Reap the Wind (Cassandra Palmer 7)
Page 233
“So do I.”
She laughed. “I like you. You know, I don’t think I’ll enjoy killing you much.”
“Then don’t.”
“Can’t do that.” She shook her head. “The master is waiting—”
“Let him,” I said quickly. “Didn’t you say you liked that feeling? Because it won’t last. Not once you bring him back. Right now, you’re the most powerful person in the world. But after? He’s a god. We’re nothing to them—”
“Speak for yourself.”
“Aren’t you tired of being overlooked? Unnoticed? Aren’t you tired of being just that girl in white?”
“You have no idea.”
“Then what do you think you’ll be to him?”
“I think I’ll be his queen.”
“That’s what he promised you?”
She nodded. “A contest: winner take all. Whoever brought him back first would be his consort and a goddess. Whoever failed . . .” She shrugged.
“And you won.”
“Of course. Victoria tried to sell us on the idea of working together and sharing his favor. Share. Like she ever shared anything. But in the end, she wasn’t a problem at all.”
“And your other competition?”
“Jo’s off on a wild-goose chase, looking for some old relic.” She rolled her eyes.
“Relic?”
“One she thinks is strong enough to blast through the barrier. I told her she was wasting her time. If she ever finds it, the fey will kill her. They don’t let go of their toys easily.”
I swallowed. “No. No, they don’t.”
“And Lizzie—poor, dumb thing—still thinks she’s going to be Pythia. She doesn’t get it; we won’t need a Pythia anymore. First thing on the list is to get rid of all magic users, so no more threat of banishment. Afterward, the only ones with magic will be us—”
“And the other gods, once he lets them in.”
She laughed delightedly. “Who says he’s letting them in?”
“He’s planning to keep earth for himself.”
“And faerie, and the hells,” she agreed. “Why remove your mother’s spell when it would just let everyone back in, the whole greedy lot of them? He doesn’t need everyone. He doesn’t need anyone. He can take it all, and be master of it all. Just him and me and the children we’ll have . . . which is why I’m afraid you have to go.”
“He’ll kill me for you when he comes back.”
“Probably,” she agreed. “But I can’t take that chance, can I? Leaving him with a choice between a demigoddess child of Artemis and me?”
And I suddenly realized why she’d been willing to play this little game.
“I don’t want him,” I said fervently.
She grinned. “I don’t think you’d have an option. And I—I’ve been second once too often. What did they say in Blade Runner? ‘Time to die.’”
“Never saw that movie,” I said, and kicked out. And while I may suck at time duels, Pritkin had been teaching me all sorts of dirty fighting tricks. If I’d been in boots, I might have shattered her kneecap. But even in tennis shoes, she went down.