Raging Read online

  Present day

  Drakōn stood with his feet braced apart in defiance of the god who stood before him. “Your wife is a goddess. She no longer needs guards. My business is concluded.”

  “So you are just going to ignore the threat of destruction the world faces?” Xanthus asked.

  “You mean the threat to the humans. The prophecy states that it will take four women to save them. Last I checked, I wasn’t a woman.”

  “No, you’re not, but they could use your help.” Xanthus sighed. “The humans are not all bad. You have to admit that Gretchen and Sara are both good and selfless women. They grew up among the humans. They think of themselves as humans.”

  “The land-walkers are not my problem,” Drakōn said.

  “So you’ll just let them all die?”

  “I have no desire to see innocents suffer, which is why I have to go. My daughter…” Drakōn’s voice trailed off, hesitant to continue.

  He could see the surprise in Xanthus’ eyes. Xanthus knew him well enough to know that he never talked about his child.

  “You were in Panthon Prison in her stead,” Xanthus bluntly said.

  “Yes,” Drakōn said. His eyes narrowed as his jaw tightened. “I fear for her. There is no one left to accept punishment for her now. If she makes another misstep, the council will seize her. I cannot allow her to suffer as I did.”

  “How do you expect to protect her?” Xanthus asked. “You know if you return to the sea, you will be hunted down and destroyed.”

  “It will take a lot more than a Dagonian warrior to take me down.”

  “For you, they’ll send an entire battalion.”

  “Let them,” Drakōn sneered.

  “Drakōn.” Xanthus put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You…” His voice dropped away as confusion clouded his features.

  Drakōn slapped Xanthus’ hand off him. “Don’t touch me.”

  Xanthus shook his head. “Drakōn Sumur, always pushing people who care about you away. You may not want to admit you have friends, but you do. And we’ll be there for you if you ever need us.”

  Drakōn growled, not liking to admit Xanthus was right. He’d done his best not to forge close relationships, but regardless, he knew that Xanthus and the others cared about him. If he were ever in trouble, he need only ask, and they would be at his side. And by the gods, he’d do the same—but not at the expense of leaving his daughter in danger.

  “Maybe you will survive the soldiers and protect your daughter.” Xanthus shrugged. “But I’m letting you know, if I have to come down there and avenge your death, I won’t be happy.”

  “We wouldn’t want the god of war unhappy, now would we?”

  “God of war…I really wish you all would stop calling me that.”

  “It’s true, isn’t it?” Drakōn said, knowing full well it was. Triton had destroyed Ares and given his powers to Xanthus. But the former Dagonian wasn’t accepting the title—regardless of the fact that he had the power.

  Drakōn knew Xanthus would eventually accept who he was. All it would take would be a tyrannical lunatic killing innocent people, and Xanthus would not be able to stop himself from intervening. In fact, if he remembered right, Xanthus was conspicuously absent while the rest of them watched the recent news filled with terrorist threats. And somehow, miraculously, the situation saw a peaceful resolution. Coincidence? Not likely. Drakōn didn’t believe in coincidences.

  “War needs no god,” Xanthus said. “Now, god of peace, that I could accept.”

  “What about god of threaten the innocent and I’ll shove my fist down your throat and rip out your heart?”

  “That’s a pretty long title,” Xanthus chuckled, “but it works too.”

  “Yeah, I thought you’d like it.”

  Xanthus smiled and clapped him on the back. “I don’t like goodbyes, so I won’t offer you one.”

  “Till we meet again,” Drakōn said.

  “Till we meet again,” Xanthus answered.

  Moments later, Drakōn stepped onto the beach. Human families gathered in groups—some sitting on towels soaking up sunlight, others playing with a thing called a Frisbee, and then there were some splashing in the surf. He’d have to go farther down the beach to be alone when he transformed. The humans would surely notice his tailfin if he entered the water within sight.

  Their laughter made him smile as he walked away from them. Humans were such complex creatures. Yes, they polluted the oceans and made life in the sea more difficult, but they were often playful and tender. Much of the harm they did, they did out of ignorance.

