Moonshine: Phantom Queen Book 11—A Temple Verse Series (The Phantom Queen Diaries)

by Shayne Silvers

  “What is it?” she asked, her whole body practically humming with pent up rage.

  “Want to go kill a god?”

  A grin so wolfish it would have sent Zeke and his pack running for the hills with their tails between their legs spread across the Valkyrie’s face.

  “You’re damn right, I do.”

  Chapter 41

  Hilde brandished her sword, swinging it in swift, chopping motions while we discussed strategy. For a brief moment, I considered doing something similar with Areadbhar—twirl her around a bit, turn it into a fire show midway through for kicks. Unfortunately, I had far more important things to worry about than competing with Hilde. Like staying alive...and killing a god.

  “We should do a fly by, to start,” the Valkyrie said as she eyed Chernobog. The god had yet to step into the fray, but there was no doubt in either of our minds that his patience was wearing thinner by the second. “We don’t yet know what he’s capable of, so we’ll start with a feint. In and out. How he reacts should give us at least some idea what we’re dealing with.”

  Though it pained me to do it, I coughed a muffled sentence into my gauntleted hand.

  “Sorry, what was that?”

  “I said I can’t fly,” I admitted, shoulders slumped.

  “Ah. Yes, well, it takes even a Valkyrie years to master. There’s no shame in it. I’m sure we can come up with an alternative strategy.”

  “No, ye don’t understand. I can’t fly. As in, I lack the capacity, not the capability.” I jerked a thumb over my shoulder for emphasis. “Wings weren’t included with this model. It’s sort of a prototype. I guess you could say it’s the prototype. The Valkyrie who wore it before me was Odin’s first champion, ye see, and…are ye alright?”

  Hilde’s face had lost all its color.

  “Look. I was goin’ to tell ye, I swear!” I insisted. “It just didn’t seem like the right time to mention it at the hospital, and afterwards ye refused to speak a civil word to me. Which I still don’t entirely understand, mind ye, but—”

  “Take it off, Quinn.”

  “What?” I froze, alarmed by the Valkyrie’s unexpected tone. Frankly, I’d assumed she would be pissed, or maybe even distraught. Either of those were reactions I could empathize with. What I couldn’t understand, however, was why she sounded like a hostage negotiator telling me to remove the bomb vest. “Why should I?”

  “Because that armor is cursed.”

  I sighed in relief. “Aye, Freya told me about all that. Somethin’ about Ragnarök and the end of days. Honestly, it all sounds a bit dramatic.”

  “It has nothing to do with that tired old prophecy,” Hilde insisted, heat leaking into her voice at last. “I can’t believe Freya never thought to warn you. Listen, Quinn, my mother’s armor was cursed to come alive and kill whoever possesses it the instant their heart is broken. She placed that curse on it the day she killed herself. The day after I was born.”

  I suddenly felt very hot. At first, I assumed that was my body’s reaction to the news that I’d made an even more one-sided deal than I thought—and also that I might one day be strangled by my own clothes in the middle of a breakup. But then I realized the whole werewolf pack was either whining or snarling, and that the heat had a source.

  “Shit, look,” I said, pointing.

  It seemed Chernobog had stepped off the stage, at last; the god paced the canyon floor, moving like a bull about to gore his opponent at the first flash of red. More disconcerting, however, was the thick film of crude oil which bubbled up from deep below the earth’s surface, pooling at the god’s feet so that it lapped at his toes. As we watched, Chernobog bent to scoop up a handful of that black tar and began lathering it all over himself. Scariest of all, however, was the fact that he seemed to grow larger in stature with each application.

  “Quinn, about the armor—”

  “Maybe not the best time,” I interjected as I showcased our opponent. “In case ye hadn’t noticed, we could all very well die right here and now, and then your mother’s curse won’t matter to anyone. No offense.”

  “No, you’re right. We can talk about this, later.” Hilde shook herself and rolled her neck. “Alright...I want you to stay low and watch him to see how he reacts when I fly at him. Look for openings. Weaknesses. In actuality, killing a god is practically impossible. But we might be able to hurt him, and hopefully chase him off before he can hurt us or anyone else. That’s our play. Sound good to you?”

