Hour of Mischief (16 page)

Itazura slipped into the room with two mugs of alcohol and slid mine across the coffee table.

“Please tell me you got the strongest stuff in the house.” I scooped up the mug.

“Of course.” Itazura chuckled. “Not enough alcohol at that fancy middle class party, huh?”

“No, unfortunately.” I took a huge swig of my drink, enjoying the burn of the liquor running down my throat. “Thanks.” I forced myself to sit up on the couch. “So, shape shifters? What are they?”

“Well, they’re pretty much what the name implies.” Itazura sat down across from me, resting his head back against his arms. “They can change shape into animals and human beings.”

“Kind of guessed that,” I said. “But I’ve never heard of any shape shifters in Fortuna, and I have a feeling something like that would be hard to miss.” I shrugged. “I mean, they talk about them sometimes in children’s stories, but other than that. . . .”

“You’re not crazy,” Itazura assured me. “Well, all right, you are. But in a different way.”

“Thanks a lot,” I muttered. “Insult the injured person.”

“You’re not injured. Just bruised.”

“You try getting punched in the stomach and kicked in the face by that guy, and then tell me how you feel.”

“I’ll pass.” Itazura exhaled. “Anyway, the reason you haven’t heard of shape shifters is because they haven’t entered the human realms for a good thousand years. Not until recently. The last time they walked among humans, Cambiare was a thriving realm.”

I nearly spit out my drink. “Cambiare? The empty realm?”

Itazura’s mouth twitched in amusement and I instantly regretted giving him such a reaction. “Well, you’ve heard of that at least. That’s good.”

“Everyone has heard of Cambiare.” I tugged at the frayed cuff of my jacket. The empty realm was the subject of many ghost stories swapped by my team on late nights in our clock tower. We tossed around theories about what had happened to the realm to make it so completely devoid of sentient life. People often said that the hours contained within each realm on the maps of Memoria were symbolic of its values. And if that was the case, fate had doomed Cambiare from the outset. It contained only one hour. Six o’clock. The Hour of Death. “It’s been empty for hundreds of years. Thousands of years!”

“Only a couple thousand, but yes,” Itazura said. “Cambiare is the oldest of the human realms, so the shape shifters were around even during the domain of the elder gods. The incident with Cambiare occurred only a few decades after the twelve clockwork gods took over.” Itazura shrugged. “It’s not a pleasant period in our history so you don’t see a lot of records about it. The gods were always fighting over who governed over what, and we weren’t very experienced with ruling our own domains yet. That’s when we created the minor gods. They were sort of like . . . assistants in our time of confusion. They helped keep things a little bit more orderly.” Itazura frowned. “But some of the minor gods could be a bit of a nuisance. Like the God of Beasts, Cleptos.”

“Cleptos? I don’t know him,” I said.

“Humans in Fortuna don’t know any of the minor gods.” Itazura sighed. “Which is exactly why many of them are siding with the elder gods now. But anyway, Cleptos was a minor God for my dear, deadly sister, Axira. One of her favorites. He held dominion over all the beasts of the Abyss and he often conducted punishments on evil souls. Sadistic fellow. Greedy too, and not very good at parties.”

“Yeah, I imagine he didn’t get a lot of invites.” My mouth quirked.

“Not at all.” Itazura said. “When Cleptos first came into being, shape shifters were still living in Cambiare among humans. They were equals in every way and they coexisted rather nicely despite obvious differences. But the way Cleptos saw it, the shape shifters were beasts by design, suppressing their primitive urges. He believed they belonged under his rule.”

“And did they?” I asked.

“Well, it sent the Realm of the Gods into an uproar,” Itazura said. “Axira argued on the side of Cleptos, though I consider her a bit biased since she created him. A few others also sided with Cleptos, but most of the gods agreed shape shifters were human enough to belong to all the gods. They had the civility of humans, so we decided Cleptos did not have full control over them. I especially argued against it. Since I have shape shifting powers of my own, shape shifters could just as easily belong to me.”

