The War God's Woman

12. Just a Magician

Walking home from work, Sage frowned uneasily. Skelrun's tags were everywhere – marking the city. Sage shivered as she passed yet another business with a broken door and smashed out windows. Skelrun might have murdered his rival, leaving him free to claim the streets, but some people still weren't bowing to him. The more resistance the gang encountered – the uglier things were getting. Sage stuffed her hands into her pockets. Had the Mad Dog been the one to smash up these buildings?

Her heart sank – feeling like a lead weight in her chest. She'd overheard many people in the café complaining about the raised 'protection' fees. They'd whispered that anybody refusing to pay was having their knee caps shattered by the Mad Dog. She didn't want to believe it. But Ezekiel was being cursed pretty universally. It was hard to ignore.

Sage hung her head sadly. What could anybody do? The gangs had always terrorised the neighbourhood, they'd built these streets with their brotherhood and blood shedding. If the police couldn't stop it – then who else could? Sage froze mid-step - her eyes widening. Perhaps... a god?

                           "No," Ares dismissed. With peculiar elegance he was perched on her kitchen counter – very much like a cat. She'd found him in her flat when she'd arrived home, her locked door having been no deterrent for him.

"No? But you're a god. Surely you can stop the fighting-"

"I'm the god of war," Ares interjected – pointing at his handsome face. "Why would I stop men fighting?"

"Because it's wrong."

"How so?" He seemed truly lost.

"People die!"

"People have to die."

"Don't you care at all?"

Ares shook his head, his gaze steady and innocent.

"War makes me stronger."

Huffing, Sage turned – banging the cupboard doors as she crossly searched for a mug. Ares sighed. He didn't know how to make her understand him. "I don't care who starts the fighting or who wins." He explained slowly, gauging her reaction to his words. Sage was still refusing to look at him – her expression fierce. Ares leapt down lightly from the counter and stood in front of her. He reached for her cheek to caress but Sage pouted and jerked away from his touch.

"Don't worry," Ares murmured – his deep voice as soft as falling snow. "I've already sworn that I'll protect you. With all the violence here -I'm growing stronger. Aren't you proud to be the lover of such a strong god?"

"Strong?" Sage's expression was very dismissive. "I've only seen you conjure a sword. You're a magician at best."

Ares' eyes glowed. Challenge accepted.

                                         Sage stood in the dimly lit carpark with her arms crossed.

"Can a magician do this?" Ares asked – his mouth stretching into a broad grin. Sage's jaw locked – in a fierce struggle to not show any emotion – as she watched Ares lift a car above his head.

"Fine," she spat – shuffling her feet.

"Wait," Ares called – seeing that she was about to leave. "You haven't seen how far I can throw it."