by Amy Sumida
Hachiman clomped up the basket weave steps and across the mat-like veranda. We chased after him. Haunting music drifted down the loose weave of the hallways towards us. Sound seemed to be sucked into the construction instead of echoing off it. It was a surprise that the song was able to reach us at all.
Hachiman strode to the end of the hall and slammed a pair of delicate doors open. We followed him into an airy room. Circular windows looked out upon secluded gardens. The scent of soil seeped from the walls, but was brightened by the perfume of cherry blossoms. A woman sat at a piano, her pale fingers gliding over the keys, while a man sat nearby, listening. He stood when we entered, but the woman kept playing, not even bothering to glance in our direction.
“Hachiman,” the man was massive and bearded, with bristling dark hair and storm-riddled eyes. “Who have you brought with you?”
“They're trackers,” Hachiman said flippantly. “Forget them. I am your trouble, Susanoo.”
“As usual,” Susanoo rolled his rumbling eyes. “You know as well as I that the sword belongs with me.”
“You gave it to her,” Hachiman angled himself further into the room, away from the chair Susanoo had occupied, and us. “Why give it up, if you wanted it so badly?”
I eased towards the vacated seat, and the sword propped against it. La la la, don't look at me. I'm just a tracker. Just going to stand over here while the two of you have your little brawl.
“I sacrificed it to reconcile with my sister,” Susanoo lifted his hands and the air around him began to crackle. “But she was unmoved. She gave it to that stupid grandson of hers. Obviously she doesn't care about it anymore. So I took it back.”
One more step. Torrent eased in front of me, then Kirill joined him, blocking the view of me sidling over to the sword.
“A gift given is gone. You do not get to take it back. That makes you a thief,” Hachiman pulled a sleek sword out of thin air, and settled into a samurai stance.
It was so bad ass, I paused to appreciate it. But Susanoo seemed unimpressed.
“Kusanagi is sacred,” Susanoo lashed out with one palm, and a blade formed before him. It was translucent, shifting with the light in the room. “I won it when I won my wife.”
The two swords struck; Hachiman's steel and Susanoo's magic. The steel sliced straight through the clear blade. Susanoo's sword splashed apart, then reformed. It twisted, to slice up at Hachiman from beneath, but the Warrior God blocked it with a forceful palm. The water blade exploded, and fell into a puddle at Hachiman's feet. My eyes met Hachiman's and he nodded.
I snatched up the severely long sword, and the piano playing abruptly stopped. The sudden silence made me freeze, and I jerked my gaze up to the woman's. She had turned and fixed her glowing stare on me. Her pale, beautiful face stretched into a scream, as her acid green eyes blazed brighter.
“Susanoo!” she shrieked.
“Run!” I shouted and headed for the door.
As I stumbled across the veranda, I hoped one of us remembered the way back through the tunnels. We'd have to find the tracing point before we could leave the Root World. I nearly fell down the hill, but Kirill steadied me. He took the sword and then my hand. We raced toward the tunnel opening, a dark mouth with roots for teeth.
Behind us, the woman continued to scream and the palace began to shake. A thick root snaked out, whipping out towards us. It fell short, but another shot up out of the grass and wound around my foot. Kirill turned and brought the sword down with one smooth movement. The root pulled back, shivering, but the bit around my ankle remained. I didn't bother with it, just went back to running.
We made it to the tunnels and I breathed a little easier. I shouldn't have. The roots dangling from the tunnel's top came to life, all of them reaching for us with mindless tenacity. I screamed as one wound through my hair, yanking my head back. Again, Kirill swung the sword. This time, the roots pulled back before he could cut them. They had learned from the earlier incident.
Kirill learned too. He lifted the sword as we ran, and the roots drew back like a parted curtain. Torrent pointed our way, directing us through the maze efficiently. In moments, we came to a solid, rock wall. The tracing point.
I grabbed Torrent's hand and we all stepped into the Aether together. The woman's screams and the rattling of roots chased us through. My chest heaved, my blood shivering inside me, and my ears rang from that auditory attack. I tore the tangled root from my ankle and tossed it away from me.