“So that’s how you turned your arm into a blade. You can shape shift.”

“It does come in handy when it comes to stealing. I can change into just about anything I want. I prefer this form though. Nice and young.”

“Nice, young, and annoying.”

“You’re too kind.” Itazura winked. “Anyway, Axira and Cleptos are both very sore losers, unfortunately. You never want to cross them, and I don’t recommend trying to play any games with them. Much too competitive, in a very bad way.”

“Oh damn.” I snapped my fingers. “And I was just thinking how much I wanted to play cards with the Goddess of Death. You’ve spoiled all my hopes and dreams, Itazura.”

Itazura grinned, but the lighthearted look quickly faltered as he continued on in his story. “Cleptos and Axira decided that the only way to bring the shape shifters under their domain was to make them inhuman. They used the minor God of Diseases to introduce a parasite into Cambiare. It latched selectively onto shape shifters, lodging itself in the brain and causing psychosis.”

“Psy- what now?” I asked. “I never went to a fancy center ring university. I don’t know these big words.”

“It’s basically insanity of the psychotic nature,” Itazura said. “The shape shifters of Cambiare turned hungry with blood lust. They raged through the realm killing every human in their path. Within a few days, the entire human population of Cambiare had been wiped out. The other gods had been too busy arguing about the other realms to notice the incident. Cambiare turned into a wasteland filled with monstrous shape shifters right under our noses.”

“But they punished Cleptos?” I probed, my eyes wide. Gods could do whatever they wanted for the most part but not something like that. “They couldn’t let him get away with that.”

“Oh, they gave him a harsh reprimand,” Itazura said. “But in the end, it didn’t matter. The race of shape shifters had been spoiled. So Mother and Father gave Cleptos and Axira permission to remove the remaining shape shifters from Cambiare and store them in the Abyss for safe keeping.” Itazura leaned back in his chair. “Over time, their inherent insanity has decreased but shape shifters still maintain a psychotic, inhuman edge to them. The most skilled and sane of them are used by Axira as assassins. They’re very handy too. As you experienced firsthand–no pun intended–shape shifters are far stronger and faster than normal humans.”

“No joke.” I looked down at my mangled steel wrist. “But Cambiare has remained empty all this time? Why did you never repopulate it? Was it in honor of all those who died?”

“Huh?” Itazura’s eyebrows shot up. “No, no. We just never got around to it again.” He shrugged. “Three human realms are a handful all by themselves. Adding a fourth might kill us. So we let the plants over take the realm. As time passed, ghost stories and rumors sprouted up about the place. Humans are fascinated with researching the empty realm. Quite entertaining to watch them grasp at straws, I must say.”

“You gods can be sick sometimes, you know that?”

“Of course I do.”

“So why are the elder gods using shape shifters to get me?” I asked. “Did Cleptos side with them?”

“That’s just it.” Itazura frowned. “Cleptos has always been very loyal to Axira. She treated him well, probably better than most of the gods treated their minor counterparts. I can’t see him straying from her.” He stared down at his drink.

I tensed. “Wait, you don’t think Axira has it out for me do you? Why would she side with the elder gods?”

“She wouldn’t. It’s not like her.” He shook his head. “No . . . no it has to be the elder gods. I don’t know why but . . . but it has to be.” His voice had turned soft, confused even. It sounded as if Axira coming after me would be worse than the wrath of the elder gods. I knew Axira wasn’t a walk around the clock but she had to be better than the world-destroying rulers of the ancient past.

Itazura’s face remained somber for a moment before it snapped suddenly back into his usual mischievous guise. “But, maybe I’m just reading too much into things. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“I’m not reassured.” I reclined back on the couch, letting my left arm hang limply by my side. I tried to flex my fingers again but the hand only jerked feebly with a soft crackle of energy. “Think he’ll come back for me?”

“Oh, I know he’ll come back for you,” Itazura said. “Didn’t you hear what he said?” His expression melted into the chilling dead stare resembling that of the red-eyed shape shifter. “‘I’ll be seeing you soon, girl.’” He raised an eyebrow. “Sound like a sign of surrender to you?”

