Persuasion (Curse of the Gods Book 2) Page 5

  Or, at least, that was what I assumed.

  By the time dinner rolled around the next sun-cycle, they still hadn’t made a decision about Karyn. I was starving, having had every single meal interrupted since breakfast time. I didn’t have time to eat though; I was working like a dweller, doing the best job of serving that I possibly could without getting too far from the Abcurse table in the centre of the room.

  I knew my duties were the easy ones. I only had one table of sols to deal with instead of the usual three. Whoever was the new head of the dweller-relations committee was giving me the easy tasks, passed on by the more senior dwellers.

  “How are you doing, Will?” Emmy brushed past me, six trays in her arms while I struggled with my one.

  “No problems so far.” For a micro-click I drank in the sight of her grace and beauty, so grateful to see my real Emmy, acting just how Emmy always did. I only cringed in reply to her question, because in that moment, I wasn’t sure how I had fallen for Karyn’s ruse for even a click. Speaking of, my eyes darted up toward the door, expecting that she would appear at any moment. The cart had been gone when we left our room, but there were no rumours about her whereabouts. She was probably in the healing ward.

  Bringing my attention back to the tray I was supposed to be dropping into the kitchen, I misjudged the distance between my table and the one next to it, and tripped over the back of a chair, bumping one of the sols. The male jumped to his feet in one agile leap, spinning around with his hand raised.

  I knew that he was about to slap me. Slap at whatever dweller had made the mistake of tripping and nudging him. Somehow though, I saw it coming, and dodged to the side, receiving only a graze of his knuckle. Before he could attempt slap two, a huge mountain was between us and the sol let out a gasp as he stared up at Rome.

  I flicked a glance over my shoulder and noticed the rest of the guys were still in their chairs. They gave off the aura of being relaxed, but I knew them well enough now to sense their anger. To see the rigidness of their bodies.

  “Did you just slap our dweller?” Rome’s voice was low, almost conversational. But I knew his eyes would be those glittering hard gems, cutting through the slap-happy-sol.

  “Sorry … so sorry, Rome. I didn’t realise it was … she bumped. I didn’t mean to.”

  No one would doubt he was telling the truth. Fear and worry bled off him and since no sols truly looked at the dwellers who spent their entire lives serving them, it made sense that he wouldn’t have recognised me.

  I sidled a little closer to Rome, who manoeuvred himself so that his body remained between me and Slappy. My hands inched up and rested against the god’s broad back, some of his shirt tangling in my fingers. I felt an iota of the tension riding him relax, something which Slappy must have noticed too, because arrogance trickled back into his features.

  “No hard feelings, man.” He held out a hand and Rome looked down at it for a beat, before he lifted his head again. Then, in a move that was so quick I wasn’t even sure that I saw his arm move, he crashed his fist into the side of Slappy’s head, knocking him out cold. Rome caught the sol’s shoulder before he could fall, his fingers biting in, seeming to almost be crushing the bone as he held the other boy up off the ground.

  “The next one to touch our dweller will find themselves in a much worse position than Johnson here.” Rome threw Slappy—a.k.a. Johnson—back toward his friends. None of them even moved to grab him, which meant that he crashed into the table, his unconscious form sprawled out over the surface.

  Rome spun, and sweeping one arm around me, he half-carried me back to their table. He pointed at my usual seat and demanded, “Sit!”

  Using my best glower, I sucked up as much bravery as I could find inside and replied with a firm, “No. I have to finish my dweller shift.”

  Aros was up then, striding around to where I stood. “Willa, you’re hungry. You’ve already done your part for the night. Have a break … we ordered you some cheesy bread.”

  Dammit. Why did he have to use reason and logic? Not to mention cheesy bread. It was easy to fight Rome, who was still glowering at me, because I hated being told what to do and I hated being ordered around. But Aros had used his seductive voice and seductive face and seductive food, and he was totally winning me over.