  “Aye, I can live with that,” I confessed, though deep down a part of me knew that wasn’t true. Whether it happened now or some indeterminate time in the future, Chernobog had to die. And the longer it took to make that a reality, the more devastation he’d cause—and something told me he wouldn’t hold back the way other gods might.

  Hilde dropped into a staggered squat, her sword and shield at the ready. From her shoulder blades, a pair of metallic wings unfurled. Seeing their slender, aerodynamic shape, I was reminded of what another Valkyrie had said about Hilde’s particular specialty—her midair maneuverability. It also made me wonder how she’d become a Valkyrie in the first place. Had she inherited the title from her mother? Had she been raised as a Valkyrie? What kind of childhood could that have possibly been?

  Hilde sprinted forward and took off, the gusts from her wings whipping at my hair and reminding me this was no time to get distracted. Thinking to find a better vantage point, I jogged in the same direction, keeping an eye on Chernobog the whole time. The god had packed on even more mass, though he’d lost his proportions in the process; what awaited Hilde was a vaguely man-shaped creature, the size of a townhouse, covered in tar.

  The Valkyrie went low to start, flying around one of Chernobog’s legs to see how he’d react. The god treated her like a buzzing insect, swinging at her like one might swat a fly. Fortunately, he was far too slow to do any harm. Hilde adjusted in midair, rising up between the god’s legs to hover a few feet from his exposed back. It was an absurd opening. A chance to possibly end this fight before it really began. I saw Hilde realize the same thing, watched as she decided to abandon the plan and strike, and knew it was a mistake.

  Because, beneath all that oil, Chernobog was still grinning.

  “Hilde, don’t!” I shouted.

  But it was too late.

  A third appendage emerged from Chernobog’s back with a wrenching, popping sound just as Hilde raised her sword to plunge it into his spine. A fist of black tar struck the Valkyrie like a battering ram, though she did manage to somehow get her shield up in time for it to take at least a portion of the damage. Worse, Chernobog wasn’t done; the second his blow hit, crude oil splashed across Hilde’s chest and arms, hardening so swiftly it kept her pinned in place as surely as if he’d snatched her from the sky.

  Surprisingly, Hilde didn’t struggle. Instead, she brought her sword down at an angle as if she might saw through the whole damned wrist. It was a bold move, and one I respected. Unfortunately, her blade got stuck the instant it bit at his arm. And that’s when Hilde started to thrash.

  Realizing it was all over for the Valkyrie if she couldn’t break free, I changed directions, forced to hold Areadbhar angled so that her tip nearly grazed the stone floor. Wolves, watching the skirmish but not wanting to get directly involved, scrambled out of my way as I reached the base of the ramp. Having no time to explain, I ignored Morgan’s cry as I sprinted past, only distantly aware that I was covering more ground in less time than I ever had before. Finally, three-quarters of the way up, I took all that momentum and used it.

  I couldn’t fly, that much was true.

  But I could fall...with style.

  I leapt from the top of the ramp, clearing an absurd distance in a bid to strike unexpectedly from above. Which might have worked...if I’d had even the remotest idea what I was doing.

  I came down intending to plunge Areadbhar into Chernobog’s arm with all the force I could muster. Granted, even that wasn’t a foolproof plan; Hilde’s blade h
adn’t fared so well in a similar exchange. But Areadbhar was no ordinary weapon. Hell, she made even extraordinary weapons pale by comparison.

  Sadly, what I hadn’t accounted for was how difficult it was to maneuver in midair. Which was probably why, when I finally did come down, I did so staring up at the moon—wondering how badly this was going to hurt and whether I’d die now or a few minutes from now.

  When I landed, however, I did so on something soft but not entirely yielding. Someone shrieked in pain—quite possibly me. Eventually, though, whatever it was snapped beneath my weight, effectively breaking my fall so that—when I hit the ground—the worst I experienced was a brutal loss of breath. Once I got that back, I groaned and sat up.

