Days of Borrowed Pasts Page 12

  “Unless they want to use him as bait.”

  “If that were the case, they would’ve left some sort of message or tried to contact us by now,” Ayla argued. “Thomas, I don’t think Leon is coming back either way.”

  “And Aphrodite? She finally came back, so do we just leave her here, too?”

  Ayla shrugged even though that was exactly what she wanted to do, even though her reason for not wanting to bring the Greek goddess of love along was purely out of selfishness.

  “We should at least warn her that Leon might have taken off to send hunters after us,” Thomas decided.

  “All right,” Ayla agreed.

  “When I get back, we can decide where to go,” he said.

  “How about —” Ayla’s ringing cellphone cut her off, and for a moment, she didn’t even reach into the side pocket of her backpack to grab it. Her phone so rarely rang, and when it did, it was usually a wrong number. She glanced up at Thomas who just shrugged at her, so she pulled it from the pocket and tapped the accept button. A silvery voice greeted her before she could speak, and she stopped breathing.

  “Ayla,” he cooed. “You’re rather careless, child. Apparently, the white-haired man isn’t another lost god at all but a human. What are you doing traveling with a human?”

  “Uncle,” she whispered. “What have you done?”

  “Ayla,” Thomas hissed. “Hang up!”

  But how could she disconnect? Wurunkatte obviously had Leon. She’d been so ready to accept he’d betrayed them but Thomas had been right: he’d been abducted but not by hunters or Odin’s army. He’d been abducted by a far worse enemy: her father’s pantheon, her own family. Unlike Odin’s alliance of gods, Wurunkatte didn’t want to use her to reopen the veil. He wanted her dead.

  If there was a chance Leon was still alive, she had to save him, even if he were still a hunter working covertly for the League. Her mother would have done the same thing.

  “I have no interest in mortals,” Wurunkatte claimed. “Although I am terribly curious as to why you’ve befriended one. And from where your other friend got that key.”

  “You want me to exchange myself for the mortal?” she asked. “Is that why you abducted him?”

  “Oh, my God,” Thomas groaned.

  Ayla shot him a sharp look, rebuking him for interfering even though he hadn’t actually interfered yet.

  “Just like that?” Wurunkatte said. “You’re going to walk into your own funeral over a human?”

  “Isn’t that why you called?”

  Silence answered her, and she began to grow worried he’d hung up on her and decided to kill Leon after all, assuming he was telling the truth and hadn’t killed him already. But he finally told her, “Then come to the convention center… without the other god.”

  Ayla stared back at Thomas, who would almost certainly try to stop her, and quietly agreed. “All right.”

  More silence from the other end while Thomas reached for her phone, looking as fearsome as she’d thought him the night they met. He pulled it from her hand and shouted, “I’ll kill you if you lay a hand on her!” But she knew her uncle had already disconnected.

  “He has Leon,” Ayla explained.

  Thomas thrust her phone back toward her and exclaimed, “So? That’s no reason to walk into a trap!”

  “Don’t you care about Leon’s fate?”

  “Of course, but we need each other to get off this planet,” Thomas said. “We may be the last two lost gods in this world, and if we don’t stick together, we’ll never reopen the veil.”

  “The last two not imprisoned,” Ayla corrected. “What about the two in Boston?”

  “Ayla,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes as if this conversation were awfully exhausting, “we can’t count on them being alive. The League may have murdered them centuries ago and only keeps their blood in some vault.”

  “Ew,” Ayla interjected. “And I don’t think humans had the technology to keep blood from spoiling back then.”

  “Whether Leon is conspiring against us or not, I don’t want to see him hurt. But we can’t —”

  But a knock on her door interrupted him, and his eyebrows bunched together as they both gaped toward the sound. “What the hell?” he murmured.

  “More like who the hell?” she whispered.

  Thomas nodded. “Maybe it’s housekeeping?”

  “Probably Aphrodite,” Ayla said. “Looking for you, of course. I highly doubt she has any motivation to speak to me... ever.”

