Imprisoned Gods - G. Bailey Page 0,27
I'm sure I read somewhere that higher gods can't be killed, so surely this is impossible. Maybe I just saw the mark wrong, or he was a god who happened to have a tattoo just like the higher gods have. Right, I think, latching desperately onto the idea. That has to be it. I mean, is it that inconceivable that he had a tattoo like that done, just so others would mistake him for a higher god? There are privileges that they have access to, and a crafty lower god could easily finagle it so they could manipulate the rest of us. It feels farfetched, but it’s the only possibility that makes sense, and I cling to it desperately in spite of how unusual it would be. Take it easy, I tell myself, clawing my hands through my still damp hair as I try to calm my breathing. Stop freaking out. This has to all just be a misunderstanding, or a mistake, or…
I lift my head up just as Peyton appears in the room, leaving green dust in a circle all around him. He drops the rucksack he has in his hands and runs to me, pulling me into a tight hug. “Karma,” he says, squeezing me almost tightly enough to take the wind out of me, “thank the gods you’re okay.”
I laugh dryly, but there’s not much humor to it. “You’re starting to sound like Mum.”
“Damn right, I am,” he says, letting me go but keeping his hands on my shoulders so he can search my eyes. I knew it wouldn’t be long until everyone caught wind of what I did - this kind of an incident wouldn’t go unnoticed for long, even if there hadn’t been other supernaturals in the bar, so it was only a matter of time before my family would hear about it. Still, this is quicker than even I thought. Some part of me hoped deep down that I would have some time to escape, to get clear of this thing before it could reach the people I love. For a brief moment I feel a false sense of security now that Peyton is here with me, but it lasts only for a second. I’m not safe anymore. "What the fuck happened?” he demands, eyes wide as he lets go of my shoulders almost reluctantly. “The gods of justice showed up on our doorstep a few minutes ago. They started asking us all these questions about where you might be, and then they searched the house.” He shook his head disbelievingly, keeping his eyes locked with mine, a mixture of confusion, fear, and frustration flashing across his face. “They said you killed a higher god.”
“What did you tell them?” I ask, feeling a fresh surge of fear.
“I told them the truth, obviously,” he replies. “I told them my sister couldn’t kill a fly if she tried - literally - but they kept insisting that they had proof.” His face takes on a determined look, his tone going businesslike. “It has to be a mistake, that’s the only explanation. I mean, it’s physically impossible. Listen, though, Karma, we’re going to sort this out. We’ll talk to someone, figure out some way to prove to them that you couldn’t have…” He trails off when he looks back at me, and it must be written all over my face that something more is afoot here. “What?” he asks, moving closer. “Karma, what is it? This is a mistake, isn’t it?”
"Oh shite, Pey,” I say, my shoulders slumping. The weight of my situation is finally crashing down on me. “I was hoping I got it all wrong. He really was a higher god," I say, starting to really panic as the shock continues to wear off. Peyton drops his hands, staring at me like I’ve just told him the world is flat or that Mum died. And there’s something else on his face, something that lights a fire of anxiety in the pit of my stomach. Peyton looks scared.
It doesn’t help the situation. I need my smartass brother to help me figure out what to do here. Peyton has always had my back, not just in the little things, like my screw-up yesterday (which is beginning to feel smaller and smaller in comparison to what I’ve done tonight), but in the big things, too. Sometimes I feel like I can come to him with problems I can’t even bring up to Mum and Dad, so seeing genuine fear