  A sudden pain radiated from the back of his head. Something had hit him. He looked down to see a Frisbee in the sand and a boy running toward him.

  “I’m so sorry, sir,” he said as he raced to him. “Are you alright?”

  Drakōn rubbed the back of his head, bending over to pick up the human toy. Familiarity struck him when he looked at the Frisbee. It resembled a láka—a toy he’d often played with as a boy.

  “I’m fine,” he answered. The child looked to be about ten years old, wearing tattered shorts with patches in the seat. He greatly resembled the human woman Sara had hired to do mending—though Drakōn had no idea why Xanthus’ wife would need anyone to do mending for her. She was a goddess after all. Therefore, she had no need for repaired clothing.

  “Are you Mary’s son?”

  “Yeah, I’m Steven,” he answered and nodded his head in the direction of a slightly younger boy. “And that’s my little brother, Paul. My mom’s up at the house fixing some curtains.”

  Drakōn tried not to look surprised. The draperies in the house had only been recently replaced. He was suddenly humbled, realizing why Sara had hired the woman. She was obviously helping her, but she didn’t want to damage her pride by offering charity.

  “So where’s your father?”

  The boy’s face fell. “My dad died in Iraq two years ago.”

  Oh right, the human war. “I’m sorry, son.”

  He shrugged. “It’s okay.”

  Drakōn could see in the boy’s face that it was definitely not okay. “Did your dad play Frisbee with you?”

  A spark lit his eyes. “Yeah, all the time. My dad gave me this,” he said, lifting up the toy.

  “It’s a nice, sturdy one. It sure left its mark on me.”

  The boy laughed, lightening Drakōn’s melancholy mood. “Be glad you have good memories of your dad,” Drakōn said. “My dad didn’t care about me at all.”

  “How could a dad not care about his son?”

  “Not all dads are as good as yours was. Cherish your memories.”

  “Steven!” a child’s voice called from behind. “You have to see this!”

  Drakōn turned to look behind him and froze. It looked like someone had pulled a plug in the sea. Only moments before, the shore had lain a few feet away, now it looked to be a mile from where they stood. Suddenly without water, fish flopped, stranded, and seaweed lay flat against the ground. He should take the boy and his brother and run, but he knew it wouldn’t matter. With the loss of that much water, there was no hope of outrunning this. A giant tsunami was on its way.

  “Sara!” Drakōn shouted.

  A moment later, she stood at his side—her white hair blowing in the breeze at odds with her eternally youthful face. “What’s the emergency?”

  He gestured toward the exposed seafloor and said, “We need your father.”

  Shock flashed across her features as she shouted, “Dad.” She put her arm around Steven and gestured for Paul to come to her.

  Drakōn could feel the power of a god suddenly at his back, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the swell in the distance.

  “Great gods on Olympus,” a deep voice rumbled—Triton’s voice. “It’s not just this beach that’s threatened, but the entire Eastern seaboard will feel the effects of this. I don’t have the power to protect all the humans, but I will protect all I can.”

  “Whoa,” Steven said, just as his younger brother ran to his side. His eyes were wide as he gaped at the figure with a trident in his hand. “You look like Poseidon.”

  “Poseidon is my father. My name is Triton.”

  “Is that a tidal wave?” Paul asked, “Are we going to die?”

  “It’s a tsunami,” Triton answered, “but I’m here to protect you.”

  “How many others can you protect?” Drakōn asked.

  “If I expend all my strength, I can cover about a thousand miles of beach.”

  The colossal wave drew closer and seemed to reach higher into the sky as it approached.

  “What if you had help?” Sara asked.

  “Only another sea-god would be of use to me, and I’m sorry, my dear, but the powers you get from the sea are too weak to help much.”

  “How about Drakōn?”

  Triton shook his head, “A Dagonian wouldn’t be any more help than you.”

  She raised her eyebrows, her eyes locked on Drakōn.

  Drakōn’s knees went weak when he realized she knew.

  “I don’t know what you expect of me,” Drakōn said. “My powers have been taken from me.”

