Dark Fates (A Paranormal Anthology)(23)

Screw that.

His need to rebel, to fight, surged through him, pushing past Set’s seductive whispers. Anger grew, and he embraced it.

“Fuck you, Set.” Give in? Not until he had no more breath left. As his rage built, a fiery power awakened the strength of Anubis flowing in his veins. He’d been chosen to be an Elite, selected by Anubis himself. I have a job to do. Time to do it.

The gods had decided to play their games in this mortal place of Portland. A city that could in no way compare to Anubis’s City of Dogs, a warrior’s paradise in Duat—the afterlife. Duat was so much richer than this dreary world that lacked the magic making everything so much brighter at home.

“Ludos Deorum,” he muttered, wondering how bored the gods must have been to have devised such a thing. Every few centuries, gods from the many pantheons in creation gathered to compete against one another. Just his luck to be called to serve here. Unfortunately, Anubis was tied up dealing with insurrection in his city, leaving Tariq and his men to manage his game play. And to manage Set—Anubis’s father.

A clusterf*ck of such epic proportions it was almost funny. Tariq had to protect Anubis’s interests from not only all the other pantheons, but from Anubis’s own father. Their fellow Egyptians would be no help should they need it because Set’s influence spread everywhere.

“Hey, doggie, want a bone?” A Greek cupped himself and thrust his hips toward Tariq.

Growing more irate at the dickheads mocking him and his god, he warmed to the idea of a bloody skirmish and took a step forward. Though the block the Greeks stood on represented a neutral sector, it wouldn’t take much to turn the nonaligned area into a warzone. Which begged the question, why today? Why now?

Behind him, a metal door opened and closed. “Shit, T. Your back looks like hell.” Hasani, his trusted warrior and friend, shook his head. “You were right. It’s no guess as to who’s responsible for the unrest in the City of Dogs. I just don’t get why Anubis doesn’t— Oh, hey. We got Greeks in the neighborhood? Awesome.” Hasani loved to battle.

The six Elite had been Anubis’s personal protectors for two thousand years. Though it felt wrong not to guard their god at this time, Tariq knew Anubis wanted them here, in the game world to represent him. Gods knew the rest of the militia couldn’t do it, not with too many of them still loyal to Set.

Bound to Anubis, a wise and fair god, Tariq had pledged to remain faithful, ever fond of a sword and a cause to conquer. Work for Anubis lightened his burden, made it easier to handle Set’s malicious taunting and the spell that made it impossible for him or his friends to tell his god of the growing danger. But with Anubis busy in another plane, leaving Set again free to cause havoc…

“Hey, boy. Come here. Come.” A Greek, probably one of Ares’s boys, beckoned and slapped his thigh. Only Ares, the Greek god of war, would have people this annoying.

The others with him whistled, laughed, and swore epithets aimed at the Egyptian pantheon.

Hasani and Tariq listened for a few moments and glanced around, noting the darkening skies and absence of a public presence. On the outskirts of the Pearl District in their particular rundown section of town, they normally had the area to themselves. Trust the Greeks to ruin even one evening of peace.

“I hate that.” Hasani took a step around him and yelled, “We’re not dogs, *s.” He narrowed his gaze. “Probably centaurs in human form. You know what asses they can be.”

Tariq chuckled at the jest said loudly enough to annoy the Greeks. Must have been spot-on too because the group, to a man, glared back and made more obscene gestures.

Contrary to popular belief, Tariq and his men were part jackal, not dog. Anubis’s warriors transformed into half-man creatures with jackal heads and human bodies. The Elite—warriors without equal. Not dogs.

A few mortals walked toward the nearby crosswalk, arguing over some sports team. The largest of the group spotted the growing altercation and tugged his friends in an opposite direction.

Typical. Why fight when they could run?

“Humans.” Tariq snorted. “Weak creatures more concerned with physical pleasures and monetary gain than serving their gods and their world.”

“Yeah, but with a world like this one, can you blame them?” Hasani waved a hand around. “The constant rain, the lack of sun, the cold weather. I mean, who actually chooses to live in Portland? Who the hell decided Freya should be in charge of the games anyway?” Hasani grimaced as the oppressive mist overhead turned into heavier drops, soon drenching his T-shirt.

Tariq longed for the sands of Duat, to walk in the City of Dogs and climb the majestic dunes, staring at a blanket of gold framed by thick palms and graced with the water of life. A pyramid of power lay in the center of his home, surrounded by families, warriors, and warmth. Goodness and truth radiated from Anubis’s palace—unlike this bleak place, where the weak often preyed upon the strong.

“We should have let our people choose the venue.” Tariq sighed. “Trust the Norse to choose a cold, unwelcoming place to play in.”

“He’s not comin’ now that he’s got a little friend,” one of the Greeks said in a loud voice. “Must have scared the little doggies. Or is it that he’s too busy getting ready to hump his boyfriend’s leg?”

“Maybe he needs to get permission from his daddy to cross the street?”