Why does this shithead get to be head guard?
“Special?” I sneer. “I knew it. You’re sucking Ra’s cock, huh? At least I can pride myself on doing honest work.”
I’ve been searching for this asshole for the last hour so I can report the news. But does this fucker care about protocol? No … he just slinks off. That’s the third time this month he hasn’t been at his post. And though I added extra areas to my rounds this afternoon, looking for him, I didn’t see him. Suspicious.
Khepri snorts.
“Mommy and daddy got you this job— don’t delude yourself and your self-righteous sense of honesty. As for what Ra wanted, that’s none of your fucking business. It just makes you sound like a jealous little bitch. Besides, you don’t get to question the head guard. Now, back to your post.”
My eyes narrow into slits.
Every damn word out of this man’s mouth is a lie; I can feel it in my bones, but the smug fuck is careful to cover his tracks. He truly is Ra’s ‘Golden Boy,’ and, until I have irrefutable evidence that he’s doing something shady when he sneaks off, I have to follow his orders. But, eventually, Khepri will fuck up and when he does, I’ll be waiting to nail his ass to his ankh. That will be a glorious day. I’ll have an artist make a sculpture of his humiliation so it can sit in a museum and stupid humans can ponder it for a thousand years.
I turn to do as ‘ordered,’ but call out nonchalantly, “I had to secure a new prisoner without your help. Son of Dionysis. He’s been placed with the Demigodling for disrupting the peace and intoxicating the other prisoners.”
This gets an immediate reaction from Khepri as I knew it would—I fucking knew it. The Egyptian god has an unnatural fascination with the Child God. The boy is no longer a kid, but it’s what Ra calls him, other than Demigodling. The boss-man refuses to call the half-human by his given name—nor should he. Names are a privilege and anyone in this prison doesn’t have a right to one. They’re nothing but animals who have tried to tarnish the honorable names of the gods.
“Ra placed someone with the Demigodling?” Khepri asks incredulously, dropping his superior act for a second.
I raise a sardonic brow. “Didn’t Ra tell you? Or was he too busy stuffing his dick down your throat to remember?”
Khepri’s face turns red with anger and I feel supremely satisfied to have gotten under his skin. He might act like the poster guard of the year, but he’s more rancid than curdled hippo milk. And I plan to expose him.
Actually, I plan on massacring him—figuratively.
When I finally discover the truth about Khepri’s mysterious disappearances and reveal his secret to Ra, the insect deity can kiss his posh existence good-bye. And I can embrace my new position as head guard. It galls me to admit that my parents did pull some strings to get me this position at the Black Hole—a specialty prison for half-breeds who have committed heinous crimes against the gods.
Izanami and Izanagi are two of the most important primordial deities in the Shinto pantheon and, as such, I must live up to and serve our prestigious family name. By working at the Black Hole, I am helping to ensure that these prisoners are contained properly so that they cannot harm more gods. As such, this job is an honor and a service to protect my family from demigods. It would seem that their half-human nature makes them unstable and irrational in their conduct toward the divine.
In fact, it’s my personal belief—and Ra’s—that these prisoners are part of a network outside of the Black Hole that is specifically targeting major gods and goddesses. These traitorous fucks want to kill us all, but can’t if we can get to them first.
“Raiden-Sama!” Khepri snaps, bringing my attention back to the present.
He stomps over to stand toe-to-toe with me. Another thing that galls me—Khepri is taller. Only by an inch or so, but he seems to use this to his advantage. He has the typical Egyptian looks, but his skin is a deep chocolate brown and he wears his dark hair bluntly against his head. His eyes have a bright blue hue that is accented by the kohl that rims them. I’ve never seen an Egyptian god or goddess without their eye make-up, making me wonder if they draw it on every day or if it’s literally a part of their skin.
In contrast, my skin is many shades lighter, but still very tanned. My hair is just as black, but I grow it long and wear it in the traditional warrior bun of my people. My eyes don’t need any kohl to enhance them— their almond slant is another unique feature of my heritage. My shoulders are broader than Khepri’s and I am much more muscled, a fact I know the female prisoners all appreciate. The catcalls when I do my rounds are enough to let a lesser god believe it’s worship, some of the other guards do think it’s worship. I let those fools look and admire all they want, but they can’t touch. So, while Khepri is tall, I’m positive that I could kick his ass and win easily—something I hope to eventually prove.
“I told you to go back to your post. Now!” Khepri growls.
He whirls around and marches off in the direction of the Demigodling and the new inmate’s cell. The Egyptian god’s preoccupation with the Child God borders on fanaticism. As he walks away, I catch the stench of shit wafting from him.
“Ugh—did you leave the jail to go roll in shit? Is that your secret—you have a crap fetish?”
Maybe I was wrong about the cock sucking … maybe his mouth was kissing Ra’s ass instead.
Who knows? He’s a dung beetle after all.
Khepri freezes, his shoulders tense. The air between us is thick enough to cut with my katana. Just as suddenly, Khepri relaxes and even lets out a chuckle.
“You caught me,” he drawls humorously. “I just love scat-play, but we all have our own little fucked-up secrets, don’t we, Rai-Rai?”
He didn’t!
This time, I don’t try to stop him when he walks away because I’m too busy holding myself back as my face contorts. I’m a whole new level of pissed-off. The nickname alone would set me off, but for this bastard to insinuate that I have a secret is fucking unspeakable.
I am honorable.
I am godly.
I am Raiden-Sama.
And Khepri is a piece of shit that I am going to decimate.
5
Val
I'm back at the most abhorrent event known to demigod-kind—family dinner.
Dad has also invited a couple of snooty Greek gods over this week. Something about Aphrodite being down about the lack of human love matches or some kind of bullcrap. He just wants in her skirts. Everyone wants in her skirts—even I watch her ass when she walks out of a room and I am strictly interested only in the D.
a.k.a Dev.
The only saving grace for this dinner is that I plan to use it to my advantage. I plan to commit a crime the gods find so heinous, they’ll throw my ass in jail right next to Asteio’s. And then I’ll bust him out. (Oh, and the fact that I smuggled Dev into Asgard and hid him in my room so he can help me. That’s the other saving grace.)
This week, with Dev’s hacking skills and my demigod connections—okay, fine, mostly Dev’s hacking skills—we discovered Ra’s evil plan to keep demis locked up in the Black Hole for ridiculous infractions against gods. Slander. (As if the gods don’t do that to one another every day.) Throwing away offerings to a deity. (That’s just petty, who can tell the difference between a bag of cheese puffs left on the side of the road as an offering for the god of travel and litter? No one.) Heresy. (One dude got tossed in the pen for mixing up the names of two Chinese deities: but really for anyone who doesn’t speak Chinese, Tianhuang1 and Tiangong2 are easy to confuse.)