by Cara Wylde
“No.” Death rolled himself a cigarette, took a long drag, then jumped off the chair when Jove insisted. “I don’t do that kind of job.”
“You do exactly this kind of job. I can pay you whatever you ask. One clean shot. Would it kill you to help me this once? Help her, not me.”
Death laughed. “Kill me? Hilarious. The answer is still no.”
Blink.
Valentina was back to the present. Death was staring down at her. His pupils were completely black, like a demon’s. That was why Magny had preferred to skip the description of his eyes. As black as tar, as black as the abyss of hell. A chill sneaked up her spine. She shut her eyes quickly, unwilling to risk another flash. What she’d seen seemed to have happened the night before, when she’d followed Jupiter to the club. There was something that was nagging at her now. It was clear that Death’s job was to kill people. Apparently, he received money for it, too. Who did Jupiter want to dispose of, then? And why didn’t he do it himself? He was a god, so what would it matter in the grand scheme of things? She didn’t saw a word about what she’d seen.
“Did you just do it again?” Death asked. “Where did you travel?”
“The future,” she lied.
He smirked. “Am I as handsome in the future?”
“Why do you think I saw you? Maybe you weren’t here at all.”
“Because I know when someone is lying to me. Nevermind. I don’t care. Keep your secrets.”
“So, is there anything you can do for her?” Jove asked.
The blond god straightened his back and crossed his bulky arms over his chest.
“Why would I help her, though? You know, Gideon, you keep asking for things. And you insist, and then insist some more when I’ve already said no too many times to count. You didn’t use to be so obnoxious, old pal. What’s gotten into you lately?”
Jove lifted his arms in the air, then let them smack against his thighs. Absentmindedly, he started playing with Valentina’s long hair, combing his fingers through it from root to ends, then back again. It soothed her, but it also soothed him.
“Forget about what I asked you first. I’ll deal with it myself. But help Valentina, if you can. You ask why, I ask why not. Metaphorically speaking, would it kill you?”
Val smiled. She knew why Jupiter had added the “metaphorically speaking” part.
Death sighed heavily. After a moment’s thought, he leaned in and grabbed Val by the jaw, squeezing lightly and tilting her head back.
“What’s so special about her?”
A wave of peace and warmth rushed through Valentina’s body. Jove’s fingers in her hair, Death’s hand on her face... Something changed in the air, and inside her too. She opened her eyes. The fear was gone. She blinked once, twice. She looked deep into Death’s black, endless pools that served as his eyes, and time didn’t shift at all. She remained in the present. But it hadn’t worked when only Jove was touching her. She pushed his hand aside.
“I just want to check something.” Blink. The room was now a futuristic museum. Strangely clad people were admiring works of art that were so unusual and intricate that Val couldn’t even begin to imagine what they represented. She grabbed Jove’s hand and returned to the present. “So, it’s not you.” She felt slightly nauseated. “It’s the both of you.”
The blond god cocked an eyebrow. He let go of her jaw and was even more intrigued when she immediately closed her eyes.
“I seem to go back to normal when you both touch me,” she said. “Maybe one god’s touch isn’t enough. But two gods...”
“That’s an interesting conclusion,” said Magny. “What’s your logic?”
Val smiled. “Simple. It’s enough for one god to be around me to silence Ravenna, but because the time sensor thing is much worse than Ravenna’s constant presence in my head, it takes more than one god. Two seems to be enough. But what if there were more?”
“Who’s Ravenna?” Death asked.
“Long story,” sighed Magny. “You don’t look like the kind of guy who’d have the patience for it.”
