Dark Game (Merikh Book 1) by C L Walker

predicated on your belief.” I could see she believed what she was saying, though I spotted something conflicting in her statement.
    “So I take it that makes Trevor a god, too?”
    “No. Just a man.”
    “So smite him the next time he gets in your face.” I shook my head. “That's an odd thing to say.”
    “You really don't know, do you?”
    “That's what I've been saying.”
    She allowed herself to move away from the door slightly, her eyes still roaming over me as though she could work me out the normal way after her magic had failed. “You don't work for him?”
    I chuckled, hoping to ease the tension. “I am about as far from working for him as it is possible to be.”
    “Will you answer a question for me?”
    “If I can, and if you promise to do the same.”
    She nodded. “What are you? I've never seen anything like you before.”
    “It's a big world,” I said flippantly, and regretted it as soon as I saw the look on her face. “Sorry, let me try that again. I'm an assassin, sent to kill Trevor Foster.”
    “I gathered as much already.”
    “Really? I thought I was pretty stealthy.”
    “I can see things others cannot. That's not what I meant though. What are you, that you are immune to my power?”
    I toyed with the idea of lying to her, making something up that would hopefully satisfy her and get things back on track. But I didn't know where to start so I opted to go with the truth instead.
    “I don't think I'm anything special.”
    Mouse snorted in my ear. “You attempting modesty is the funniest thing I've heard all week.”
    I ignored her and continued. “For some reason, I'm immune to magic. No idea why, and it's pretty inconvenient some of the time. Your turn: Tell me about Trevor Foster.”
    Her voice dropped to a forced whisper. “Foster is the prime disciple of Garehl, the god of wrath. Garehl is a powerful god and that power flows to his followers.”
    “So a priest can pick on a god, as long as he worships at the right feet.” The waitress-god nodded. “What's he doing here in Midway? For that matter, what are you doing here? Don't you have some church to haunt or something?”
    Mouse spoke up. “You're not buying a word of this, are you?”
    “I came to see if I could help, but I underestimated his power. I underestimated how far we had fallen.”
    “We?”
    “My siblings. I think we've already lost the war and we just don't know it yet. I don't know what Foster is planning but I believe I am now bound to help him.”
    “There are other gods though, right? About fourteen, I guess. Ask them to help.”
    “Where did you get that number from?” Mouse said.
    -- She’s Charity and he’s Wrath -- I typed quickly, keeping the phone a secret from Claire. – There’s seven sins and seven virtues. I think it's the basis of her story. --
    Claire was answering, and I shifted my attention back to her. She'd stopped studying me and was watching the darkness around us, as though looking for enemies. “We don't cooperate. We haven't for thousands of years. It isn't in our nature.”
    “You should probably look at fixing that, if you're losing so badly.”
    “You're probably right, but it's too late now.”
    “Tell me about the ambrosia.” She focused on me again with an echo of the intensity of before. “I've been following Trevor around. I've seen what that stuff can do.”
    “Do you know what he’s using it for?”
    “You don’t?” I wasn’t sure how I expected this conversation to go, but it wasn’t anything like the way it was playing out. I’d expected Claire to at least have some idea what she was involved in.
    “I assumed he was feeding his acolytes. His men.”
    “He’s handing it out to the cops.” I spotted the change in her features as she joined some dots in her head. “What is he planning?”
    “A war, as is the way of his kind. If he’s feeding the local authority ambrosia, he’s giving them the kind of power needed to crush any opposition.”
    “What