by Amy Sumida
I came up gasping.
“Fuck, that's rough,” I swore. “Why you gotta do me like that, Jack?”
The bottle remained silent.
“Yeah, you're right, it's not your fault; you are what you are. I'll blame the movies instead. They make you think that it's normal for people just to swig alcohol straight. Are the bad asses do it. What the hell is wrong with them?” I stared at Jack like he might have an answer. “I suppose I should have grabbed a coke to go with you, but I didn't want anything diluting your power.”
I made a face at the label, then resolutely took another swallow. It burned, but my dragon loves a good burn, and she eased my drinking with her pleasure. Five swigs later, and Jack was capped, cradled in my arms, and I was laid back on my pillows, enjoying the floating sensation filling my limbs.
A movement on the bed made me crack open an eyelid, and I saw Nick, my gray tabby, come padding over to me. I smiled softly as he curled up in the crook of my arm and started purring.
“Thank you, baby,” I said to him. “You're even better than my bottle boyfriends.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I don't know how much later it was when my men came home, but both the alcohol and Nick were gone. Azrael started reporting to me on the fruitless searches, and my heart just sank further and further with every word. No one could find Sekhmet, not even the imps, who had tapped into security camera feeds from all over the world. The only ones who hadn't checked in yet were Odin, our sons, and Re, who were still searching through the Egyptian scrolls. Azrael was telling me that no one had given up yet, they were still out there looking, but I knew it was hopeless.
Then Kirill crawled into bed with me and pushed the bottles out. He pulled me in against him and leaned his forehead to mine. We took a moment to just breathe together. After awhile, he eased away, but I couldn't see him at first; my eyes were blurred by tears. I swiped at them violently and saw Kirill doing the same. He set his deep blue stare on me and nodded. I heard his unspoken message; we'd get through this, as we had gotten through every horror that had preceded this one. We would do so together.
Kirill could say a lot with his silences.
“I found this downstairs.” Trevor lifted a crate of faerie wine that I had brought over from Aithinne. “Do you want to give inebriation another try?”
“Well, I shouldn't simply give up.” I tried my best to make a joke, but even my indomitable humor seemed to have abandoned me.
“Let's go into butterfly garden,” Kirill suggested as he sat up.
“I don't want to,” I huffed.
“The fresh air will do you good,” Azrael said. “Just grab her, Kirill.”
Kirill scooped me up, and we all tromped out through the pair of French doors beside the bed. They led into an amazing inner courtyard garden, full of exotic flowers and immortal butterflies. My magical butterflies flew through the air on gossamer wings while my tenacious, also-immortal, feline chased after them. I briefly wondered what would happen if Nick ever caught one of the insects. Well, I suppose I already knew. Immortal doesn't mean invincible. If Nick caught a butterfly, it would die. Cats are vicious with their playthings. I couldn't fault him for that, though; dragons are the same way.
“Put me down,” I said to Kirill.
He let me go gently, and I slid to my feet. I bent over, to scratch Nick beneath the chin on my way past him.
“Hey, honey.”
Nick stopped hunting butterflies to chase after me instead. When I found a nice place to plop down in the grass, Nick claimed my lap; much to the frustration of my men.
“Hey,” Trevor whined as he set down the case of wine. “I was going to lie there.”
“Cats always know when you need them.” I stroked Nick's striped, gray fur. “Especially this one.”
“And zis one,” Kirill added as he sat down beside me.
“No fair, pulling the pussy card,” Trevor huffed.
Azrael ignored them and sat behind me, wrapping Nick and me within his wings. Az was the Angel of Death, but that also meant that he was the Angel of Compassion, and he knew how to give comfort, even better than a cat did.
I sighed and leaned back into Azrael's chest; even Nick snuggled closer. The scent of roses and jasmine filled my nose as I took a deep breath. Above me, the butterflies flew, their colors muted by the sun streaming in through the open ceiling. I stared up at the bright sky, through the metal netting that prevented the butterflies from escaping. Azrael's solid chest supported my back, the feathers of his wings soft against my skin, and Nick was a warm, purring presence in my lap. How could the world be so beautiful and happy when my daughter was in the hands of an enemy?
