Nightfall

by Elizabeth Hartwell

  “Which is?”

  Tyr shivers, his face growing very grave. “To use the Heaven’s Gate itself. It’s a fabled pathway, mythology even among my kind. If used improperly, it could destroy not only the Earth, but the heavens as well. If he’s successful, though . . .”

  “What?”

  Tyr swallows. “You may just see a god in the flesh.”

  Tyr starts to fade, the divine light of his home replaced with the softer, more natural light of the sunrise on my eyelids. I open my eyes and feel a warm body adjust in my arms. Looking down, I see the face of the woman I love, her head pillowed on my chest while the rest of her is pillowed on the men who are now my brothers.

  “Good morning, my love,” I whisper, and Cerena opens her eyes softly.

  “Good morning, my love,” she replies, smiling. “You look like you have something to say.”

  “I do,” I reply, taking her hand and kissing her rough, warrior’s knuckles. “But I have news from Tyr.”

  Cerena’s smile fades. “I’m all ears.”

  I shake my head and kiss her knuckles again. With my other hand, I reach down, pinching a delectable nipple lightly. “It can wait until after we wake these two up.”

  Cerena bites her lip, gasping as I twist her nipple a little. “And if they don’t wake up?”

  I chuckle and pull her body on top of mine. “Then I guess they’ll miss out on the fun.”

  Epilogue

  The Gods

  The halls of the light goddess are empty, as they’ve been for too long. But the god mounting the steps doesn’t care. The time for hiding from others is over. He’s risked his own followers and the wrath of the god he calls his brother. He’s risked his own existence.

  And yet she still sits in her self-imposed exile. No longer.

  He mounts the steps, his sword slung across his broad back. While normally, he would never even fathom the idea of entering another god’s home armed, these are not normal times.

  At the top of the steps stands a tall, beautifully built man, his curly black hair and perfectly proportioned body clearly delineating his classical calling card. “Apollo . . . come to see your mother, I take it?”

  The demigod who fancies himself a god preens, his pouty lips pursing as he stands in the way. “Adonis. I’m here because I know why you’re here.”

  Adonis glowers at the pretty boy, wondering how it is that the Greeks fucked up so much as to heap praises upon this snob, calling him everything from the Healer to the Protector to even Far Striker . . . as if Apollo had ever dirtied himself with the rigors of actual warfare.

  Yet Adonis was the one considered the narcissistic pretty boy. Sometimes, immortal life just wasn’t fair.

  “I’m here to see Sulis, Helios,” Adonis says, using another of the Greek titles for Apollo. It’s the most respectful nickname Adonis has for him. “Stand aside.”

  “Sulis doesn’t wish to see anyone,” Apollo replies, stepping in front of him. “You should go.”

  Adonis considers his options for only a moment before acting. A thought brings his sword to his outstretched hand, the blade glowing red with the infused power of the god of strife and anger.

  “Stand aside, Apollo. I may not kill you, but you’ll be hopping on one leg trying to get the planet back into its proper orbit before I’m done with you,” Adonis growls. “Now.”

  Apollo, always the poseur but never the risk-taker, holds his hands up. In a flash of sunlight and smoke, he vanishes, leaving Adonis alone at the top of the stairs. It’s better this way, Adonis thinks. He’s heard the rumors and would prefer if the conversation he has to have is one-on-one.

  It doesn’t take him long to find Sulis’s chambers. Millenia ago, in a happier time, he had even been invited to share them on a few occasions. Opening the door, he blinks, letting his eyes adjust to a light that doesn’t come from a single source but permeates everything around it. It’s not just the walls or the floor . . . it’s as if the air itself is creating its own light.

  “Sulis, it’s Adonis,” he says, closing the door behind him. “We need to talk.”

  For behind a gauzy curtain, he hears a sigh, and a female form of nearly incomparable beauty stirs. “I suppose you sent Apollo on his way?” she asks, her voice soft and sad. “Did you at least leave him his balls?”

  “He left totally intact,” Adonis promises, approaching the curtain. “Have you been keeping an eye on Earth?”