“You did it!” Amy took the sword from Kirill reverently, then placed it back onto its stand.
The three items on the altar flared brightly, then simmered down to a sedate glow. Amaterasu turned towards us with a relieved smile.
“You have done a very good thing today,” she bowed from the waist. “Thank you.”
“You're welcome,” I said as Trevor came up behind me.
“Are you alright?” Trevor asked.
“Fine,” I glanced at Amy, “but I don't know about Hachiman. Susanoo had this woman with him, she was playing the piano. But when I took the sword, she started screaming. I don't know if-”
“I am unharmed,” Hachiman said as he stepped from the Aether. “Thank you for your concern, Godhunter.”
“Oh,” I blinked at him. “Okay then.”
“The woman was Susanoo's wife, Kushinadahime,” Amy explained. “She is more attached to the sword than her husband is. It was forged from the tail spike of a dragon-shifter who killed her sisters.”
“That's kind of horrible,” I noted. “Maybe you should just let her have it.”
“I cannot,” Amy said sadly. “Once I gave the sword to Ninigi, it became a symbol of his power. This power was then bonded to Japan. The gifts became the Imperial Regalia. Without them physically existing in Japan, the country will crumble.”
“Damn,” Torrent whispered. “Like literally?”
“Literally,” Hachiman nodded. “It was already beginning to experience earthquakes, just from the short time the sword has been missing.”
“How will you protect it?” I asked. “Now that you know Susanoo can steal it?”
“I have my ways,” Amy smiled. “Just know that it will be safe. And you, Godhunter, have done your part to protect humans once again.”
“You know, you could have just told me all of this, and I would have helped you without all that posturing,” I huffed.
“Now I know that,” Amy's smile went serene. “But I was unsure of your character before. Bargains tend to get faster results than requests.”
“Valid,” I sighed. “Alright, Sun Goddess, we cool now?”
“Yes, we are cool,” Amaterasu giggled. “And I am cool with the Wolf God as well. Blessings upon your family, Vervain.”
“And on yours, Amaterasu,” I looked out the window towards Japan. “All of your family.”
Chapter Thirty
We traced straight from Japan to Fenrir's Hall, reforming in his ridiculously dainty tracing room. You'd think some 16th Century Frenchman lived there, not a Viking werewolf god. It was furnished with gilded antiques, and had glass display cabinets full of wolf sculptures from all over the world. The sculptures had fascinated me the first time I'd been there, but they enthralled Torrent every time. I had to pull him away from the cabinet.
“Not now, Torr,” I said by way of an apology. “We need to talk to Fenrir. We've already been delayed long enough.”
“What happened?” Trevor asked. “Who are the Vilkacis?”
“Just vait,” Kirill said to Trevor as we strode through the corridors, past masses of Froekn.
We found Fenrir in his private living room with Emma. He stood up when he saw us, taking in Kirill and Torrent's rumpled state with a glance. His eyes went wide and then narrowed.
“Who did this?” Fenrir asked.
“We tracked the wolves,” I said.
“Wonderful,” Fenrir frowned. “Then why do you look angry? Did you discover which pack they are?”
“The Vilk
acis. Latvian werewolves. Now, who is Vejasmate, Fenrir?” I narrowed my eyes on him. “And why do her eyes...” I felt my mouth fall open as I saw Fenrir's response.
He began to shake, just a light tremor, but enough to be noticeable. His eyes dilated, and his breathing quickened. That's when I finally remembered where I'd seen eyes like hers before.
“Ty,” I whispered. “Holy hand grenades.”
“What about Ty?” UnnúlfR snarled as he came into the room.
“Do you want to tell them, or shall I?” I asked Fenrir.
“Fenrir?” Emma asked hesitantly.
“Tell us what?” Trevor was looking back and forth between me and Fenrir. Then he looked to Kirill, “What's she talking about?”
“I have no idea,” Kirill looked baffled.
