False Gods (Sins of the Father 2)

ou can’t just walk into a store and ask for the Arachne special. Arachne – she needs favors. And this time the favor was to keep Loki’s sword hidden, somewhere even Loki himself couldn’t find it.”

I frowned at her. “What would that even accomplish? Why would Arachne even care?” I raked my hands through my hair in frustration. “And is that really worth a scrap of lace?”

Beatrice eyed me guiltily, then shook her head. “It’s not just about the lace. This is – it’s about my soul.”

Florian’s body thumped heavily against the floor as he sat himself down. “Oh, Beatrice. Oh no. That’s a little too intense.”

She nodded. “It’s called patronage – surrendering your soul to an entity in exchange for power.” She looked down at her hand, flexing her fingers. “What you saw just now? That was a taste of what I could do if I gave everything up to her. And it fits so well, too. The greatest weaver in the universe lending me her talent? You don’t understand. That reverberates through everything for me – my art, my workshop, even the magic I can use to defend myself.”

“But Beatrice. At what cost?” I shook my head. “Did you even remember what you were doing? You almost killed Florian.”

She glanced at him apologetically, her eyes wet again. “I really am sorry. I lost control and it all – I just slipped away. Some people can give up slivers of their soul and be perfectly fine. But I – I don’t think I’m cut out for this.” Beatrice thumbed over her shoulder, her gaze on the ground again. “Take it. Take the damn sword. It’s in a pouch in the backroom. You can’t miss it.”

The beaded curtain rattled as I parted it, and she was right. There was no way I was going to miss the fuchsia fanny pack sitting on a lone stool in the center of what looked like a very neatly organized stockroom. It had a few ribbons attached to it, along with some pink rosettes. Some gaudy, jangly gold clasps completed the effect, making it look about as stylish and as wearable as a three-tier bubblegum birthday cake at a sweet sixteen.

I scowled as I picked the bag up. It was the kind that strapped around your waist, the exact type a father of three might tuck just under his beer belly on a daylong trip to the amusement park. I marched right back out to Beatrice, holding the fanny pack between thumb and forefinger like it was roadkill. Florian grimaced.

“Seriously?” I said. “No offense to you and the Fuck-Tons, but a designer fanny pack? Really?”

Beatrice glared at me. “I’ll have you know that even the biggest fashion houses have made their own luxury versions over the years. They can be very, very stylish, on the right person. And don’t you say a word against the Fuck-Tons. They’re like – like my fairy godmothers. Literally.”

I strapped the fanny pack around my waist, its buckle fastening with a click, and I smiled at her. “I noticed. It feels like you ladies have some history between you.”

She smiled back. “They’ve been very good to me. Let’s just say that I see them as family. Now, the sword is in that thing, which, if you could see yourself right now, you’d have to admit is pretty damn stylish.”

I scowled as I looked into a full-length mirror, turning this way and that, the fanny pack at my hips jangling merrily. “I don’t see it for me, but okay.”

Florian narrowed his eyes and lowered his head. “If I squint really, really hard, it’s not so bad. Maybe if I close my eyes?”

Beatrice harrumphed. “The two of you don’t know the first thing about fashion. But – back to the Fuck-Tons. Please don’t tell them about this. Please? They don’t have to know.”

I lifted two fingers in a salute. “On my honor. Just as long as you figure yourself out and, you know, maybe not sell your soul to Arachne. But that still leaves the question. Why did she want you to keep Loki’s sword so hidden?”

Beatrice shrugged. “Beats me. But entities will be entities. Who the hell knows why they want the things they want? I have my own concerns about you giving it back, to be honest. Are you sure about this?”

“It’s a matter of life and death,” Florian said. “At least when it comes to Mason. The entities won’t just stop coming some day, as long as they can see him on the map. And you know as well as we do that Loki will have something really horrible in store if we don’t cough up the sword.”

Our heads snapped towards the broken front door as sounds of activity streamed in from the streets outside. I locked eyes with Beatrice as we realized what was happening.

“The guards,” she said. “The Black Market’s enforcers. Someone must have reported the commotion here. Quickly.” She thrust her finger at the backroom. “Through there. Take the back exit, and only head through the alleyways. They didn’t see your faces, so I can always tell them that someone tried to mug me.”

I leapt to my feet, granting my sword and shield permission to return to the Vestments. They disintegrated on the spot, leaving clouds of glitter. “Thanks, Beatrice. You’re not so bad after all.”

She half smiled, sweeping a lock of hair behind her ear, one side of her mouth lifting into a curve. “I’m an actual nightmare, but thanks for being so sweet about it. Now go. Save your butts. And good luck with Loki.”

We ran then, just as we heard the voices of the Black Market’s guards approaching Beatrice’s ruined front doorway. Luck, she said. Yeah, we were going to need all the luck we could get.

35

My legs pumped as fast as they could go, my torso already sweaty despite the heat and light of the afternoon fading into evening. Florian ran just ahead of me, a tireless half human engine. I might have been imagining it, but I thought I could feel little vibrations as his feet stomped the pavement.

What a pain. We had to head all the way back to Artemis’s domicile to pick up the staff and the first sword, because Florian and I very well couldn’t walk around Valero carrying full-sized weapons. The fanny pack made it easy to transport all three of the items Loki requested. I appreciated the functionality, but it didn’t make me think that it was any less garish. It also had a really annoying habit of flopping around and jingling while I ran.

And now we were out in the city again, a dumpier part of it, definitely. I followed Florian’s lead since he remembered the venue for our first meeting with Loki best, a warehouse in the Gridiron. As Valero’s industrial district, it was a mostly featureless concrete wasteland filled with – well, even more warehouses, all of which looked so very much alike.

“Which one?” I shouted, surprised that Florian was outpacing me for once.

“Just trust me on this. Um, that one. I think.”