Page 54 of Deathless
Angling the bike to address the others, I waited until Santos, Devin, and Hudson drove close enough to hear me.
“I don’t know what we’re getting into, so use basic common sense,” I said. “If they’re armed, shoot them. If they surrender, keep them detained. If they run away, follow them. Injure them if you must, but try not to kill anyone who’s not trying to kill you.” I paused to level a stare at Hudson, who stared back impassively.
“And if it’s Rori that’s intent on killing us?” Devin asked.
Santos’ eyes went completely black, much like Rori’s had when she got possessed. From Santos’ mouth, Tezca thundered, “We will deal with Aurora and the parasitic creation inside her.”
Santos’ eyes returned to normal and he shook his head as if clearing it. “Fuck, that’s weird.”
“But can you make sure she survives?” Devin demanded, his jaw clenched.
It wasn’t the first time I’d seen him so concerned about Rori. He was the one who bandaged her leg and carried her out of harm’s way when Hudson shot her. The guy didn’t make his concern for her obvious, except in the ways that counted most.
Astarte used my mouth to answer him while my mind processed those thoughts. “That depends on how far gone Aurora is already. We can extract the parasite from her body without causing injury. But until that happens, there’s no telling how much of her is left.” Devin’s face hardened even more, a muscle feathering in his jaw. “What are we waiting for, then?”
I turned my bike to face forward, accelerating on the narrow dirt road to what had once been our home.
“What are the chances?” I asked Astarte. “That we’ll get Rori back?”
I don’t know,the deity answered.She was possessed violently and without consent after being broken down for weeks already. I’m sorry, Torrance. The chances aren’t good. Even possessing you as we are now, done in a way that is minimally invasive, is damaging long-term. The prophets of your ancient times were not stable because they had been possessed by their deities for too long.
“Huh. Well, that explains a lot.” My fist clenched on the throttle. “Rori’s a fighter. I know she’s still in there. She hasn’t been possessed for long. She’ll be okay.”
I didn’t know what the fuck I was talking about. But believing the alternative was not an option.
As we pulled up, the safehouses looked the same as when we left them. A couple of idyllic, two-story cabins with a detached garage between them, an open gravel driveway in the front, with trees surrounding the sides and back.
Only this time, a couple of RVs sat parked in front of the garage. Instead of motorcycles filling the driveway, there were Jeeps, pick-up trucks, and vans.
We parked the bikes and headed for the house on the left, all four of us on a single-minded mission. Santos was at my side, his steps falling into sync with mine. I couldn’t quite tell if Astarte was in the driver’s seat as our boots ascended the porch or if it was a mix of us. Either way, I felt like a well-oiled machine sent out to do my one purpose.
I shoved open the front door, making it bounce off the wall with a loud bang. The few women inside, maybe three of them, scattered, diving behind furniture with shrieks. Santos and I moved through the house which had once been so familiar but had already changed so much. Hudson and Devin fanned out behind us while we headed for the back door, as if pulled to the area behind the house on instinct.
We only took a few steps through when the women opened fire. They hadn’t dove out of fear, but to grab hidden weapons that were stashed.
Devin and Hudson disposed of them quickly, without mess or fuss. A single shot of returned fire and the quiet, wet sound of a blade slicing open a throat.
We went through the back door, where we found the rest gathered in the wooded area before a grisly scene.
“Shit,” Devin muttered from behind me.
Twelve women sat in a circle around a central figure, who wore a flowy white dress. The garment clung to a feminine body,thin fabric hugging hips, a waist, and breasts that I knew. That I had held, worshiped, and adored.
Santos sucked in a breath of shock beside me before a low, rumbling growl began emanating from his throat. Tezca was pissed, as was Astarte.
The remaining details of the scene filtered through in slow motion, like my brain needed extra time to process everything I was seeing. The lower half of the white dress and the figure’s hands and forearms were stained dark red with blood. Behind the central figure was a man’s body, strung up between two trees. And the ground was soaked with so much blood, I could see the reflection of the tree branches in a small pool of it.
But nothing shook me more than that easy, careless smile on the central figure’s face. Because it was Rori’s smile, Rori’s face. It was Rori, walking barefoot through the bloodsoaked ground toward me and holding her bloodstained hands out in a welcoming gesture.
“I’m so glad you boys could make it,” Rori said in a voice that wasn’t hers. “You just missed the first ritual, but don’t worry. We’ll take volunteers for tonight.”
“You will sacrifice no more of our children,” Astarte said through me. “We’re here to put you down. Cull you like the bad seed you are.”
The grin on Rori’s face faltered for a moment, her all-black eyes flickering like a lightbulb going out. And just as quickly as it happened, the maniacal expression returned.
“This is no place for old gods,” the Dark Mother said flippantly. “Go back to your crumbling tombs and dust-covered idols behind museum glass. You are no longer relevant.”
“You are no god,” Tezca snarled, turning Santos’ eyes fully black. “You are fanatical obsession with a voice and a body that you stole. You are murdering our sons and daughters because you have no true devotion, no real power.”