  “Not taken, Drakōn,” she said. “Locked away.”

  “What are you talking about?” Triton asked. “No one can lock away another god’s powers.”

  “Drakōn’s mother can,” Sara said, “and she did.”

  “Who is your mother?” Triton asked him.

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. I only know she abandoned me to the sea when I was just a babe.”

  “Your mother did not abandon you,” Sara said. “She hid you away before Zeus got to you.”

  “What?”

  “Zeus had been stealing power from the gods for many years, plott
ing to overthrow all the pantheons. Your mother is a powerful Sumerian goddess, and your father is the son of Poseidon—his firstborn. Your parents found out you were in danger, so they both agreed to hide you from Zeus. Your father didn’t abandon you, either. He is doing his best to protect you.”

  “Drakōn is my brother’s son?” Triton asked.

  “Who is this brother? I thought you were Poseidon’s firstborn.”

  Triton shook his head. “No, his firstborn son is Proteus. My brother’s a trickster, a shapeshifter. He could transform into any person or creature he wished. My father couldn’t control him, so he gave up on him years ago. We have no idea where he is now or what shape he’s assumed. I haven’t heard from him in years.”

  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” Sara said, “but I think it’s time for you and Drakōn to stop this tsunami.” She gestured to the colossal wave building in the distance. “I’m going to take Steven and Paul back to the house.”

  “But I don’t—” Drakōn began, his voice cutting off as Sara touched him. He collapsed to his knees as power washed over him, flowing through his veins. He’d never felt anything like it.

  “There,” she said, suddenly breathless. “Now I really have to go. These boys are terrified.”

  “No, we’re not,” Steven said, puffing out his chest.

  “Well, we’re going back to the house anyway.” With that said, she and the two boys disappeared. Drakōn guessed Sara figured the children had seen enough strangeness today that one more thing wouldn’t matter. Perhaps she meant to erase their memories.

  Standing on shaky legs, Drakōn asked, “What do I do?”

  “You have yet to learn to use your powers, so I suggest lending them to me.”

  “You’re not taking them from me!” he said, suddenly furious.

  “Calm down,” Triton said. “I can’t steal your powers. They will remain rooted in you, but you can channel them to me.”

  “How?”

  “It takes skin-to-skin contact. Keeping your hand on my shoulder should do it. And when you feel me draw power from you, don’t resist. It will be difficult and you won’t want to let it go, but you have to trust me. I can’t take your power without your consent.”

  Drakōn narrowed his eyes. The sea-god was asking him to trust him? Drakōn had little trust in others. But then, he’d been watching Triton from afar for centuries. He had always acted honorably and was quick to defend the weak. That was why Drakōn had secretly admired Triton in a society that had loathed the sea-god.

  Lifting a shaky hand, Drakōn placed it on Triton’s shoulder. Power flowed from him, weakening him. His first impulse was to fight the theft and remove his hand, but he allowed his power to flow to Triton. Raising his eyes, he was shocked to see the wave towering above them—impossibly tall. His heart dropped when the wave crashed, but it crashed in on itself. The level of the sea sank down and down—barely splashing a few drops beyond the original shore. Within several long minutes, the sea was back in its place.

  Drakōn dropped to his knees at the same time Triton did. “Were you able to stop it all?” Drakōn asked.

  Triton sighed, breathless, “Yes.”

  “I have to admit that it was impressive, Your Majesty.”

  “It wouldn’t have been nearly as impressive if you weren’t here to help. Sara’s right. You are powerful.”

  Drakōn looked down the shore to find it deserted, with towels and other items stirring in the breeze. It looked like the humans ran for cover. “So none were hurt?”

  Triton sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry to say it, but I couldn’t save everyone. Those curious humans, who foolishly ventured into the empty sea, were covered by it.

  “How many?”

  “Ninety-four.”

  Drakōn wondered how he could know the exact number, but Triton was an old god. Thousands of years ruling the Atlantic had to teach you something.

  Moments later, Drakōn found himself lying against the back of a plush couch beside Triton. Sara brought them glasses of seawater to drink. “Here, this should help restore your strength.”