“Cats and birds.” Trevor shook his head. “That's even stranger than cats and dogs.”
“Not a bird,” Azrael chided Trevor, “an angel. Horus is a bird.”
“Is it true what Hermes said?” I asked Azrael. “About his daughter being the source of angels?”
“She was indeed the inspiration which led to the myth,” Azrael confirmed. “It's fairly obvious, what with her name and her wings.”
“Hermes fathered the first angel,” I mused. “I don't know how I feel about that.”
“Hermes fathered a woman who helped to inspire the angel myth,” Azrael corrected. “Isis also served as a muse for the myth. Angels were born of much more than one woman, and we have no direct line to Angelia, in particular.”
“It's just one of those religious cross-overs,” Trevor noted as he passed me a glass of wine. “Like Thor's birthday being altered into Jesus's.”
“Thormas.” Azrael chuckled. “Yeah, I remember that one.”
“Happy Zormas,” Kirill muttered.
We all laughed with a shocked burst of sound. Kirill's accent had made the joke ten times funnier, but that wasn't the surprising part. Humor is always startling when you're overwhelmed by grief. But when it comes, it's like an epiphany. You suddenly realize that no matter what happens, it's not the end of you. Only your own death will end the trauma and the joys that life brings. And sometimes even death doesn't stop them. At least not in my world.
Perhaps that was the most comforting thought of all.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Trevor, Kirill, Azrael, and I were drunk when the God Squad arrived. It had taken four bottles–one apiece–to get us there, but we had finally accomplished tipsy. We were laying in the soft grass, staring up at the peaceful sky, and holding onto the earth so we wouldn't float away (go on and tell me you've never felt that way when you're drunk) when they all tromped in with Lugh bringing up the rear.
“Are you seriously going to just lie around and drink while Sekhmet is somewhere with your daughter?” Brahma asked in disgust.
“We've done all we can for now,” Trevor growled and tried to stand. He stumbled, nearly fell into a rose bush, and yanked himself upright with a curse–an inventive curse. “Old Mother Hubbard!”
I froze, then looked over to Trevor in shock. Those of us on the ground burst into inebriated laughter. Those who were standing snorted and tried to hide their mirth with disapproval. Ah, the difference a few bottles of faerie wine made.
“I'm trying to amend my cursing,” Trevor explained. “For the baby ...” He trailed off into a sad silence.
“Vervain, are you all right?” Persephone knelt beside me and brushed the hair out of my face.
“No,” I whispered, “but I will be. I always find a way to be all right, don't I, Sephy?”
“You do, sweetheart,” she said gently. “And this will be no different. You're the strongest woman I know. You're going to get through this.”
Thor strode into the garden. He looked over the state of things (mainly me) and sighed deeply. His Caribbean quartz eyes settled on me.
“Get up, Godhunter,” he said gruffly.
“Thor,” I whispered. “Sekh... Sek ...” I hiccuped and tried again. “That damn she-lion took my daughter!”
“I know. We've been searching
for her, remember?” Thor came to stand over me, glowering down at me in a very familiar manner.
I was having a bit of deja vu. Though that could have been the wine. Thor crouched over me, grabbed my face with one meaty hand, and gave it a good shake. I flailed about as sobriety started to filter in.
“Damn you, Thor!” I slapped him away. “I'm trying to decompress here.”
“You're a mother, you don't get to decompress,” Thor said calmly. “Now, get up.”
“I've done all I can,” I growled. “The Intare and Froekn are searching the Human Realm, and the gods are searching the God Realm. I've searched, and I've burned, and I've tracked, and now, I just need a couple of hours to catch my breath before I lose my damn mind!”
“No, you don't get to catch your breath either,” Thor snapped. “My father called me. He said that he's researching Egyptian magic with Re, Vidar, and Vali. It looks like everyone is out there doing something to help you while you sit around and get drunk, Vervain.”
