Page 33 of Edge of Stars

To the point that I let Hecate have her way? That I do nothing while the goddess bribes Kara into flying away with Hermes in tow, her jailor via one of the most disgusting abuses of a superpower that I’ve ever seen?

No. No.

But floating along in this lazy river on steroids… It’s like doing the exact same thing.

Worse. It’s literally not doing anything.

I’ve got to get out of this bowl of slop. And I’ve got to do it now, before everything is too late.

Before I lose my everything.

“Reg,” I mutter. “Regina…damn it. Come on. Where the hell are you?”

As if some higher power has heard the croak beneath my plea—I don’t care which god, only that one was actually listening—a dread-locked head pops up over the water’s surface, about forty feet away. It occurs to me that I’ve never seen Reg swim, but that steady fight against the current is also uniquely her.

“Reg!” I yell. “Hang on!”

Her strokes intensify, proving I’ve gotten through even over the water’s relentless roar.

“Thank fuck,” I mutter. Then again, just because I need it.

But too soon.

With the extra gallons pumping in here, the waters have picked up force. More than even the whitecaps at the surface are letting on.

Though Reg struggles to keep afloat with every effort she’s got, the raging river doesn’t care. It throttles her backward, weighs her down, and drags her away with horrifying force.

I block a spew of profanity by cutting loose with a primitive bellow. But I’m only half-done when the sound is sucked clear out of my lungs…by a new invasion of power in the air. In the whole room itself.

It trembles the walls. Shakes the chandeliers. Even threatens to shatter the huge plates of glass beyond the altar. My mind compares it to a last-act alien appearance in a superhero movie, except I’m not on my ass in a theater recliner, enjoying the last of my chocolate raisins and popcorn. The sanctuary’s actual stones are under me again, and my mouth is full of the saltwater that’s been blasted at and over me with laser force.

But blasted to where?

Thirty seconds ago, this whole room was on its way to becoming one of the world’s biggest aquariums. Now it’s barely a tidepool, swirled with sludge that tangles around my ankles as I push to my feet—

Only to be knocked back down again—as the alien spaceship makes its full appearance.

No, not a craft from the stars. It’s a floating carpet, made wholly out of water.

Instead of woven piles, the craft is formed of individual aqua spouts. Though every one of them is a miniature Cat Five rapid in its own right, they’re crisscrossing to form the flowing platform that bursts in with the tumult of a world-class waterfall.

Suddenly, the form changes to match the noise. The carpet rears up and reshapes, looming closer now, like the approaching prow of an aircraft carrier. That’s not even the craziest part. The conveyance moves with imposing precision and power but doesn’t touch any of the figures that remain terrifyingly inert in the mud below. The array of humanity that can’t really all still be alive…

An uncertainty that can’t get another speck of my stress.

Not when there are living, moving people at the prow of the mechanized squall, which thunders closer every second. I cock my head back now, understanding what a sand crab must feel when a boat shoves onto its shore. I blink hard and fast, trying to comprehend the size, scope, and purpose of what I’m seeing.

Until none of that matters anymore.

“What…the…”

Bald bafflement makes me cut it short, once I confirm that one of the faces overhead is Regina’s. And she looks three times more dumbstruck than me.

Four times, when the front of that aquatic—whatever—parts in the middle, wide enough to dump a torrent of water that re-molds into a set of liquid steps. Reg glowers, already communicating she’d prefer a lobotomy instead of a tumble down a staircase-shaped waterfall, though I refrain from a rebuke about the value of gratitude after being rescued from a king-sized toilet drain.

Not when I still don’t have a clue about who’ll get the thank-you note.

The U.S.S. Tidal Wave has to have some kind of a captain, right? Or did I hit the bottom of the pool when diving for Reg and am just having the craziest concussion hallucination in human history?