by Shona Husk
“Goddesses don’t have mortal bodies. What are you?”
“A goddess.” The words hissed out, laden with power, and his knee buckled. She couldn’t force him to swear; it had to come from within. He had to want it, need it.
The beating of wings against the window made her turn. A crow flapped against the window. Damn the Morrigu for interrupting.
Knocking on the door added a second distraction.
She forced him to his knees with a touch. “Your goddess doesn’t want you.”
“Perhaps I don’t want a goddess.” He glared up at her defiantly.
“The beast that dwells within you cannot be contained by human will alone. When you slip, you will be a hellhound forever. Think on that, warrior.” She blinked and let the human soul shimmer closer to the surface, but not close enough to take control. This body was hers now. She left him kneeling on the floor and went to answer the door. The sooner she moved out of this hovel and into somewhere more fitting, the better. She needed human worshipers to provide and show her around this much-changed world.
She yanked the door open. “Why do you wake me so early?”
The warrior had gotten up and followed; she could smell the sulfur on his skin as he drew closer.
“They are here for me,” the warrior said.
“You may not leave.” He was hers.
The two men in the corridor looked set to argue. From the older one grew great shadowy wings that stretched behind him.
The older man spoke. “He has not sworn to you; you have no hold over him.”
“Well met, Sister. He is not yours either.” Freya smiled.
“Then he is free to leave. I offer assistance to my warriors, and he is a friend of theirs.”
“But not a friend of yours.”
Silence thick as honey filled the air.
The young man tossed some clothes at the warrior. He pulled on the pants and shirt.
“By my own free will I choose to leave, Freya.” The warrior bowed then stepped toward the door.
He was too smart and knew the ways of magic too well to be tricked.
He would be a prize worth taking when he did kneel. She smiled and trailed her fingers along her collarbone, his gaze tracked the movement. “You will return.”
He opened his lips to argue, but his friends pulled him away.
She watched as he was hustled down the corridor. At the end he glanced back, his gaze most haunted. She had what he wanted, what he loved. This body and the soul within. He wouldn’t be able to stay away. He’d fight for the woman. And when he did, she’d be ready.
“Fuck me… What the fuck?” Noah’s fingers dug into Peyton’s arm.
Peyton wanted to slow down and explain that that was Alexis and they needed to do something, but all Mason and Noah wanted to do was flee now they’d done their rescue. The wings that Mason had worn for a moment were gone. That Mason had drawn up the Morrigu’s mantle of power was disturbing. Peyton had only ever seen that once before and he’d been dying of a hellhound bite. Was he dying now? He didn’t think so.
Mason opened the SUV door. “Get in and I don’t want to hear a word until we’re at HQ.”
Peyton wasn’t given a choice because Noah shoved him into the back seat. He belted up and waited for the talk that would come. He knew trouble when he smelled it and Mason didn’t summon up the Morrigu without good reason. Mason didn’t speak as he drove.
Noah turned around. “You fucked Freya? Are you out of your mind?”
“She wasn’t Freya when I went over. That’s Alexis…was…is?”
“Both of you shut up.” Mason’s finger drummed on the steering wheel. He was usually calm, rational. He could solve anything.
Noah mouthed walk of shame.
Peyton had said that to Noah enough times to know the shape of those words. He’d always thought himself so much better than that. But in these borrowed clothes, he couldn’t argue. He’d been rescued like a damsel in distress.
He wouldn’t have sworn to Freya the same morning the Morrigu had dumped him. Did they know the Morrigu had left him to fend for himself?
Her abandonment smarted; it was an open wound he didn’t know how to heal. Maybe She’d been busy…helping Mason. Maybe if he went back, he’d find Her.
But this is what he’d wanted. To be free. He could only be a witch or a hellhound, not both. Apparently, he’d chosen hellhound. How long until the beast did take over? It prowled within, seeking escape.
He didn’t feel right. There was a coldness within him that would never be warm, as though part of him had been taken. Or was he so used to the goddess’s grace that he’d never considered what he’d feel like without it? He closed his eyes to seek Her out.
“Don’t even think about, Kilpatrick,” Mason snapped. The mantle of power might be gone, but he was still in a mood to be obeyed.
Peyton opened his eyes, not wanting to draw further contempt. For a heartbeat he was tempted to tell them to drop him home. The Morrigu didn’t want him, so he was free. He was no longer part of the coven or beholden to its orders.
But Alexis’ body was no longer hers. She needed help, and he couldn’t do that on his own. He needed the coven, not for himself but for her. He’d save Alexis and then walk away. Magic had done nothing but wreck his life.
Freya’s warning about his hellhound was loud in his mind. What if he couldn’t control the beast without magic? How fast was his magic dissipating now he no longer had the Morrigu to draw from? Whatever magic was in his body was all he had. Then he’d be nothing but a lawyer. No more brokering blood contracts and deals for those willing to sell their souls or first born.
No truth at his fingertips.
Nothing.
His fingers curled. He’d get used to it. Other people lived fine without magic and he didn’t need it, except to control the hellhound, and Mason could create a spell to lock that down. Couldn’t he?