Death chuckled. He took a couple of steps back, crossed his arms over his chest, and took his sweet time to think about what was being asked of him. Nowadays, everyone seemed to come to him with various requests. “I need you to eliminate someone for me”, “I need that guy gone”, “I need a favor”, “Help me end her suffering”... And now, “Fix this clumsy witch’s time sensor”. He sat on the edge of the coffee table. The girls who’d been dancing for him had taken a break. Lounging on the couch, they watched the scene unfold, not a single reaction on their pretty, heavily made-up faces. They spoke English, but they knew damn well they weren’t paid to listen, nor remember what went on in that room. They had one job alone: to entertain the blond man who owned half of the night club and keep their mouth shut. They didn’t need to be told about the consequences, either. They were happy with the hefty pay at the end of the day, or night, and they were more than willing to ignore their client’s demon eyes, the few times when he let out he had some sort of supernatural powers, as well as his sexual quirks. Who he really was and what he did for a living was none of their business.
“What do you say, Nergal? Can you do it? And if you can, will you?”
Valentina perked up when he heard Jupiter call Death by his name. Nergal. Who was Nergal? “Think, Val! Think. You’ve seen the name before. Somewhere...” Old, very old.
“You’re the Sumerian god of war and pestilence,” she said. “I remember now. I learned about you in my Ancient Mythology class, at the temple. You did such a fine job of pushing people to war and murder left and right, that you were given the rule of the Underworld.”
“Oh, look who’s a straight-A student!” Nergal clapped sardonically. “I’m glad to hear I’ve made it into your school’s curriculum. Such an honor!”
She blushed deeply. There was nothing that she wanted more than to look at him again. She couldn’t risk opening her eyes, though. Not even to look upon Nergal, the Sumerian god of the Underworld. She could barely wrap her head around the fact that he was there. One of the cruelest, most dangerous and efficient gods of death of the ancient world. She wondered just how cruel this aspect of him was. Well, she knew for a fact that he worked as a hired assassin. Jove had tried to hire him. How in the world had she ended up in such questionable company?!
He huffed. “Whatever, I’m bored of this. Yes, I can help her, but only temporarily. My guess is that she’s fucked up her time sensor when she witnessed all those deaths. Humans aren’t supposed to die more than once in a lifetime, and from what I gather, what she experienced during hypnosis felt so real that she died... what? A dozen times in the span of a couple of minutes? Valentina De Rossi, I’m honestly surprised that you survived and you’re here before me in one piece. You should have fucked up more than just your time sensor.”
Did she hear that right? Was that a hint of admiration in his voice? She suppressed a smile. Jove had resumed playing with her hair, and she didn’t mind it at all. He seemed so different from the guy who’d turned into a giant just the day before, then put a spell on her so she wouldn’t be able to follow him again. He seemed... concerned. She was glad he hadn’t left Cairo without checking on her, otherwise she’d still be in the bathroom, hugging the toilet. And he’d brought her to yet another god of the Major Arcana! Not too shabby for what had only supposed to be a trip to La Congrega di Denari. The issue of getting them carded still remained, though. Neither of them seemed to like her as much as Loki did, or care about their life in the third dimension as little as Veles. If restoring the Emperor and the Death card was proving to be so hard, even impossible, then what could she expect to happen with the rest of the cards? She shook her head. No, she couldn’t think about that now. Her first concern was to regain her ability to see and move around without flashing in and out of the present.
Valentina jumped slightly when she felt something soft being lowered onto her shou
lders.
“Relax. It’s just a cloak. My cloak.”
She frowned. “I’m not cold. It’s too hot in here, actually.”
He chuckled. “It’s not for the cold, silly.”
She let him secure the long, velvety garment with a pin just above her collarbone, then drew the side folds around her. It felt nice against her skin. The fabric was like nothing she’d ever touched before. It felt like velvet, but it wasn’t velvet. It wasn’t silk or wool, either. She pressed her cheek to her left shoulder and inhaled the scent it carried. Cinnamon and cloves. A hint of tobacco, too. Intoxicating!
“Open your eyes now. How do you feel?”
Valentina did as he asked. Once again, she found herself staring into his black pupils, but this time, it was as if she saw him in a different light. He wasn’t just Death, as in… the Major Arcana card he represented. He was Nergal, the God of War, Pestilence, and the Underworld. On Earth, he was paid to kill people. She shuddered. Then she realized: time wasn’t warping and shifting anymore. Blue eyes wide, she looked away from Nergal’s mesmerizing face, with that sharp, perfect nose, those full lips, and high cheekbones, and studied the cloak.
