She inclined her head. "The Herdsman." She bowed it again. "Tammuz." Then again. "Pan." Lifting her head, she smiled. "Our God. Our never forgotten, fleeing God. How we have missed you."
The Georgia accent was long gone, as was the bold snap of her eyes. Now there was only cold. Cold voice, cold eyes, cold satisfaction.
"Tammuz? The Babylonian god?" Niko's sword was up as was my gun, but we were thoroughly outnumbered in the weapons department.
Robin shrugged lightly. "Like you've never given anyone a fake name?" He settled back on his heels, dropping the point of his sword toward the floor. "What am I thinking? Of course you haven't." Cool and breezy. It was the Robin we'd first met, one who was so accustomed to hiding who he was and being exactly as his race was painted: shallow, thoughtless, full of uncaring conceit. It was easier to see your sins catch up to you if you didn't care, right? But he did. If he hadn't, he would've told us the truth. Whatever was going on … whatever this was, he felt guilty over it. He felt regret, and he cared a great deal.
"You really were a god?" I asked in disbelief. In the bar he'd told me so while drunk as a skunk, but who'd believe that he was telling the truth more or less?
"In vino veritas. If you drank more, you'd know that." Then the façade fell and he rubbed his eyes wearily. "I'd ask what you want, Seraglio, but I think we already know that, don't we?"
"The Banu Zadeh tribe does not forget slights, no matter how old. No matter how many thousands of years pass. And the slight of a god is a shame to a people that cannot be forgiven or forgotten." Her finger tightened on the trigger until the knuckle paled to light gold against her darker skin. "Babylon is no more. Our tribe has dwindled to what you see before you, but we have you to thank for that. When you left us"—her voice became a hiss—"deserted us, the sickness came and the fury of the mightiest storm the desert had seen came. Within months, half the tribe was dead. You took your presence and you took your protection and now we are all but gone from the world. Because of you. All because of you. But"— her smile returned—"those ancestors that were spared have allowed their descendants to claim vengeance. We are all that is left of the Banu Zadeh, but we will be enough."
Robin could have said it was coincidence, the disease and storm, that he'd never been a god, only an imposter, but I wondered if his "abandoning" them was all there was to it. Particularly when the remnants of the tribe had chased him for thousands of years bent on vengeance. I could see how easily whatever it was had happened. When we'd first met him, Goodfellow was the loneliest son of a bitch I'd seen. Pucks didn't seem to stick around each other much. The ego seemed to be part of their genetic makeup from what I could tell from the two I'd met. No wonder they went their separate ways. The clash of narcissism would be explosive. And the majority of other nonhuman races hated and scorned pucks. Thieves, con men, egomaniacs, it was the accepted image. And, hell, it was true, but Robin had proven he was more than that. He stood with us and had since the beginning. He'd faced death with us more than once. It hadn't been sheer loneliness that had driven him to that, but that had been part of it … at least in the beginning.
I didn't think it would've been any different in the days of Babylon. I could see him coming across a desert tribe and being different enough that they were suspicious of him. But if he were a god, and I was sure he had a few Houdini-style tricks to dazzle ancient humans, then they'd welcome him. Embrace him. No contempt. No hatred. Just acceptance, friendship, worship. Who could turn down a little worship? Not your average person, and definitely no puck. Eventually Robin would bore and move on. It was his bad luck on the timing was all. Of course, if he'd still been there when disease and natural disaster reared their heads, it might not have gone any better for him than it was going now.
"You cursed us with your abandonment," she continued. "As our tribe has died, so will you."
"And you think you can kill a god?" Promise inquired with the perfect touch of dismissal. I didn't think it would cast enough doubt in them to work, but it was worth a try.
"Even gods can die." The dark eyes were unrelenting in their determination. "We've seen many things in our long search, my people. Generation after generation has seen wonders and horrors, and we've seen the deaths of gods. We have killed many ourselves. Your kind," she said to Goodfellow with a righteous vindication curving her lips. "They were never the right god, never you, but we killed them nonetheless. They were not you, but they were like you. Uncaring and undeserving of existence."
"Why didn't you simply shoot me in my bed?" he asked. "It would've been easy enough for you." Although it wouldn't have been. Robin would've heard the slightest out-of-place noise. He hadn't lived this long without picking up a thousand and one tricks of survival.
"First, we had to be sure you were the right one." With her other hand she held up a gold armband with what looked like lion heads carved on the ends. "One of the first things we learn as children. The one offering that you took with you. I searched your apartment and finally found it. You kept it all this time. The sentiment moves us." Yeah, why was I not believing that?
She tossed it at his feet. "I could've tried at the apartment, ended you there, but no. You come and you go. The days you spend at work, or so you say. Six nights out of seven you are gone whoring, fooling others into believing you'll never leave them as you left us. I never knew when you would grace me with your presence so that I and my brothers could be waiting. Besides, facing a god on his home territory where he is his strongest, we are more clever than that. And we've come to know through several other of your kind that you are all but impossible to poison. The sirrush proved that." I thought of all the food she'd given me and felt my stomach roil. "So we tried several times to kill you with the sirrush, the Hameh, our brother." Pain flickered behind her eyes. "I do not believe you deserve to see your death face-to-face, a warrior's death, not one of treachery for you are a treacherous creature. But now I see we acted as you did, cowardly and without honor. The same death you chose to inflict on my people. You destroyed us as a people and now as the last of our people we must face you to do the same. And we will be more honorable than you."
"There aren't many who aren't," he replied matter-of-factly before dropping his sword. It hit the armband with the musical sound of a bell ringing. "So, you will let them go, then the others … as you are honorable, and they've done nothing to you."
A self-sacrificing puck. The world would stop if it knew, but the world didn't know Robin like we did. He had it in him. Until this moment maybe even he didn't know, but it was there. What a hellacious way to find out.
"I sincerely doubt they would go, Almighty One. Even now they stand with you instead of shunning you as they should. They know what you have done now. Where is the shock and horror at your shame?" She shook her head. "No. They are not your kind, but they are like you. Take them as your servants into whatever afterlife a god claims." The smile was reflected by those who stood beside her, her tribe. Not one of the smiles was a pleasant one.
"How'd you find us?" Niko asked abruptly. "And how did you find Robin at the subway? We weren't followed." And we hadn't been. Any one of us would've picked up on that.
"A GPS tracker in his cell phone. The modern age is a marvel of technology. The following of a god becomes simplicity. A human outwits the divine. The world has come full circle."
"But finding Robin to begin with had to be a bitch." Kind of like her. "Over two thousand years. Way to hold a grudge."
"It's retribution. Only blood will answer the debt." It was hard to believe this woman had once made me breakfast. She and the others were all the same unyielding stone. I guessed if you were going to be a hard-ass, seeing your living, breathing runaway god before you would be the time for it.