Book 2 The Gods of Light and Liars

Chapter 30 Exposure

In the silence that followed, there was honesty. All the prayers and dancing and prostrations, the ululations, the reaching for joy, all of it broke open in the darkness like something overripe, overdone. Fear was all that was left. Breathless. Waiting.

Because this was the deal, wasn't it? You give the gods your all You give them your soul. Access to your innermost parts. Your hopes and dreams, the things you don't dare tell anyone about, the things you feel in silences, the space between accolades. So that in the dark, when there is nothing, you have something left to wield. When the universe curdles and turns against you, there's supposed to be that promise that the milk will be returned unsoured, that you'll get another chance. Divinity is the human weapon against the cosmos, the last haven before the void presses you out of existence.

Well, here it was. The void. It had presented itself rather gently, in fact. Just a quick blowing out of the lights. And there it was. Everything the Gods had tried to hold at bay.

And then one light ignited.

And of course it was the goddamn Shadowmaster standing under its white brilliance. It was, in fact, the cleanest light she'd seen while she was down here. It made her realize that she had not, in fact, seen a clean white light since she'd fallen down after Naomi Studdard's school. She'd seen lights in gold, lights in green and blue and red and every other color these people could think of. She'd even expected a theatrically spooky purple out of this guy. But it was just pure white. Not cold. Not warm. Just light.

"And here we have a conclave I was not invited to." Said the man with Alex West's face, using Alex's voice. Hawk had to clench her fists to keep from screaming or crying. Indifference, she screamed at her own weeping self. If you're going to survive, it's through indifference. Do not care. Don't you dare. And her heart was still bleeding.

"Gods come here. Not their opposite." Nasheth said, soft as dreaming. "This could have been a trap for all you know."

"With your children crashing through the underbrush and your rough hands shaking all the flowers to bits?" His voice seemed to come from everywhere. Hawk thought she'd caught glimpses of him in a few places...places that were too far for a single human to reach. One side of the tent, than the other side. His voice seemed to move with the images.

"Your mirage is not frightening," Nasheth said. Then, louder, "And none who hear it fear your threat."

His voice seemed to come from just behind Hawk's shoulder. "Truly?"

She turned, and heard every single body in the tent turn as well, plus a few shrieks and one case of hysterics that had to be dragged from the darkened tent. And still there was a globe of light in the center of the tent, as full of flash and glory as any star, with no shadows at all beneath it, save those cast by the Quartet's worshipers. This continued until the tent was silent once more.

Then the shadows beneath the light seemed to turn, and there he was, standing as your average man, average build, lithe and handsome in a horrible way. His eyes were, again, not Alex's eyes. They were the right shade of blue, but they had the horrible inhuman irises, violet fingers with eloquent digits and terrifying claws at the end. His face was Alex's, but now she allowed herself to look her fill, for there were sharp and clear differences. This was a much leaner man, far hungrier and sharper. His garb was militant and ragged. It still had its own elegance, despite its ragged hems. He seemed to wear gloves at first. Then Hawk remembered, that deep purple tone was his skin.

"And yet I scent fear at the sound of my voice. You'd have to actually kill a few of your followers to get that much out of them."

His words came with a low and hollow growl, something that wound through every bone. And though his voice was not raised, everyone heard it clearly. A trick, Hawk thought, that was far more impressive than any booming shout on Nasheth's part.