by Ruby Dixon
“Order something or move on,” she tells me in a bored, tired voice. “Food’s served here, drinks at a table. If you aren’t buying, then head on back out—”
My stomach growls at the mention of food and I grab my pouch. “I’ll have food and a drink, if that’s all right.”
That gets the waitress’s attention. She pauses from swiping down the counter with a wet rag and looks over at me. Maybe it’s something in my tone, but she looks suspicious. “Two crowns.”
I pull my change out and start picking through it, looking for coins with crowns on them. I find two and offer them to her, but her lip curls. “You’re not from here, are you?”
Right. I’m already fucking this up. I put the money on the bar and then pat the coins, and pull out the stolen tag that shows my Aventinian allegiance so I don’t get sold into slavery again. I avoid her question and change tactics. “How about we do things this way. I’ll give you any five coins you want, and you can give me some food and some answers about this place. Sound good?”
The girl leans over the bar and immediately grabs five of the smallest coins, dropping them into her bodice with a look at the man at the far end of the bar.
I slide the coins into my pouch again, mentally making a note that the tiny coins are the ones that are the biggest amounts. “Thank you.”
A second later, I’m given a pottery bowl with veggies, shredded meat, and a hunk of bread. A goblet of the sour-smelling wine is set down next to it, and the waitress crosses her arms, looking at me expectantly. “What do you want to know?”
My mouth waters at the sight of the food and drink. It’s impossible that I’m hungry again, because I ate like a pig a short time ago, but I could eat. I sop the bread in the juices from the meat and take a big mouthful. Heaven. “This is so good. Thank you.”
Her impatient expression eases a little. “Long day, eh?”
Oh my god, she has no idea. “The longest.” I take another bite and glance back at the corner, but Aron’s just sitting, arms crossed and hunched over the table. So far so good. “So uh, if I need to leave the city tonight, what’s the best way to do so?”
She picks up her bar rag again and shrugs. “You’ve got two options. Docks or south gate.”
Ah. I consider this even as I shovel food into my mouth. We don’t have a boat, and I don’t know anything about sailing, so the docks are out. “So the south gate, then. That’s the safest place to go?”
“Only place to go,” she corrects. “All the other gates are controlled by the army. South gate’s the only way in or out of Aventine.”
I nod thoughtfully and take a gulp of wine. It’s strong enough to make a shiver go through me, but I drink it anyhow. “What’s there?”
“Past the Dirtlands, you mean?”
Dirtlands. Interesting. That explains the fine grit that seems to catch the wind constantly. “Yeah, past the Dirtlands.”
The woman eyes me skeptically for a moment and then swipes at the bar. “Not much out there but a few temples and outposts. It’s a long, long road to Katharn.”
She assumes I know where Katharn is. Or what it is. But a long, deserted road with only a few temples and outposts sounds better than staying here. It’s a start, and I can work with that. “So tell me more about—”
There’s a crash at the back of the room at the same time thunder crackles overhead. My head shoots with sudden pain. Oh shit. That’d be Aron. I grab my coin bag, shove my last bite of food into my mouth longingly, and then race to the back of the inn, where Aron has a man by the collar and pinned to a wall.
I can’t leave the guy alone for five minutes.
“Hey Grover,” I hiss as I move to his side, crossing the crowded room that’s now completely focused on him. “Can we not?” His hood is slipping off of his head and I hitch it back over him before it falls back and exposes his pale skin and jet black hair.
He turns and glares at me. “This mewling mortal wanted my table—”
“This nice man,” I correct, peeling Aron’s fingers from the shocked man’s clothing. I ignore the sparks that touching him sends through me. Maybe if I ignore it, this other guy will too, since he’s bound to feel it as well. “Can have this table since we’re leaving.”
“We are?” Aron frowns at me, and it’s visible even through the depths of his hood. “We just got here.”
“We got what we needed,” I tell him and pull him away from the man. The “mortal” staggers, staring at us with more than a little fear. I brush my finger over my lips, indicating silence, and shake my head. “Let’s get out of here and no one gets hurt.”