  With a loud exhalation, I nudged the golden god out of the way and dropped into my chair. “Only here for the bread,” I muttered, loud enough for those listening in the tables nearby to pick up. Our group was being very closely monitored.

  Another thing to piss me off that sun-cycle. Thankfully, my plan was really coming together for tomorrow. All I needed was to get a Trickery god alone, and convince him to help me.

  Four

  Siret’s smile was so huge that he was going to give the game away before we even started. No wonder it had been so easy to convince him—he was downright giddy at the thought of causing his brothers so much grief. Not to mention playing games was his number one specialty.

  I just had to make sure I didn’t chicken out, which was much easier said than done. My bravery was a very fickle thing: it mostly only existed until common sense had a chance to sink in.

  “Okay.” I punctuated the word with a sharp nod. “Let’s do this before I change my mind. Turn around!”

  The smile disappeared off his face. “How do you expect me to alter your appearance if I can’t see you?”

  I planted my hands on my hips, giving him a narrow-eyed glare. “The agreement was that every person in Blesswood would see me semi-naked, just to prove that it wasn’t that big of a deal. Every person who isn’t an Abcurse. Because you five have rules.”

  “Soldier.” He said my nickname in a tone that tried to insinuate that I was being unreasonable. “You’re the one who asked for my help, remember? It’s me and you against all of them.”

  “You’re an Abcurse.” The statement was final.

  His lips quirked. “Is that your rule? Only the Abcurses are subject to this deception?”

  I was about to nod, when something in his expression stopped me. My hands fell from my hips. I knew that look of Trickery—he’d just figured out a way around my rule. Either Siret wasn’t a real Abcurse … or Abcurse wasn’t a real name.

  “What’s your father’s name again?” I blurted, not at all subtle about my suspicion.

  His lips quirked further, almost a full smile. “Abil.” He took a step closer.

  My brow furrowed. “Just Abil? That’s it?”

  “Why would there be any more?” he asked, spreading out his hands. “My father was one of the Original Gods; one of the ten companions created by Staviti. In the beginning, it had been Staviti, him, and nine others. Do you really think they had a need for last names?”

  My mouth dropped open, and while I should have been more interested in the rich history of the gods, and his close connection to the Original Creator, I couldn’t quite get past the part where they didn’t actually have a last name.

  “You guys lied to me!” I accused, though my anger faded away in the wake of a stronger confusion. “Wait—why have I been calling you five the Abcurse brothers this whole time?”

  “It’s the name we made up. Dwellers and sols use family names.” He rubbed a hand over the lower part of his face, and even though he was trying hard to hide it, I knew that he was laughing at me. “Our father cursed us to remain here for a life-cycle; Abil’s Curse; Abcurse. We thought it was funny.”

  I shook my head, asking, “Is Five even your real name?” He only snorted in reply. “So you’re a little sneakier than I realised,” I admitted, “but that doesn’t mean you get to watch me take my clothes off. Turn around.”

  “Willa.” He sounded exasperated, even though he turned around to face the doorway. “I’ve already seen you take your clothes off. You do it all the time. Clothes are repelled by your—”

  He cut himself off and I paused in the act of whipping my shirt over my head. It was a difficult act, because the clothes that Sire
t fashioned for me using Trickery seemed to be getting smaller and smaller—or maybe I was just getting bigger. Either way, the shirt was being difficult, and it was refusing to be whipped off in favour of gluing my arms to the side of my head.

  “By my what?” I pressed, my face stuck inside the shirt.

  By my winning personality?

  By my natural, inherent grace?

  By my—

  The pressure around my arms and head disappeared, and I found myself face-to-chest with a boy-man-sol-god-whatever … who was supposed to be standing over the other side of the room.

  “By your body.” He spoke in a low voice, his hands landing on my hips, the pants disintegrating into nothing. “It seems only natural. A body like this should repel clothes.”

