Unbroken Bonds (The Bonds That Tie #6)(39)

My eyes settle on the god-bond.

Its vessel is a woman in her forties, a short, severe haircut and a slash of red lipstick across her lips. She’s attractive and well put together. She looks like a rich woman with no concerns over a house burning down.

Only we can see what lies within that empty shell.

The Crux speaks. “Go back to the Sanctuary, and wait for us there. The safest place for you is far away from here.”

This time, the Transporter hesitates, glancing between the Soothsayer and I. I feel irritated at the delay, but the girl whispers to me quietly.

“The vessels are safe. I won't let them die any more than I will let one of my Bonded die,” I say as I turn back to the god-bond. She’s waiting, watching, and preparing to speak with us across the road.

I don't wait around to see whether or not he needs any more encouragement, my eyes glued on the god-bond across the way. Even though it's watching us, it doesn't make a move to leave. I take it as a warning, a caution that it could know more about what’s going on here than we do.

“Take it slowly, my Eternal,” the Corvus says, but it’s the Cleaver who moves first, stalking towards the woman whose vessel looks so much like his own.

They share the same coloring, the same definition in their faces, the same strong jawline. We've never been born so close together before, not to the other gods, and not even to each other. We’ve always been spread out and forced to search for each other.

It’s not some twist of fate, though.

They designed it that way, the Crux whispers into my mind. They wanted to own us before we found each other. They wanted things to be different in this lifetime.

They failed, the Soothsayer sends to us as we move to follow the Cleaver over to where the Manipulation god awaits.

I slip my hand into the Draconis’. He's still wearing the skin of the vessel, not yet shifted. I can tell that he is struggling with that, itching to truly come out and play but aware of the dangers of doing so. If history has taught us anything, it’s that the non-Gifted really don't like it. The Gifted even struggle to comprehend the beauty of him in full, scaled form.

Soon. If it's not needed here, we will head home and change there. We will set you free of these bindings when we can, my Bonded.

His hand flexes in mine as he sends back to me, Mine.

The Manipulation god does not attempt to leave or flee or even attack us as we approach. It stands at the edge of the growing crowd of people, the only person still focused on anything other than the house slowly falling apart on the street behind us. It stares at us as though it has no concerns about its impending death.

It truly doesn't seem to care.

It has to be a game or trap of some kind, the Corvus sends to us.

“How carefully you hid yourself from us,” it says as it stares the Cleaver down, disgust curling at its lip.

It's been awake for a long time. It's been here long enough that there's no doubt in my mind that it has already killed its vessel and taken over fully.

“You did this,” the Cleaver says. “You're the one who started the breeding plan.”

It turns its head curiously, a tell of the god inside. The way we don't quite act as the Gifted and non-Gifted around us do is a glaring sign of what lies beneath the surface.

“I had hoped to catch one of you in your next lifetime. To have you and be able to get rid of you before the others awoke. We knew this was coming. Too late for that now, I suppose. Now we're simply working against the clock.”

A slow smile stretches across my lips, and the Draconis flexes his fingers in my hands, yearning to shift and kill this woman. To snap her body in half with nothing but the brute force of his jaws.

“You used your chance, and you failed. That's it for you, I'm afraid,” the Crux says, stepping toward her as the shadows begin to fall from his body.

The Gifted and non-Gifted around us gasp and step away from him, some scrambling and others staring as though they can't quite look away. You know which ones have heard the Draven name, the legacy of the bloodline that my Death Dealers are born into. Those people have a knowing fear in their eyes as they stare at the wide sets of jaws that form in the shadows.

Perfection.

“You haven't been awake long enough to be able to take someone like me out of the running this quickly. I suppose we’ll meet again in a few years, if one of the others doesn’t trap you first. But they will, you know. We always find you. We always kill you. Some things will always be.”

It moves to turn its back only to find a shadow waiting for it there as well. When it lifts its hand to attempt to move, the shadow grasps it by the wrist, wrapping around it like a vine. Dozens more stream out of the Corvus to wrap around the god as well, until there’s no chance of it escaping.

The god turns its head and its eyes flash black, power blasting at us but not strongly enough to truly touch us. Its eyes widen, and I can see when the realization finally hits.

It’s going to die here.

The Cleaver steps up once more, a hand wrapping around the god’s throat as it squeezes. “You're underestimating the power of the Bond and the power of my Eternal. Though I slept in safety, others did not and I have their power now.”

The god sputters, clawing at that hand as it blasts out more power but it's like kicking at a brick wall. The Cleaver is indestructible and doesn't feel a thing, the power it has now thanks to our completed bond means that there’s nothing this god-bond can do to any of us now.