Aron makes a huffy sound but allows me to drag him out, and the thunder gets quiet once more as we emerge into the night. “These people have no respect—” he begins.
“That guy was probably drunk,” I interrupt. “And again, we’re working on keeping a low profile. We just need to let that go and move on.” At Aron’s indignant sound, I’m guessing that “moving on” and “letting shit go” aren’t high on the priority list for a god of battle and storms. I might be over my head here. “I found out where we need to go next,” I tell him to distract him. “The next big city is called Katharn and it’s down the path once we get out of here.”
I don’t point out that it sounds way, way down the path. It’s all going to be the same to a god, I suspect.
“Katharn. Yes. I know this name.”
I look over at him, surprised. “You do?”
He nods even as we head through the dark, twisting alleys of the nighttime city. “Indeed. That is a city claimed by no gods, but if one is there, I will force their priests to welcome me.”
“Forcing priests to welcome him” sounds a bit like we’re going to end up in the same situation we are right now—on the run for our lives. But maybe he’s right. Maybe someone else is having a better experience with this whole “Anticipation” thing, because it sounds like a bunch of gods were dropped out of the heavens. “Great. So we just need to head in that direction. The girl at the tavern said there’s a couple of small temples along the way. We can avoid them if we need to and just do our best to hide out.”
Aron says nothing. I’m not sure if he agrees with my plan, but he’s not offering one of his own, so that’s as close to agreement as I suspect we’re going to get. We hurry through the muddy streets, and the air feels heavy with humidity, as if warning me that Aron’s just barely keeping his shit together.
I guess I can’t blame him. We’re sneaking out of the city like a couple of thieves and I suspect he expected to be greeted with naked dancing girls and riches since he was a god. He was, but not the way he wanted. Instead, he got me—a salty Earth woman who has no time for his bullshit, and a midnight run out of Dodge. Definitely not what he expected.
I don’t know the layout of the city, but I keep us heading toward the long city wall that encircles the place. I vaguely remember this gate from days ago, and when I see the large, guarded portcullis, I breathe a sigh of relief. Almost there.
It looks the same as it did when I first saw it, the walls tall and made of smooth river stone mortared together. The portcullis is another iron gate, this one big enough to let two elephants through, side by side. Two guards stand on each side of the gate. Four people. Not a problem.
“That’s the south gate,” I tell Aron unnecessarily. “That’s the way out of the city. From there, it leads through the Dirtlands and toward Katharn.” I mean, I don’t have a map, but I’m guessing that’s how it’ll go. If it doesn’t, we’ll pivot and figure something out from there. Any place that’s not “here” works for me.
Aron pauses and we both stop. I realize I’m still clinging to his arm and I let go, and for some reason, I feel a sense of loss. Maybe because those tiny electric shocks aren’t rippling through me any longer. He fingers the sword at his belt. “It’s guarded.”
“That’s easily handled,” I tell him, sounding more confident than I feel. “We’ll bribe them to let us out. I’ve see
n it done before.” In the movies, but hey. He doesn’t need to know that. I pause and dig through my coin pouch, pulling out a few of the smaller, more valuable coins and clutching them tight. Pretty sure that bribing the guards might just bankrupt us, but we’re low on options and can’t stick around to see what happens by day. We need to be out of this city before the prelate realizes that Aron’s escaped, because something tells me that if he finds out that the god is gone, he’s going to do his best to make Aron disappear entirely.
And I have a sneaking suspicion that my fate is now tied to his in all kinds of bad, bad ways.
As we get closer to the gate, I can see even in the dark that the two men guarding each side are armed. I would really prefer to just deal with one easily bribed guard, but if this is what I have to deal with, so be it. I’m just ready to leave Aventine and all its issues behind.
Time to be brave and get shit done.
