Brothers: Legacy of the Twice-Dead God (36 page)

“Deny me now, fucker,” St. Croix growled at
Kieran and threw a piece of paper at him.

Kieran picked the paper up and righted it to
read, shaking his head at the outset. St. Croix started giggling
maniacally. I watched him carefully while Kieran read. It looked
like the Loa was riding him pretty hard as the flickering was
constant. I could almost lock onto it.

“There you are, you little bastard,” I heard
Ethan whisper on the other side of Kieran.

“What!” yelled Kieran, jumping up and
slamming his chair back onto the floor in his fury. His face was
flushed with blood, his aura flaring hard with anger. The
atmosphere around us was suddenly totally empty of all ambient
energy—Kieran sucked it in like a black hole. Nobody felt where it
went, but everybody knew. Everyone in the hall stopped and stared
at him, as if they weren’t already surreptitiously. “You have
her?”

St. Croix cackled, nodding his head. “I’ll do
it! I will!” he cackled, scooting back a few steps, grinning
evilly.

“Give her to a third party and I will agree,”
Kieran said, levelly. His anger had not receded one bit.

“What are you agreeing to, Kieran?” I asked,
cautiously.

“Be certain, McClure,” said MacNamara, “You
would be entering… at the third level.”

St. Croix cackled again. Señor Florian
stepped past him, scowling as he passed, and asked Kieran, reaching
for the paper, “May I?”

Kieran handed the paper to Florian, who read
quickly through the text. He paled as he handed it back to Kieran.
To St. Croix, he said, “You are shunned. Find quarters elsewhere
within the hour.” To Kieran, he said, “From the third level, you
cannot simply resign from competition, you have to win or lose.
That is why MacNamara is saying to be certain. And losing could
mean your life, Ehran, so be certain.”

“Muchos gracias, Señor Florian,” said Kieran.
“St. Croix, give her to a third party and I will agree to your
terms.”

“Kieran, damn it, what are you agreeing to?
Who does he have?” I asked again, moving in between them, almost
shouting at him.

“Olivia,” he said, looking down at me, calmly
but no less angrily.

Coldness filled me from the top of my head
down to the soles of my feet. We’d found my mother and she was with
my grandfather. But instead of what should have been a safe and
happy moment for us, all I could feel was the hatred coming off the
man behind me and all I heard was the vile cackling noise coming
out of his mouth. I was in shock.

“You bastard!” I shouted, whirling on him, my
power rising high and hard in my body. I was ready to kill again
and the Swords, both of them, were traveling down my arms to heed
my call. And I blazed, just like when I trashed Harris in Atlanta,
the bright red of anger this time. The Day Sword was going to slice
every cell in his body so small you wouldn’t be able to get DNA
evidence. The Night Sword was going to do the same to the Loa that
rode him.

Kieran grabbed me around my shoulders. Ethan
had me on the left, low against my leg trapping my hand. Peter had
me on the right, low, and trapping my right hand.

“No, Seth, not here, not now,” pleaded Kieran
in my ear. Wardens appeared in the hall on the inside of the
tables, streaming in front of the guests in a pale blue line and
surrounding the five of us loosely.

“Your own daughter?” I yelled at him, tears
started to stream down my face.

“Whore was supposed to give you to me ten
years ago,” St. Croix growled, pointing at me, scittering to the
side like a crab. “McClure’s scion would have kept me going for
centuries, it would. And the little slut could’ve pumped ‘em out on
demand, but he did s’mpm to ‘er, he did.”

“Give Olivia to a third party, St. Croix.
Once she’s safe and without a Loa, I will agree to your terms,”
Kieran said, over my shoulder. I was starting to shake with
frustration, but I coaxed the Swords back up my arms. I didn’t want
to relinquish the idea of slicing and dicing him, but my mother
wasn’t here and the thing knew where she was. She had to come
first. Still, my power did not recede nor did my anger.

“Who?” grunted St. Croix.

“North American?” offered Kieran.

St. Croix barked out a laugh and shook his
head. Kieran looked around the room, catching Cahill’s eye. He
nodded once quickly.

“European, then,” he growled at the old
man.

St. Croix grunted. “Aw’ight then,” he
muttered. He looked at Cahill and made a circular motion with his
hand, finger pointing up. When nothing happened, he growled,
“Release the room, boy, or y’ain’t getting’ nuttin’.”

