Page 62 of Flame and Fury

“Just here,” Estella whispers, pointing to a random door that I never would have picked out of the bunch.

We pile into a workroom of some kind. There are shelves of books, rows of jars containing everything from crushed herbs to indistinguishable things floating in liquid. A large worktable dominates the center of the room, filled with handwritten notes, and books left open and discarded. My eyes catch on the book titles on the shelf next to me. Things like; The Glorious History of the Gods, The Most Underrated Lesser Gods of Olympus, and the Complete Works of Poetry and Trickery of Dolos. Several spines of the books sport the same symbol that’s now branded on my chest.

On the other side of the room is a set of sliding glass doors. Estella hurries through the room, but I’m stopped by an image in one of the books. It’s a hand drawn picture of a necklace with a giant stone. What is all this?

I scan the notes scattered on the table and spot references to Heracles and the trials. Is this where Nathaniel is cooking up our challenges? On one piece of paper, the word soulstone is underlined three times.

Soulstone.

My eyes dart back to the drawing. Is that what that is? I’d never heard of it before Estella mentioned it the other day. Then Poseidon had waxed poetic about its magical powers and how he’d like to use it to enslave me.

“Wren, come on,” Lark says, waiting by the door.

A gust of humid air rushes inside when Estella opens the door. Seconds later, the ground shakes with a rumble of thunder so loud I feel it in my bones. Well, crap. Is that Zeus, or just a regular old end-of-summer storm?

The door opens to a large garden. Not the sit and sip tea kind, but one full of fruits and vegetables. Nathaniel practically has his own compound here. The trees are sagging with fruit. There’s no way this household alone consumes all of this. Rotting apples on the ground confirm as much.

Standing between two apple trees is Grima and two other clerics. I’m not sure what makes me angrier. The wasted food in a city that desperately could use it, or Grima’s smug face. It’s a toss-up.

“What is this?” Grima cackles. A bolt of lightning illuminates the sky, casting a pallor over his face and making him look like a corpse.

“Three little girls who thought they could outrun the High Priest. He’s going to have so much fun punishing you. Maybe he’ll let me assist.” Grima licks his lips.

To say I’m repulsed is an understatement. The sky rumbles and then opens, rain pouring down in a hard sheet. We don’t have time to fuck around with Grima and his buddies. Every second we stay here is more time for the gods to show up. A showdown with the clerics is doable. Fighting Zeus, Hera, Aphrodite, and Poseidon is a completely different story. Maybe if I had any idea how to put the gods to sleep, I’d stay and fight, but I don’t.

“I don’t have time for you. Let us leave, and I won’t destroy you.” No one can say I’m not giving them every opportunity to run.

Grima laughs, and the clerics behind him join in.

“Can you two wrangle the backup dancers? I need a word with Grima before I deal with them.”

“You think you can take me, bitch? Just because you were a champion?” Grima looks at the other clerics like, can you guys believe this? I don’t know where this man’s confidence comes from. I’ve already kicked his ass once.

A smile crawls up his face. “Except you failed. You’re out of the games. Now you’re just another pathetic worm that Nathaniel’s collected.”

“Speaking from personal experience on the worm bit?” I don’t give him time to respond. I launch myself at the underling. Lark and Estella are right behind me. I don’t think Estella has any fight training. She picks up a large gourd from the garden, wielding it like a bat. Okay then. I’m not going to worry about her until I have to.

My main goal is to get my hands on Grima. I slap my hand to his cheek and shove his head back. He stumbles backward and snarls at me. But the deed has been done.

I finally let my wings burst free and throw my head back with a groan. It feels damn good to let them out, like working out a stubborn kink in my back.

Water sluices down my black feathers, making them slick and shiny. They make me feel strong and beautiful. Maybe it’s because they remind me of my grandmother. I only ever saw her wings a handful of times, but they always left me awestruck.

Grima trips and falls on his ass, his mouth hanging open. His hands splash in mud, and his robes are quickly coated as he scrambles away from me.

“Now, now, little worm. I thought I was going to be punished?”

“F…F…Fury,” Grima hisses.

There’s a soundtrack of grunts and smacks behind me, but in front of me is a very bad man.

“Here’s the thing, Grima, I can taste your deeds.” My voice rings with power. Grima trembles at my feet. “I know how much you enjoy hurting others. How you take joy in pain and suffering. Your every breath reeks of your past sins.”

“I’ll stop. I’ll do whatever you want.” Grima slops through the mud, slipping as he continues trying to get away from me.

“Lies.” In this form, with my Fury loose, his lies are ash on my tongue. There is no redemption for Grima. “You have been judged. You have been found unworthy.”

I don’t have to do anything else. I’ve already touched Grima. The punishment is already starting to work. He will relive every one of his terrible actions, as though he were the victim.

---