The Survivors | Book 14 | The Deities Read online

  “It doesn’t matter what you do to me, Lom. I’ll never betray my allies. And Dean is dead. You know that.” The prisoner seemed to have lost his bluster.

  “Not this one. Think about what I said.” Lom turned from the cell, moving for the exit.

  “Is Dean really coming?” the man asked.

  Lom paused at the doors, glancing at the figure. “He is.”

  “What’s your end game, Lom?”

  “It’s simple. I want him to pay for what he did to me.”

  “I don’t understand,” the man said.

  “I’m aware of that, but I let someone get away with something a long time ago.” Lom absently touched the metal side of his face. “And I promised myself I wouldn’t let that happen again.”

  “You won’t win.”

  “He will die like the others before him. Are you willing to barter the information for his life?” Lom asked, assuming he already knew the answer.

  The man shook his head. “No.”

  “Think about it. Just because your wife and kids were lost to the Arnap, that doesn’t mean you have to die in this cell, Magnus.” At the mention of his family, the man’s head jerked up, and Lom saw the streak of tears falling over his scarred cheeks.

  “Don’t ever mention them,” Magnus told him.

  Lom didn’t engage. He had Dean Parker’s best friend right where he wanted him.

  The door closed, and Lom picked up his drink, returning to the fire, waiting for word that Mary was safely in his people’s hands on Haven.

  He hadn’t been this content in years.

  ____________

  Papa was here. Well, not her dad, but some alternate version of the man that had raised her. It was tough to watch him and not cringe. The years hadn’t been good to him, and Jules wanted to find a way to protect this man. Something about the look in his eyes told her he felt the same exact thing upon seeing her for the first time.

  His grip was firm on her sleeve as he ushered her toward the dark corner of the lounge, and she took a seat in a booth, her hand narrowly avoiding landing on a sticky substance layering the surface of the table.

  Dean sat across from her, and he met her stare. “Vitair is directly behind me, thirty yards, near the bar.”

  Jules pretended to gawk at Dean, but her gaze drifted over his shoulder at the tall man a short distance away. “What is he?” He exhibited a flat forehead, running at a forty-five-degree angle up to a tuft of slicked brown hair. His brow was wide, making room for high, arching thick eyebrows, and his eyes were deep set and dark. Wary. He peered around the room with the casual effort of a wolf hunting its prey.

  “I’d say he’s not from around these parts. One of Lom’s old allies. Keep your head down. Good choice of jacket. If he comes this direction, pull your cowl up.” Dean nodded at her selection of clothing, and she felt a surge of pride at his praise.

  Vitair strode through the lounge, and Jules found herself catching her breath as the man stopped three tables from theirs. A drunk Padlog stumbled nearby, his mandibles flecked with golden flakes, and his shoulder dropped into Vitair. He didn’t budge despite the impact, but the Padlog toppled over. Vitair ignored the intoxicated insectoid and turned on a heel, marching out of the bar.

  Dean lowered his voice, leaning on the table. His breath smelled like sour alcohol, and Jules fought to not judge him because of it. “Vitair’s waiting for you. He plans on using you as bait for your dad.”

  Jules had known Lom of Pleva wasn’t exceedingly interested in her. She’d been a baby when Papa had battled him, so she wouldn’t even be on his radar. That was going to change very soon. “I was hoping to…”

  “Just what were you going to do? Waltz in there and compel Vitair to let you through? Do you think it’s so easy moving between dimensions and times?” Dean asked her, his tongue sharp.

  “You seemed to pull it off,” she told him, and he actually smiled at her. It was a good look on the older version of her father, and she could see her Dean Parker not far from the surface.

  “I have my tricks.”

  “How did you find the tool?”

  “We’ll have time for that later. Come.” He stood, keeping his spine stooped as he led her from the room, the music playing loudly as they entered the hallways. The bouncer didn’t even regard them as they pressed past into the quieter part of Udoon Station.

  “Where are we going?” she asked. The corridors were busy, and she tried not to stare at the strange assortment of people loitering around them. They were as seedy a bunch as she’d ever come across.