  Ayla crept to the door while Thomas followed closely behind then she took a deep breath, peeking through the peephole as if a cobra were waiting on the other side. Honestly, even if Aphrodite was on the other side of that door, she wouldn’t have changed her mind about a cobra awaiting her in the hallway. But when she glimpsed the face of a pretty woman with dark hair and eyes and copper skin, she pulled the door open with a bit too much force and threw her arms around her, surprised to hear herself sobbing against her old friend’s shoulder.

  “Ma’at,” she cried, but it was the only word she could get out.

  “Sh,” Ma’at replied. She hugged Ayla quickly then pushed her inside the room. “Come on. Lock the door behind you.”

  Ma’at looked Thomas over but didn’t ask him to leave. Ma’at smiled at Ayla, wiping the tears from her cheeks, and gently scolding her. “You can’t call me Ma’at in public anymore, Ayla. My name is too well known. When there are strangers around, I go by Sidika now.”

  Ayla arched an eyebrow at her. “First of all, you decided to be Turkish?”

  Ma’at shrugged. “I like the name.”

  “Secondly, this is Thomas, another lost god.”

  She smiled at Thomas, but Ayla continued before Ma’at could speak to him. “And thirdly, how did you find me?”

  “You prayed to me,” Ma’at explained. “Once I latched onto you, I just followed you.” She looked over Thomas again then smiled at Ayla. “You always had such good taste, Moonbeam.”

  Ayla’s cheeks warmed and she stuttered, “It’s not like that, Ma’at —”

  “Have you forgotten what I am?” Ma’at teased.

  “We’re just helping each other,” Ayla insisted. “We think we can reopen the veil.”

  Ma’at’s smile faltered and her mouth opened, but only a breath came out.

  “My friend claims to be a former hunter,” Thomas explained. “Each League headquarters has a vault that contains one ingredient for the spell that can reopen the veil, but only the League Masters know the spell itself. We were hoping you could tell us if we could trust him.”

  “He doesn’t actually know the spell then?” Ma’at asked.

  “No,” Thomas answered. “Supposedly, the spell itself was never written down.”

  Ma’at sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. “Even if this former hunter is telling the truth, no League Master will share the spell with him. I’m afraid you’re endangering your lives for no reason.”

  “Oh, Ma’at,” Ayla said, sitting beside her on the bed and taking her hand, clasping it between her own. She needed to believe this was possible. “We have to try. You know I have to.”

  Ma’at’s dark brown eyes searched hers in that familiar way, as if the Egyptian goddess could see into her very soul. “I know, Moonbeam,” she finally said. “And I’ll help you.”

  “Can I call you Moonbeam?” Thomas asked.

  “No,” Ayla and Ma’at immediately said.

  Thomas pretended to pout while Ayla pulled Ma’at to her feet. “Wurunkatte has abducted Leon though. He wants me to meet him at the convention center.”

  “Whoa,” Ma’at said. “Your uncle’s in town? And you’re just going to turn yourself over to him?”

  “What else am I supposed to do?” Ayla asked. “You know how he is. He will hurt anyone who gets in his way.”

  “Exactly,” Ma’at agreed. “And considering what he wants most is revenge against you, we’ll have to come up with some other way to help Thomas�
�s friend.”

  “Revenge?” Thomas repeated. “Why does Wurunkatte want revenge? What could you have possibly done to him?”

  “I didn’t do anything,” Ayla said. “By the time the war broke out, my father had become the head of the Hittite pantheon, and my uncle wanted to turn me over to the hunters as a sacrifice. They’d get me in exchange for leaving the rest of the pantheon alone. My father refused and cast Wurunkatte out for suggesting it. Once my father died, Wurunkatte returned and took over the pantheon. I’ve been running ever since.”

  “So let me get this straight,” Thomas said. “Your uncle betrays you yet somehow thinks it’s your fault, and you need to die because he’s an asshole?”

  Both Ayla and Ma’at pretended to think about it then nodded. “Pretty much.”

  “And I thought my family was bad,” he muttered.

  “May I talk to Ma’at alone for a few minutes?” Ayla asked him.

  “All right,” Thomas agreed, flashing her that impish grin. “But only if it’s because you want to talk about how cute I am.”

  Ayla rolled her eyes and suggested, “Tell Aphrodite whatever you like. It may not matter much longer anyway.”