“Let go, Seth,” Kieran whispered to me, “Try
to calm yourself down.”

“It’s going to be okay, Seth. Ehran will beat
him,” Ethan said confidently. “Just calm down for the time being
and we’ll get your mother home safe and sound.”

“You can do this, Seth,” added Peter. “For
your mother and for Ehran, just let the power flow out.”

I gave in to the sobbing and the power ebbed
out of me. I didn’t know I was doing it, clamping down on the magic
of the room like that, holding it away from Kieran. I went limp
under the arms holding me in place. Ethan and Peter moved up and
took Kieran’s place at my shoulders. St. Croix made his hand motion
again and a body slammed down on the table in front of Cahill. I
started for it, but Peter and Ethan still held me back.

“No, Seth, you can’t,” said Peter. “I’m so
sorry but you can’t yet. These are hostage rules. Until the contest
is over, she’s off-limits to us. I’m so sorry.” I hated Peter at
that moment. It wasn’t his fault and I knew it and I knew I’d get
over it, but still.

She looked so broken, so hurt. So far away.
Cahill wrapped her up in his tuxedo jacket and gently picked her up
off the table. Either he was stronger than he looked or she was
wasted away to nothing. I prayed for the former as I watched him
and his entourage scurry for the door.

Peter sat me down in my chair, drained and
still dripping with tears.

MacNamara’s proxies spoke loudly and clearly
into the room.

“The Challenge has been accepted…” said the
left.

“Tomorrow at Noon…” said the right.

“Team St. Croix faces…” said the left.

“Team McClure!” said the right.

“Team?” Kieran objected. “This is a
one-on-one competition!”

“No, Ehran McClure,” said the left elf. A
smile was slowly curling on MacNamara’s lips while the proxies
spoke for him.

“St. Croix fields a team,” the left said.

“So you must…” the right said.

“…Also field a team,” said the left.

“I warned you, McClure…” said the right.

“…To be aware…” said the left.

“…Of the rules,” finished the right.

“Damn,” said Kieran.

Cahill sent word through the wardens that my
mother was safely ensconced in the European delegation’s encampment
and that she was free of the Loa’s parasitic control. That was all
they would tell us though. Kieran sent Shrank out spying to see if
he could find anything. His news was only slightly better in that
he said she was getting medical attention from Cahill’s group and
that they didn’t seem alarmed by her condition. Small favor, but it
was something to hold onto.

They’d tried to put me to bed right after we
left the dinner and I let them leave me in the dark so I could be
miserable and cry in peace. If I slept at all, I don’t remember it.
Shortly after daybreak, I got up and took a shower. A long, hot,
steamy shower. When I got out, there were two sets of clothing,
folded and piled on the bed for me. The first stack was the same as
what we’d been wearing, the dark green silks. The second pile was
the same color, but of a more durable material than silk, thicker
and padded at the joints, long-sleeved with gloves. And pockets,
lots and lots of pockets of various sizes. I picked that one. There
was no way I was letting Kieran go out and risk his life for my
sake while I sat on the side lines and watched.

Or while I held the purses. Now I understood
Peter’s comment from a few days ago. At least the metaphor.

Peter was on the couch as I strolled through
the main room. I walked out to the balcony hoping that whoever was
stocking the apartment when we turned our backs had put something
out to eat there. I didn’t feel like eating but if I had to fight
later today, I needed to eat. I stepped out just as Kieran and
Ethan let out a groan at someone’s misfortune.

“Good morning, Master Seth,” Shrank sang
sedately, flying beside the table as I fixed a plate. “Please do
include some of the light purple fruit with your breakfast this
morning. It isn’t particularly tasteful, but it is good for what
you’re about to do.”

I looked at him when he said that, thinking
first that it seemed odd that he was so subdued and second that he
was actually worried about my diet. What I saw was concern for me
imbedded in his tiny soul. It was sweet.