  “I have a room.” He kept quiet as they stepped with silent grace around the people, and he straightened out, slowing when they found themselves far from the night life. He limped after a while, grunting as he went.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “I’ll be fine,” Dean assured her, but from the strain on his face, that wasn’t true. He was injured. She didn’t prod him on it and hoped he’d be more forthcoming eventually.

  They moved along the left edge of the halls, while two local Udoon people walked on all fours, their bellies hanging low to the ground. Jules was relieved to find a hotel, until she saw the types of creatures inside the front entrance. Dean strode by them without comment, and Jules pulled her cowl tighter over her head, keeping out of their reach.

  A minute later, they were in Dean’s rented room, which wasn’t much more than a bed and an end table, along with a cramped bathroom that likely hadn’t been cleaned since Jules started the Academy.

  “I know it’s not pretty, but I don’t have many credits.” Dean shucked his long brown jacket, letting it fall in a heap on the stained carpet.

  “You’re definitely not my Papa,” she said quietly.

  He glanced at the mess and shrugged. “I never said I was, Jules.” He slunk to the bed, and she leaned against the end table, half-sitting on it, careful not to knock over the lamp.

  “This is crazy. How are you in my timeline?” she asked him, assuming he’d be more open behind closed doors.

  “I’ve been coming often,” he said, not meeting her stare.

  “You have?” Jules felt a thrill surge through her at the words.

  He nodded slowly. “You know about the Delineator and the timelines, right?”

  “Some, but I believe Fontem lied about it,” she said.

  “He did, but we’ll get to that later. He’s the reason I’m here,” Dean said.

  Jules frowned. “Okay, so you’re from a different timeline. How do you travel between them?”

  He laughed, and the sound was familiar, warming her up to the stranger that looked so much like her dad. “Fontem told me it was linked to your plane of existence. He didn’t know why either, but when I realized how well this Dean had done, I started to become obsessed with it.”

  “So… what happened to you?” Jules asked.

  “I don’t want to talk about it. Suffice to say, once the Kraski teamed up with the Shimmal, we never stood a chance. I… they’re all dead, Jules. Don’t you see…?”

  She stepped beside him, taking his hand. It was warm and rough to the touch. “I don’t see. Tell me.”

  Dean’s head lowered as he shook it. “You weren’t going to be able to pull this off, so I came. We can’t have your father chasing after you. Lom has one chance to send someone forward to him, and we can’t waste it.” He patted his pocket and smiled. “But I have the way back. This Delineator has the ability to return me to your time.”

  Jules pondered this. She was a Deity. She might be able showcase a few tricks of her own, but something was nagging at her. “You said Fontem admitted the device was linked to my timeline, and that you can move freely between your own and this one. Will it work from Lom’s?”

  Dean’s face grew still, and he furrowed his brow. “I don’t know. I guess I assumed it would.”

  “That’s not good enough, but I don’t have another option. You should stay here. I can do this alone,” Jules told him.
>
  This brought another laugh. “I wish I could have seen you growing up. Mary left with you when I went… They were killed shortly after.”

  Jules heart pounded in her chest. “What did you do to make her leave?”

  His hands shook as he met her stare. “We each have our own old secrets. Let me have mine. You’re going to need some help.”

  “And you’re the man to do that?” She tapped his knee, the metal under the pants solid and loud to her knuckles. Just as she’d guessed. “You don’t seem like you’re in prime condition.”

  “What I lack in youth, I make up for with exuberance. Come on, kid. I’ve been waiting for this day a long time. They won’t leave unless Dean is with you. Lom’s orders.”

  “I’ll make him—”

  He raised a hand, palm out. “Stop. Vitair won’t bend. You threaten him, he’ll close up shop. Fight him, he’ll destroy the device. We have one shot at this, and we’re going to take it.”

  “What do you suggest?” Jules felt herself growing more comfortable with the idea of a traveling companion. She’d been so focused on bringing Patty home, helping the girl’s brother, Dean, and making sure her parents were safe, that she’d forgotten what it was like to need a second set of eyes. Plus, this was… a version of her papa. The man that meant more to her than anything.

