Kitty in the Underworld (Kitty Norville) (20 page)

But what if they really had?

My smile felt bitter, exhausted. “Except there’s really a Sun Wukong and Xiwangmu, because I’ve met them. And maybe they’re just really powerful people who called themselves gods and convinced everyone else that they were right. But in their case I’m pretty sure the stories are about them, not the other way around. They didn’t borrow their identities from the stories. Kumarbis is cobbling together whatever he can because he doesn’t know what else to do. He’s making it up as he goes along, and Zora’s making it work because it gives her power. Where did Kumarbis find her?”

“She was telling fortunes in Istanbul,” Sakhmet said. “She had a reputation—she was real, she was the fortune-teller the creatures of magic went to for help. That was how Kumarbis found her and recruited her. Named her the avatar of Zoroaster. We don’t know where she’s from. We think she’s American, but how she came to be in the Middle East, practicing such powerful magic, we’re not sure.”

Another story I’d love to get on the show. I wondered what I’d have to do to make that happen. Pay with more blood, probably.

“What does Kumarbis expect is going to happen?” I asked.

Sakhmet said, “The final ritual will destroy Gaius Albinus, Dux Bellorum.”

The first ritual had worked—I
knew
it had worked. Why shouldn’t the second? And what would be the cost?

Enkidu said, “You say you have met gods. Real gods, not avatars. Chinese, yes? The Monkey King, the Queen Mother of the West.”

“You know some mythology.”

“I’ve read a few books,” he said, with a crooked half smile. The closest thing to a smile I’d seen on him. “Tell me, how is that possible?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Right place at the right time. Or wrong place, depending on how you look at it. But they had power. I believed.” I’d come to believe so much over the last few years, since doing the show and meeting people like Kumarbis. But I couldn’t believe
him.
Sun Wukong had inspired me. This … this was something else entirely.

Enkidu’s gaze turned downcast, somber. “We’ve lost so much of the power that we had in ancient days.”

Sakhmet added, “Once, long ago, our kind were worshipped as gods. We were revered.”

“If we still had some of that power,” Enkidu said, “Dux Bellorum would not be as strong as he is.”

“And that’s why you’re here?” I asked. “To get back the power of the gods?”

They didn’t answer. They must have known what it sounded like from the outside. But still, they kept on, because … because what else could they do? If they had any hope that these rituals could defeat Roman, or at least give them the power to defeat Roman, they had to stay. That, I understood.

“You can’t do what Zora’s doing—you can’t work that kind of magic that pokes and prods at someone without drawing attention. Scrying, searching—it works both ways. We might have learned something about Roman, but you can bet he learned something about us. If we know where he is, he might also have discovered where we are and what we’re doing, and if he doesn’t, he at least knows that we’re looking for him. If he thinks we’re a threat, he’ll do something about it. He’s been studying magic for two thousand years, and I don’t care if Zora really is channeling Zoroaster, she’s not as powerful as he is.”

“We’re safe here,” Sakhmet said, soothing. “Zora’s put many protections over this place. We’re underground, hidden—”

“Any shield can be broken with enough time and effort,” I said.

“What do you know about magic?” Enkidu shot back.

“Nothing,” I said, a mad grin on my lips. “But I know some great magicians.”

Sakhmet gathered calm to herself, folding her hands before her, closing her eyes. “We will be watchful. I will speak with Zora about it.”

“Will she listen to you?” Enkidu said.

“I’ll speak
gently.
” The opposite of me, in other words. Giving me a sidelong look, she bowed her head to us and left through the tunnel to find the magician.

Enkidu studied me. The attention felt like a challenge. I was tired of meeting his challenges, but I did, because what choice did I have? I glared until he lowered his gaze. As if he wasn’t aware he’d been staring. He was just like that all the time.

I said, “The next time Zora works a ritual against Roman, he’ll be ready. He’ll strike back at us. We’re waging war, there’s going to be a battle.”

“We have to have faith that her magic will protect us.” The words came rote, without any belief behind them.

Faith. And what was that? “Because that’s what you do when you’re dealing with gods. Have faith. Right?”

“If her magic fails, we have our claws and teeth. We are ready.”