12
We get closer to the gate and I can see that despite the massive portcullis that blocks the way out, there’s a smaller wrought-iron door that only needs to be opened by one person. I guess that’s for bottlenecking travel, but either way, it’s encouraging. Opening one small door is an easier bribe than opening the whole massive gate. I turn to Aron and his hood is almost back from his face, his skin and strange eyes practically glowing white in the moonlight.
Yeah, he’s going to stand out like a sore thumb. I move closer to him and tug his hood back over his too-handsome features, hiding them. “Keep this shit hidden.”
“You act as if my face is a problem. I am handsome enough to suit any.”
“Handsomeness isn’t the issue, and wow, arrogant much?” I pull it down just a little further, because I can see the edge of his scar when he turns his face, and it’s a dead giveaway. “You’re pale as hell and you stand out in a crowd. Until we get on the road, you need to pretend like you’re a leper and keep that shit under wraps.”
“A what?”
“A leper. You guys don’t have lepers? You have every other stupid medieval thing I can think of.” Actually, I’m not sure if this culture—Aventinian? Aventini?—is more Roman than Medieval. For every castle-like building, there are dudes in linen kilts and sandals. I guess it doesn’t matter. We’re leaving. “Diseased dudes. Whatever.”
He recoils. “You want them to think I’m diseased? That I am Kalos?”
The outrage in his tone would probably make my hair straighten if I was afraid of him. I still am, but I’m more afraid of what the prelate is up to. I can deal with one cranky god who’s also pretty damn helpless. I can’t deal with an entire city full of assassins.
“No, I just don’t want them to realize you’re you,” I tell him impatiently. “Can we just get on with this? Keep your hood up and let me do the talking.”
“Fine,” Aron snarls, and he doesn’t sound pleased. Too bad for him.
I eye the guards at the gate. They’re staring at us now, probably because we’ve stopped in the road in the middle of the night and stand out like a sore thumb. Not a great start to our “secret” escape. I start to pull my hood over my face and then decide that no, that looks a bit too much like we’re up to no good. We need to look like we want to do a different kind of no good. So I turn toward Aron and wrap my arms around his neck.
Or I try to. He’s easily a foot taller than me and not cuddly in the slightest. I lean in even as he stiffens, his eyes flashing.
“Now is not the time for fucking, servant—”
“I know,” I hiss at him, and cock one foot in the air like we’re getting all cozy and romantic. At least, I hope it looks like that from a distance. From a very far distance, it hopefully won’t look like I’m gritting my teeth because I want to beat his head in. “Just follow my lead and pretend you’re my lover—”
He snorts. “You should be my lover, not the other way around. No one’s going to believe—”
I slap a hand over his mouth before I decide to abandon his ass. “Stop right there,” I say sweetly. “We’re tricking them, all right? Follow my lead and pretend that you want to have sex with me, all right?”
He grunts.
“Thank you,” I tell him, relieved we’re finally getting somewhere. I release his neck and then try to put my hand in his.
He just slaps one of his big paws on my ass and gives it a hard squeeze that sends a ripple of electricity through me. I give him a shocked look, and there’s a weird charge in the air that makes me shiver. He looks thoughtful, and my pussy clenches somewhere deep inside.
Okay, that was weird.
Gritting my teeth again, I slide closer to him and loop my arm around his waist. “Follow my lead,” I murmur one last time before heading forward.
For once in his stubborn life, Aron doesn’t protest. He keeps squeezing my butt cheek and slows his steps to match my paces, and we approach the guards.
No one moves as we approach, but they start to give me speculative looks the moment we get close enough for them to see my face.
“You lost, tart?” one asks.
I’m really getting tired of the word “tart.” “Nope! Just taking my lover out of the city for some privacy.” I wink at him and then pat my coin purse. “What’ll it take to convince you to open that door?”
“Door ain’t for sale,” the man says flatly.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” another says. “Don’t be so hasty.” He moves closer and eyes me in a way that makes my skin crawl. “I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement.”