  “We meet him together. Make a deal,” Dean said.

  It was her turn to laugh. “You? Do you think you’ll convince this Vitair that you’re my father? You look twenty years old than him!”

  He appeared insulted, so she started to backpedal, but he cut her off. “I’m only ten years older, thank you very much. Do you have a better idea?”

  Jules scrunched her face up, thinking about pivoting. Papa always told her to consider all the alternatives and choose the one that had the best chance of success. He liked to list them out loud, so she did that. “If we meet him together, there’s a good chance he won’t believe us—or at the least, Vitair will think we’re pulling a fast one on him.”

  Dean sat motionless, listening with the slightest of smirks on his lined face.

  “We could do more recon, find the device that’ll send us to Lom, and steal it.”

  “I know where it is, but we don’t have the code. I think it’s somehow linked to Vitair. And it’s a little too large to hide in your pocket,” Dean said.

  “Linked how?”

  “I don’t know. It doesn’t have buttons. I think he’s the console. Something built into him,” Dean told her.

  “Is he an android? Like Lom?”

  “I don’t think so, but PlevaCorp is known to add modifications to people, many of them hidden to the naked eye. Vitair is likely far stronger than he looks as well. You saw the Padlog bounce off him in the bar.”

  Jules had noticed, and she kept thinking. “Then we…” She bounced off the bed, nearly tripping on Dean’s jacket. “I have it!”

  Voices muttered from the other side of the wall, and he placed a finger on his lips. “Thin walls. What’s the plan?”

  She pulled a ring from her pocket, settling it in her palm. “This is how we do it.”

  “A ring? I’ve never been one for jewelry,” he said, but she spotted the gold chain around his neck. Her hand darted out, pulling it from under his shirt.

  “Then what’s this—” The words caught in her throat. It was the same necklace her papa had. The one with the green jewel in the center of it. The one from the Event.

  He rose, looming over her like a beast. “Don’t you ever touch that.” Spittle dripped down his lips, and she let it fall to his chest, stepping back a few feet.

  “I’m sorry…”

  He fumbled with it, hiding it again, and he sat on the bed. “Go on. What’s the ring?”

  Jules wanted to ask him about the chain, about why he still wore it and what it meant to him, but she could sense from his reaction that it was off topic. “It’s from Fontem’s collection.” Seeing his necklace made her think of her own, and her fingers reached for the star jewelry her boyfriend had given her as a late sixteenth birthday gift.

  She handed the ring to Dean, and he hefted in his palm, slipping it between his fingers. “Does it shoot lasers or something?”

  “Put it on,” she urged him.

  He glanced at her with uncertainty and eventually slid it over a crooked finger. Whoever this Dean was, he’d lived a difficult life. She was bound and determined to help him improve his station once they returned home.

  If they survived, she reminded herself. Deity or not, this might be above her scope.

  “I don’t get why…” Dean started, and she grabbed his arm, dragging him toward the bathroom. The moment he saw his reflection, he let out a startled noise. “I’m dead.”

  Jules straightened proudly. “That’s right. You look dead.”

  He poked at his own face, which seemed to be decaying slowly. His eyes were red, his cheeks blotched with purple markings. His hair was firm and short, his skin pallid and gray. “This is your big plan?”

  “We make Vitair think you’re dead. Have him send us to Lom so we can stop this nonsense. If all he wants is you deceased, Vitair will feel he’s appeasing his master. So we need Lom’s henchman to believe our story, and we can be sent to Lom’s timeline. I’ll take over from there.”

  “It can’t be that easy. You floating around, fighting Lom’s armies? I guarantee he’s calculated every move this time. He’s a tyrant, and once he realized he’d been given another shot, I doubt he turned into a humanitarian. Most likely the opposite.” Dean kept the ring on, and Jules was shocked at the smell emanating from him.