Mason parked the SUV at the Uncommon Raven Agency and the three of them got out. The cold sidewalk bit into Peyton’s bare feet, but he didn’t say anything, just followed. Not for his own sake, but for Alexis’. He kept seeing those cat eyes above him, staring out of her face, and feeling the heat of her touch.
Why hadn’t he realized something was wrong when the cats had started following her?
Mason unlocked the back door to the agency and they all filed in. Noah flicked on lights as he went. Mason locked the door behind Peyton, as though he expected him to escape the first chance he got. There was nowhere to run to besides Freya’s embrace. Her touch set him on edge. She wasn’t his goddess.
He no longer had one.
They went into Mason’s office, not the large space that doubled as dojo and workings room. The office was small with only two chairs. While he’d been in here plenty of times, it had always been to offer advice or to talk about contracts and deals and clients. Was he the client this time? The human in trouble and needing magical help?
Noah stood guard by the door. “Sit.”
Peyton sat. He’d never be warm again. He needed socks and a jumper. He needed to sleep or drink coffee. He had to be at work in two hours. Would Alexis-Freya be there?
Mason turned the page of his notepad and wrote the date at the top, like Peyton was a client. “Why don’t you start with what happened last night?”
Peyton gave a much abbreviated version of what had happened. After being hit with his own fetch, he couldn’t quite understand why he’d acted the way he had. From the way Mason was looking at him, nether could he.
“So you thought it would be a good idea to leap out of a five-story window and run around as a hellhound,” Noah said from behind Peyton.
“I didn’t say it was a good idea, but I needed to find out what was going on. No one should be able to send a fetch back like that.”
“Why didn’t you call us?” Mason tapped his pencil on the paper. He’d made notes that looked like squiggles. While everything else about Mason was neat and orderly, his
handwriting was an illegible crawl on a good day. Today was not a good day.
“Because I had four feet and couldn’t shift.” A fate that awaited him if Freya had told him the truth. It felt like the truth, and in his dealings with deities, they didn’t lie.
Noah smothered a laugh. Mason shot him a glare.
“This isn’t about your ability to shift, though maybe if you’d learned to control it you wouldn’t have gotten stuck. Human bodies aren’t made to contain godly beings.” Mason made another note on the paper.
“Demons burn through human bodies. This will be ten times worse,” Noah, the demon expert, said.
“We need to get Freya out of Alexis.” Why were they sitting around talking when they needed to be doing something? He exhaled. They couldn’t go up against a goddess unprepared. And he was no longer a witch. There was nothing he could do.
“You’re assuming Alexis is still there,” Mason said softly.
“Freya said she was.” Did he trust Freya? He’d once trusted the Morrigu with his life, and that hadn’t turned out so well. Giving up magic and staying well clear of gods and demons and spells and curses was really tempting.
Mason’s lips thinned. “Freya is known for her hedonistic rites; I do not blame you for falling into her bed.”
“She was Alexis then.” Her eyes hadn’t changed until after.
“Was she? Really?” Mason tilted his head and stared at him, as though he could force the truth from him. “You said Alexis had changed; was she showing signs of the goddess?”
Peyton opened his mouth to argue, but the words didn’t form. He knew a little about Freya but not enough.
Noah spoke. “Freya has many forms. Usually red or blonde hair. Always beautiful. She is all about love and sex and is known for her parties and sexual appetite. But like the Morrigu, she is also a collector of the dead, claiming her half.”
Peyton turned around. “How do you know that?”
“Yesterday I started researching beings that drew cats. It could’ve been Bast…but all the cats are British Blues or Blue Burmese or Blue point Siamese. Blue is important. Freya’s chariot is drawn by blue cats.” Noah showed Peyton his phone where he’d made notes.
“We need to know what Freya wants before she starts causing disruptions that will attract attention,” Mason said.
In any other case Peyton would be agreeing, but not this time. “We need to save Alexis.”
Mason shook his head. “There is no we.”
Peyton’s heart lurched. Mason knew the Morrigu had left him. He had to remind himself this was what he wanted. “Then what do I do?”
“Go to work. Keep us updated and let us solve it.” Mason stood and walked around the desk. He put a hand on Peyton’s shoulder. “It isn’t too late.”
On the tip of his tongue the question formed, but he swallowed it down. The Morrigu wanted him to be a hellhound, and he was one mistake from becoming that permanently. Would that make Her happy?
He hadn’t been happy since the bite. Maybe he did need a new goddess. But every time he blinked, he saw cat’s eyes and his heart became a little colder. All he wanted was his magic back. While he had the bite, he couldn’t have magic.
Freya lay on the bed surrounded by her cats. Her body vibrated with their satisfied purrs. A few licked blood off their muzzles and paws. She knew she needed to get up, there was a job to go to, and as much as she’d usually ignore such frivolities, Peyton was at work.
If she went, she’d be able to tempt him again.
More importantly, his witch friends wouldn’t be there to save him.
She licked her lower lip.
The human soul within her wanted him so much it still thought they were working together. It was so sweet. She liked this body, it was a pity it would overheat and die.
