Kitty in the Underworld Carrie Vaughn (reading eggs books .txt) 📖

We have to get out of here. This is crazy. Kumarbis might have been right, but Wolf still didn’t trust him. He knows where we are, he knows what we’re doing.

Zora had opened a door, and the door allowed access both ways. If we’d found Roman, he could just as easily find us. The urge to flee became fierce. Antony hadn’t been dumb, he hadn’t been reckless. He wouldn’t have confronted Roman if he hadn’t thought he had a good chance against him. And he’d lost. What chance did we have?

The others didn’t seem worried. They began to march out of the ritual space and back to the antechamber. Zora moved like a queen in her palace, her chin up, her tunic flowing around her, gold ornaments glinting in torchlight, as if they sparkled with their own light. Were they really gold, were they really ancient, or were they some cheap knockoff posing as ancient sacred artifacts? And did it matter, if they really were magic? The questions made me tired.

She retrieved the coin from the ritual space, returned it to Kumarbis, and processed with him back to the antechamber. The high priest and his acolyte, so imperious and serene, so sure of themselves. He was righteous, she was proud to follow him. We, the pack of lycanthropes, followed.

Back in the main chamber, Kumarbis turned and bowed to us all. “Dawn approaches. I must leave you. Tonight, our final ritual commences. We are close, so close. Thank you, all of you, for your help, your power, your blessing. Zoroaster. Sakhmet. Enkidu. Regina Luporum.” He bowed again, eyes closed, head bent low. The show of gratitude was profound, genuine.

It almost made staying mad at him hard. Almost. He believed. He really, really believed.

“Wait a minute,” I said, my words dropping like a china plate on a tile floor, breaking the mood, causing even me to shiver. I had to get out my thoughts, no matter how awkwardly. “You’re right. I see that now. You’re right, you really can do what you say you can do. I believe you.” Saying it felt like I was giving over part of myself, carving out a piece of my own flesh. Admitting they were right about me. “But you’re missing something.”

“We’ve overlooked nothing,” Zora insisted.

“Zora,” I said. Wincing, I revised the thought. “Zoroaster. The one who speaks for Zoroaster.” I was absolutely no good at this ritual thing. Regina Luporum, hah, not even. “You opened a door, you saw Dux Bellorum—but doors open both ways. He can find us just like we’ve found him. He’s in Split right now laughing at us.” I flashed on the memory of my first day here, grabbing Sakhmet’s hand through the slot in the door, desperately holding on in our tug-of-war. Roman could do that to us.

But everyone looked at her. Even Kumarbis looked at her, waiting for her response.

Her expression wrenched itself into a kind of fury, puckered, glaring. “We’re safe here. I’ve protected this place, I’ve cast many spells, I’ve built many shields. No one can+edse">Chapter 1 find us, no one can harm us. We’re safe!” She spit the words, and her face flushed. In her robes and finery, she looked like she was playacting. I couldn’t laugh, though. I felt a little sorry for her.

Kumarbis looked back at me. “You see? We are safe. Tomorrow, we can strike.”

“Antony!” I said, making his name an exclamation. A call to arms, however incomprehensible. But I had gotten their attention. “My friend Antony. He was Master of Barcelona, but he was one of us—one of my allies in the fight against the Long Game. Like Ned, Alette, Anastasia, Marid … Rick.” And what would they say if they could see me now? God, I could really use some help here … “Antony knew that Roman was in Split, and he went there to kill him. He thought he could kill him. He failed. He was destroyed. You can open a door to try to kill him, but you’ll be going in blind. He will defend himself.”

“And so will we,” Kumarbis said, just like that.

“Before he died, Antony said Roman was in Split looking for something, an artifact or a spell or something, called the Hand of Hercules. Maybe it’s a weapon, maybe it’s something else, I don’t know. You say you know Roman better than anyone—do you know what it is? Hand of Hercules, the … the Manus Herculei—”

Kumarbis’s eyes widened in a show of recognition.

“You know!” I pressed. “You know what he’s looking for, you know what it does.”

He might not have realized he was speaking. “It was what caused our falling-out. It was why we parted ways. He sought a different kind of magic than I did. Not Hercules. Herculaneum. He was going to Herculaneum, looking for … something.” His gaze went distant, dredging up two-thousand-year-old memories. He looked like a lost old man, nothing more than that.

And where the fuck was Herculaneum? It was all I could do to keep from screaming at Kumarbis, What? What was it?

I kept going, the tension pouring out in words. “The next ritual, the second half tomorrow night—what’s going to happen, exactly? You know Roman, you know what he’s capable of, exactly how powerful he is—so how are you going to destroy him?”

The staring at me went on for another minute. I had gone so thoroughly off script they didn’t know what to do with me. It was as if I’d done something unseemly at a dinner party and they couldn’t look away. Finally Zora turned to Kumarbis—waiting for permission. Only when the vampire nodded did she turn to me and speak.

“The ceremony will gather the power to destroy Dux Bellorum, then open a door so the power will reach him. You will see it when it happens. You will understand.” Her eyes were round; her raised hands, explaining in vague gestures, trembled. She was on the edge of breaking. Of insanity. Maybe her power