Suture (The Bleeding Worlds) (7 page)

The knock came at the door. A large man, even more physically imposing than Woten, strode into the room with a confidence equal parts awe inspiring and annoying. It was the girl who followed closely behind that drew Gwynn's attention.

No,
he thought,
it can't possibly be her.

When she turned to face the room, he had no doubt. His tablet slipped from his hands, crashing to the ground. He wasn't even aware of it. He could only focus on the girl whose name slipped from his lips. "Adrastia."

For eight months, the phantom girl had been absent from his life. He'd yet to decide whether that made him happy or frightened. When he'd first seen her, he'd been sure she was a figment of his imagination. Even Pridament told him she was most likely an image his mind conjured to handle the overwhelming reality of his powers. Then Pridament saw her. How could that have been if she wasn't in some way separate from Gwynn?

He became aware of the stares of his teammates and the awkward expression of the girl. They all seemed to be waiting on him. Even the large man—wait, had he said he was Zeus—gave Gwynn a bemused smile.

"Sorry," Gwynn said. "She looks like someone I used to know."

More like exactly like someone I knew.

Only Pridament knew about Adrastia, and until Gwynn had determined if she was a symptom of madness or a flesh-and-blood being, he'd decided to keep it that way.

Njord cleared his throat to further break the tension in the room. "So everyone, please take a moment to get to know Alesandra. As this is an important issue to Suture globally, we have agreed to her filling Angie's position for the duration of this mission."

Eight silent protests filled the room.

"We expect total cooperation and professionalism," Woten said, ending any potential rebellions. Turning to Zeus, Woten said, "Since you were late for the meeting, we've briefed our people on the pertinent details. I'm hoping you did the same for Alesandra while enroute."

Zeus laughed and slapped a heavy hand on Woten's back, who winced trying to hide the murderous intent in his eyes.

"Of course I took care of it. She knows what she needs to, and I'm sure your fine team will make her welcome."

He gave the room a wink that could've been interpreted as playful, though Gwynn couldn't shake the feeling of something darker beneath its surface.

"In that case," Njord said, "we will depart via the station in two hours time. Gather your gear and do whatever you feel you must before then. Dismissed."

Everyone stood to leave. Gwynn knelt down to retrieve his tablet when a thick hand landed on his shoulder.

"I don't believe we've ever had the pleasure of meeting." Zeus towered over him.

"No, sir." Gwynn stood and shook the offered hand. "Gwynn Dormath."

Zeus laughed. "I know who you are boy. While I admit I try to keep to my corner of the world, I'd be failing in my duties if I knew nothing of the boy who managed to close a world killer within two weeks of awakening as an Anunnaki."

"Right."

"I wondered if maybe we could have a chat, you and I," Zeus said.

Gwynn looked around the room and found it empty. Really? Had they all just left and not a single one had hung back? He felt a bit of a sting that even Woten, his own grandfather, had left him alone.

"I guess…"

"Excellent." Zeus clapped his hands together. "Just one thing before we do. Hmmm, would you mind having a seat on the ground a moment, Mr. Dormath?"

"What? Why should I?"

"Mr. Dormath," Zeus said, his tone friendly, but containing a sharp edge, "when a god tells you to do something, it's usually in the best interest of your health to listen."

Gwynn looked into Zeus' icy blue eyes—serious and sparking with lightning.

Gwynn sat.

"Very good," Zeus said. "Now, let me see…"

He stuck his finger in his mouth and pulled it out again, holding it up as though judging the direction of the wind. After a minute of humming and hawing, bolts of electricity struck out in several directions from his upraised finger. Sparks, pops, and hissing sounds emitted from places in the walls where the bolts had struck.

Zeus drew his finger close to his lips and blew on it like a smoking gun barrel. He reached that hand down to Gwynn as an offer to help him up. Gwynn just stared at that one finger. A single finger had probably just discharged enough electricity it would've fried Gwynn had he been standing in its path.

"I promise," Zeus said, "I've lived long enough to control it. You're perfectly safe."

Gwynn took the offered hand, afraid to insult Zeus, and rose to his feet. He had a hard time figuring out how much was him standing, and how much was Zeus effortlessly lifting him.