  I was a breath away from swooning, from drawing myself up onto my toes and fastening my mouth to his, when it hit me. The realisation. I shoved my hands against his chest hard, and then fell back onto my ass, because he hadn’t budged at all. He grabbed my arms, hauling me to my feet.

  “Argh!” I shoved him again, with the exact same result. “You’ve been making my clothes uncomfortably small!”

  The ever-present smirk graced his lips once again, and I finally fully understood how he had managed to get himself exiled to Minatsol.

  “Was worth a try.” He picked me up again and then quickly held his hands up, palms displayed, a clearly fake sign of surrender. He also backed up a few steps and spun on his heel, giving me his back again.

  “I can’t believe you’ve been trying to literally squeeze me out of my clothes,” I growled at his back.

  “Are we getting revenge on my meddling brothers or not?” he shot back over his shoulder. “Or did you want to stay in here for a few more rotations of flirting with me?”

  I kicked off one of my shoes and tossed it at his head. Somehow, it veered even further off-course than I would have expected, even with my clumsy-curse. It smashed into a display vase high up on one of the shelves beside the front door. Siret laughed. I supposed that meant he didn’t care about the vase. It didn’t look like something he would have chosen anyway. The rooms had probably been provided to them mostly furnished. I made a mental note to find something that he actually valued, so that I could feed it to one of the bullsen. Specifically a bullsen that had been reserved for sol-consumption. That seemed fitting.

  “I’m not flirting with you,” I argued, kicking my other shoe off and looking down at myself. I was wearing a plain white bra and plain white underwear. My hair was tangling over my shoulders in plain blond curls, and my features were probably painted in the same ‘just plain crazy’ as always. I was all-around plain, but what did ‘plain’ matter when you were a dweller walking around an academy of elite sols in your underwear? Not much, I’d bet.

  “You just undressed—again—and we’re alone in my bedroom,” Siret pointed out.

  “These are all facts that I’m aware of.” I moved to stand behind him, unsure—despite my insistence that he not look—how he was going to fashion an illusion of clothing over my body without actually looking at me.

  “So if that’s not flirting …” he let the sentence trail off.

  I stopped, hovering behind him. Was I flirting? I had no idea. I wasn’t doing it consciously. I just wanted to be part of their group. And I kind of wanted to be touching them all the time. Like right now, I noted. I had pressed myself to the length of Siret’s back, my arms snaking around to his front. One moment I had been standing there, and the next, I was hugging him. I had no idea how it happened. I wasn’t going to take responsibility for it.

  “Yes, like right now.” His husky voice did funny things to my insides, and I pressed my cheek to his back, basking in the warmth that seeped through his clothing. “This is flirting, Willa.”

  “Hugging is flirting?” I asked, my voice muffled against his back. “I didn’t start this. This isn’t my fault. It feels nice to touch you guys because you kidnapped my soul. I’m actually hugging my soul right now. This is a private moment. Butt out.”

  He laughed, the husky tone still carrying in the sound, and I shivered a little bit, tightening my arms around him.

  “I’m going to put the illusion of clothing on you now,” he said, reaching back, his hand gripping one of my sides.

  I jumped, unprepared for the direct contact of his skin against mine. His palm was rough, his fingers seeming to dig into the softness of my skin. It took me a click to catch up to what he had said.

  “So this is different to when you give me clothes in the mornings, right?”

  “Yes. This is different. Those are actual clothes—they take considerable effort to create, whereas this is just an illusion. An illusion I only have to maintain for four people. I could do it in my sleep.”

  “Five,” I corrected automatically. “Five people. You have to see whatever they see.”

  He grunted. “Fine. You can step back; I’m done.”

  I didn’t want to step back. I wanted to stay huddled up in his amazing warmth … but flirting with an Abcurse wasn’t just playing with fire; it was sitting down in the middle of a burning house and hoping that the flames didn’t consume you—all while knowing that they would.

  So I stepped back.