  “I have. It seems you can’t help sticking your nose into Earthly affairs now yourself,” Sulis says quietly. “May I ask why, Adonis?”

  “Because right now, as you hide yourself away from everyone and everything, my brother has seduced and gained the allegiance of your sister!” Adonis replies. “Between them, there is no way that Tyr and Loki could have stopped them from gaining the Heaven’s Gate! I did it because I had to!”

  There’s no reply from behind the curtain, and Adonis sighs. “Sulis, please. He’s already corrupted so much of the Earth. He’s even corrupted your own people. Can you at least talk with me?”

  A choked sob is Sulis’s answer, but she reaches out, pulling back the curtain and waving Adonis in while keeping her face turned away from him. All he can see is the black hair and swan-like neck that used to cause his cock to stiffen even at the faintest whiff of its scent.

  Now, she’s clad in almost a sack-like robe, her voluptuous figure hidden beneath layers of thick clothing that weren’t there even moments before.

  “I’d like to see your face,” Adonis whispers, his heart beating in his chest as he reaches up to cup her cheek. Sulis stiffens, resisting him for a moment before she turns and reveals herself to him.

  The sight threatens to make even Adonis want to cry. Eyes that had once glowed with a bluish-green light of creation and purity now are milky, one eyelid drooping monstrously in a mostly paralyzed half of her face. Her skin, which Adonis once compared to the finest of silks, now sits wrinkled and puckered, ash-colored along her right cheekbone.

  “Not the beauty you remember, is it?” Sulis asks, a tear trickling from one pearly orb. “The worst part is, despite how I look, I can still see perfectly from these eyes. I can see the horror, the disgust written on your face.”

  “It’s not disgust,” Adonis replies, stroking her cheekbone. “Horror, yes. But I feel . . . sad. What happened, Sulis?”

  “I tried to stand up to Bane,” Sulis says quietly, sniffing. “When I learned that my own son, Edward, had betrayed me and sold out to him, I went to Bane . . . tried to fight him. This is the result.”

  “Oh, Sulis,” Adonis says, leaning forward and touching his forehead to hers. “Why didn’t you come to me? Our methods are different, but we have the same goal.”

  “I should have,” Sulis admits, another tear trickling from her eye. “But I was so angry. And when it happened, I thought that maybe . . . maybe I deserved it. For ignoring Dyeus’s warning to me when we were allowed back to the Earth.”

  “What warning?” Adonis asks, and Sulis swallows.

  “He warned me never to directly oppose Bane. ‘Just as night follows day, the darkness must conquer the light before the light can be reborn again,’ he told me. I thought, afterward, that maybe this was my penance. The darkness did conquer the light . . . I only prayed that a new dawn would come soon.”

  “I understand,” Adonis says. “But for the sake of both realms, we need you. We need your power, your ability to create. All I can create is anger, death, and suffering. That just strengthens Bane in the long run. Loki can only misdirect, and Tyr . . . well, Tyr is too much like me. His methods will eventually empower Bane. We need you. We need . . . we need your light.”

  Sulis takes a shuddering breath, letting it out slowly. “What can I do, Adonis? I’m already weakened, made a monster. Tell me honestly, am I anywhere near the beauty that once brought you, the most masculine of gods, into my bed and earned your praise and desire?”

  Adonis smiles, sweeping a thumb under her droopy eye, a
nd nods. “You never did learn the truth, did you? It wasn’t your physical beauty that drew me in, Sulis. Or did you think my Sons were just an . . . accident?”

  Sulis smiles, her lips curving upward into a bow. “I always knew you were . . . fluid. But you deflect.”

  “No, I don’t,” Adonis says. “Sulis, your beauty was beyond compare. Even Sune was nothing compared to you in my eye. But it is your wisdom, your strength, and the heart that beats in your breast that make it so. Not your eyes or your cheekbones. And that heart, I suspect, is just as strong, just as much a warrior’s heart, as it was millennia ago when you created all that you did. Join us again. Protect what you made. Do not let one defeat rob the light from the light goddess.”