  “I hope that’s the effect of the band and not you,” Jules said, nudging the man with her elbow. She was feeling more at ease with him. It wasn’t quite her dad, but maybe a close version. A cranky uncle, perhaps.

  “It might be a combination.” He pulled the ring off, returning to his normal self. “How about we hit the hay? I’ve been up for far too long, worrying about you getting to Udoon.”

  “I’m not tired.” But Jules realized how fatigued she truly was. Dean pulled a ratty blanket from a closet that wouldn’t fully close and took one of the pillows from the bed, draping it on the floor.

  “Take the bed,” he ordered.

  She was going to argue with him, but if he was anything like Papa, he wouldn’t cede to her concerns about his age or physical ability. And at the end of the argument, she’d be on the bed, and he’d be on the floor. She saved her breath and nodded. “Thank you.”

  Dean turned off the lights, and Jules stared up at the ceiling, hearing Dean’s raspy breathing and murmurs of conversation carrying from the rooms surrounding them. Despite her anxiety about tomorrow, she drifted off to sleep within moments.

  Two

  Jules woke before Dean, and for a second, she thought he wasn’t breathing. Then she saw the slight rise and fall of his chest beneath the green blanket and she climbed from the bed, using the tap in the bathroom to rinse her face. She glanced at the shower, not wanting to risk using the rusted metal faucet. This place looked like time had forgotten it, and everything seemed hazardous to her health.

  Her stomach growled as she reaffixed her jacket, and she searched the couple of drawers for anything to eat. There was nothing but a tablet, a stubby gun, and an earpiece in the top drawer, and she took the screen, tapping it on.

  She checked to make sure Dean was still sleeping and examined the files on the home screen. They were lined in neat rows, and she clicked the first one, finding a series of locations. The spreadsheet listed names of people, and hers was second on the list, after another person she’d never heard of. Carolyn Lauder. Jules selected her own name and found documents connected to it. She chose the first and watched shaky footage of herself walking through the Academy courtyard with Rumi, the little Padlog boy, trailing alongside her. She must have been nine or ten years old.

  Jules exited, observing the next video. She was holding Hugo’s hand as they strode fr
om their penthouse condo to the playground. Hugo had demanded she bring him to the swing set every day for a year after she was done with classes.

  The next showed her in the lunchroom, sitting alone, and she saw her Dean chatting with the students from his year at another table. His gaze kept shifting to her, his expression sad at spotting her solitude. It was touching, but the footage was invasive.

  She backed out, seeing her father’s name, and she watched feeds of him, one talking with Tim Dobbs as Hugo ran off with that man’s fake child. He’d betrayed Papa, and she bristled at the sight of the bearded visitor.

  “What are you doing?” Dean asked from the floor. He sat up in a hurry, reaching for his tablet. She pulled it away, and his hand found nothing but air.

  Jules hopped to her feet, stumbling to the other end of the bed. “What the hell is this?” She held the device up, flashing the screen toward him.

  “I told you. I’ve been coming here for some time. I’ve watched you…”

  “This is beyond creepy. Are you some kind of a voyeur?” Her hands were shaking, and she dropped them to her sides to hide that fact.

  “You’re my daughter. And Dean is me…”

  “No he’s not, and I am not yours,” Jules told him firmly.

  His head drooped, and he gave up any fight. “Fine, but I only want to help. I’ve kept an eye on you. I’ve protected you.”

  “That’s BS. I’ve never seen you before,” she said.

  “I’m sure you have. I was there the day of the Gatekeepers’ inauguration when you were a little girl. I was there when you graduated. I was there for Magnus’ wake.” He stared defiantly at her.

  “You were?”

  “I saw you grow up. Unfold from a smart resourceful girl in a cocoon, into the beautiful and strong woman you’re becoming today,” he told her.

  She tossed the tablet on the bed. “Why do this?”

  He scooped it up quickly, turning if off. “Because I didn’t have my chance with you.”

  “What’s your motive?”

  He moved for the bathroom, leaving the door open a crack. She heard the rush of water in the sink. “What do you mean?”