“Guess not.”

“Exactly,” Itazura said. “Which is why I’m not letting you out of my sight until this pact is complete. I’m not going to risk a possible fall from the clock face like that again.”

I blinked. “You mean . . . I have to stay in your line of sight for . . . gods know how long?”

“Yes,” Itazura said. “And the gods
don’t
know how long. Except for maybe the old Clockmaker.”

I groaned, throwing my head back. “Damn it. I don’t want to be stuck next to you every hour of the day.”

“Perhaps you’d rather be dead then,” Itazura said. “Come on, little human, that’s no way to treat the god who saved your life.” He paused. “Actually, it’s no way to treat a god at all. You just have no respect.”

“You want respect, maybe you should command some,” I quipped.

Itazura’s mouth twitched. He fingered one of the pocket watches hanging from a loop on his jacket. I’d seen him play with that particular watch several times. It was a pretty gold trinket, but the clock face was chipped. Why would he keep a broken pocket watch?

“I meant to tell you,” Itazura said. “I’m sorry about what happened earlier. With Meroquio.”

I stared at him. I didn’t expect the god to give a damn about my emotional quandaries with the situation when the world was on the line. “You . . . are?”

“Yes.” Itazura looked up at me. “You’re right, I’m a god. I don’t understand a lot of things about being human. Human problems often look . . . very small to us.” He slipped the broken pocket watch back into his jacket. “But there are some things I shouldn’t expect of you. So yes, I am sorry.”

I nodded once. “Um . . .apology accepted.” I tugged at a piece of my hair. “It’s not like I expected a god to understand anyway. You’ve seen so much of humans, even their biggest issues must seem small to you by now.” I sighed. “Anyway, you saved my life. Let’s call it even for the day.”

“That sounds fair,” Itazura said, relaxing a bit. “Thank you.”

“For what?” I asked.

“Not still being angry with me.” Itazura grinned. “You’re very difficult to deal with when you’re angry.”

“Oh, ha ha.” I closed my eyes. “Can you at least leave me alone enough to get some sleep?”

“No,” he said. I opened one eye to glare at him and he held up his hands in a placating way. “But I’ll be quiet for you. Get some sleep, little human. You need it.” He rose from his seat and retreated to the opposite corner of the room. “Sleep tight.”

“That doesn’t sound like quiet to me,” I mumbled, though I had already begun to drift off. The last thing I heard was Itazura chuckling before I went out like a light.

Laetatia was upset about the dress when she found it the next morning. Not godly wrath upset, but definitely irritated.

“That’s what I get for lending out clothing to a human,” she muttered, holding up the blood-stained gown in front of her. “This is one of my favorites. I love my red dresses.”

“Well, it’s just blood,” Itazura pointed out, peering at the garment over her shoulder. “Blood is red. It should be fine.”

Laetatia wacked Itazura over the head with the ruined garment. “They’re different shades of red, you idiot.”

“All right, all right, they’re different shades. Don’t get your gears in a jam.” Itazura held up his hands in surrender.

“I am sorry about that,” I said, fiddling with the twisted remains of my left wrist. “I didn’t want to ruin your clothes. But, you know, evil shape shifter assassins aren’t great for formal wear.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it.” Laetatia sighed. “I’m a goddess. I can have another one made easily. But you should have used the coin.”

“I couldn’t find it in the heat of the moment.” I tapped the coin that now sat atop the private bar. “It’s a tiny bastard. And that dress had a lot of folds.”

“True,” Laetatia said. “The only important thing is you’re alive.” She shot a glare at Itazura. “Of course, what happened last night just proves Itazura’s idiocy when he made that pact with you.”

“I agree,” I plopped back onto the couch. “So, Laetatia, what do you think about the circumstances? Do you think Axira would actually betray the gods?”

“Don’t know,” Laetatia said, pouring herself a drink at the private bar. “Of all the gods, I probably associate with Axira the least. Death and festivities just don’t click, if you know what I mean.” She sighed.