Amy Sumida - Perchance To Die (The Godhunter Book 12)

by Unknown

  “There she is,” a voice at my shoulder had me jerking around.

  Morpheus.

  It all came crashing back and I cringed back in my chair, clutching the fur blanket thrown across my lap. Standing beside him was a huge, shaggy looking man with a wild look in his dark eyes. He was pale skinned, with dark hair, black eyes, and ponderous features, making him look a little slow but the wildness in his eyes held a touch of cunning too. This was no fool.

  On the other side of Morpheus stood a man just as pale-skinned as the brute. He had the same dark hair and black eyes, though this man's hair was slicked back into a neat ponytail and his eyes were full of a vibrant intelligence. He was slim and elegant looking, his pants tapered down to shiny boots and his dress shirt was covered by a black waistcoat. He was wearing a cravat, a freaking cravat. Where the other was brutish, he was elegant. He looked like he'd just stepped off a British historical film.

  “These are my brothers,” Morpheus said. “Phantasus,” the elegant one dipped his head in a courtly bow, “and Phobetor,” the brute bared his teeth at me. Lovely.

  “Nice to meet you,” I intoned hollowly.

  “Ah, she's overwrought,” Phantasus gestured and a rolling tray filled with a complete tea service appeared beside my chair. “Have some tea, little dove. It'll make you feel better.”

  He poured me a cup and handed it to me. I took it with jerky motions and held it to my lips but just before I drank, I looked down at it suspiciously.

  “How can I drink tea if my body's not really here?” I focused my eyes on Phantasus, over the rim of my cup.

  “She's smarter than I expected,” Phantasus slid his gaze to Morpheus briefly. “It's not real tea, sweetheart. I'm the Lord of Illusions. You'll find that it calms you though. Your mind is what transmits sensations to your body. With only your mind here, you've cut out the middle man and the need to have a physical stimulation. All you need is for your mind to believe you're drinking tea, and you will be.”

  “Yep,” I sighed. “I'm definitely in the matrix.”

  “I still think you should kill her,” Phobetor growled and I shrank back.

  “Don't mind him,” Phantasus circled my chair and came up on my left to sit on my armrest. “He was born grumpy. His name actually means frightening. He can be a bit bearish.”

  “You mean boorish,” I whispered.

  “No, I mean bearish,” he laughed. “Never mind that, tell us all about yourself. Oh wait, you don't have to, I'll just ask Morpheus.”

  “Phantasus,” Morpheus snapped. “She's my guest.”

  “Oh she's more than that, don't you think?” Phantasus stood up and slithered around Morpheus, coming up at his shoulder and peering over it. “She's the first woman to ever grace the Cave of Dreams. Besides Mother, that is.”

  “She's special,” Morpheus ground out. “And she'll be staying for quite a long time, so you'd best behave.”

  “I'm more than happy to share space with her,” Phantasus stalked over to Phobetor. “But I think we should share in all ways, don't you agree, brother?”

  “No,” Phobetor narrowed his eyes on Phantasus. “I think we should kill her. No one is supposed to see the Cave of Dreams. You've compromised our location. This is the Godhunter, she's friends with Hades. Don't you think he'll come looking for her? Then what will we do? He'll know about us stealing energy and he'll stop us.”

  “He'll try to stop us,” Phantasus smiled. “I'm willing to stand with you, Morpheus,” he shifted his gaze to Morpheus once more. “As long as you share the woman.”

  “She's not going to be passed around like a trollop,” Morpheus growled.

  “She already has,” Phantasus shrugged.

  “Hey,” I leaned forward aggressively. It was all I could manage at the time. “I'm not liking anything about this conversation.”

  “Relax, Vervain,” Morpheus shifted soft eyes towards me, they started to swirl and I held up a hand to block the sight of them.

  “Cut that out!” I threw my teacup at him but it disappeared before it hit his face.

  “You will be happy here, I promise,” Morpheus just smiled at my tantrum. “I know just what to do to make you happy now.”

  “It's not fair,” Phantasus pouted. “We can't lure another goddess here like you did with Vervain. It's her abilities that let her through. She's unique, so you should share her.”

  “Yo, Jareth,” I said to Phantasus. “Knock off the sharing talk. It's not going to happen. It's not going to happen with you either, Morph, so you can stop your grinning.”

  “Oh, it will,” Morpheus kept on smiling. “I have the blueprint to winning your heart, right here in my head. Let's begin, shall we?”

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  “What are you doing?” I fixated on the knife in Morpheus' hands.

  He'd taken me from the living room and escorted me back into his bedroom. The fire was going and there were now numerous candles lit throughout the room. Brilliant red poppies were overflowing vases everywhere and the scent from them was thick, almost thick enough to touch.