“I’m sure we can,” I say brightly, pretending to misunderstand. I pull my coin purse off of my belt and open it, shaking a few coins into my palm. “How about—”
“How about your cunt instead of your coin?” the man says, giving Aron’s cloaked figure a dismissive look before he reaches out and grabs my tit.
It happens so fast that I can’t do more than squawk in outrage, and the coins go tumbling from my hands onto the muddy ground. Thunder rumbles overhead and suddenly Aron’s hand isn’t on my waist anymore.
It’s on the guy’s throat, and the man’s hauled into the air, his legs thrashing.
“That’s mine,” Aron growls low. “I didn’t say you could touch it.”
The other guards rush forward, and then things are a total blur. I watch in horror as Aron casually tosses aside the man he’s holding and wades forward, unarmed, as the others unsheathe their swords.
I back up in fear, because I have no weapon and no way to protect myself. Not that I’d be able to against a bunch of armed men.
Aron seems to have no problems with that. He flings himself forward, and as one man points his sword at the god, he casually bats it aside as if it’s nothing and then grabs the man’s wrist. There’s a crunch of bone and then the sword falls uselessly to the ground as the guard screams. The Lord of Storms moves almost gracefully as he grabs the men, crushing windpipes, snapping arms, and batting aside swords as if they’re nothing. It doesn’t matter that they’re armed and he’s not—it’s clear there’s no contest here.
He grabs the last guard by his neck and I expect him to fling him like the others, but he just flicks his wrist and there’s another crunch of bone and the man falls to the ground, limp.
Dead.
Aron turns to me, breathing hard, and his eyes are alight with some sort of peculiar glee. His pale skin gleams with a hint of sweat and he grins, pleased with himself. “Gate’s clear. Let’s go.”
I make a wordless sound of protest in my throat.
“What?” he asks, frowning as if I’m the problem here. Me. Meanwhile, I just watched a man relentlessly slaughter a bunch of men that stood in his way. Unreal.
“Are you going to do this all the damn time?” I ask, rubbing my arms against the sudden chill that’s swept over me.
It’s clear Aron doesn’t like being questioned. “Do what?”
“This?” I gesture angrily at the dead men strewn in front of the gate. “I mean, hello, this is not what civilize
d people fucking do!”
“It is what the Lord of Storms and god of battle does.”
“But still!”
He adjusts his cloak, pulling the hood back over his head. “Are you going to tell me that you had it under control? Because I seem to recall this one”—and he kicks one of the dead bodies—“grabbing you.”
I swallow hard, because my boob still hurts where he squeezed it. That doesn’t give Aron the right to just slaughter a bunch of people though. “I also remember you stating that I’m your property.”
His eyes gleam with that unholy light again, and his grin widens, showing his teeth. It’s not a friendly grin, or even a pleasant one. “That is because you are. You are my anchor in this world. You are mine to do with as I please.”
I shiver at the deadly confidence in his voice and the meaning behind his words. I hug my clothes tighter to my body. “Well, if you grab my tit, I’m going to be pissed.”
“There is no time for that right now. Let us open this gate and be gone, as you have demanded for hours.” He turns away and stalks toward the portcullis.
I swallow the emotion bubbling in my throat. Part of me wants to turn away and tell him to fuck off. That we’re done and I’ll find my own way in this strange place. But then I watch him study the portcullis and then fumble at the gate, as if he can’t figure out how it opens.
Just like he can’t figure out how to sleep.
I sigh. If I leave him alone, I’m sure he’s going to die. It might not be from a fight, but it might be from starvation just because he’s that clueless. I signed up for this no matter what and he did save my life…and the other women.
I probably need this guy to get home. He’s a god, right? It stands to reason that if he gets back to his world, he can get me back to mine.
I sigh again. Damn it. “I hate this,” I mutter to the dead people around me, and then spot a key ring at the belt of one of the guards. I grab it—and a money pouch one has at his belt—and then head to Aron’s side. “Just please don’t keep murdering people, all right?”