Book 2 The Gods of Light and Liars

Chapter Seven: Mask Off

Hawk put her hand in her mouth and bit down, hard. The taste of blood was almost immediate, coppery and warm. The pain, too, was intense and present. Blood dribbled out of her lips, onto the white nobility of her robes, making them little more than a pretty lie.

But it was nothing like the Archon's face.

She'd been a beautiful woman. She was slender and paler than most, with thick auburn hair that she'd looped away from her face in braids. Her complexion, she had beautiful cheekbones and a strong nose. And her mouth was where her eyes should be, and vice versa.

The one huge staring orb between the cupid's bow of her lips was bright blue. She moved her lips as if they were eyelids, and a tear duct sat in each corner, constantly weeping what Hawk hoped were tears. There was a mouth where each eye should be, the same perfect lips there, too, albeit unpainted. White pearlescent teeth, human and stubby, sat behind each lip, parted slightly so Hawk could see each tongue.

"Behold!" those lips said, again. "Behold the love of our God."

I will not scream, Hawk thought, to herself. I absolutely positively will not scream.

"How great is our God," sang the crowd. "How good is She to those who love Her." And it even sounded true and reverent, as if they really did believe they were looking at a gift.

Mercifully, there was no terrible call for sacrifice. This horrible show continued, with Earth's Archon standing there, maskless and horrible beneath the glaring false sun of her pavilion. And then, at some signal Hawk did not see, she relaxed and put her mask back on. "Partake of my God and Her Generosity!" pronounced the Archon, and the crowd of worshippers fell on the food as if that were somehow a good thing to wish for.

The Archon of Light said nothing, but laid a hand on hers as she sat down, her mask safely in place.

"And so I have proclaimed Her good works for yet another season," said the Archon of Earth.

"May we all be so blessed as you," said the Archon of Light. His tone was not mocking, but rather seemed sympathetic.

The Archon of Earth said nothing for a long time. Then her mask jerked as she looked in Hawk's direction. "And you, girl. You tell me what you think of my God's gifts?"

And there was the trap, yawning in front of her as if smothered by its own bulk. Her real thoughts couldn't be stated at all—Hawk found the Archon and her God both horrible beyond words—and her first question, how, wouldn't go over well. But her heart felt unsettled now. This was a woman in pain, humiliated by her own God, and forced to worship because...well, what choice did she have? In her God's service she was worthy and beautiful and a beacon to others. Outside of it...well, the world would consider her a freak. Maybe outside this pocket universe from hell, with real doctors and medicine and some serious therapy, this woman could manage to have a life. But she'd have to get away from her God first, and Hawk suspected even that much would be impossible.

"I think...those gifts should be pondered and considered," she finally managed. "And your question ought to be answered thoughtfully."

"Because you need to think of something kind?" The voice dripped with promised cruelty. It seemed for a moment that the altar itself had grown hotter. And now Hawk's throat was dry. She'd tried to escape the snare, and instead found herself deeper in. Oh, god, oh god, what would Alex do?

He wouldn't be here, right now. Not unless you were here, too. Let's go with Hawk. What would Hawk do, if these were the last words she ever said? Because we all know they will be.