record highs, and Iceland had a volcanic eruption that disrupted air travel all the way from there to Asia.”
“Fuck,” Ian said.
My sentiments exactly. I’d hoped it would take Morana and Ruaumoko longer to become strong enough to flex their powers in noticeable ways, but it appeared not. It would only get worse as they got stronger, too. Ian and I had just gotten back, and already, we didn’t have much time to stop them before they grew too powerful to contain.
“There’s also been a deadly pandemic,” Spade said.
My father hadn’t mentioned the power to spread diseases when talking about Morana and Ruaumoko. A deadly pandemic was horrible, but it probably had nothing to do with them.
The blond vampire returned with two pilsner-style glasses filled with blood. I took one, and handed the other to Ian.
“You haven’t fed in days, either, with both our bodies lying in stasis. So, drink.”
Spade’s brows shot up at that, but all he said to his server was, “We’ll need another round immediately, Jefferson.”
“I’ll wait for that,” Ian said, handing the glass back to me. “Now, drink both.”
I did, feeling like I absorbed strength with every swallow. I was still tired, but after the second glass, I no longer felt like my body was committing mutiny against me, and I’d never mourn the loss of my short-lived lisp.
I set both of the empty pilsner glasses on the tray and said, “Denise can come back in now, and I need a computer.”
A nod from Spade to his other servant, a russet-haired vampire, had that man leaving to comply.
“Checking your email?” Ian asked with amusement.
“Checking my knowledge of Russian mythology,” I replied. “I recognized the name Morana from old Slavic tales of a goddess who personified ice and death. In some cultures, they still drown effigies of Morana to herald the coming of spring.”
“You now care about old wives’ tales why?” Spade asked.
I heard a person with a heartbeat descending from the third floor. When I caught Denise’s scent—thankfully no longer intoxicating to me—I waited until she was back in the drawing room before replying.
“That particular old wives’ tale is true. Morana and a god named Ruaumoko escaped from the netherworld with help from a lesser deity named Phanes. If the three of them get up to their old tricks again, humans won’t be the only ones who suffer.”
Spade was silent. Denise dropped onto the couch next to him and said, “Things were quiet too long to last, I suppose.”
“Morana and Ruaumoko,” Ashael said, whistling. “That’s who Phanes broke out? How ambitious.”
That’s right, we hadn’t told Ashael who we were up against before now. He only knew about Phanes, and he hadn’t asked about the rest before offering his full support. I needed to be a better sister, because he was already an incredible brother.
“I saw our father down there,” I told Ashael softly. “He hadn’t responded to our summons because he basically put himself on house arrest and couldn’t leave.”
“He was there, and he let Morana and Ruaumoko escape?” Ashael asked in astonishment.
I sighed. “He said he couldn’t stop them in time because he’d ‘restricted’ himself too much.”
As soon as the words were out, guilt attacked. If my father hadn’t done that, Morana and Ruaumoko never would have escaped. If I hadn’t brought Phanes into the netherworld, none of this would have happened, either. And, if I hadn’t used my darkest powers, Phanes wouldn’t have gotten the idea to begin with.
If, if, if . . . all laid at my feet.
Stop whipping yourself, my other half said.
She’d been silent since our meeting with the Warden, but now she was back, her cold irritation sliding through my guilt.
Did our father tell us that using our power would crack the veil in places? No. Did our father need to restrict himself to the point of being an ineffective warden? No. Did Phanes have to trick us? No. Do Morana and Ruaumoko have to try and rule mortals? No! I could almost feel her huff before she went on. Everyone has their own culpability, yet only we are tasked to fix this before it gets out of hand. That is more than enough punishment, especially since what we did was accidental, and the rest of these vainglorious fools acted on purpose.
She was . . . right. Moreover, I should have realized that myself. I used to stand on logic instead of the shifting sands of feelings. When had that changed?
Ian drummed his fingers against the side of the couch, and