and I’m helping whether you like it or not.”

“Fine, but I’m going to go so crazy sitting on my butt.” And with her hand out of commission for a while, she was going to have to hunt and peck her way through the rest of the story she’d been working on. Little chance she’d meet her deadline now.

He crossed the yard and stepped onto the porch. “Yep, I know it.”

A heavy weight pressed on her shoulders. The pain, all the questions she had about what had happened last night and this morning, the loss of independence this injury created—Laney was overwhelmed and way too tired to work through it all.

Inside, her chocolate lab was right there waiting for her. Small “I missed you” whimpers greeted her and his nails clicked against the floor.

The animal’s presence immediately cheered her. “Hi, Finnster. Sorry I was gone so long.” The screen door closed behind them. “What time is it, anyway?”

“Almost four. Okay, here’s the couch,” Seth said, easing her down.

Laney gasped when she forgot about the injury on her hand and accidentally put pressure on it. Carefully, she repositioned herself until she was sitting long-ways, her legs stretched out over the cushions. “Can you grab some pillows from my bed?”

“Yep. Be right back.” Seth retreated from the rooms that formed the connecting living space of her L-shaped home. Moments later, her bedroom door squeaked open. Her hearing was so well developed she could track his movements through the house.

Finn sniffed the bandages on her right hand and whined. He set his big lug of a head on her leg. “You’re a good old man, aren’t you?” She scratched his ears with her uninjured hand. “I bet you’re a hungry man, too.” His ears perked up at her words. She smiled.

“Will you feed Finn for me?” she asked Seth as he entered the kitchen.

“Yeah. I brought two pillows. Where do you want them?”

“One under my knee, please?” The roof’s metal had sliced into the back of her calf, so she couldn’t comfortably lay her leg flat. Luckily, the cut hadn’t been too deep. Still, for the next week she had to stay off her feet and dress and redress the bandages. And it could be a month before she could ride Sappho again. The thought made her eyes sting. “The other behind my back,” she managed.

He tucked it in behind her, then crouched down beside the sofa. “How about some food? You need to eat with the pain meds.”

Laney gave her oldest friend a smile. He was her rock, her guardian angel, and her pit bull attack dog all in one. And despite her grumpiness over feeling so helpless, he deserved her gratitude. “Thank you, that would be great. Can you make grilled cheese sandwiches?”

He scoffed, but gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “An eight-year-old can make grilled cheese sandwiches.”

His mock-offended tone brightened her smile. “Well, you should be able to handle it, then.”

“I’m only letting you get away with that because you’re hurt.” He rose and stepped away.

“Right.” She sighed. “I really do thank you. For everything.” As much as she strived for independence, she couldn’t deny she depended on Seth. Every once in a while, it was a relief to lean on him. Not that she would ever say so. He’d be like a dog with a new bone with an admission like that.

“Don’t mention it. Come on, Finn. You wanna go outside?”

The dog followed Seth to the screen door. As it clicked shut, Seth started pulling what he needed out of the fridge in the kitchen that adjoined the open living room.

Minutes later, Seth settled a plate and a bottle of water in her lap. The grilled bread smelled buttery and toasty. Laney’s stomach grumbled. Between the weirdness in the barn and the hospital trip, she’d missed breakfast this morning.

“Sounds like one might not be enough,” Seth said.

“I didn’t realize how hungry I was. Did you make one for you, too?” Leaning over her plate, she took a big bite and moaned at the warm and gooey cheese. She could already tell having only one hand was going to be a pain.

“Yeah,” he said from the chair near the foot of the couch.