Page 71 of Seph

“They haven’t had the entire Pine Ridge coven try to scry her.” Madge shuffled forward with a large marble mortar and pestle in her hand. “If we know the city and have something of hers, we might at least get you in the right part of the city. Between us, there’s a lot of power. Tessa Roscommon is one of the most powerful witches I’ve ever seen or heard of. Alban is one of the Wymark warlocks—generations of power behind him. We have a collection of offerings we can make that’ll increase our collective spellcasting power—blood of a vampire, scale of a kraken, tooth of a werewolf... all those things help.” Madgesmirked for a minute, arms crossed. “When people look for power, they sometimes forget to ask the nice guys.”

“But how do we fight a god? How doIdo that? I’m a good tracker and a good hunter—I think.” Emily bit her lower lip.

“You are!” Simeon said staunchly. “I know, first hand.”

“But how do you fight a god?”

Mr. Minegold raised one white hand with clever, slender fingers, his enthusiasm to share his knowledge clear even in a dire situation. Emmy remembered Simeon said he’d been a teacher. A violinist, and he still played. A Holocaust survivor, a war hero...

He used his powers for good. Something her father said a vampire could never, ever do.

“In mythology, gods could be injured, just like mortals. They just healed quicker and could not truly die. They might be banished out of a corporeal existence for a while, but they didn’t die. Demigods, now... Well, we’re not dealing with that. Mnemosyne is a Titaness, and Zeusisa god. Zeus’ weakness is—”

“Women!”

Emily jumped as the entire room answered.

Minegold nodded, a bitter smile on his lips. “And Mnemosyne’s weakness is Zeus.”

“That, and the corruption of human memories, I imagine.” Calder raised a hand. “Gods don’t die, but they fade in and out of power and even existence. Zeus is still well-known, and his power center has shifted, right?”

“Allthe gods have shifted west, leaving Greece behind,” Simeon spoke up. “We’ve got Van Helsing a slinky little dress to tempt His Creepiness.”

This was where she should speak. Should explain how she was useful. Most would assume that Simeon should do the work of battling a god. He was the one with supernatural strength,not her—but she’d been the one fighting—and winning—against monsters since she was old enough not to be considered a complete liability. “It’s easy to mortally wound a man if he believes he’s in control. I packed all of my knives. I have iron blades, and I think that ought to work the best since gods and fae seem more susceptible to those. When he’s close, in the right position, I’ll go for eyes and arteries. Hard and messy if I have to. Calder, would that work?”

“Eyes and arteries would work, at least for a little while,” Calder said, bluish skin suddenly paling. He looked sick but determined. “He’ll have a supply of ambrosia near him—all sensible gods do. They can eat human food, but it doesn’t sustain them. If Zeus is badly injured, he’ll immediately go for ambrosia.”

“We won’t let him get it, then,” Simeon said. He sat on the edge of one round table and looked around the assembled company. “What d’you reckon, folks? Is he the type to keep it in a flask? Some special protein powder?”

“We could ask Hera. She’d know,” Emily said, instantly shaking her head to veto her own suggestion. “But that would tip her off. This whole mess is so tricky because using the powers of the gods would probably cause waves in the mythological community. Is that even the right word?” she asked, looking at Calder.

“It’s close enough. You’re probably right.”

“But warlocks and witches, and old vampires who loved to read? No one as powerful as Zeus will think a little human woman and her vampire knight will dare approach them.” Minegold gently patted her back, then turned her to face him. “You are going into a battle that’s not even yours to fight, to save the ones you barely know.”

Emily nodded, throat suddenly tight as the unblinking blue eyes seared into her, and his smile twitched, a tremble in one corner. “I’m—”

“We are grateful. I am grateful. I’m proud of you no matter what happens,” he whispered, folding her into a hug.

For a moment, her throat felt like it would explode, too tight, too full of pain to keep existing and breathing. Her father, even on his deathbed, had not bothered to hug her goodbye, but spent his last moments lecturing and berating her about her “preparedness” and her “duty.”

“Erm. Let me see if Zag’ll pop up here for a minute to strategize with us. Sounds like we’ve got a few fronts, troops. Memory protecting potion, anything that’ll protect Van Helsing and me from attacks—physical or otherwise, finding Seph or Mnemosyne, and finding a way to mess with the Titaness by messing with her followers since their devotion is the only thing keeping her on the mortal plane.” Simeon ticked off items on his fingers, and the rabble and commotion broke out again.

“He was a fancy secretary, back in the day. He’s surprisingly organized.” Emily managed to say in a strained voice, blinking up at Mr. Minegold, who was still smiling down at her.

He nodded, stroking a tender finger over her cheek. “You’re doing your best. That’s never failure, my dear.” His eyes slid to the mass of Pine Ridge residents behind her. “Are you afraid of the battle—or afraid of losing him?”

“The second one.”

“You are an incredible warrior. That’s why Simeon asked you for help—that, and the fact that if this was his last week on earth, he would want to spend it with you.”

She blinked, and to her horror, tears splashed out, not just one or two, but a stream. Her tear ducts had always had a dam of harsh words and fear built across them, but the dam had taken too many hits lately. The thing was broken.

I don’t even know how to cry. No sobs. No breathing in and out. Nothing like you see in the movies. Just all the water in the world suddenly coming out of my eyes—and my nose is wet.

“Oh,mój serec, my heart, don’t cry. You are doing your best. Everyone knows it. We love you for it.” The older vampire rubbed her arms briskly before pulling her against his chest and rocking her side to side.

His chest was silent, and his body was cool against hers, even in layers of tweedy jackets with elbow patches and a turtleneck.

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