by Sandy James
Fire had been allowed to run wild for far too long, allowed to anger the other patron goddesses and many of the Ancients…because Megan was evidently more than another Amazon. His thoughts flashed back to watching Freya heatedly arguing with Rhiannon, Ganga and Ix Chel, demanding that Megan be allowed to keep her powers.
Freya hadn’t been fighting for her Fire Amazon.
She’d been fighting for her daughter.
“Oh, my God,” he whispered as the lock of hair he had pinched between his fingers darkened to its customary red. He dropped it as if he’d touched a flame and took a step back.
* * *
Megan had no idea what had come over Johann, but his face was now full of shock and horror. She’d mastered her new shape-shifting ability on her first try, even if fear had begun the transformation. He should be proud, but the haggard glare told her otherwise.
Surely he wasn’t disgusted because she’d shape-shifted. How many times had he seen her turn into a hawk? The transformation had never bothered him before. Why should a panther be any different? “Johann?”
His gaze shifted from Megan to Freya. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he choked out. “Damn you, Freya! Why didn’t you fucking tell me?”
Freya’s eyes were as large as saucers, but she didn’t reply. Instead she began to wring her hands.
Why was she tolerating his insolence?
“You should have told me! If I’d have known, I never would have—”
“Aye!” Freya shouted back, making her handmaidens jump in surprise. “You never would have loved her. You are her mate.” She wagged her finger at him. “I know you too well, Johann Herrmann. Had I told you, you would have resisted. You would not have accepted her.”
Megan had never been so confused in her whole life. All she could do was look from Freya to Johann and back again like she was watching a Ping-Pong match.
“Damn right, I wouldn’t have accepted her! Not one of your kind. You knew what she was, and you never told me. You knew I was falling in—” Without finishing the thought, he threw a fierce glare at Megan that scorched her.
What had she done wrong?
“She is no different than she was, Sentinel,” Freya insisted. “Nothing has changed.”
He shook his head and scowled. “She is different. And everything has changed.”
Megan tried to grab his arm.
He jerked it away.
“Send me back,” Johann demanded. “I mean it, Freya. Send me back to the world. Send me back to my sister. I never agreed to be some divine booty call.”
“Your sister?” Megan gulped a couple of breaths, and her heart pounded a rough tempo. “You can’t go back. You can’t. You’re the Sentinel.” He wanted to leave her? Forever? She’d die. “Please, Johann. I—I don’t understand.”
Freya straightened her spine. With a defiant lift of her chin, she settled those ice-blue eyes on Johann. “How dare you! You will not speak to me in such an insolent tone, Sentinel. I am an Ancient. You serve me.” She slapped her chest with her palm. “Did you hear me? You serve me. You have no right to—”
“Rhian—”
Freya gasped, not letting him finish shouting the Earth goddess’s name. “No! You shall not dare to summon her to my temple! I will not tolerate it!”
She’d never seen Freya so angry, and Megan expected Johann’s acquiescence. But he didn’t fist his hand and thump his chest in salute like he always did to placate one of the goddesses when they were pissed. No, he scoffed.
“You selfish bitch,” he growled. “You never told anyone, did you? How could you let her grow up, not knowing that she’s—” He swallowed whatever he would have said next and took a few deep breaths that didn’t seem to calm him very much. “I resign. Send me back to the world or I’ll call Rhiannon and she’ll send me back.”
“No!” Megan ran to Johann and threw herself at him. She wasn’t going to allow him to just…go. Not without a fight. Not until he explained. Not when she loved him so much. She had to make him change his mind.
“Don’t leave me! You can’t leave me!” Fear tinted her words, and her vulnerability was laid bare. She didn’t care. She couldn’t lose him, no matter if it meant opening up and being honest with her feelings.
But his arms didn’t rise to wrap around her in reassurance. It was like embracing a marble statue. She looked up into his eyes and saw nothing but anger. He might as well have turned his back on her, just like in her dream.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “What’s wrong? Why do you want to leave?”