“What do you want me to do?” I shrieked at him and staggered to my feet. “Huh? Oh, brave and mighty Thor? God of Seafaring, and Protection, and shit like that.” I waved my arms at him in a wild, flailing motion. “What in all the realms do you think that I can do to save my daughter, that's not already being done?” My voice broke, and I stumbled.
When someone you love is missing, you go through these waves of emotions. One minute, you're determined and ready to face anything to get them back. The next, your heart is racing, and you experience a fear so crippling that you think you'll never be strong again. It's a roller-coaster of heartbreak, fury, love, and fear. And it takes its toll. I had finally reached the end of the ride, and I wanted off. The wine had held back the insanity for awhile, but I could feel it rising now, threatening to tear me apart for good... and I was down with that.
My husbands tried to come forward to help me, but Thor caught me and waved them away. He held me against his thick chest, and I inhaled the salty, electric scent that was Thor. It had once meant home to me, but my heart had moved out, and now Thor smelled only of friendship and a love that used to be.
“Vervain,” Thor's voice rumbled over me, “you are better than this. I've seen you beaten down and bloody, and still, you pulled yourself up and fought on. Your daughter is in danger. I know that you won't let anything keep you down. Not this time. Not ever, darling.”
“My daughter is finally free of that damn incubator, and I haven't even held her. I've missed her growing inside me, I've missed her birth, and now I've missed being the first one to hold her. I would do anything to get her back,” I whispered. “But there's nothing to be done, Thor. I'm left in this horrible limbo; waiting for someone to find Sekhmet. Or at least give me a clue of where I can find her.”
“I know,” Thor said gently. “It seems hopeless right now, but you've faced hopeless situations before, Godhunter. What do you do when it all feels impossible?”
“I try anyway,” I whispered.
“You try anyway,” Thor agreed. “Now, I don't care what you do to help look for Lesya, Vervain, but you're going to do something. We're all going to do something, anything we can think of, until we find Lesya and bring her home. That's how we win; with sheer tenacity.”
“Well said, Thunderer.” I squared my shoulders. “Cocktail hour is over. Let's go get that lioness bitch who took my daughter.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
We were walking out of the garden when Trevor got a text from Ty.
“Rumpelstiltskin!” Trevor swore as he read the message.
“What is it?” I asked.
“There are some gods at Moonshine, asking about the Fomorians.” Trevor lifted his stare to mine. “They want to know who let the Fomorians out of their prison and why it happened in Moonshine.”
“Cinderella's slippers!” I snarled, and Trevor smirked at me. “What? If it works.”
“Your fairy tale cursing is adorable,” Hades said dryly. “Now, should we all head over to Moonshine with you?”
“These gods may see that as a threat,” Brahma reasoned, “if we all show up there en-god-masse.”
“Oh, who gives a flying Frankenstein?” I huffed.
“That didn't quite work, honey,” Mrs. E. said gently.
“Yeah, okay, it's trial and error.” I waved everyone toward the elevator. “I'll meet you all at Moonshine. Maybe if we stagger our arrivals, it won't be so bad.”
“Sure.” Horus rolled his eyes.
“Wait.” I looked around frantically. “Where's Lugh? He was here, right?”
“Farfegnugen!” Trevor shouted. “Everyone get your patooties to Moonshine!”
We hurried down to the tracing chamber and traced over to Moonshine. I thought we'd be emerging to the sound of fighting, but I'd forgotten about Moonshine's policy of oathing gods before they entered. The inquisitive gods who'd been asking about the Fomorians would be held under an oath which restricted them from using their magic.
But Lugh–who would have traced in through the Family Room as we did–wouldn't be.
I ran for the stairs along with the rest of the Squad. As I took them two at a time, I glanced around the club and spotted Lugh. He was furiously facing off with two men, but there didn't appear to be any blows exchanged as of yet. One of the men was stocky, with shaggy, feathered, lipstick-red hair. Talk about an 80's throwback. The other was blond and boyish, even younger looking than Hermes, and a bunch of birds flew around his head like a concussed cartoon character. I'm not even kidding. I could hear their chirping as I stepped up to the group. I don't know how the guy could stand it; the noise would have driven me bonkers.
