All That Lives Must Die - Eric Nylund [32]
Audrey nodded, understanding. “You want to scare the hell out of them,” she said. “Literally. Perhaps . . .” Her features hardened. “But only scare them, Kino.”
The two stared at each other a moment, and then Kino blinked and gave a tiny bow. “Of course.”
“And who better to do this,” Lucia asked, “but the Lord of the Dead and Guardian of the Gateway to Hell?”
A chill spread down Henry’s spine. Indeed, Lucia and Kino had schemes of their own hatching.
But there were worse alternatives to so influencing young Eliot and Fiona—ones no one here spoke of—yet. If the Infernals brought them over to their side . . . the League had signed Warrants of Death for both children.
The bright sunlight faded. Iron gray clouds covered the sky.
This was a possibility Henry would do anything to avoid, or at least delay its inevitability for as long as he could.
8. The Bifröst Bridge connected Earth (Midgard) with the realm of the gods (Asgard). It was defended by the god Heimdallr (aka Heimdall, who will alert the Immortals to Ragnarök). Early myths depict the Bifröst Bridge as a shimmering rainbow that can appear and vanish. Modern interpretations suggest a dimensional shift. The theory lends credence to the rumor of the bridge being destroyed and the remnants used in the walls of the San Francisco Paxington Institute (which anecdotally seems to move in and out of phase with this world). Gods of the First and Twenty-first Century, Volume 6, Modern Myths. Zypheron Press Ltd., Eighth Edition.
8
TOUR
Fiona waited outside in the courtyard. She welcomed the sunlight on her skin after being cooped up for so long. The classroom in Bristlecone Hall had felt like a tomb.
Without crossing into its shade, she examined the tree in the yard. It was a bristlecone pine with a silver trunk and skeletal arms that only occasionally sprouted a pine needle. This species could live for thousands of years, like her family.
Was she Immortal as well? Fiona couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to be 16 years old, let alone 116 . . . or 1,600.
The other freshman teams stood together in loose cliques across the courtyard: Green Dragon, Black Wolf, White Knight, Soaring Eagle, and others. They talked and stole glances at each other.
Sixteen teams. Eight students in each yielded a total of 128 in their freshman class . . . of which a quarter, thirty-two of them, would fail.
Fiona had a bad feeling about this. Why couldn’t school just be about reading and learning? Why was it so cutthroat?
She eyed that Jezebel girl, an Infernal—and so did almost every boy. They clustered around her, all smiling and flirting and wanting to know her better.
She did look a little like Julie Marks, but this girl was taller and older. Maybe Julie had had an older sister who’d crawled out of Hell.
And why was she getting all the attention? Because she was pretty. Beyond pretty, really: Jezebel had a mystical look, like she had just stepped out of a masterwork oil painting, luminous and perfect.
Fiona smoothed her skirt and jacket, thankful for the school uniforms. If she’d had to wear Cee’s homemade clothes, the social chasm between her and the rest of these girls would have been light-years wide.
That may have been the most unfair thing of all. Fiona was a goddess, for crying out loud, and yet somehow she still managed to look less than ordinary.
Eliot shuffled closer to her. “What kind of mascot is a scarab?” he asked.
She tore her gaze away from Jezebel. “The Egyptian pharaohs used scarabs as symbols of eternal life.”9
Fiona was about to engage Eliot in debate over hieroglyphics (her knowledge was rudimentary, but Eliot’s was nonexistent) when Robert Farmington emerged from the restrooms, cleaned up from the scuffle to get that last token.
She brightened as he walked toward her.
He looked like he owned the entire school. That was so Robert’s style.
But he also looked out of place in a Paxington school uniform—like someone dressed for