Kirill hadn't got as close to Vejasmate as I had. He couldn't possibly realize that she was-
“Ty's mother,” Fenrir whispered. “Vejasmate was... is TryggulfR's mother.”
“What?” Trevor blinked, and then seemed to remember something. “Oh... her.”
“What do you mean 'oh... her'?” UnnúlfR growled.
I blinked at him in surprise. What did he have to be angry about?
“She was the one who Dad-” Trevor cut himself off, and looked at his father in horror. “Oh fuck.”
“What?” I guess it was my turn to be in the dark. “What did you do, Dad?”
“I cursed her,” Fenrir groaned and glanced to Emma, who was watching the exchange with huge hazel eyes. “It was a long time ago,” he held a hand out to his wife, and Emma took it slowly. “I've done some things I'm not proud of.”
“We all have,” Emma said gently to him. “It's called living.”
“Emma,” Fenrir swallowed hard, and pulled her in tight. “Gods but I love you.”
“I love you too,” she said firmly. “Now tell us what this curse was.”
“Veja was leaving me,” Fenrir's jaw clenched. “The third woman to bear a child for me. The third to watch our child turn into a wolf. And the third to abandon him, abandon us. I was so angry. Me and my boys, we didn't deserve it. They had all been babies when their mothers left. To be cast aside by the woman who gave them life, the woman who should have loved them the most... it was an unspeakable evil to me. And yet, it kept happening. I felt so powerless. I couldn't stop the magic from passing to my children, and honestly, I didn't want to. There's nothing more wonderful than being a wolf. I couldn't understand why those women didn't see that.”
“You're right, there isn't anything more wonderful,” Trevor laid his hand on his father's shoulder. “I rejoice in the gift of my birth. Thank you. Thank you for making me a wolf and raising me to glory in it.”
“You make me proud, Son,” Fenrir nodded. “Every day.”
UnnúlfR remained suspiciously quiet.
“I cursed Vejasmate as she left,” Fenrir spoke straight to Emma. “I called up all the magic inside me, and I begged for it to help me, to make her understand. And then I cursed her to bear only wolves. To accept them or go her entire life without knowing the love of her own children.”
We all stared at him in horror.
“She had a pack of wolves with her,” Torrent broke the silence. “Vilkacis. I believe that means 'wolf eyes'.”
“Da,” Kirill verified. “Volf eyes. Zere vere many of zem. Vejasmate had very big family. Probably several generations, like Froekn.”
“I'm not surprised,” Fenrir looked up. “I passed on the magic. But for her, it was a curse, just as I'd intended it to be. And it looks as if she chose to be a mother, rather than abandon more of her babies.”
“Then maybe your curse was a blessing,” I shrugged. “It seems to have changed her. And she didn't hurt us,” I waved a hand to Kirill and Torrent. “She just...” I frowned as I remembered her words.
“Yes?” Fenrir asked.
“She said she wouldn't hurt innocents,” I sighed. “She'd save her anger for you.”
“So this is about me then,” Fenrir said it as a statement. “After all these years, she's trying to get vengeance.”
“But why?” Trevor shook his head. “It's been centuries. Why now, after all this time, would she start a war? And why do so in such an underhanded way?”
“I don't think this was about war,” I mused. “She said she wanted to break the Froekn's alliances. Make them weak.”
“Yeah, that was strange,” Torrent agreed.
“Announcement,” Kirill said to Trevor.
“What?” I looked back at my husbands. Trevor's honey-eyes were growing huge.
“You placed an announcement in god paper,” Kirill said to Fenrir, “of your vedding.”
“Kirill pointed it out to me,” Trevor added. “You must have sent it in when you married Emma, but they didn't post it because of your...”
“Reputation,” Fenrir nodded. “And when Re proclaimed my innocence, the paper finally deigned to post my wedding announcement. The fucking bastards.”
“Fucking bastard,” Kirill corrected. “Singular. It vas Hermes.”
“And it looks as if Vejasmate subscribes to the Hermes Herald,” I added.
Chapter Thirty-One
Put on a coat,” Azrael said as he walked into the bedroom.