  I'd chosen a seat as far from the bed as possible, close to the door, though I didn't hold much hope of making a run for it. He had changed clothes with the wave of a hand, turning his previous ensemble into a pair of black silk pants that matched my new dress. That was all he was wearing, just the pants, and silk doesn't hide anything, if you get my drift. I was red in the face within two seconds flat.

  He enjoyed that, as he was enjoying my trepidation. He knelt before my chair and lifted the knife between us. The tip glinted in the candlelight as he lowered it to his hand. He cut the tip of a finger and then tossed the knife aside. I followed its descent and then quickly returned my gaze to his. The mist was calm, not swirling, nothing there to be afraid of. No, the threat wasn't in his eyes, it was in his blood. He held his finger up to my lips and the blood beaded on it, beckoning.

  “I've learned all about you,” he said gently. “It's only right that you should know about me. Take my blood, Vervain. I know what it will show you.”

  “Hell no,” I pressed my lips together firmly.

  “So stubborn,” he shook his head with a little grin. “Afraid you might like me? Afraid you'll see something real, something to love?”

  “You're not going to get me to taste your blood by calling me chick-” he slid his finger into my mouth before I could finish. I jerked back but the damage was done. I was already seeing more than I wanted to.

  As I reeled under the weight of his life, Morpheus held his finger to my mouth and dripped more blood onto my tongue. More and more of him filled me, more of his memories, more of his emotions. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Instead of just a taste, a glimpse, I was getting everything. Morpheus was pouring into me, using the blood as a hook to pull himself over my walls. He was invading.

  Loneliness. Despair. Desperation. Fear. I was bombarded by emotions first and then the images became more clear. I saw a field of poppies, a little hand running over the delicate petals. A bear cub running in the night. A woman's hand striking my cheek. Bubbling liquids and laughter. Disjointed scenes that were hard to make sense of at first. Then it came together.

  His parents had taught their children that reality was what you could twist it into. That people, both gods and humans, were worth only what you could deceive them into giving you. His parents were con-artists and drug dealers but they justified their actions as necessary and preemptive. Strike out before you're struck, take before you can be taken from.

  His mother, Pasithea, was the creator of Net, a god drug that I'd encountered a couple of times already. It made a god helpless, removing all of your capability to use magic while making you feel so wonderful that you didn't even care that it was gone. A lot of gods used it recreationally but it had been used as a weapon on me. Balder had tried to kill me after injecting me with it and I would have let him if Loki hadn't stepped in and saved the day.

  Now I knew where Net came from and after se
eing Pasithea in Morpheus' memories, I wasn't surprised by it. She was a woman who only cared for herself, who did everything with ulterior motives, and Net was a means of subjugating other gods. She got off on the power, a matriarch who even suppressed her family to further these ends.

  Hypnos was under Pasithea's control completely. He did everything she said, even after she moved out of his home and into the Human Realm so she could more easily distribute Net. Hypnos stayed in the Underworld to watch over the crops, the poppies that she harvested to make Net. Poppies, why didn't that surprise me? Net was god opium.

  It was Morpheus' parents who'd instilled the animosity he and his brothers felt for Zeus within them but Morpheus felt it was justified. Zeus had tried to use him several times to further his own ends and Morpheus had refused every time. The glimpses I got of Zeus had me cringing. If I ever escaped Morpheus, I knew my next hunt would be Zeus. I couldn't let get away with what I'd seen.

  Along with a wariness of Zeus, Morpheus' parents had given him a need for secrecy, a paranoia of the unknown, be it places or people. The Oneiroi were products of their parent's manipulations, suspicious of anything new and of any friendship offered them. Everyone was a threat.

  With the refusal to bow to Zeus' demands, the family had to find another way to remain immortal. Hypnos and Pasithea sent their boys out into the Realm of Dreams to start gathering energy. They hadn't known how well it work or that it would result in the death of their victims but neither Hypnos nor Pasithea seemed overly distraught when they'd found out.

  Phantasus and Phobetor took to the killing like angels to air. They soared, gathering more than enough energy to share with their parents. Morpheus was more reluctant at first but after centuries of pressure, he learned to think of it as a game. The one with the most energy got to live the longest. But even self-denial can't last forever. The weight of murder started to hang heavily on his shoulders.

  Morpheus had retreated into the Caves of Dreams with his brothers, distancing himself from his parents as well as the rest of the world. All he had left were the Realm of Dreams and the Land of Dreams, shadows and illusion. Nothing was real and so reality became nothing to him. He lived in the minds of others, occasionally choosing one to die so he could continue to exist.