  “For the record, Ma’at, I think going down to the convention center is nuts, too. No way should we let her do it,” Thomas said.

  Ma’at snorted and told him, “If she decides to do it anyway, I don’t think we’ll be able to stop her.”

  “I’m surprisingly good at begging.”

  “Tell Aphrodite what’s going on,” Ma’at said. “I’ve known her a very long time. We can trust her, and we can use her help.”

  “Probably not as well as Thomas knew her,” Ayla muttered. Her cheeks warmed and she berated herself as both Ma’at and Thomas shot her strange looks, but Thomas only promised he’d be back in five minutes after telling the Greek goddess the truth and hoping she still wanted to stick with them.

  Once the door closed, the Egyptian goddess turned her smile toward her friend. “Like I said: You’ve always had such good taste in men.”

  “Ma’at,” Ayla groaned. “Please don’t embarrass me in front of him.”

  Ma’at’s smile broadened and she said, “He likes you, too. He has a good soul. He’s young for a god, isn’t he?”

  Ayla lifted a shoulder in response. His age hardly seemed important right now, but Ma’at had confirmed she could trust him, and she already felt lighter, less burdened by the weight of the improbability of returning home.

  “We can’t go after Wurunkatte, Ayla,” Ma’at said quietly. “It’s suicidal. If he knows where you are, the rest of his pantheon will be in town, too. But if you and Thomas are right… if there is a way to reopen the veil… Ayla, I want to go with you.”

  Ayla covered her mouth to prevent herself from squealing. Even the thought of having her old friend and mother and her new friend together in a world where they’d be safe made her want to scream and cry. Ma’at rolled her eyes, knowing exactly why Ayla had reacted that way, and whispered, “We’ll come up with a way to rescue this human but a mortal in the Otherworld? Even if he’s been telling you the truth, how did he ever think that would work out for him?”

  “He claimed he’d rather take his chances there with the gods than here with the League.”

  “I can’t know for certain until I’ve met him, but the whole thing just seems… suspicious.”

  “I know, but regardless, we have to rescue him,” Ayla insisted. “Because if I don’t show up, Wurunkatte will kill him.”

  “Leon is the only leverage Wurunkatte has,” Ma’at argued. “He needs him alive.”

  Ayla glanced at the clock and relented, but only because Thomas would be back soon and she’d need to convince them both to make Leon’s rescue a priority.

  “Ayla, I asked to speak to you alone because of your mother.”

  “My mother?” she breathed. Her legs felt weak and unsteady, but miraculously, she managed to stay standing.

  “I’ve been dreaming about her for a week now, but I don’t understand what she’s trying to tell me. What is the heart of fire?”

  “The heart of fire?” Ayla repeated. She shook her head slowly. “I’ve never heard of it. A stone maybe?”

  “To the gate comes the heart of fire, and the waves of a starless night will destroy its locks forever,” Ma’at murmured.

  “Um… what?” Ayla asked.

  Ma’at lifted her hands to tell her she had no idea either. “That’s what your mother tells me every night. I was hoping you knew what it meant.”

  “Wait, you’ve been having these dreams for exactly one week?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “That’s when I met Thomas. This message… he must be the key…” Ayla gasped and her eyes widened. “His magic key.”

  “He has a magic key?”

  “Yeah, it’ll open a door to anywhere on Earth, but it might work on the veil, too!” Ayla exclaimed.

  Thomas knocked on the door, and Ma’at cast one last glance at her old friend before quietly instructing her to keep their conversation private for now. “If the only way for us to get to the Otherworld is with the key he controls, we can’t let him know we suspect just how much we’ll need it.”

  Ayla nodded and opened her door, but Aphrodite entered first, casting annoyed glances in Ayla’s direction before embracing her old friend. “What did I do?” she whispered to Thomas.

  He lifted a shoulder and whispered back, “I’m sure she’ll tell you soon enough.”

  And Thomas was right. As soon as Aphrodite broke away from Ma’at, she tossed her chestnut hair over a shoulder and scowled at Ayla. “You seriously thought you’d just go sacrifice yourself to save a human’s life even though you know we need you to reopen the veil? He’ll be dead in fifty years anyway, while we’ll be stuck here with no hope of ever getting home. You are just like your father: selfish and —”

  “Aphrodite, cool it,” Thomas warned.