  “If I do . . . the battle which is to come could slay us all,” Sulis whispers. “But . . . I would like to see her, talk to her. But I need strength, Adonis. I need—”

  Adonis lowers his lips to hers, pushing the goddess back onto the bed. He knows what she needs, and as she kisses him back, he knows that she will stand by their side.

  For good or ill.

  Make sure to check out the other books in this series!

  The Gods of War Chronicles:

  Book 1 - Huntress

  Book 2 - Nightfall

  Book 3 - Armageddon

  Preview: Guardians of Magic

  Eve

  I can’t believe you’re doing this, I think as I adjust my short skirt and make sure that not too much of my ass is hanging out the back. I mean, going undercover is part of the job, hon, but this . . . even for a detective, you’re nuts.

  I don’t have a reply to my inner voice except to say that it’s the only plan my partner and I could think of. Ever since the rumors came out of Old Haven that vamps have been trafficking in live humans, the regular cops have been trying to crack the case to no avail. That’s when they turned to the 54th Investigative Precinct, sometimes called the Para Justice Squad. Some of the cops keep calling us the Para Justice League . . . but I just can’t. Reality is too scary to joke about now.

  It used to be different, when I was a little kid. Back in those days, words like ‘vampire’ and ‘werewolf’ were just the fodder for scary movies or bedtime stories, not reality. All that changed, of course, when I was still in elementary school and the bloodsuckers tried to take over New Zealand, figuring an island of their own was past due.

  For a few years there, we were on the ropes, and it looked like humanity might lose. The vamps brought out the shifters, each side hating the other while we tried to figure out what the fuck was going on. They were able to replenish their ranks quickly too, turning so many of their victims that it became heartbreaking to even hunt them because you never knew whether you were going to find your best friend with fangs.

  Eventually, we started to adapt and found that some of those old superstitions weren’t fantasies. Crosses might not do shit to a vamp, but light, specifically ultraviolet light? Hell, yes. Silver is effective against both species, and it was easy to turn a regular rifle into an effective weapon.

  It took another six months for the militaries of the world to replace their high explosives with silver and UV, and steel bayonets were replaced by white elm stakes, which seem to be the most effective against vamps and shifters.

  Of course, not all Paras want to kill and wreck shit. A lot of them just wanted to be left alone in Seattle or Munich or Haven. Humanity still didn’t trust the Paras, but too much blood had been lost for us to continue the fight for now. So, treaties were made and the Para Laws passed.

  Such as the one I’m investigating. Drinking blood from a human with or without consent has been outlawed, and if found to be guilty, punishment is severe. Regular jail is just the start. Vampires can be sealed for years in steel coffins, sometimes even killed. We don’t need any new vamps running around, ready to sink their teeth into fresh necks.

  “Eve? Yo, Earth to Eve. You paying attention?” my partner, Detective Joseph Gonzalez, asks. He and I have been partners for three years now, and he’s pulled my tookus from the fire a few times. “The Red King, my work last night, all that? You awake today?”

  “Yeah,” I reply, shaking my head. “Just remembering what it took for you to get that name last night.”

  Joe, who’d spent three hours last night trolling hookers as he looked for ‘special action,’ nods. “All that working up, with no payoff except a club name. I’m not saying I would have done them, but damn it all, it gets to you.”

  “Note to self—Joe Gonzalez gets turned on by blast hos,” I tease. “At least I know what to get you for your birthday.”

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever. What you can really get me is a few days of peace and quiet. Just a week without a major vamp problem—would that be too much to ask?”

  Joe’s right. For most of the past year, the vamps have followed the rules, getting their blood from the banks set up throughout Old Haven. It was one of the settlements from the Para Wars. We supply them from volunteer blood drives, and they agree not to feed on the living anymore.

  Then one of the local notable vamps had to go and try to cross the New Haven Bridge, the control point between Old and New Haven. He killed a border guard, and his public execution was the match that ignited the unrest. Human bodies started to show up all over the place in Old Haven. At first, it was thought that maybe a few bold vampires were taking revenge on the humans for the death of one of their own.