Chapter 9
Peyton made it into work an hour late. No one was there to notice or care. Alexis wasn’t at her desk—would Freya even want to come into work?—and the phone was ringing. He picked it up, hoping he’d be able to take a message and get to his office.
“It’s Ted. Where is everyone this morning?”
“I don’t know,” Peyton said, not willing to admit he’d just walked in. “How can I help?” That Ted Frost, one of the firm’s founders was calling meant something was wrong.
“I’m making an announcement in the meeting room on level four in ten minutes. I need someone from contracts there.”
“I’ll be there.” He hung up and put his bag in his office. The flowers were still on his filing cabinet. They were too bright and perky for week-old flowers and filled his office with a scent he now knew belonged to Freya. He shuddered as he picked them up and took them to the kitchen, draining the water and then tossing the flowers in the trash. He went to Alexis’ desk to do the same but stopped. Her handwritten notes were stuck around her screen. There was a reminder to call Bethany—the woman who’d set up the coven—and a few other notes about files and cases and things that needed actioning.
Nothing suggested she’d been anything but Alexis for the last week. That change from human to goddess had only happened after he’d slept with her. He closed his eyes, but it didn’t feel like a memory, more like a dream that was rapidly fading. People who didn’t know about magic often started rewriting their memories so it made sense. He knew that and had the scratch marks to prove it, and it was still starting to seem unreal. Because he no longer had magic? Would he start to forget, and then one day the beast would see the weakness and take over?
He opened his eyes and snatched up the flowers from her desk, tossing them out. Alexis would be back, and she wouldn’t want these as a reminder.
He made it to the meeting and wasn’t the last one into the large boardroom. There were no seats left, so he stood. Ted Frost looked somber.
Peyton had the sinking feeling he knew what was coming.
“Thank you all for coming. I know some of you are aware Ben Campbell has been away. Some of you might know he was reported missing by his wife. It is my sad duty to inform you that he has been found, and that Ben is deceased.”
There were gasps of shock and mutterings about what a good man he’d been. Those people probably didn’t have a lot to do with him. Ben had been lazy, keen on long lunches and staring at Alexis’ chest or ass.
And he’d been mauled to death by the cats she, as Freya, controlled.
He lowered his gaze out of respect, but could appreciate the justice. Deities didn’t smite random people. There was always a reason.
“There will be a service next week. The details will be sent out via email. Thank you.”
That was it, meeting over, but Peyton had questions.
He walked over to Ted, shook his hand and made the appropriate noises about the loss before asking what he needed to know.
“Do the cops have any leads?” And if they did, would they point back to Alexis?
He didn’t want her to take the fall for something she did while Freya was using her skin. Next time he saw Alexis-Freya, he was going to ask exactly what deal had been made. Maybe there was an out clause.
“Not that they told me. But they’re looking into the attack. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.” Ted clapped him on the shoulder and moved onto the next person waiting to talk to him.
Once back in his office he shut the door, sat down and closed his eyes. He knew the field would be empty, but he had to see it again, and this time he was prepared and wouldn’t be stunned. Why was he going back to the Morrigu when She had turned away from him? He rubbed his sternum, but the ache was far deeper, and the cold was in his soul.
He didn’t know how else to save Alexis. He’d never thought falling for Alexis would cause this much trouble. That his goddess would abandon him for enjoying a night with her. If he’d known it was Freya, he wouldn’t have. But he’d known something was wrong. As a hellhound, he hadn’t really cared. He wouldn’t let himself get swept up again.
The field was as lush and green as al
ways. The cows were on a hill a little farther away, so he trudged through grass that got longer with each step until it was tangling around his feet and then his ankles, bringing him to his knees and then binding him to the earth. He struggled against the bonds, but that only made the grass tighten around him. He relaxed and the grass eased, but not enough for him to get up.
It was only then She appeared, her cattle trailing after Her. Her cloak was thrown back, revealing armor and sword. He never saw Her dressed for battle. Unable to stand, he waited, half expecting Her to draw the sword and decapitate him.
The Morrigu grinned and put Her hand on the pommel. “Tempting, but not today.”
He didn’t sigh with relief. “I’m here—”
“I know why you are here.” She stopped three paces from him. “You do not want to serve me to your full ability, but you have the audacity to beg me for help.”
“I cannot serve you. I can’t be a witch and a hellhound.” They were incompatible. The magics didn’t mesh.
She drew the sword and brought the tip to rest on his sternum. “You choose not to serve me. Use my gift.”
“And be led like a puppy to Freya again? Heal the bite and take the poison and I will serve you again like I once did.” He’d liked that. He had enjoyed being part of the coven and working cases with them when he had the time. He liked the rites.
“I do not want that from you. You could be so much more.” She gave the sword a shove; it sunk through flesh and bone, burning until he couldn’t breathe. If he died here, his body would also die. “You do not realize the power you have.”
Magic rippled over him. His body wasn’t his, nor was it hellhound. It was something horrible in between. He stared at his hands—they were hands not paws—but they were tipped with black claws and covered in grey leathery skin.
“What have you done to me?” His teeth felt odd in his mouth, too big and sharp. His words were mangled by his changed face.
“I’m showing you what you could have if you accepted who you are.”
He was a monster. “No.”