  The Greek goddess put her hands on her hips and continued to glare at Ayla but didn’t finish her accusatory tirade. Regardless, Ayla wanted to defend herself, to insist she had little in common with Kaskuh, but maybe there was some truth in Aphrodite’s claims. She’d been prepared to abandon others who needed her, too, simply because she desperately wanted to be like her mother.

  But she wasn’t, yet she wasn’t her father either. And if she wanted to return home, she’d have to start trusting her own instincts and making her own decisions. “You’re right,” Ayla sighed. “We have to stick together, no matter what.”

  She slipped the straps of her backpack over her shoulders and nodded to the key in Thomas’s hand. “Get us out of here, and let’s figure out where we need to go to find the next component of this spell.”

  “And Leon?” Thomas asked. “Is there no way to rescue him without surrendering?”

  “I doubt it,” Ma’at said. “But I also doubt Wurunkatte will kill him. Not yet. He’ll follow us and try to force our hand.” Ma’at suddenly grabbed Ayla’s hand and exclaimed, “And I know how we can keep him alive. We’ll simply tell your uncle we’ve imprisoned you and pretend we’re negotiating an exchange.”

  “That’ll never work,” Ayla argued. “You’re one of my best friends, and he knows that.”

  “Yeah, but Aphrodite’s not. And he knows nothing about Thomas, who simply wants his friend back.”

  “Aren’t you a goddess of truth?” Thomas asked.

  Ma’at shrugged and smiled coyly at him. “I’m not the one who’ll be lying to Wurunkatte.”

  “I have no problem with lying,” Aphrodite interjected.

  Thomas sighed and rubbed his forehead like they were giving him a headache, but he finally looked up and nodded. “All right. Let’s get out of here and figure out the next riddle. If we’re going to try to hustle one of the most ruthless gods still alive, we should probably get this spell thing worked out pretty quickly.”

  “What about Dionysus?” Aphrodite suggested. “He’s stayed out
of this war and just keeps to himself.”

  Thomas groaned and shook his head. “He’s a drunk. And he’s been in a bad mood for three hundred years since he has to keep a low profile.”

  But Aphrodite was undeterred. “Yeah, but no one would ever think of looking for him in the middle of nowhere Nebraska.”

  Ayla and Ma’at shot each other glances that conveyed, “What the hell are we getting ourselves mixed up in?” but Thomas had already backed down and rubbed the key between his fingers. He flashed Ayla one of his boyishly charming but impish grins and said, “All right, Moonbeam. If he pulls his shotgun on you, don’t panic — he hasn’t been sober enough to shoot straight in centuries.”

  Ayla’s mouth fell open, but Thomas touched his key to the wall and the portal opened to what she could only presume was the farm of a drunk Greek god who’d shut himself off from the world for a reason — and they were about to drag him into the most dangerous conflict yet.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The road I thought would lead us home may lead to me instead.

  The small group of gods stood on a wooden porch that hadn’t been repainted in decades. The pale yellow coat had chipped in so many places that it seemed more of a grayish brown than yellow at all. One of the screens covering a window must’ve been doing a terrible job of keeping insects out of the house because it had several large holes in it that the homeowner, who was apparently Dionysus, hadn’t bothered to repair or tape over.

  The only sign that this house was even occupied were the acres of corn that stretched to the horizon, the tall green stalks appearing unusually high. Before anyone could knock, Ayla whispered to Thomas, “Presumably, he’s selling his crops, so what does he do with all his money? He’s definitely not investing in home improvements.”

  Thomas snickered and said, “You should ask him. I’m sure he’ll appreciate a stranger’s inquiries into his finances and criticisms about his house.”

  Ayla rolled her eyes and mumbled, “Smartass.”

  Aphrodite ignored them both and pulled the screen door open, which creaked on its rusty hinges, then knocked loudly on the old wooden door, its paint flaking as badly as the porch. When the house remained as quiet as before, she knocked again, this time yelling, “Get your drunken ass up, you old sot!”