“Send me back to my sister, Freya. Wipe my memory and send me back to Janelle. I take back my mortality.”
“No!” Megan shouted as tears burned her eyes. “No. Please don’t leave me, Johann. I—I—love you.”
He grabbed her arms and jerked them back from his neck. “You don’t love me. You can’t. It’s not in your nature.” He leveled one last icy stare at Freya. “Can she, m’lady?” The last word was a sneer. The step he took away from Megan was like a knife sinking into her heart. “I take back my mortality.”
“So be it.” Freya snapped her fingers and Johann disappeared in a bright flash of light.
Chapter Fourteen
Johann took a good look around, the familiar compound giving him no comfort. The trees. The cabins. The sandpit. He breathed a disgusted sigh.
Freya wouldn’t do it—she wouldn’t send him back to the world and wipe his memory. She wouldn’t do it because she was Megan’s mother. Megan said she loved him, and the goddess knew damn well he loved Megan. Freya would give her precious daughter exactly what she wanted—even if his heart got crushed in the process.
No, Freya wouldn’t send him back, and Megan sure as shit didn’t love him. She was a goddess, just like her mother, and could never love him in return.
He was good and stuck.
The goddess had betrayed him, encouraging him to pursue Megan and clearing the path for them to make love. No wonder Megan had burned so damned hot. The divine blood running through her veins fueled Fire.
Freya should’ve had the decency to send him back to Janelle. But Freya wasn’t decent. She was like every other Ancient—selfish and fickle. Instead, she’d turned him into nothing more than Fire’s boy toy. A courtesan—exactly like Artair had warned him any man who dallied with goddesses would become.
Megan didn’t love him. She couldn’t love him. Goddesses didn’t know how to love.
Damn you, Freya.
At least she’d sent him to Avalon.
Glancing to victory tower, he smiled at the familiar view. Rebecca was climbing, eyes probably closed as was her unique way of dealing with her fear of heights. A formidable Amazon and Guardian of the three younger women, she refused to give in to a phobia and conquered the wall anytime it was asked of her. He respected her, often thinking of her as a sister the way he looked at Artair as his brother in arms.
Yes, Rebecca was a true Earth. Always wanting her feet on the ground.
Then he remembered Megan and frowned. He was a fucking fool for loving her.
And he did still love her. More than he should have, considering what she was.
Freya would surely use that against him. Hell, Megan would use it against him too. Goddesses had no consciences and did nothing but play around with human emotions. Now that Freya and Megan knew how much he cared, his feelings were fair game.
Hand over hand, Rebecca worked up the rope until she dragged her body high enough to crawl onto the platform. She stood at the top like a conquering heroine, hands on her hips. Pushing her long, blond ponytail back over her shoulder, she glanced toward the trees that sheltered him.
“Johann?” she shouted. “Is that you?”
He nodded and headed toward the tower.
Artair, wh
o had been standing at the bottom of the wall, whirled around to stare. He was dressed, as always, in his navy-blue and forest-green kilt. His auburn hair was now so long it almost brushed his shoulders. A smile played across the Scot’s face as Johann drew closer. The ridiculous grin was most likely because Johann was still dressed in the makeshift toga.
“You did nae warn me about the change,” Artair said in that smooth Scottish brogue that rolled so easily off his tongue.
Johann had no idea what he was talking about. Giving his body a quick once-over, he wondered for a moment if Freya had punished his insolence in her typically immature fashion. Other than the toga, nothing seemed out of place.
“The ears, lad.”
Johann’s hands reached for his ears.
Fur. Goddamn fur.
There was no need to explore what Freya had done, so he let his hands drop back to his side.
“What are they?” Not that he really wanted to know.
“Donkey,” Artair replied. “’Twould seem they’re meant to be a message.”
“Yeah—Freya thinks I’m an ass.”