  And found the bottom third of Chernobog’s arm lying beside me. I stared at it in shock until the sound of Hilde prying herself loose from the god’s dismembered hand, the oil no longer solidified, got my attention. Overhead, it seemed Chernobog was trying to reach his wounded appendage with his good arms, his howls so loud I could have mistaken them for thunder. Of course, that still meant there was a distinct possibility of getting stepped on.

  “Hilde, we need to move!” I scrambled to my feet and ran to her side, grabbing her by the arm that didn’t look broken.

  “That was the craziest stunt I’ve ever seen in my whole life, you know that? And I’m a Valkyrie.” Hilde spat out a gob of black gunk. “I mean, using your whole body to take out his arm? Seriously? How did you know that would even work?”

  I debated telling her the truth but ultimately decided that would only make me seem more reckless, not less. So instead, I offered her a blithe, noncommittal reply and hooked the Valkyrie’s good arm over my shoulders. Together, we began trudging forward, not content to stop until we were well out of the god’s reach.

  Unfortunately, Chernobog had other plans.

  “Look out!” Hilde cried, shoving us aside just in time to avoid being stomped on.

  I skidded to a knee and glared up at the grisly bastard as he raised his foot for another strike. Hilde, meanwhile, was struggling to rise. I cursed, knowing she was in too bad shape to move and that Chernobog had no intention of missing a second time. So, rather than try to drag her out of harm’s way, I made my stand.

  I ducked the Valkyrie’s arm and lunged in the same motion, driving Areadbhar point blank into the fucker’s heel. At first, there was so much give it felt like I’d shoved her into a foam mattress. Thankfully, that changed the instant the god drove his foot downward; the blade broke through the mucky exterior and—at last—pierced skin.

  “Areadbhar!” I bellowed, my muscles screaming with the effort it took to hold her steady against the weight of his foot.

  A smoldering light appeared as her flames reached the god’s flesh, only to grow and spread like wildfire the instant they reached his oily exterior. Within seconds, Chernobog’s entire foot was aflame, and he was dancing away on the other like a child who’d stepped on a fire ant nest.

  Forced to withdraw Areadbhar or risk getting dragged about and possibly trampled, I quickly gathered Hilde up and made a break for it. At this point, however, my own exhaustion was beginning to take its toll; the enhanced strength and speed were as excellent as advertised, but the suit could do nothing for my stamina. It seemed running at a full out pace, leaping from a hundred feet up, amputating a god’s arm with my sweet backside, and lighting said god’s foot on fire was my limit.

  Who knew?

  We both collapsed at the base of the ramp, our chests heaving, surrounded by pitiful-looking wolves. Zeke, I noticed, was no longer grinning. In fact, they all looked like they wanted to cut and run. Not that I blamed them.

  “Well, are you satisfied?” Morgan asked as she strolled up to us, her face stern with disapproval. “You went up against a god and gave him a case of hot foot. Very commendable. Now, shouldn’t we be going?”

  A tall, bipedal creature rose from amidst the pack, her body covered in a short brindle coat that made her look more jungle cat than werewolf. Still, there was no mistaking she was the one in charge; the other wolves prostrated themselves the instant she stood, their muzzles flat against their paws.

  “How ‘bout it? Y’all plan to keep fighting?” Pauline asked, her Ozarkian accent garbled in the mouth of a wolf. Too many teeth, I figured. Not to mention the elongated tongue.

  “Of course they aren’t!” Morgan snapped. “It would be suicide. Look, he’s already recovering!”

  As she said, Chernobog seemed to have dealt with the flames before they got too far along. Which was a shame, because his burning corpse would have made for one hell of a bonfire. As things stood, he’d already begun reapplying oil to his injured foot.

  “What d’ye want to do?” I asked as I exchanged looks with Hilde, who simply shrugged her uninjured shoulder.

  “I would prefer to get my sword back,” she said, grinning through blackened teeth.

  “Aye, one should never leave one’s sword behind,” I acknowledged, sagely. “Pretty sure Jesus said that.”

  “I should’ve known,” Pauline replied with a yip of laughter. She gestured at her packmates while Morgan sputtered and spat. “Way I see it, this thing was gonna come for us all, eventually. To him, we’re all just prey. Which means there ain’t no sense in running away and letting y’all do this by your lonesomes. Besides, we owe you one for looking after Leon.”