"Sorry for the little light display. I much prefer to have my discussions in private." Zeus looked at the numerous places his bolts had struck. "Honestly, how mistrusting is Woten to place so many surveillance devices in one room?"

Zeus motioned toward one of the chairs. Gwynn didn't hesitate to sit—words about doing what a god asks being good for one's health still rang in his ears. Zeus grabbed another chair and positioned it so he could look directly at Gwynn. He tried several times to sit comfortably in it. Finally, he stood, smashed his fist into the attached desk, pulverizing it, and turned the chair so he could rest his arms on its back while he spoke.

"Much better. I have no idea how any of you can sit for more than five minutes in these blasted things." Zeus' eyes softened. His smile lacked the gregarious nature he'd projected since arriving. If anything, it appeared tainted with sadness. "Tell me something, Gwynn. Has anyone said thank you?"

"What…?" Gwynn blinked a couple times and shook his head. "For what?"

"For saving this world. For deciding to join Suture and continue the fight to keep this world safe. During the training, the missions, and the day-to-day of existing, has anyone stopped to say thank you?"

"My grand… Woten, said he was proud of me."

Zeus nodded, stroking a hand along his beard. "Having people be proud of you is important. It gives self-worth, validation, and maybe even something more to aspire to. It's not the same as people being thankful. You see, while pride is all and well, it's an easy thing to feel. Because pride in someone is a gift you give them. But being thankful means you must be humble enough to realize the gift the other person has given. It doesn't seem to me the people here are strong friends with you."

Gwynn shifted in his chair. An aching in his chest begged for him to leap to his feet. "It's just because I'm the new guy. They've all grown up with each other. They're just getting to know me still."

Zeus patted Gwynn's arm. "Either you're so kind you can't see what's really going on, or that's a beautiful lie you've told yourself." Zeus' eyebrow raised. "So which is it?"

Gwynn looked away, unable to meet Zeus' probing stare.

"As I thought," Zeus said. "Well, I am pleased to be the first to say, thank you. Despite all our years of preparation and experience, we missed the moment when we were needed most. It was a fortuitous intervention of fate which brought you to us Mr. Dormath. Thank you for not turning your back on the responsibility. A lesser man would have."

Gwynn searched Zeus' eyes for a glimmer of insincerity. Was the old man making fun of him? He saw nothing except sincerity. Which gave him an odd, uneasy, feeling.

"Is that what you wanted to say?" Gwynn asked.

"Not entirely. I just thought it was important for you to know how much I appreciated your efforts before we continue. What I really wanted to speak to you about was your friend Sophia."

Gwynn flinched at the mention of her name. It might've been the first time he'd heard the name spoken aloud since he attended her funeral.

"I understand she meant a great deal to you. From the few details I've managed to put together, I believe you meant an equal amount to her. It's for that reason I hoped maybe you might be able to help me."

"Why are you asking about Sophia?" Gwynn asked. Wasn't it enough she was gone? Hadn't the report he and Fuyuko had to file concerning their suspicions enough? Simply put, Sophia could see the future, and for whatever reason, she had allowed herself to be killed. Pridament believed it was due to her seeing it as the only possible path leading Gwynn to saving the world. Gwynn still didn't know how that made a difference. If anything, he would've been more inclined to save the world if Sophia was still in it. Without any proof to the contrary, he had come to believe Sophia hadn't known she was going to die. The truth was, he had failed her when she needed him most.

"I assure you, it's not a bad thing. Miss Murray's death was a loss to us as well." In response to Gwynn's questioning look, Zeus continued. "You see, Sophia's birth was due in part to Suture's manipulation. Well, it was Woten and myself who manipulated things. Have you ever heard of the oracle of Delphi?"

"The women at Delphi were consulted by various Greek rulers and are mentioned in some of the Greek myths. They supposedly could tell the future, but it was always a riddle or something." Gwynn recalled reading a bit about it while sitting alone in his seat in the Northfield cafeteria. Was it really only eight months since he'd last sat in that chair? Could a life change so much in such a short time? "What does that have to do with Sophia? How could you or Woten have manipulated her birth?"

