That detail alone—or lack of detail—reassured me that I was in the right place.
His every man plainness did something unnerving deep in my bones. Thethump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thumpof would-be prey looking at a wolf in sheep’s clothing. The Ted Bundy charm of the psychopath masquerading as the guy next door.
I steadied my breathing, forcing myself to remember that Estrid was crouched in a bush scarcely a half mile away. I had to stay calm. Dealing with this man was exactly like handling a nuclear bomb: a game-changer in the right hands, and a world-ender in the wrong ones. A single error on my part would be catastrophic for us all.
It took me a tenth of a second to flip through my Rolodex of answers. For right now, he had to be Noah. My wealthyclient of yesteryear. Someone who had everything and was impressed by nothing. I had to cling to the only thing that might pique his interest.
“I think the guy in power is a dick,” I said.
After a beat, the corner of his mouth ticked up in a half-smile. My pulse skipped at the small win. I went in for the kill.
“And I have the manpower to take him down.”
His brows lifted. He looked at me as if seeing me for the first time. He examined me for a long minute before setting down his drink. After a pregnant pause, he said, “Someone else was amassing forces a few days ago. It’s a nice dream.”
“I’m not amassing,” I said without missing a beat. “I am the dream.”
I wasn’t sure what forced the confidence, save for the knowledge that we’d all die if I failed.
Bet big, win big.
He chuckled lightly, which I took as a good sign. He pushed back from the counter and looked at me for a moment. My pulse quickened again, praying he wouldn’t come any closer. I needed to keep him calm. So far, he was not interested enough to ask me my name, nor beholden enough to offer me his. I hoped it was because he was relaxed, and not because he knew better than to name his victims before taking them down.
He rested his arm against the counter before asking, “What makes your pitch different from the ones who came before?”
Maybe he meant Ella and Kirby. Maybe he meant the Egyptian pantheon and practitioners and eons of humans and worshippers throughout the Golden Age who had seen him as a threat. But this house didn’t speak of someone newly out of prison.
A long-dormant piece of me dug through my mythological origins. I shuffled the deck of cards through my lived experience. Apep was meant to bring chaos at the dawn ofdarkness. The man before me was spent. Disinterested, even.
After an uncomfortably stretched beat, I said, “I could tell you what every other pantheon wanted to hear. They’ve rallied behind me to stand against Heaven because I’m the Prince’s human. They want an antichrist, and they thought I’d birth them one. They’ve pushed it, and betted on it, and prayed for it for cycles. I don’t know how long you’ve been free from your pit of darkness, Apep, but I’ve been caught in the trap of their expectations for two thousand years.”
He perked up, though I couldn’t garner what exactly had piqued his interest.
I pushed my luck. “I don’t trust their guidance anymore. I’ll do it myself. I have the gods and the humans behind me. Have you turned on the news lately?”
His fingers walked across the counter to grab his drink. From the way he sipped it, I gathered it had been liquor all along.
“Gods on the morning news. Angels and demons at a concert. Now that I look at you, therewasa human at that show…”
I did my best to keep my shoulders back and my composure unruffled. “It was orchestrated,” I said. “We needed people to believe in angels, gods, and demons. We needed them to see, to believe, and to witness Heaven’s weakness all in the same moment. We took the angel down. I’m gambling by coming to you.”
I followed my gut. Apep didn’t want to be told anything about the world. He didn’t want to hear my answers. His ears would remain open only if I kept my finger on the pulse of things.
I wished he would speak, but the hope was futile.
Thump-thuh-thump, thump-thuh-thump, thump-thuh-thump.
I had to calm down, or he’d pick up on my anxious energy. At the very least, I had to appear like I had my shit together. So, I did what the nervous did: I rambled.
“I’m not taking down gods,” I said. “I’m dismantling allsemblance of order. Not alone. Not through deities. Not through men. Not through destiny.”
I kept him on the line. I saw the moment the lure snagged on his mouth, reeling him in further as he asked, “Through what, then?”
“All of it, and none of it. I have numerous pantheons behind me. I’ve strategized to scramble the humans to rally behind pagan gods across the realms. I’ve refused to give in to prophecy. If someone is going to be the antichrist, it’s not going to be an infant.”
He lifted the clear liquid to his lips and held it on the precipice of sipping. The overhead lighting caught against the glass and mirrored the twinkle in his eyes as he waited. “Because?”
“Because a baby can’t accomplish what I can.”