“Death’s cloak,” she whispered. “It works. I feel like myself again.”
He gave her a bright, genuine smile. “You can keep it for now, until you find a permanent solution. I want it back.”
She nodded. Oh, how could he look like an angel and have those demon eyes at the same time? His hair was light blond, tied up in a messy man bun, and his eyebrows and lashes were blond, too. When he smiled, like he did now, the whole room lit up. Valentina could stare at the perfect details of his face for hours! How could such a divinely handsome man be Death?
“Can you... err... like, do something about your eyes?”
“They make you uneasy?” He laughed out loud. “Good. That’s the point.” He clapped once, as if to show he was done with them and went back to his spot on the couch. The girls jumped to their feet and started moving languidly. “Now, how about you three get the hell out of my club?” He motioned toward the door. “The next time I see you, it better be to give me my cloak back.”
Jove jumped off from where he was sitting, next to Valentina, and smoothed down his tailored shirt.
Magny gave Val her tarot deck, then poofed himself up on her shoulder. However, she didn’t move. She stared at the belt in her hands, the pouch attached to it weighting rather heavily. She turned it over thoughtfully, then let out a deep sigh and placed it around her waist. As much as she hated it, she had to try. In truth, she wasn’t supposed to try. She was supposed to succeed. She had two gods here, now, in this room. Two gods who could restore two more cards of the Trionfi Chiari. She’d never forgive herself if she missed this opportunity.
“Nergal, you didn’t ask what I’m doing in Cairo,” she started. As she gathered all her courage and confidence, she looked up into his eyes. If she wanted to card these two, she had to be convincing. She had to start behaving like the Keeper of the Spades and the savior of the Tarot that she was. “I should have been with my coven, but I’m not. Aren’t you curious?”
“Sweetpea, I learned that it never pays to be curious about human affairs a long time ago. I don’t even look too deep when I meet one. There’s usually nothing there.”
“Sweetpea?” She laughed and stood up, arms crossed over her chest. The blanket in which Jove had rolled her up fell in a heap around her feet. Her eyes widened. Crap. She was only wearing a white, rather transparent T-shirt, and a tiny pair of panties. She couldn’t back down now, though. “Do me a favor and don’t call me that. I’m not one of your strippers.”
Nergal grinned. He studied her again, from head to toe, this time lingering on her bare legs, her curvy hips, and her rather generous breasts hidden underneath that awful shirt.
“Are you sure, sweetpea? Because you’re dressed like one.”
She uncrossed her arms and took a couple of steps toward him, fists squeezed tightly at her sides.
“Helping me with my time sensor doesn’t give you the right!”
She looked rather fascinating, Nergal had to admit. With the hobgoblin on her shoulder, the leather belt around her tiny waist, and his dark cloak covering her long, black hair, and flowing down her back, almost reaching her ankles, Valentina De Rossi looked a tad more interesting than his dancers. Maybe he’d just gotten bored of the strippers. Yes, that had to be it. There was no way he was attracted to a clumsy witch!
Jove grabbed her by the arm.
“Come on, Valentina. Let’s get you something to eat.”
She pulled her arm free.
“No, I’m sick of this!” She turned to Jove, anger and frustration sparkling in her eyes. “You don’t care what happens to the Mysteries of the Tarot and to the only place in the Universe that allows multi-dimensional travel.” She looked back at Nergal. “And you... You don’t seem to care about anyone but yourself. You don’t even want to know what’s happening. You prefer to stay ignorant. Well, let me tell you something, Mr. God of Death, Mr. Oh-I’m-So-Important-And-Full-Of-Myself-To-Care-About-Humans!”
