Dark Journey

“You must have had a thousand lovers when you were a goddess. Ordinary men would have fallen at your feet without your lifting a finger.”

Her hand covered his. “I do not think there is anything ordinary about you, Daniel.”

He wondered if she had guessed what he really was.

“There’s nothing unusual about me,” he said gruffly, withdrawing his hand.

“Maybe you cannot see it. But I know your past was a difficult one and that you survived it. Not all humans can say the same.”

For a moment he thought she was going to ask him about his life as a serf. A chill enveloped his body.

Then his sense returned to him and he smiled. Isis stood very still for a long moment, barely breathing, her skin flushed. He was half-tempted to take her in his arms and finish what they’d begun yesterday.

But physical attraction wasn’t enough. Neither was mutual admiration, though he wasn’t sure how he’d earned hers. She was still a Bloodmistress—a goddess—and he still had his work to do.

“Who are they, Isis?” he asked. “The rest of the Nine?”

She clasped her hands in her lap. “You will probably recognize their names,” she said, her voice a little unsteady. “Athena, Anu, Ereshkigal, Hephaestus, and Hermes.”

“Greek and Babylonian,” he said. “Anu, I don’t know.”

“Ancient Sumer,” Isis said. “He is the eldest and wisest among us, and he leads the Nine.” She seemed about to go on and changed her mind. “Anu, Hephaestus and Ereshkigal are the guardians of our Opiri.”

“Ereshkigal,” Daniel said. “Goddess of the Underworld. Appropriate enough.”

“Do you think Opiri belong in such a place?”

The words were spoken half in jest, but Daniel took them seriously. “Certainly not the Opir I’m looking at right now,” he said.

He took his seat and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.

“Were there any others?” he asked. “Some of the old gods who came with you to Tanis?”

She frowned, a delicate crease forming between her brows. “There were a few others. When we came to Tartaros, one left us to make his way alone. There were a few who wished to rule by the old customs. We did not welcome them among us. And there was one other who came to us for a very brief time, not long ago. His name was Ares.”

“The Greek god of war,” Daniel said softly.

“Yes. I never met him in the past, and saw him only twice while he was here. He said he had come to find out if Tanis was what he had heard it to be, as you did. But he left soon after he arrived.” She searched Daniel’s eyes. “Why do you ask?”

He left soon after, Daniel thought. But where would he have gone?

“I saw Ares once, in Vikos,” he said. “He was one of the few Opiri who treated serfs decently. I didn’t realize then that he might actually have been a ‘god.’”

“Strange. Ares spoke of coming from the region of Erebus, far to the west.”

Immediately Daniel was on his guard. “We heard he was traveling, but the rulers of Vikos would not have let him stay to challenge them. Rumors among the serfs suggested that he was seeking a place like this after leaving his Citadel.”

“We know that the rulers of Vikos are aggressive and greedy for power. Ares might have been lucky to escape with his life.”

But of course Ares had almost certainly never been there at all. It was all part of Daniel’s invented backstory.

“He seemed wise and controlled when he came here,” Isis said, as if she hadn’t noticed Daniel’s silence. “If he once served as a god to humans, he had clearly left that life far behind.” She paused. “He had a mate with him when he came to us, a dhampir woman whom he treated with great respect. I believe her name was Trinity.”

Daniel kept his breathing to a normal pace. “Why did they leave?”

“I did not actually see them depart, but my last words with them were of making a new life.”

“They didn’t say anything about their destination?”

It was clear from her expression that she wondered about Daniel’s interest. “I was under the impression that they intended to return to their home.”

Daniel knew that it would be wise to drop the subject for now. “I hope he found what he was looking for,” he said.

“A pity he could not have found it here,” Isis said. She gazed at Daniel for a long moment. “Perhaps you will answer a question for me. Why did you react so strongly when you saw that Opir emerging from the depository?” She searched his face. “You dodged the question before. But surely the answer is not so terrible?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Daniel said, looking away.

“It does to me.” She rose, and her bare feet whispered across the floor. “I saw the hatred on your face. Who is he?”

Daniel took a deep breath. “His name is Hannibal. He was a vicious Bloodlord, a close ally of my first owner.”

“Anu’s advisor,” Isis said. “I have met him. Your description of him does not seem—”

“Everyone in Vikos knew his reputation. He was an evil man, Isis. He could never stay in a place like this without his own Household and serfs. He would never give up that life.”

“And yet he has.”

“He lives among the other Opiri in the towers?”

“Yes.”

“And he has never caused any trouble here?”

“Not that I have heard.”

“Opiri like Hannibal don’t change,” he said. “If you’re worried about spies, Isis, I’d watch him more closely.”

Her hand touched his shoulder. “An agent from Vikos?” she asked.

Daniel hesitated. He had chosen to say that he came from Vikos to keep the Tanisian’s attention away from the western colonies near Erebus, in the event that the Opiri of Tanis proved hostile. Hannibal’s presence could prove a danger to him, for the former Bloodlord would know who and what he really was. Daniel had no idea where Hannibal had been over the past several years, but Ares had fought Hannibal and exiled him from Erebus after the overthrow of the Citadel’s original government. Hannibal would surely be very happy to take revenge on his enemy, by any means possible.

“You can’t believe anything he says,” Daniel said.

“Even though he has acted only in good faith and followed our laws?” she asked. “A powerful Bloodmaster like Ares wanted something beyond serfs and divinity. Surely this one, too, can learn.”

He took her by her shoulders. “Is it that you only see the good in people, Isis? Is that your blindness?”

She pulled free. “And is yours constant suspicion, a refusal to see what is good or even to hope?”