Page 20 of Atlas and the Traitor

“I know you are. I can see it in your aura. I thought Robin won the prize for aura with the most guilt but nope, you’re the winner.”

Atlas hung his head back and sighed, something else he and the coyote had in common.

“Not gonna tell you what I saw just now.”

Atlas chuckled. “Thank you.”

Several long moments of comfortable silence passed while Atlas pushed aside the matter of the coyote and searched inside himself for a well of forgiveness that was perilously close to dry. Daphne had forgiven him for what he’d had to do, same as Paris. Could he return the favor? “She could have plunged us into darkness.”

“Unless she knew you’d stop that from happening.”

“Maybe a part of her thought that, but a bigger part of her wanted out.”

“Flip that,” Paris said. “Assuming what Liam told me before he joined the others is true. And I have no reason to doubt him.”

Neither did Atlas; the reaper had no reason to lie. And that truth only made Atlas feel worse. He hung his head again and wrapped his hands around his nape, the weight of it all too much to balance.

Paris clasped his shoulder, his touch and words gentle. “Come to the mountain, Atlas. You don’t have to keep doing this alone.”

Folks kept telling him that, and folks kept dying. Forwe. He couldn’t risk the man beside him, the deity they protected, the son of the woman whose picture was in his pocket. “I can’t?—”

“At least hear us out. At least lay eyes on her there so you know she’s safe. Then make your decision. You owe me that much.”

Atlas had to laugh at the spunk that had been punched down for so long, that suited Paris so well. “There’s that backbone again. No promises.”

Paris nodded. “No promises.” He stood and brushed off his pants. “I’ll give you a minute,” he said, then wandered off among the headstones.

Worry instinctively spiked, but then Atlas remembered who the human here was and who the souls in their presence were more likely to protect. With Paris safe, he turned his attention back to the grave in front of him. “I’m sorry,” he told her, then tapping that well Paris had somehow filled with just enough of what he needed, added, “I forgive you.”

He shifted onto his knees and dug his fingers into the dirt, pouring all his magic into it, all of his real self that only a few people sensed beneath the stench of decay. He propelled blades of grass up through the dirt, growing high and fast enough to match the strips of green on either side of the grave, hiding it within seconds. Her father, their family would simply think Daphne had gone off on another of her “work assignments.” Atlas would have Mary forge an email to sell the story. And by the time the truth came out, Atlas would be gone too. “I’ll see you soon, cuz.”

Fourteen

Atlas leaned against the bars of the library cage in the cellar of Mac and Paris’s Monte Corvo villa. “I like it better on this side.” Two months ago, he’d been on the other side of the bars, pretending to be held captive while trying to convince Mary’s forces to stay out of his way. No such luck, seeing as he was right back here. And without a bottle in his hand this time. “Miss the wine, though.”

Jenn growled from where she sat at the retired tasting table in the middle of the room.

Robin strolled around the end of the table to the empty chair beside her, resting his forearms on top of it. “He’s baiting you.”

She twisted in her chair, glaring up at him. “Why aren’t you taking it?”

He straightened off the chair back, and for a moment, Atlas thought he was going to claim it, but he just shrugged and continued walking the length of the table, past the end of it, and to a barrel in the far corner. He hitched himself onto it and leaned his torso back against the wall, flannel-clad arms crossed over his chest.

The rest of the team made their way down the stairs and into the room, filling up all the seats except the one beside Jenn, and if Atlas figured right, that last one was for Abigail, not Robin. His friends hadn’t fully forgiven him either, especially not Mac, whose wary violet gaze bounced between them.

Abigail was the last person to enter the room.

“How’s Simon?” Paris asked from his seat at Mac’s side.

“Understandably upset,” Abigail said, as she claimed the open chair. “But Pati and Pax are helping.”

Atlas swung his gaze to Mary at the head of the table. “You shouldn’t all be under one roof.”

“We have less than two weeks to Solstice,” she answered. “We have no time to waste. Jason and Kai have them. Put up more shields if you think it’s necessary.”

He pushed off the bars and slowly circled the room, testing the shields that were in place and reinforcing any weak spots, all while listening to the debrief going on at the table, Adam taking lead.

“These are the three main players on the board.” He opened a folder and withdrew three photos, spreading them out on the table, one by one. “Evan Shaw, Atlas’s twin brother and Chaos’s right hand. Dyami, the pretender eagle, Chumash elder for the tribe in Nipomo. And the hunter.”

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