“What?” I sat up from where I'd been reading on the bed. “Why?”
“I've been working so much lately, I wanted to have some alone time with you,” he came over and helped me up. “Come on, I have a whole day planned.”
“Just the day?” I teased.
“Well,” he gave me a huge grin, as far away from angelic as it could get.
“Oh, okay,” I hurried into my dressing room to grab a coat.
Az had already told the others what we were doing, so we were out of Pride Palace within fifteen minutes. We came out onto a snowy slope, trees like arrowheads poking out of the white blanket. A frozen lake became a lace-bordered mirror at the base of the hill, reflecting sunlight, and casting its glimmers over the shore.
“Beautiful,” I whispered.
“I'm glad you think so,” Azrael's wings shivered. He gave them a frown, then magicked them away. Birds didn't do well in the cold. “But it'll be even more beautiful from indoors.”
He turned me to face a little cottage, set into the woods behind us. Smoke was rising from its chimney, and there was cheery light filtering out the windows. A path had been cleared through the snow, leading directly to us. He'd known exactly where we'd be stepping out of the Aether.
“Where are we?” I asked as he led me to the cottage.
“Vermont,” he said. “I just rented the place, so we'd have somewhere no one would disturb us.”
“It's wonderful, thank you, Azrael.”
“You're welcome, but it's for me as well,” he said as he opened the door. “A little vacation for us.”
The warmth of the cottage hit me first, and I sighed as we stepped in. Az closed the door behind us, and the scent of chocolate competed with the earthy smoke of the fire. A thick comforter with a nest of pillows lay before the fireplace like a sultan's bed. A tray with two mugs, a thermos, and a plate of strawberries sat nearby.
“This is so cheesy,” I said to Azrael. His face fell, but then I added, “I love it!”
I tossed my arms around his neck and kissed my angel. It really had been a long time since we'd had a moment to ourselves, and I had missed this. Missed being with just him. All of my men knew me well, we were too magically connected for them to not, but Azrael had once touched my soul. He knew me like no one else. My soul had spent five-hundred years talking to Azrael. He visited me in the Well of Souls while I waited to be reborn. He probably knew things about me that I didn't.
“Hey now,” he put me gently from him. “Let's not get carried away yet. I've made plans.”
“Oh, I thought this was your plan,” I said.
“That,” he gestured to the fireside lounge, “is just the beginning. First, let's get you out of your coat.”
“I fail to see how your plan differs from mine,” I smirked as I shrugged out of my coat.
“Come with me, and I'll show you,” he led me to the pillows and helped me down onto the blanket.
“Oh, this is nice,” I bounced a little. “You got a futon under here?”
“Yes, there's a thick cushion underneath,” he chuckled. “Now lay back,” he removed my shoes and set them aside with his own. Then he scooted up beside me and drew a blanket around us. “Hot chocolate?” Azrael asked as he poured a mug.
“Thank you.”
“Strawberry?”
“Yes, please,” I munched happily and watched him pour his own mug, then sighed as he settled back with me. “So you bring me to a Winter Wonderland, then take me straight inside.”
“Heat is appreciated more after you've gone through the cold,” he said.
“I suppose you would know,” I had meant to reference Hell, and its Ice Block prisons, but Azrael's eyes went serious.
“I do know,” he kissed me gently. “My heart was cold for a very long time. I stared at the fire of your soul like a man looking in a window, freezing while he stood feet away from salvation.”
“But now winter is over,” I placed a hand over his heart.
“Within me, yes,” he took my hand. “Now the cold serves only as a reminder of how far I've come, and how important your heat is to me.”
“I wouldn't burn without you,” I whispered.
The mugs were set aside and so were Azrael's plans. We lay back in the pillows and drew away the clothing separating us. A sweet and slow slide of skin, and then feathers. His wings burst free, trembling once in the warmth of the fire before settling over us. A long, midnight feather trailed up my thigh, and sent delicious shivers up my spine. I arched into Az, clutching at his shoulders. His hips angled between mine, and I felt how ready he was for me, but he lifted himself up.