“Thank you, Shrank, I’ll do that,” I said and
took a few pieces of whatever the purple thing was. It looked
vaguely like strawberries or maybe a small kiwi. Biting into one, I
realized Shrank had lied. It was awful. It tasted like dirt and
motor oil and that plastic packing material. Okay, I’d never really
eaten those last two, but I could imagine they tasted like just
like this purple crap. Maybe if I wedged it in between a biscuit
and a piece of ham…

I sat down on the far side of Ethan and
started eating, looking down onto the field to try for an idea of
what was happening. They were still wearing clothes from last
night. Kieran leaned forward and glanced over, probably expecting
to see Peter.

“No!” he said, sternly. “Seth, no! Under no
circumstances!”

I kept eating, ignoring him, and watching the
field. Ethan swiveled his head back and forth between us like he
was watching a tennis match, even though I wasn’t objecting.
Yet.

“You are not prepared for this,” Kieran said.
I just looked past Ethan at him and kept eating. I’d let him rant
for a while. “You have no idea what these people are capable of,
least of all St. Croix and his ilk. You could get hurt.”

“And you?” I asked, biting into a biscuit
with a little honey and purple fruit, hoping it wouldn’t be too
nasty.

“He has fought enough to know what to
expect,” said Ethan. I hadn’t expected that, for Ethan to take his
side. I figured he’d want Kieran to have all the help he could get.
I glared at him. “Merely stating a fact, Seth.”

“You aren’t going out there alone, Kieran.
There is no argument there,” I said. “I’m going whether you agree
or not. She’s my mother.”

“And what happens if a Loa gets to you before
I can stop it?” Kieran said, angrily. “What then, Seth? At that
point, I’ve lost you, too.” The honeyed biscuit didn’t help with
the purple fruit. It still tasted like crap. I shoved it in,
chewing as little as I could to swallow it down. I stole Ethan’s
glass of water off the table in front of him to wash it down and
stood up to find another.

“And what happens if a Loa gets to you before
Ethan can stop it?” I asked. “What then, Kieran? Then I’ve lost you
and me and my mother.” There were two fresh glasses of water on the
table with the food. “Shrank, what’s putting the food out?” I
asked, eyeing the glasses suspiciously.

“There is a brownie troop in the apartment,
Master Seth. They are seeing to your needs,” said Shrank from the
railing.

“That’s creepy. There’s other people in here
with us?” I asked.

“Stop changing the subject, Seth, and get
back here,” Kieran called.

“They have got to go,” I said, firmly.

Shrank gasped and jumped from the railing,
into the air. “Oh, no, Master Seth, please, don’t dismiss them!
They’ll die!”

“What?” I didn’t want that. “I just don’t
want things I can’t see crawling around me. I don’t want them
dead.”

“So you won’t make the brownies leave?” he
pleaded.

“No, not if it’s going to hurt them. Of
course not,” I said, “But can’t I at least see them? It’s like
having a rat in the walls or something.”

“A rat wouldn’t dare make a move on a
brownie’s territory,” said Shrank, rolling his eyes. “I’ll talk to
them, try to make them understand you.” Shrank flew back into the
apartment, low to the ground and trilling lightly in a tone I
hadn’t heard him make before. At the same time, I felt a giant hand
grab me by the back and turn me around to face Kieran. It felt
weird to be held that way and I started squirming immediately.

“You are not fighting with us,” Kieran said
firmly. He had his arms crossed on his chest. He towered over me,
his arms, legs, and chest were massive compared to mine and this
was not gym-buffed muscle, pumped and hardened from repetitive
motion. This was working muscle, stretched and trained hard, to
move in ways remembered without hesitation. He was an imposing man,
even without the strength that only I could see built up in his
aura.

And he was starting to tick me off. I pushed
on the hand holding me off the floor with the Stone’s shield,
outward, forcing the hand to release me. I dropped the few inches
to the ground and crossed my arms, too. The Stone then gave me
another new trick: armor. Shiny and bright, green and black, plated
my skin like a snake in a diamond pattern. At the joints, thicker
ribs of green wrapped around to provide further protection, just as
the green uniform I wore beneath did. At my waist, the Day and
Night Swords hung loosely in their scabbards, proudly announcing
their readiness to me. On my back, the Quiver and Crossbow hummed
their readiness.

“Put those away!” he hissed.

I shook my head no. “It’s too late for that,
Kieran, and you know it. If you lose, I’ll have to use them against
St. Croix anyway so it might as well be in front of everybody. They
might as well know now that they don’t belong to Faery
anymore.”