Page 100 of The Blood of Gods and Monsters

We know what death looks like.

That can only mean that Carcel is manipulated by a God. Who it is, I don’t know, but what I do know is that none of us are safe in the Academy anymore.

I need the Darkhavens.

Racing through the corridors, passing by classrooms and the training arena, I’m sweating by the time I come across the Mortal Gods’ courtyard. It, too, is empty with its fountain gurgling merrily. I grit my teeth and turn, hoping that I’ll at least find Ruen in the library. My feet fly over stone, the skirts of my dress thrust against my calves as I run. No more dresses. I really need to burn them whenever I see them. Rounding the next corner, I slam head first into a wide chest and am saved from falling by twin hands that grip my upper arms.

“Kiera!” Ruen’s face appears in front of me and relief floods my bones.

“Ruen!” I grip him right back, dimly aware of just how good it feels to have him so near after all that Regis revealed.

“I have to tell you something.”

I blink, frowning when I realize that my voice was overlayed by his own.

“Me first, it’s important,” I say.

Ruen glances back and then nudges me to the side. “My information is important as well.”

“I—”

He places a palm over my mouth, the heat of it stealing past my defenses. Ruen doesn’t appear to notice as he glances back over his shoulder and then shakes his head. “Not here,” he says.

Unwilling to wait any longer than necessary or waste time arguing, I concede and grab his wrist, pulling his hand away from my face as I drag him with me. I peer into a nearby classroom and check to ensure that it’s empty before hauling him inside and locking the door.

“Regis is awake.” The words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them.

“That’s good,” Ruen says. “But I?—”

“He told me what happened,” I continue, chest heaving as I try and fail to slow my heart rate. “Carcel—Ophelia’s son—attacked him. Regis doesn’t know why but Ruen…” I force myself to stop and take a breath before I tell him the next part. “He brought dead men.”

Ruen frowns, two vertical lines appearing between his brows. “Dead men?”

I nod vigorously. “He says that the men Carcel brought weren’t any he recognized. He said when he looked at their eyes, that they weren’t there—like they were just puppets following a command. That can only mean he’s working with someone with Divinity. A God.”

“It could be a God or it could be the child of one,” Ruen considers.

“You think a Mortal God could have that kind of ability?”

He nods. “It’s possible. Many abilities of God children aren’t present in their sires, but—” Ruen stops and shakes his head. “Never mind, that’s something we’ll have to figure out later. I also have something to share with you.”

“What is it?”

Ruen slips a hand beneath his tunic and pulls out a small leather-bound book that’s worn at the edges. “This.” He hands it over.

Flipping open the front cover, I examine the neatly printed handwritten notes. The contents of the book are simply names and dates. Some of them have locations, but none of it makes sense to me. I leaf through the pages, noting more and more names and the dates growing closer together.

“What is this?” I ask finally.

“It’s a ledger of the deaths of Mortal Gods over the last thirty years,” he admits. “Not the official one, of course, but the person who found the information wrote everything down. Look.” Leaning over me, Ruen takes the book and flips to one of the later pages. “The dates of death come more often than they did in the beginning.”

“What does that mean?”

“There are coincidences, Kiera,” Ruen says, shutting the book, “and there are causes.” He taps the book with a finger. “These deaths have a cause and every one of them happened after these Mortal Gods were sent to Ortus.”

Ortus. The first Mortal Gods Academy to ever exist and the place of the Gods’ rising—according to what Caedmon had told us before. The distant memory of those sand and rock shores with my father all those years ago lingers in the back of my mind, coming closer and closer to the forefront. The jagged spikes of black stone jutting up from the small island off the coast is burned into my consciousness.

A shiver steals over me and I lower my lashes in response as if I can cut off the image. Of course, it doesn’t work. I should have known better. Closing my eyes only seems to bring the mirage of the Academy’s outline closer. The tall skeletal towers of ore that are the first Academy gleam under a sun that appears duller simply because it’s in the presence of something insidious. Sweat beads on the back of my neck and the taste of dry fear coats my throat.

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