Imprisoned Gods - G. Bailey Page 0,33

justice off my tail, even if just for a little while longer.

I feel a bit like a lost little kid, or a bird who’s been pushed out of its nest for the first time. I’ve never caught buses before, and it’s taken me an embarrassing amount of time to figure out that you have to read the signs near the stops to know where you are going instead of just expecting it to go there eventually. I glance out the window, on the lookout for any signs that I’m being followed, but nothing looks out of the ordinary. Not that I would know what it would look like if I were being followed, anyway; I’ll just have to hope Mum, Dad and the others were able to stall them long enough to give me enough of a head start.

At any rate, I’m getting close to where I need to go. Somewhere on the edge of the city is an old pub, the kind of dive bar that’s only ever frequented by vagabonds and late-night partiers. There’s a portal in the pub, an illegal one set up and quickly forgotten about by some old god or another. I’m pretty sure the portal was there before they built the pub around it. It’s one of several in a network that spans the British Isles, and if I had to guess, there are more such transporters elsewhere around the world. The higher gods are aware of these, obviously - something that widespread couldn’t have drifted under their radar forever - but the portals that still stand were built ages ago. They aren’t traceable, and without knowledge of their exact locations, there’s no way for the higher gods to have them shut down. Granted, they’ve tried, but for now, they remain.

This particular portal leads to London, which I figure would be a good place to start as I escape from Ireland. I can start there and figure out the best way to get to France without drawing undue attention. I thought about using Peyton’s plan and getting a ferry over to England before taking another flight over to France, but upon further consideration, I decided it wasn’t the best idea. I know I have to think outside the box to survive - that’s my motto for the moment. If, by some chance, the gods of justice have followed me this far - or worse, if they got to my family and found out where I’m headed… I cringe, hardly even daring to consider the possibility. Either way, they can’t be too far behind me by now, anyway, and somehow they always catch whoever they’re after. The idea that they could be onto me is terrifying enough, and if I want to minimize my chances of making it to France, I’m going to have to do something they won’t be expecting. The only problem I can see with my current plan is the pub owner; I’ve heard he always wants a steep price, and I don't exactly have time to go and get gold right now. I’ll just have to hope he lets me travel through the portal at a price that isn’t exorbitant.

The bus stops, jolting me out of my thoughts, and I quickly look back outside. I don’t recognize the area we’re in, and can only imagine that we’re somewhere on the outskirts of the city, in the rougher, industrial part of town. There’s not much else that I notice... until the sound of laughing teenagers fills my ears. I turn to see three of them climbing onto the bus, bottles of beer in their hands as they start checking their pockets for money.

I can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy as I see them, leaning on each other, nudging one another playfully as they fumble in their pockets with the kind of carefree attitude that defines youth for most people. I never had that innocence growing up, where my only troubles would have been finding bus money and deciding where to party next. I was always busy training with my parents, the same way Damien is now. Instead of hanging out with friends after school and obsessing over who was going to ask me to the winter formal, I spent my time trying desperately to master my magical abilities (and never quite getting the hang of them) and wondering if I would ever live up to my family’s expectations. Spoiler alert: I didn’t. Mads was just the same, in a way,