The Mythos Trials

Chapter Nine

Reeves switched off the ethereal device, rubbing his temples. Lucas's recent failure had been somewhat expected, given the deal he had cut with the Moirai. The Fates were not known for giving whole truths, after all, but even so, he had hoped for a different outcome.

He cast a bored look around the cemetery, resting his chin on one gloved hand with his elbow propped on the armrest of his chair. After his prompt takeover of New Orleans, he had claimed Metairie Cemetery for himself. The place was an old stomping ground of sorts, and while not the sentimental type, Reeves had thought it a fitting place with which to rule from—especially considering it had been here that he had conducted the ritual that led to the Spectrum's downfall.

Barely a soul stirred at this late hour, save for the few troops guarding the grounds. With a discontented sigh, Reeves rose from his throne, the shadowy chair parting like mist. There was work to be done, and as long as there was, he couldn't afford to be lounging about.

"Kizah, Misa." He gestured toward the two Akuma who, until that moment, had been standing sentry on either side of the monument his throne had been pressed up against. "I need you to hold down the fort, make sure Cife stays vigilant at the south gate. I don't want any more stragglers getting in, you hear me?"

"As you wish, Master." Misa bowed, her heavily scarred right eye narrowed, though the left was bright with interest. "What about Lady Iris? What should we tell her?"

"Tell her I'm taking care of unresolved business in Mythos." Reeves offered Misa a fleeting grin, then turned his attention to her larger counterpart. "Ensure that she and Lord Set have use of whatever troops they require, should those dogs come out of hiding." He felt his lip curl at this last, disdain twisting in his gut like a venomous snake.

True, their takeover of Earth's major cities had gone off without a hitch, particularly because there were so few from the council to stop them. And the humans? Ha! Their paltry forces were enough to make him double up laughing. No matter how many tanks, how many fighter jets and bombs they had at their disposal, it would never be enough to put paid to his plans. As agreed, Lady Iris had gone with Set, holding the lands in the east while he took over western civilization.

Reeves barely took notice of Kizah's acknowledgement, his thoughts drifting toward his next course of action. His steps were slow, measured, as he travelled between the rows of plinths. Some bore simple markers, while others had been carved into more elaborate forms; angels, chess pieces, saints... He gave a scornful laugh. What would these cockroaches think, if they knew what really awaited them in the afterlife?

Would they recoil in fear, he wondered, or would they embrace it?

It wasn't long before he reached the portal, its steady thrum filling the dead silence of night, radiating something both cool and electrifying at its core. If not for New Orleans' balmy weather, Reeves might have shivered; such was the power of the portal Set had created. He hoped there would come a time when he and Her Ladyship would be rid of him, just as they had rid themselves of Apophis.

He had to admit, though: so far, Set had treated them fairly, giving them the power they had yearned for and the freedom to wield it.

Perhaps we'll keep him around, at least long enough to take over the rest of this wretched rock.

Reeves inclined his head, considering. If he played it right, maybe he could convince Lady Iris to dispatch the dark god to whatever awaited him in the afterlife, and they could rule this world, side by side. But he knew they would never stop there. No, Lady Iris was too ambitious to be content with one realm for long. They would take them all, and without the council and the Regulations Force, there would be no one to stop them. What few gods had made it onto this side were nothing. It was only a matter of time before their luck ran out, and they failed to protect the realm they'd helped create.