Page 79 of Hijack the Seas: Seismic

He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, but he hadn’t been to bed, had he? He’d been here, drying off after getting dunked in the ballroom and pacing the floor in his bare feet, waiting for the news that we were dead. This must have occurred hours ago, but Faerie was just showing it to us now.

Because Alphonse had been wrong.

Tony wasn't the problem, or if he was, he had help.

And then I saw it again, not a glimpse this time, but a ghostly face pushing out of Feltin’s. A very familiar ghostly face. And, suddenly, a lot of things began to make sense. Zeus, I mouthed at Pritkin as my heart started to slam in my chest.

I didn’t think that anyone else could see him. Two of the fey didn’t react, not even by a finger twitch, which you’d expect if they were having a divine visitation. Only the leader flinched, and that was because Feltin was back to spewing spittle in his face.

“I cursed him myself!” Feltin snarled. “I know it took!”

“That may be, but he fought like the demon he is,” the wounded man gasped, beyond caring about things like diplomacy. His long, dark brown hair had come unbound and fell into his dead white face. “It felt like we were facing an army—”

“We were,” the leader said, glancing back at him as if worried about his condition. “Some of the kitchen staff helped him.”

Which . . . was probably not the best thing he could have said. Or maybe Zeus-as-Feltin wasn’t used to having anyone look away when he was screaming at them. The next moment, the leader found himself grabbed by the neck hard enough that the metal gorget protecting his throat was slowly indented.

“The kitchen staff?” Fletin said, his voice starting low and getting louder. “The kitchen staff? Are you mad?”

“They were powerful,” the bloody man insisted, looking from the angry pseudo-king to his captain and back again. “Far more so than they should have been. Only the weak are supposed to be sent back, but those weren’t—”

“Shut up!” Feltin all but screeched, causing all three men to stare at him as if he’d sprouted horns. I guessed that sort of thing wasn’t considered kingly. But Feltin wasn’t looking much like a king at the moment, except possibly a mad one.

He reminded me of Aeslinn when Zeus was in residence, or Nimue when she was under the influence of a piece of Ares’ old armor, which had been infused with a bit of his corrupt soul. I guessed having a god ride you wasn’t fun, but Aeslinn and Nimue had had more power to help handle it. Feltin didn’t.

But he looked better than I’d have expected, as the other of Zeus’s little puppets were a powerful demon lord and a few demigods. How was Feltin even still on his feet? And why was Zeus’s indistinct face suddenly wavering like a bad phone connection?

Because it was, and then it blipped out entirely, leaving Feltin panting and stumbling back against the table, appearing dazed. And then livid when he caught the side eyes the others were sharing. “Are you elite troops or not?” he roared.

But the leader was made of sterner stuff than I’d thought. “We were,” he answered flatly. “But now a quarter of my men are dead, and more are missing—”

“Burnt to death,” the injured fey gasped. “Turned to powder.”

“It happened in an instant,” the third man said.“The goddess cursed us, like she did the Kraken in the hall. I know she did!”

Considering that I hadn’t done anything of the kind, I didn’t know what he was talking about until Pritkin spoke low in my ear. “Bodil’s people helped us in the deep but couldn’t get to the kitchen in time. Rhosier and I immolated half of the fey in the corridor before the rest broke through your time spell. Most of those remaining chased after you, but a few retreated toward the kitchens and must have gotten away.”

“You mean the ‘goddess’ you were supposed to kill?” Feltin screamed before I could respond.

“It wasn't that easy!” the leader said, looking flushed. He was a tall, attractive-looking fey with dazzling blue eyes. His hair was still up, if only barely, and strands were falling into his face that he pushed back angrily. “You said she would be exhausted, that they both would. You said she’d be easy prey!”

Which got him a backhand hard enough to send him to the floor. Because Feltin’s muscles weren’t just for show, and he was more than furious; he was afraid. I saw it in a flash of those baby blues, in the way his other hand clenched at his side, and in the spittle-soaked reply. “I want them found! I want the woman dead and the ‘prince’ captured. I want whoever is helping them tortured—”

And, okay, I was starting to see why Bodil was so pissed.

“—to find any more! And I want to know why my damned spell isn’t working!”

“He’s a demon,” the injured fey said, looking up with fury because he didn’t seem to like Feltin mishandling his officer. “Who knows if it even took—”

“It took. Barne-Mora always takes! He should be fleeing in terror right now. He should be overcome with it—right now!”

I felt Pritkin stiffen beside me, but he didn’t say anything. Possibly to avoid us breaking deep emersion, which led back to that hazy, echoing place we traveled in when going from one vision to the next. Or because the third man was speaking.

“She is likely shielding him,” he said. “The goddess, I mean. She was there beside him the whole time—”

“That ‘goddess’ is a woman!” Feltin spat. “A frail, human woman no different from our slaves! And I want her dead—along with the damned traitors on our staff!”

“We don’t know where they are,” the leader said from the floor. Unlike his men, he was carefully expressionless, and his voice was neutral and calm—dangerous. If I’d been Feltin, I would have been worried.

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