  The problem was, these bodies were devoid of bites, which made it harder to pin the crime on a vampire ring. Some of my peers think they’ve found a way to cover their tracks.

  I think something far more sinister is at work, but I don’t know what.

  It’s my job to find out what it is. But offering myself up for a blood buffet is probably not the best way. “Yeah, well, it was your turn last night, my turn tonight. So, what do you say?”

  I sigh and stand up from my desk, knowing that Oppenheimer, whose desk is behind mine, is probably getting an eyeful of my ass. Hope he enjoys it. It’s one of the reasons I like working with Joe. He at least acts professional and never harasses me personally.

  “Fine, let’s get going. So nice of the captain to hang around to make sure we’re safely out of the nest.”

  Joe snickers and grabs his jacket. “You got beef with the captain?”

  “Me, beef?” I ask innocently. “Now why would you think that? He treats me with the utmost respect,” I reply sarcastically.

  “You know, Joe, when you said you didn’t want to go in against a club full of vamps, I didn’t think you meant this. This is a terrible idea!” I bitch as I try to fix my dress again. Seriously, why can’t nightclubs do something . . . fitting? I pat my left thigh where my concealed UV laser is pressed against it in a narrow holster. “Don’t I look stupid trying to be a wannabe Lara Croft?”

  Joe chuckles. “Nah, Croft always wore red lipstick, not black. We’ll fit right in.”

  I smirk. Joe’s right. Besides, I do look sexy. While my golden blonde hair isn’t quite the definition of goth, which is The Red King’s client base, my pale skin and gravity-defying boobs certainly help. My eyes glimmer with the gold flecks that I’ve always had, and while this little orphan doesn’t know a thing about her parents, I’m at least glad I got something worthwhile from the fuckers.

  “You ready?” Joe asks as he adjusts his black tie. I don’t know why he insists on a tie even tonight, but it doesn’t even stand out on him. Black suit, black shirt, black tie . . . with his slicked-back dark hair, handsome face, and broad-shouldered muscularity, he could pass for a vamp himself except that his skin’s too dusky. “It’s a Para night.”

  I glance out the window of the old house we’re using as our operations base, nodding. It is a Para night. The moon’s out, high and pregnant in the sky. Even the shifters will be out in full form. “Let’s take care of business. Still don’t like this plan.”

  Joe shrugs. “What better way to catch a fox in the act than to offer him the chicken?�
�

  “Except this chicken doesn’t want to become dinner,” I growl, heading for the door. “And you’d better not be talking about my legs, either.”

  “Why are you worried, anyway?” Joe asks. “I’ll be trailing you, ready to disintegrate.”

  “Easy for you to say,” I mutter as we walk toward the door of The Red King. “You’re not the one being offered up as a meal.”

  A chill goes down my spine as I touch the door handle for the club, and I even hear a wolf howl in the distance. Joe’s going to give me three minutes, then follow me in so we look like we’re not together. “Go time.”

  I’d been doing this for five years and still haven’t gotten used to the things I’m willing to do just to catch the bad guys. When the 54th was started, it was a handshake organization between the then Haven Police and the DHS, who was tasked with handling the ‘Para Outbreak’, as they called it then. Once the treaties were signed, the 54th became its own precinct, although we’re more like a SWAT team combined with an investigative unit. My job title is detective, but that’s mostly for show.

  Regular cops just can’t handle what we do. Oh, they carry their sidearms, and each regular car has both a UV laser and a silver scattergun in the dash, but they’re busy enough handling New Haven. We’re the ones armed and trained to handle Old Haven street traffic.

  It’s a hard job for them and us. The New Haven cops must deal with human vigilantes and ‘stakers’ who just want to live in the world without the Paranormals because life was so much easier and simpler before.

  I would love for any of them to come down here and try to explain to a shifter woman who didn’t choose her life but is now cursed with new instincts that her also innocent husband was found strung up from a lamppost for the morning sunrise to force him to turn before the rope slowly strangled him to death. I wonder if they’d be so tough then.