She took two more steps, grounded herself, and drew two sigils in the air. One muttered chant and a flick of her wrist, and a storm formed in the middle of the coffee table. It spiraled and spiraled until it grew bigger, then went loose around the room, whooshing and spitting raindrops as it started chasing Nergal’s girls. They screamed and ran frantically, unable to protect themselves from the sharp wind and freezing rain. It was chaos! Pieces of paper, books, and pencils got caught in the enchanted storm, then cups and teaspoons. Two knives and a fork followed suit, and it was a good thing the God of Death didn’t have too many things on the kitchen counter.
Nergal didn’t move a muscle and didn’t take his eyes off Valentina. A satisfied smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.
Jupiter’s jaw dropped, which was something, really. He wasn’t the kind of man a witch could easily take by surprise. With wide eyes, he stared at the hilarious scene, unsure of how to react. If Nergal got mad, he could take his cloak back at any moment. Did Valentina realize the danger she was putting herself in by being so rude to someone who’d just given her something of his to help her?
With a wide gesture, Valentina sent the howling storm after Nergal’s strippers hard, until they were cornered. Another flick of her wrist, and the door flew open.
“Out, ladies! Your services are not needed anymore.”
Screaming and crying in fear, the girls hurried out of the room. Once the door closed behind them, the storm died down.
“Now, here’s what’s going to happen.”
Valentina rounded the table and sat next to Nergal. Magny poofed himself on Jove’s shoulder. Seeing how the Keeper was about to sign her own death sentence, he felt safer with the God of the Sky. He’d thought Jupiter had a bad temper. Well, Nergal was next level.
“You’re going to look into my eyes,” she grabbed his face between her palms. Her touch was firm. There was no going back now. “You’re going to look deep, look hard, and see everything that has happened since I left my home and my family. And you’re going to listen.
His eyes drifted to her lips. “Listen?”
“Yes. You’ll listen to me.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Nergal’s black orbs bore into Valentina’s bright blue eyes, and he saw much more than she had intended to show him. She couldn’t control how deep and far in the past he went. And that was fine with him. A smile grew on his lips as he allowed himself to be swept into who Valentina De Rossi was, her life before she became a Keeper of the Spades, to relive their first encounter, on the rooftop, right after he’d killed his target, the bullet going through her etheric form. He’d pushed her off the roof then, knowing full well that she wouldn’t get hurt. Since then, he’d tried to forget her as he’d focused on job after job. He didn’t know her name and didn’t want to find out who she was. Just a dark-haired beauty w
ith eyes like the sky who’d come out of nowhere and asked him if he was a demon. He’d told her he was Death. And now, here she was, in the flesh, needing his help, asking him, without words, to relinquish his freedom and jump into her tarot card, so she could carry him in the leather box attached to her belt and summon him whenever she needed him. Well, that was a good joke, for sure!
Her warm hands on his face, though... Was it natural to feel like this when a witch touched him? No, that couldn’t be right. He’d met many witches since he’d come to reside in the third dimension in the body of a human, and he’d never reacted to their closeness as he was reacting now to Valentina’s. It was as if her fingers sent tiny currents of electricity through his skin pores, and they all gathered in a bundle of flapping butterfly wings in his stomach. That couldn’t be right either! Butterflies in his stomach?! That was not how Nergal, the God of the Underworld, was supposed to think. There was something about this woman, though, and he couldn’t place it. Who was she? Beyond the obvious answers – a witch, a Keeper, a charming young lady who wasn’t quite aware of her beauty, a savior in training... Who was she, really, and why did he feel so inextricably connected to her? It made no sense.
Gently, he took her wrists and pushed her hands away from him. He moved a bit farther on the couch, cleared his throat, and tried to compose himself. There was no need for her to know just what her simple presence did to him. Or to the generous package in his pants.
“I’m not going to do it.”
She let out a long breath. She knew what he was walking about, but she still had to hear it from him.
“What?”
“Let you card me. Look, I get what you’re doing, or trying to do, but I’m not your guy.”
“Well, that’s not new, at least. I’ve heard it before.”