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

G was just another train. But on that evening, it was packed.
    Life in North Dakota had completely failed to prepare me for the sardine-esque feeling of being in a not-even-standing-room train. I’m told Tokyo is worse, with official transit employees whose job it is to pack people into the trains. I did not envy those workers or commuters, but it did little to assuage my previously-undiagnosed-but-increasingly-emergent claustrophobia.
    I nearly toppled an aged woman as I fought my way out of the train at the Broadway stop, and hurried out of the station into the welcoming cold of the open air. I stopped for a precious few moments to breathe and let the tide of anxiety recede.
    When my heart had ceased pounding like hail on a roof, I moved on.

    As Antoinette had said, it was impossible not to know where to go.
    Along a street of homes in similar styles but varying facades, one building had been reduced to rubble. The wreckage extended across the street. The light of several fire trucks illuminated the street, which was thick with emergency responders and civilians. Several news trucks were parked at the edge of the scene, flanked by a pretty blonde woman talking to over-the-shoulder cameras.
    And me without a way to contact Antoinette directly, as working pay phones were not common in the city.
    I made my way through the unorganized crowd closer to the fire trucks, trying to paint a picture of what had happened. I stepped past the newscasters, withdrawing my presence to try to pass unnoticed.
    Firefighters and EMTs were still shuttling people into ambulances positioned at the edge of the scene. I stepped over the shattered third of a porcelain bathtub and saw a policewoman step out of the flow of people to hail me.
    “Excuse me. I need you to step away.”
    Duplicity was far from my strong suit. Especially extemporaneous duplicity. So I couched my lie within the best truth I had.
    “I think a friend of mine is in there,” I said.
    “Sorry, sir. I need everyone to stay back,” the cop said in a voice that was mostly boredom but had a touch more annoyance than before.
    “May I be of assistance?”
    The cop sat back on her heels, her attention passing from me to watch the whole crowd behind me. “You have any certifications?”
    “No, but—”
    “Sorry, sir. Please step back and let the emergency responders do their job.”
    I stepped back, but continued scanning the crowd, looking for Antoinette. And just in case, for Esther. She was not the sort to stay behind and revel in her work. That was more Father’s style.
    Several minutes went by, and a newscaster appeared in front of me, seeking to shove a microphone down my throat like a mother bird force-feeding its young.
    I stepped back and brushed the microphone away as the woman asked, “Do you live here, sir? Know anyone who lives here?” I lifted the mask I strained to keep over my disdain for inanity and leveled a disapproving gaze at the woman. She wilted under the look and broke off, pouncing on another bystander.
    How could I help? It might be possible to slip behind the building, to climb the fire escape, to travel overland, or just to sneak through the backyards, hoping that everyone was out on the street instead of watching out of their windows.
    I picked my way out of the crowd and looped around the block. Unfortunately, the alleyways were closed with ten-foot-tall gates, topped with wrought-iron barbs that curled out into the street. And at the opposite end of the cross street, it seemed that the fire escapes on the fronts of the buildings were deemed sufficient.
    So my choices were to try to scale the gate with bystanders or to try to evade the notice of hundreds by scaling a fire escape on the block itself.
    Wishing for once that there were fewer police in New York, I considered my options.
    If I could not locate Antoinette, I could summon a local spirit and try to convince it to find her, gather intelligence, or assist the emergency