  “Leon?” I asked, surprised.

  “That’s where Jimmy and Lakota went instead of coming here,” Hilde explained. “They found out he’d gone to that theater to investigate what happened to his brother.”

  “He’s a good kid,” Pauline said. “Shame what happened to Mike. But we’ll make that right when the time comes.”

  “Ye won’t have to,” I replied, pointing to the stage, then to the bodies of the fallen witches they’d hunted down and torn apart. “Everyone who had anythin’ to do with that is dead and gone. All that’s left is dealin’ with the ugly mess they created.”

  Of course, that wasn’t entirely true.

  Sadly, I couldn’t reveal the fact that there had been a mastermind behind this whole gruesome affair. Because Liam was mine, and I wasn’t interested in sharing.

  “Well then, I think it’s about time we help y’all with the mop up,” Pauline snarled. “Isn’t that right, folks!”

  Howls greeted the Alpha’s challenge.

  “You will all die,” Morgan insisted the moment they died down, sounding more exasperated than upset. She began pointing to each of us in turn. “Your wolves won’t be able to lay a single scratch on him. You can’t even lift your arm, let alone challenge a god. And you nearly got yourself killed without his help.”

  When none of us backed down or hung our heads in shame, however, the enchantress simply threw up her hands.

  “Hopeless! Suicidal and hopeless! Why do I even bother with you people?” Morgan demanded. But then, so suddenly it put us all on edge, she froze. The enchantress slid her gaze to the left and actually smiled. “Oh Quinn, dear, it looks like you are about to have some company! Be sure to play nice.”

  I frowned at her delighted tone until I saw what she was looking at: the not-so-distant outline of a Gateway being formed, its edges wreathed in scarlet flames, radiating an absurd amount of heat. A leg appeared, first, then an arm—as if whoever had created it had no idea how a Gateway worked. Of course, by the time the man poked his head out and spotted us, I already knew exactly who had arrived to crash our little mixer.

  “Well, if it isn’t Mad Max!” I called, waving. “What took ye so long?!”

  Chapter 42

  Thus far, it was safe to say we’d brought the fight to Chernobog, and that we’d done so in a big way, all things considered. We’d killed his possessed slaves, gone on the offensive, and even managed to wound the miserable bastard for our trouble. But we’d also been incredibly lucky. Had Chernobog given us less time to strategize and come after us all sooner, or simply smothered Hilde rather than trying to crus
h her...well, there was no telling how many ways things could have gone even more sideways. That said, we really should have been better prepared for Chernobog to bring the fight to us.

  Because, when he did, none of us were ready.

  Fresh from climbing out of his brand-new Gateway, Max had nearly reached us when a gob of piping hot tar came crashing down into our midst. It landed with a splash, its contents showering several werewolves. Almost instantly, the air was rank with the stink of burning fur and melted flesh, accompanied by agonized screams that no dog could possibly have imitated.

  A second gob joined the first, further back this time. The wolves began to scatter, some even tearing up the ramp—their overwhelming instinct to flee overcoming all others. Within seconds, pandemonium had broken out as everyone sought cover from Chernobog’s long ranged assault. The god was laughing, flames spurting from his maw in bursts as he chucked handful after handful of searing hot pitch at us.

  Hilde, Morgan, and I hid behind a shelf of stone that the enchantress had created by picking at her enchantment. I felt helpless and more than a little foolish for thinking I could so easily take down a god. Everywhere I looked, I saw the fallen victims of Chernobog’s attacks, their bodies caked in steaming black resin. Some still lived, though their movements were so feeble it was hard to tell how long that would be the case. Pauline was nowhere in sight, and the same was true for Max—though I’d seen both scramble for shelter when the assault began.

  “We have to stop this.” Hilde hugged her injured side like it ached, but you wouldn’t have known it to look at her face. “If I can get out there and fly, he’ll start aiming for me. I’m sure of it.”

  “You’re too hurt for that,” I insisted. “I should go. I’m not an easy target, either. Ye need to get everyone out of here. Morgan was right. Better to run and live to fight another day.”