“Lugh, you wanna introduce–”
I was cut off by Finn, who rushed forward and shouted, “Grandpa Bodb!”
The red-haired man turned away from his heated conversation with Lugh and looked at Finn in shock.
“Fiachra!” The redhead rushed forward and met Finn halfway, hugging him exuberantly. “My boy, how are you?”
“I'm well,” Finn said, then canted his head to peer at the bird boy. “Aengus?”
“Hey, Finn,” the blond said brightly.
“What are you two doing ...” Finn trailed off as it finally occurred to him why these men were in Moonshine. “You've come to avenge your father.”
“That's right,” Bodb said as he turned to glare at Lugh. “And one of the very men I'd thought would be on my side has turned traitor.”
“I'm the traitor?” Lugh growled. “You sons of bitches kept the truth from me for my entire life. I'm not even a Tuatha dé Danann! So, who's the fucking traitor?”
The redhead, Bodb evidently, scowled and looked a little uncomfortable.
“Everyone thought it was for the best, Lugh,” Aengus, AKA Flock of Seagulls (okay, more like Flock of Sparrows), said gently. “We meant to do right by you, even though you weren't one of ours. We all loved your father.”
“And my father loves me,” Lugh said. “My real father. Who happens to be alive and well, and not a dead king. King Cian welcomed me with open arms. I'm now the High Prince of Faerie.”
“Fuck,” Bodb whispered. “As if you weren't powerful enough, to begin with.”
“Hold on.” I stepped forward and held up my hands. “I'm sorry to interrupt the family reunion, but could someone please tell me what's happening here? I mean, it is my club and all.”
“Grandpa, this is Vervain Lavine,” Finn introduced me. “V, this is my mother's foster father, Bodb Derg, the Red Crow.”
“Isn't that a character from Game of Thrones?” I asked.
“No,” Bodb said. “I think you're talking about the Three-Eyed Raven.”
“Ah, my mistake.”
“And this is his brother, Aengus,” Finn went on.
“Vervain Lavine,” Bodb mused. “Now, you're a character I'm certain of–the Godhunter.”
“That's right,” I admitted. “Finn said you were here to avenge your father. Who would that be?”
&nbs
p; “Dagda,” Aengus answered. “We were in Bermuda when we heard of his death.”
“And Nuada's,” Bodb growled. “I can't believe that such great gods as Dagda and Nuada could be struck down by Fomorian scum.”
“Watch your tone, Crow,” Lugh snapped. “I'm a Fomorian.”
“You're Tuatha dé Danann!” Bodb slashed his hand down as if that settled the matter. “We claimed you, and we raised you. Your mother tossed you aside. How can you align with them now?”
“My mother did not toss me aside,” Lugh corrected. “She handed me over to Fand, who had sworn to her that she would take me to my father.”
“Fand had a thing for the High King, and she was offended that he chose a goddess instead of her, a fellow faerie,” I inserted so that Lugh wouldn't have to explain it all. “She deceived all of you. Fand told you that King Cian couldn't acknowledge Lugh when actually, he could. Faerie essence and god souls don't mix; Lugh is fully fey and fully god.”
“Fully fey?” Bodb whispered. “A dual-souled being; I've heard rumors, but I never... Fand. She betrayed us?”
“She betrayed everyone,” I said.
“But she didn't force you bastards to lie to me,” Lugh snarled. “That, you did all on your own.”
“Lugh, nothing was done maliciously,” Aengus said softly. The little birds around his head stopped flying, settling on his shoulders somberly. “We all love you like a brother.”
“Malicious or not, it was done,” Lugh said. “And the truth is that I'm a Fomorian. I've fought against my own family for you people, all of my life. Think of that for a moment; imagine how betrayed you'd feel if you found out that you were actually Fomorian. Then try and call me a traitor.”
“You're right. I'm sorry,” Bodb said grimly, “deeply sorry that this has happened to you, and that I have taken part in bringing you pain, Lugh. It was not my intent.”
Lugh nodded stiffly.
“But there is another truth here,” Bodb went on, “one that needs to be dealt with. The Fomorians killed my father. I must avenge him.”