"You're correct, the oracles at Delphi were a vital part of Greek society. Many decisions, including whether to go to war or not, were weighed with their council. Even we, the Anunnaki gave great weight to their words. Maybe more so, because we better understood their powers. You see, the oracles were offshoots of the Anunnakis. Unlike us, who wear our markings on our arms, the oracles had a mark on the back of their necks, just beneath the hairline. Their temple in Delphi was located over a small tear in the Veil. By being exposed to the energies of that tear, it heightened their powers. Sometimes the effects were…extreme."

"You mean like Sophia going crazy after she came close to the tear in the Cameron house?"

Zeus nodded. "Yes, which was why we had the compound to stabilize her. It was developed many years before for the Delphic oracles. Not much sense having an oracle if she's so mad you can't tell the difference between her predictions and her hallucinations."

"Those were your men with her?"

"In the hospital you mean? Yes, those were members of the Greek branch of Suture. We were going to transfer her to our facility so we could find the right dosage to maintain her quality of life, but without her losing her abilities."

"That still doesn't explain how you were involved in her birth. Or why you would even bother?"

"Why would we bother?" Zeus laughed. "Information, boy. You don't live as long as Woten and I without covering all your bases. See, the oracles of Delphi were a powerful resource for us. After a while, their effectiveness began to dwindle and there were no more children born bearing the marks. But we followed the bloodline, ever watching for a child to come along that would revive the line. Sophia's mother showed some promise, but the gift never fully developed with her. So Woten and I decided to give nature a helping hand. Justinian was a powerful Anunnaki. Combined with his ability to be quite charming and, well, let's just say we arranged a meeting and a relationship that produced a child."

"So Justinian really was her father," Gwynn said.

"Yes, he truly was her father. His assignment, apart from being a parent, was to observe her development and to inform us if her gifts awakened."

"And they did."

"Wonderfully, yes. Did you know her very first vision was of the car crash that took your parents' lives and of your own awakening as an Anunnaki? Unfortunately, we didn't have enough information to locate you in time to stop the tragedy from happening. It wasn't until after news broke of the accident we were able to find you. Woten decided to relocate you and your aunt. He thought having you closer to Justinian would be safer—in case your powers reawakened. To be honest, we had no idea what was going to happen with you. No child had ever awakened and had no marks appear. All we could do was sit and wait."

Gwynn's head spun. Sophia had visions of the night his parents died? They'd all known, her included, what had happened and never told him. He'd been turned into an experiment, a thing to be observed and studied. Was that why Sophia had stayed away all those years? Was it because she'd seen what he was and been afraid?

"Why are you telling me all this?" Gwynn choked on the words.

"Because I want our conversation to begin with honesty. You've lived your life in darkness and ignorance. It's about time someone pulled back the curtain and let you see the real world you've been living in."

Gwynn became aware of an aching in his fingers. He hadn't realized he'd been squeezing them into increasingly tighter fists the whole time Zeus had been speaking. Was this man to be trusted? By his own admission, he'd manipulated lives and used people for his own benefit. It was likely this whole conversation was only happening because he wanted to use Gwynn. Even if that was true, wasn't it worth the risk to learn more?

"What do you want to know?" Gwynn asked.

Zeus' shoulders relaxed. "I hoped you might be able to fill in a few gaps. Many of the world's religions have end time prophecies. I believe you are familiar with the Nordic Ragnorok, as well as the Christian end times prophecies. We Greeks have lived comfortably without such dark tidings hanging over our heads. However, in the final days of Delphi, a prophecy was delivered that, as best as we can tell, foretold an ending for the whole world, regardless of what affiliation you align yourself with."

"Is that why you wanted Sophia? Because you thought she might shed more light on that prophecy?"

Zeus nodded. "You are a very astute young man. Much of that prophecy has come to us in fragments. As best as we can tell, the original prophecy was delivered to…someone else, who took it in its entirety. Afterwards, the oracle wrote much of it down herself. But those final days were during the time of Rome, and much of the writings were lost or divided. Through the centuries, we've found pieces of it, but only enough to worry us. We, well I, had hoped another oracle of Delphi would be able to fill in the gaps for us."