One of the bottles of water Sakhmet had given me sat by the wall of the antechamber. It still had water in it, and I was desperate to wash the smoke and soot off my face and out of my eyes. I could imagine that the coating of grime and smoke I felt on me was really a layer of residual magic clinging to my skin, suffocating me. All the washing in the world wouldn’t get rid of it. But I’d start with my eyes, and I’d take a long, much-needed drink. Since I didn’t have anywhere else to go, I sat on the tunnel’s dusty floor, clutching the bottle of water. When it became clear I wasn’t going to try to flee, Enkidu left me alone to another day of trying to sleep, trying to calm my Wolf, who was anticipating the growing moon and ready to burst.

Can Change, can fight our way out.
Yes, we could, I reassured her—myself. But not right now. Antony had thought facing Roman was worth risking his life. I couldn’t do any less.

Chapter 18

S
AKHMET AND
Enkidu were right, I’d mostly gotten used to the silver, like I’d gotten used to the darkness-induced headache that never really went away.

The couple must have had their own space in the tunnel system, and they could have stuck me in that holding cell, but they didn’t. Sometime later, they returned to the antechamber, as if together we might feel safer. A surrogate pack or pride. Surrogate for me. Enkidu and Sakhmet already had the kind of pack Ben and I had—our pack of two, I used to call it, when we’d first hooked up, before we’d returned to Denver and taken charge of the pack there.

Sakhmet brought a small drum with her, a bowl shape on a stand that tucked under her arm. It must have been one of the drums I’d heard my first day here. The two of them sat together, and she played softly while humming a melody I couldn’t make out. The drumming was slow, off-rhythm, sounding a little like water rushing in a creek. Soothing. Her gaze distant, she seemed to play for her own comfort. To dispel some of the anxiety that had settled over us. Enkidu watched her, smiling vaguely. His arm settled over her shoulders.

It was a lullaby before bedtime. A way to bring peace before trying to sleep. After maybe twenty minutes, she set the drum aside, and the two of them curled up together. Enkidu wrapped his arm around his mate, she nestled against his body, and he nuzzled her head, breathing in her scent and kissing her above her ear. Eyes closed, she smiled, an expression full of calm and pleasure. I got the feeling she didn’t much care what happened, as long as she and Enkidu were together. I’d felt that expression on my own face often enough, when Ben held me like that and kissed me just to kiss me.

I had to stop thinking about it before I started crying.

Kumarbis and Zora might have been pleased as rock stars at how their rituals were going. But the three of us were fighting instincts, struggling against a tension that made us want to bare our teeth and growl, howl, or roar. Our beasts wanted to flee.

We dozed off, then sat up suddenly, looking at the tunnel leading to the ritual chamber as if we expected to see something there. Hard to sleep, when we felt like we ought to be standing guard.

My thoughts turned. Antony couldn’t stop Roman. What chance did we have? I was desperate for Kumarbis and Zora to know what they were doing. How much trouble would it save, to defeat Roman, here and now? Maybe we’d still have Roman’s puppet master to deal with, but the general and his army would be gone. It was what I and my friends had been fighting for these last few years.

Sakhmet pulled away from Enkidu, found a bottle of water, and sat calmly, drinking. I watched her, and she stared back with eyes that had gone golden, hypnotic. A lion’s eyes. I could see the shape of her lion self in her gaze. I suddenly wanted to see her like that, a sleek tawny creature with a flicking tail and alert ears, taking in everything.

“Can’t sleep, either?” she asked. I shook my head. “I have food.” Plastic crinkled, as she pulled over a grocery bag. Enkidu sat up, rubbing his eyes.

The three of us ate together. Real, human food this time. Sort of. More like camp rations, the deli sandwiches and PowerBars they must have kept packed in a cooler all week. I ate because I had to, not because I was particularly hungry. The food tasted like dust, and my mind drifted to the memory of that deer haunch, rich with blood. Prey.
Run, hunt, kill.
That would make everything better.

Sleep was one of the mind’s defenses against the unknown, depression, despair. Since sleep had stopped working, I turned to my other defense: talking.

“How does it feel?” I asked around a half-chewed mouthful. “Being this close. Everything you’ve worked for is about to happen. Must feel strange.”

“It’s just another day,” Sakhmet said softly. She ate daintily, dabbing the corner of her lips, licking a crumb off her finger. Focused on the task at hand, unmindful of the surroundings.