  Siret spun, and we both looked down. To my own eyes, I was still wearing my plain underwear. Siret had a slightly annoyed frown on his face, and his eyes didn’t linger for very long before flicking back up to my face; he had been true to his word, and had given himself the same illusion that he had given his brothers. For some reason, that made me want to hug him again.

  “Let’s get some revenge,” I said instead, skipping around him and flinging open the door. “Which class is first?”

  “Original Gods, and The Beginning—the most accurate subject in their curriculum,” he answered drolly. “I especially like the parts where they talk about how Terrence is such a nice guy.”

  “I doubt they ever say that one of the gods is such a nice guy,” I returned, meeting his mocking expression with a grin. “They probably called him gracious and intelligent and charitable. Who’s Terrence, by the way?”

  “The god of Bestiary.”

  “Does that mean he has sex with animals?” I blurted out, tilting my head.

  We had reached the circular common area, and I could feel the stares of the sol pair that huddled by one of the windows. The female was gawking, her cheeks turning red. The male was just staring confusedly. Maybe he’d never seen boobs before or maybe he didn’t know that there were people out there in the world who had sex with animals.

  “No, that’s bestiality,” Siret replied, shoving his hands into his pockets and rocking back on his heels.

  The male sol blinked, his mouth dropping open.

  “Is there a god of bestiality?” I asked. I made to shove my hands into my own pockets, to mirror what Siret was doing … except that I didn’t have pockets. I had underwear. Not having any other choice I tucked my thumbs into the waistband of the underwear. I couldn’t actually apply any pressure without dragging them down and flashing the two sols—even more than I was already flashing them—so I had to hold my arms up, bent stiffly at the elbows. The end result was an awkward, strained posture, to counter Siret’s casual grace.

  Siret chuckled, shaking his head. He had pretty much been laughing at me since I revealed my plan. Nice to know I amused someone. The sol pair quickly exited the common room, rushing down the hall away from us.

  “Did I say something wrong?” I turned on Siret, my eyebrows arching up.

  “Maybe it’s your body language. You look like an old woman with joint-pain right now.”

  “Ah, yeah. I have my fingers in my underwear. No pockets.”

  He drew his hands out of his pockets, lurching toward me. He stopped just before touching me, his hands hovering over my hips but not yet grabbing.

  “I didn’t agree to that.” His voice was low, his eyes narrowed darkly. “I agreed to a moderate amount of shocking, not t
hat much shocking—”

  I released the band of my underwear, lifting both arms out on either side of me.

  “Whoops,” I whispered. “Just one of those things I didn’t mean to do.”

  He growled, but wasn’t awarded a chance to reply, because I had caught sight of Aros and Yael walking down the hallway toward us. The brothers always walked to their classes together, and I bounced between the five of them, sometimes going to class with a few of them, sometimes only one of them. I rarely stuck to a schedule—but that was their fault. They were always trying to assert dominion over each other, and I had become their favourite tool for dominion-asserting.

  Whoever had ‘possession’ of me seemed to automatically become the center of dissension, as though they were taking more than their fair share of things. I had tried diffusing a few fights by reasoning that I wasn’t a thing to share, but they responded the same way every single time. They told me that I was their dweller; assigned to them, fair and square. There was even paperwork to prove it. Also, my soul was living inside them, free-of-charge, so apparently, that translated into ownership of my person.

  God-logic.

  “We knocked on your door, Trickery,” Aros announced. “Didn’t realise you were waiting out here. Hey there, Willa.”

  His golden eyes flicked over me in greeting. It was something that each of them did—probably checking for new injuries. He didn’t display any shock at my state of undress, which meant that the illusion was working. Even though it was a cursory glance, and his eyes were only displaying warm friendliness … my body still reacted. Because my body was a cold-blooded traitor, and it never listened to me or heeded my needs. My emotional needs.

  Yael strode straight past us without a word, though he caught my hand at the last moment, pulling me to walk beside him. The moment he touched me, wrapping his overly large hand around mine, I actually forgot I was playing a trick on the self-named Abcurses.