  As Drakōn drank the water, he felt as if life filled his body once again. His energy returned and his trembling body calmed. “Thank you,” he said, cracking a grin at Sara. She continually impressed him. And he was not easily impressed. Xanthus was a lucky man to have married such a woman.

  If he could ever learn to trust a woman enough to marry her, he’d want one like Sara. But that possibility was about as likely as being struck by lightning—at the bottom of the sea.

  Sara patted him on the shoulder and whispered, “Don’t leave. I need to help my father, but I’ll be back, and I need to speak to you alone.” She looked up at Pallas as he stepped through the door. “I need to talk to you too, Pallas. Later.”

  “Sure,” he said as he brushed past her.

  And then she was gone.

  Pallas rushed to sit next to Drakōn. “Dude, you have to see this.” He picked up the remote and switched on the TV.

  “Scientists are baffled.” A young woman holding a microphone stood on a dock overlooking the sea. “The largest tsunami in the history of the world disintegrated before the eyes of millions.”

  “I sure hope Triton doesn’t get in trouble for what he did,” Pallas said.

  “Who told you it was Triton?”

  Pallas shook his head. “That human boy has been chattering on and on about how he saw Triton and how he saved everyone from the giant wave.”

  “If Zeus finds out about what he did,” Drakōn said, “Triton could be in real trouble. I mean bigger than that wave, trouble.”

  “Zeus shouldn’t even be king—the traitor.” Pallas stood and paced the floor. “Triton and Nicole are the rightful heirs—that is, until Petros is restored to the throne.”

  “Right.” Drakōn shook his head as he stood. “Try telling that to the millions under Zeus’ control.”

  Pallas cracked a smile. “We have Odin.”

  “What?” Drakōn said. “The king of the Norse pantheon? Sara restored his memories? Why?”

  “King Petros and Odin are cousins and were extremely close. Our pantheons were the tightest of allies—until Zeus stole the throne from Petros and erased everyone’s memories. Odin now remembers everything, and he’s furious. He’s pledged to do all he can to bring down Zeus and restore Petros to the throne. He’s even vowed to cut off Zeus’ head, pound it flat with Thor’s hammer, and then give the head to Hel to burn with the refuse of the Underworld cattle. Zeus’ body, he says he’ll impale on the pinnacle of his palace to feed the birds of prey that migrate there. The Norse gods are quite imaginative and brutal. This is a very good development.”

  Drakōn sat and smiled weakly. “Yeah. It is. Remind me to never get on Odin’s bad side.”

  Pallas sat beside him. “Yeah, me too.”

  Skadi stepped across a vast field of ice. It covered many square miles in a wide circle, and shone like glass rimmed with shards—like the teeth of a gaping mouth, open wide to consume its prey. She could feel sparks of life below—criminals trapped. She and Hades had a mutually advantageous agreement. She was in charge of imprisoning the fiery fiends of the Underworld, and he oversaw the imprisonment of those in her icy domain. As goddess of ice and snow, her power alone kept these dangerous prisoners at bay.

  Hades actually got the better end of the deal. There were fewer inhabitants in her domain than his. His lake of fire held a mere three prisoners of hers. On the other hand, Skadi’s lake of ice held dozens.

  Skadi slowed as a life force brighter than the rest glowed from below her bare feet. She stooped to peer down. The frozen features of a young woman looked up in horror—an expression she’d worn since being frozen nearly nine hundred years before. Pressing her palm against the ice, she whispered, “You are my one regret in this field, Tana.” Skadi shook her head. “I know what you’ve done, but I can’t help but feel your punishment is unjust. If I could free you, my child, I would. But your father will not allow it. I’m truly sorry.”

  ***

  Tana could feel the tears burn behind her eyes, but the icy prison would not allow them to be released. Her warden knelt above her as she had so many times before—speaking words that only succeeded in angering Tana.

  If I could free you, I would. But your father will not allow it.

  Her father was cruel, her father was a coward, and her father feared what others thought more than he cared for his own daughter.