Johann had never been so angry and humiliated in his whole life, and not just from the indignity of having donkey ears. That would be easily fixed if he summoned Rhiannon. The Lady of the Lake didn’t like any of the other goddesses messing with “her” Sentinels. The root of his humiliation was that despite everything that happened and after everything he’d learned, he still wanted Megan. He still loved Megan.
It took supreme self-control not to double over and then roar like a wounded bear.
A goddess. Megan was a goddamn goddess.
Stomping toward the tower, he wanted to punch Artair’s grin right off his face. He was in the mood for a good fight.
“Well, lad. ’Twould seem things in Chicago have been—” he gave the toga a quick tug, “—interesting. Care to explain your garb?”
Rebecca was rappelling down the wall she hated so much. He could hear her grumbling. Only when her feet were back on solid ground did she find a smile—one much warmer than Artair’s.
“Welcome back, Johann.” Rebecca’s gaze settled on his new ears, her eyes full of sympathy. “What brings you to Avalon?”
“Let me guess,” Artair replied as he helped Rebecca out of her harness. “The lass. What did she do now?”
She made me fall in love with her.
“I can’t talk about it yet. I’m heading to the shower room, then I’m heading to bed.” Maybe a new day would give him a new outlook.
Impossible.
A day. A week. A year. Time would change nothing. The woman he loved would still be a self-centered, capricious goddess incapable of loving him in return.
“Do you want to stay at our house?” Rebecca asked. “Bonnie and Darian will be happy to see their godfather.”
Johann’s nerves were as tight as threads on a loom. He had to stop himself from snapping at her. She didn’t deserve the sharp edge of his tongue, and he loved her kids—although they represented what he couldn’t have. A loving family of his own.
He would never be a father. Being alone came part and parcel with being Sentinel, but it didn’t mean he didn’t feel the pinch of jealousy over the MacKays’ sweet little family.
A bit of distance until he got a grip on his temper was probably prudent. “I’ll see them soon. Before I leave. Right now, I need to be alone. And I need some whiskey.”
A brown rabbit hopped across the sand pit the Amazons used for sparring, heading toward Megan’s old cabin. Beagan. Or perhaps Dolan. The shape-shifting caretakers. Heaven knew Johann could never tell them apart when they weren’t in their human form. Beagan and Dolan had one job—to care for the Amazons and Sentinels by answering any reasonable wish made in their thoughts. One had heard him and was going about pleasing him. Once his shower was over, there would be clean clothes and a bottle of Jack Daniels waiting.
Johann tried to wish for the supplies to be left in some other cabin, but somehow he knew the caretaker wouldn’t grant that desire. He would have to look at four walls that would do nothing more than remind him of Megan. He’d be surrounded by her things and memories of time he spent with her. Even the thatched roof would serve as a reminder of Fire.
“Whiskey?” Rebecca wrinkled her brow. “You’re not usually a drinker. What did Megan do to make you this angry?”
“Nothing,” he snapped. “I just needed to get away.”
Artair and Rebecca locked eyes, clearly sharing something in that way only people in love can.
“I’ll join you later for a drink.” Artair wrapped an arm around Rebecca’s shoulders.
She glanced back to Johann. “I know Megan can be a bit…much. But if you two had a fight, you’re probably not the only one hurting right now. There’s something special between you.”
Johann opened his mouth to deny it then realized how ludicrous the words would sound. Rebecca knew what he felt for Megan. Artair probably did too. He finally just nodded.
“If Artair can’t help you, please come to me and maybe I can.”
Johann nodded again.
Artair slapped him so hard on the back, he took a stumbling step forward. “I shall come to you soon. Ask Beagan and Dolan to leave a second glass.”
As Johann turned to walk away, Rebecca called after him. “I’ll have Rhiannon take care of the ears before your shower’s over.”
He couldn’t work up a polite response.
* * *
“How could you?” Megan didn’t care that she was screaming.
