Younger Gods 1: The Younger Gods by Michael R. Underwood Read Free Book Online Page A

group project, powering through the needful work.
    From there, I turned to research, picking a back corner of the food court and reading with texts settled in my lap.
    Before long, I had a rough concept of what Esther might need to proceed. Just enough idea to know that I’d need to rely on Antoinette and her local connections.
    First, Esther would need to identify the ley lines, the flows of power moving through the city. Then she would need to find the Heart which drew upon those lines. She would need all five in order to harness enough energy to open the portal to the bowels of the earth.
    Upon my return to the dorm room, Carter seemed to have not only concluded his call, but departed the room entirely.
    Savoring the privacy, I produced my schoolwork and continued with the group project.
    Several hours later that evening, the dormitory phone rang.
    “Ahoy,” I answered.
    “Ahoy?” Against all odds and past experiences, the caller was not one of Carter’s innumerable girlfriends (he seemed to never give them his cell number), but Antoinette.
    “It was Alexander Graham Bell’s preferred salutation upon the invention of the telephone.”
    “That’s nice. Here’s the scoop. The only things my mom’s friends know that could draw enough power to open the portal you’re talking about are the Hearts of the Boroughs.”
    “As I suspected. How may we help defend them? Without tracking Esther, that seems the only useful response.”
    Antoinette sighed. “That’s the rub. Since they’re incredibly powerful, the factions that control them do their damnedest to keep the things under wraps. I don’t like our odds of being able to stroll around town and just casually inquire about the five most powerful artifacts in the city. They keep their own company, pretty much.”
    “But they have been warned, yes?” I asked.
    “I put out the word, but I have direct connection to only two of them.”
    “Which?”
    “Brooklyn and Manhattan. And I know people who know the groups in Queens. But that’s it. The Bronx keeps its own company, and I don’t know the folks in Staten Island. But here’s the thing: The Williamsburg Chantry just got totaled.”
    “Oh. As in, this evening?”
    “As in right now. One of my friends is a couple blocks away, and she can hear the fighting.”
    “I’m on my way,” I said, lowering the phone.
    “Wait!”
    I took a breath and raised the receiver again.
    “You’ll never get there in time. It doesn’t sound like the Chantry is winning. This could be another trap.”
    “Certainly. Or we could be needed to assist the reconstruction and triage.”
    “It’s your time. What happened to studying?” Antoinette asked.
    “I have done enough for now. And recent developments have put the scale of the problem into sharp relief. Where should I go?”
    “Take the 7 to the G to Broadway, then go to Hewes Street and head southwest. You won’t be able to miss it. You have a cell?”
    “I am composed of many cells. I lack a mobile telephone.”
    “All right, Captain Particularity. If you want to do any good, you better hurry.”
    “Farewell.” I hung up the phone and grabbed my bag, then quit the dormitory as fast as I could manage without causing alarm.

CHAPTER
    SEVEN
    I should have been studying. Or sleeping, readying my mind and body for the next day. The day I’d inevitably come to blows with my elder sister, the woman who had been like a third parent to me, whose power had always eclipsed my own, and who knew me almost as well as I knew myself.
    Instead, I was on the G train.
    In the short time I’d spent living in New York, I’d quickly learned of the reputation of the G train. It was full of weirdos. Being one who fit the description of “weirdo,” this did not faze me. I’d seen youths in sweatclothes and well-worn baseball caps swing and spin about on E trains, display recklessness and athleticism both. I’d seen armless and legless veterans begging for alms on the 6 train.
    The