She and Enkidu sat next to each other, knees touching, but otherwise closed in on themselves. Nervous, anxious. They had the air of animals who’d been caged for a long time. Were their animal sides telling them to run, like mine was? We were all ignoring our instincts, being here. Maybe that anxiety was the power Zora needed to harness.

Enkidu studied me, like he was always studying me, glaring just shy of a challenge. Trying to intimidate me or watching for when I tried to run for it—it hardly mattered. I could only fake trying to relax while he was around.

I focused on Sakhmet instead. “What are you guys going to do when this is over?” I asked. “You have a home someplace? You want to settle down, start a farm, whatever? Or are you staying with them?” I nodded to the exit tunnel, where presumably the others slept in some branching tunnel.

She looked at Enkidu, but because he was busy staring me down, she wasn’t able to catch his gaze. To silently ask him the same question.

“I don’t know that we’ve thought so far ahead,” she said, her smile thin, thoughtful. Feline, even.

“Come on,” I prompted. “What keeps you going? What do you two talk about when no one else is around? There has to be more to you than this.” This. Hiding out in a mine, following a vampire and his magician minion. Kidnapping werewolf queens at the vampire’s behest. I let the silence hang, hoping she would fill it. But they weren’t radio people and didn’t have the aversion to dead air that I did. I was about to say something teasing, to get a reaction from her, when she finally spoke.

“I’m not sure we expect to survive this,” she said. So fatalistic and at peace with such an outcome that she hardly expressed sadness.

Funny, I’d been thinking the same thing.

I said, “Dux Bellorum, vampires like him, would make werewolves slaves. They think we were made to be soldiers in their army. You sit here, you tell me we’re fighting Dux Bellorum. Then why aren’t you any better than foot soldiers in Kumarbis’s army? Cannon fodder, really.” I turned away, huffing in disgust.

“We believe in the war,” Enkidu said. “We make sacrifices.”

“I want to go home,” I murmured. I had allies, I had friends. If I was going to be making sacrifices, I wanted it to be for
them.

Sakhmet’s smile was sad. “You’re lucky, to have a place you belong.”

I’d managed a few bites, but I wasn’t hungry, even though I should have been. The bits of sandwich were only making my stomach more upset. I wrapped the remainder of the meal in its cellophane and set it on the floor. Took a long drink of water because I knew I needed it, not because I felt thirsty.

“Wake me up when the party starts.” I went a few steps away, curled up, and pretended to sleep.

When I tried to sleep, I thought of Ben, and had to fight tears. I pulled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around my head. Wished I had a tail to tuck around myself. Wished for a lot of things.

I heard the sound of wrappers crinkling, trash being gathered up and taken away. Enkidu and Sakhmet didn’t speak, but I imagined them brushing hands, shoulders, exchanging glances like longtime couples did. I tried to breathe slowly, regularly, but I probably didn’t fool them into thinking I slept. Still, they didn’t bother me.

Eventually, the pair of them curled up again, and they did sleep. Who knew how long they’d been sleeping on stone floors, without plumbing or lighting, eating sandwiches out of plastic or hunting the odd deer. This was their normal, why shouldn’t they feel safe? And they had each other. No matter what happened, they’d be all right, because they had each other.

Me, I had something I had to do.

I went into a crouch, breathed softly, waited. Glanced at the wooden slab of a door, and crept toward it. My bare feet didn’t make a sound. I got all the way to the tunnel door without waking them, which encouraged me. I could keep going.

They left the door open this time. Finally, I had earned their trust. Plan B had worked after all. I waited and listened, but Sakhmet and Enkidu maintained their steady breathing. I hadn’t woken them.

I explored some of the branching tunnels and side rooms I hadn’t had time to see before, searching for the storeroom I hadn’t found last time. Wherever they kept their water, food, and supplies. Tranquilizer gun. And, I hoped, my shoes and my phone. Wedding ring. Maybe Kumarbis kept a diary somewhere that would lay the whole story out in sensible terms. Wouldn’t that be swell?

It would probably be written in Phoenician, which wouldn’t help me at all. Amelia, she would know Phoenician. God, I even missed Amelia. She’d be able to talk sense into Zora, if she were here.