Johann couldn’t be gone. He just couldn’t. Especially when she had no idea what exactly had made him so angry—angry enough to want to leave her. “How could you let him go?”
Tears actually formed against Freya’s long, brown lashes. Goddesses didn’t cry. They’d have to feel real emotions to cry. Deep emotions like love. Human emotions.
“Well?” Megan yelled again, surprised when Freya winced. But her goddess said nothing. “Fine. Have it your way. If he’s going, then so am I.”
Damn, she needed a cigarette. Or two. Or ten. Screw the nicotine gum. A shot of tequila wouldn’t hurt, either.
Gathering the edges of her sheet up in her arms, Megan started to march out of the grand hall. Too late, she realized she had no idea where she was going. Not that it mattered. Anyplace but Folkvang.
“He is not gone,” Freya replied in a subdued voice Megan almost missed. The hurt behind it was unmistakable.
Megan stopped in her tracks then turned to face her patron goddess. “What do you mean?”
“I would not send him away. I would never take him from you.”
She was afraid to hope. Freya had a way of spinning things so they sounded better than they were.
“One should never put complete trust in a goddess,” Artair had always warned.
“I don’t understand,” Megan said.
Freya actually sighed, a sound too human for an Ancient. “You love him. I could not take him from you, not even at his request. ’Tis the truth, only Rhiannon can return him to his old life.”
“Then where is he?”
“Avalon. I sent him to Avalon. He must talk to Artair MacKay. The MacKay will fix the boy’s…misconception.”
Megan tried to hold her temper, but she was damn sick and tired of every piece of information she pulled from Freya coming in bits or inane riddles. She wanted Johann. She needed Johann.
Why did he want to go back? Why would he leave her behind? Her chest hurt so much, it was like her heart had literally broken into pieces.
“Why would he need Artair?”
“Johann Herrmann has made a…wrong assumption. The MacKay will set his mind straight and fix this misunderstanding.” Freya sounded like a child caught with her hand in a cookie jar.
“The MacKay will fix this.”
“Fix what?” Megan had a hard time not screeching. “Shit, I can’t figure any of this out. What was Johann talking about? Why was he so mad at me?”
The goddess shook her head. “’Twill blow over. You shall see, Megan. ’Twill all simply blow over like a bad storm.”
She obviously wasn’t going to get any reasonable answers from Freya. “Send me to Avalon.”
“Nay.”
“I mean it, Freya. Send me to Avalon.”
The goddess’s countenance began to change as she squared her shoulders, straightened her spine and stretched her neck. “You will not demand things of me, Megan Feurer. I shall reunite you with the Sentinel when I deem it is appropriate. For now, you may share this palace. A room will be made ready for you.” Freya brought one of the handmaidens hurrying to her side with a quick wave of her hand. “Should you need anything, you need but ask Heather.”
She disappeared in a flash of light before Megan could put up an argument.
Stuck in Folkvang. No way to get home. No way to get to Avalon. No way to see Johann.
At least he wasn’t gone forever. Maybe there was still a chance to—
“Would you like a bath, m’lady?” a soft voice interrupted.
Megan sighed and glanced at the lithe, blonde teenager. “I want a cigarette, and I want to go home.”
“I can get you the cigarette. But I’m sorry, m’lady. I can’t help you leave. Might I draw you a hot bath instead?”
Exhaustion hit her from every angle. “Forget the cigarette. Just the bath. Please.”
She followed Heather out of the great hall, hoping once she was clean and rested she might be able to figure out exactly what had happened.
Because at that moment, she felt like the world had turned upside down and might never be righted again.
Chapter Fifteen
Rebecca was as good as her word. The donkey ears had receded before Johann stepped into the shower room. He grumbled to himself that the cabins could at least have their own showers. Their rustic cabins served as further proof of the goddesses’ contradictory natures. Create a superhuman group of female warriors then stick them in an ancient Girl Scout camp. At least instead of outhouses, the cabins had toilets.