  By the time he'd stumbled across me, he was partially numb and wholly cynical, teetering between obsession with the fantasies of the human soul and hatred for the people he'd been forced to kill. I'd been chosen at random, just another veil shifted aside. He'd approached me as he would have any other victim, with dark persuasion followed by swift attack. It was best done quickly and it would have been if he hadn't found more than he expected. Here was someone he couldn't kill, a god like him and yet more. When I'd manipulated the Realm of Dreams, he knew he'd found his true companion, the one to light the darkness for him, to lead him out of his nightmare.

  I felt the ache of guilt and loneliness, a vast pit of it inside him that drank down any happiness he managed to find. His life was one long night, an endless slumber, without the freedom of dreaming his own dreams. He could only experience the imagination of strangers. It was a twisted prison that his parents had sentenced him and his brothers to. His brothers had adapted but Morpheus didn't have the temperament for it and so he paid the price.

  Now I was paying the price with him.

  I surfaced from his memories with a heavy heart. I sympathized with him, felt his pain as if it were my own, but I couldn't stay there with him. If he thought I'd see his past and suddenly agree to remain with him, he was about to be even more disappointed. I wanted to help him, even more than I had before, but I didn't love him. Tasting his blood had given me insight but not affection and he saw it in my face immediately.

  “It doesn't matter,” his jaw clenched. “We have forever for you to fall in love with me. I can be whomever you want me to be,” his form wavered and became Azrael.

  “What the hell?” I flinched.

  “Or would you prefer this?” He shifted again and it was Trevor. “Or I could be any combination you want.” Another shift and he had Kirill's face though his body was still Trevor's. “Wings maybe?” Azrael's wings appeared behind the conglomeration of my men.

  “That's really messed up,” I whispered.

  “Ah, how about this?” He changed into Rowan and I felt my jaw unhinge.

  “I'm not attracted to Rowan,” I whispered.

  “Yes you are,” he frowned at me like I was testing him, Rowan's onyx skin wrinkling up. “I saw it in here,” he tapped my temple.

  “No,” I gave a little hysterical laugh. “His power is lust, what I felt for him wasn't real.”

  “If you say so,” Morpheus shrugged and faded into Arach. “Is this better?”

  “Just stop that,” I growled, refusing to admit how deeply unsettled I was. “Physical attraction is merely a gateway for real love. You can alter your appearance but you're not really them.”

  “You don't like it?” He frowned, considering, and then changed back into himself. “Yes, maybe I should let you get used to me first.”

  “Morpheus,” I shook my head. “I saw something else in your blood, something that may surprise you.”

  “What's that?” He brushed my hair back from my face gently.

  “You don't love me either.”

  He flinched as if I'd slapped him. “Of course I do,” he growled. “Do you think I don't know what love is? I've seen it over and over, touched it in a thousand minds. I know love and I know that I love you.”

  “No, you don't,” I sighed. “You love the idea of a companion, someone who doesn't want you to be a killer. You love the idea that a woman could make you stronger, better than what you are. You want a savior not a lover.”

  “You're lying,” he declared. “You don't want to see my love or acknowledge the way you feel in return.”

  “I don't have to lie and I don't want your love,” I said as gently as possible. “There will be others, just let me go. It's the only way I can save you and that's what you really want.”

  “No, no others,” he narrowed his eyes on me. “And you won't be going anywhere.

  I laid there beside him while he told me to give up hope of a rescue, no one would know where to look for me if they even knew to look at all. They might just assume I'd fallen into a coma. I let him babble, inwardly cringing from his constant touching, until a sound outside the bedroom drew both of our attentions. It was a thump, just a random thump, but it was followed by a crash against the bedroom door. The door flew off its hinges and landed in the middle of the room.

  Standing in the doorway was one pissed off werewolf. Behind Trevor was Kirill, looking fit to murder again. They both stalked into the room and Morpheus leapt to his feet to face them. I couldn't move, my body was still under Morpheus' control, but Kirill came over and picked me up while Trevor faced off with Morpheus. He ran out of the room with me, leaving Trevor and the rest of the Squad to finish it.

  “Toss her through the gate made out of a bunch of antlers,” Pan yelled to Kirill as we passed by and Kirill nodded. “It's straight through the living room.”

  Kirill put on an extra burst of speed, holding me tight to his chest, and soon the Gates of Horn were before us. They were only open a crack and no matter how hard Kirill pushed, he couldn't widen the gap but it didn't matter. As soon as I touched the gate, my body flowed from Kirill's arms and through the small opening.

  I couldn't stop my momentum, I just flew through the Realm of Dreams and straight to my waiting body like an elastic cord was connecting us, a cord that had been stretched too tight. I snapped awake, jerking into a sitting position and jostling the man who was laying across my arm. I took a deep breath gratefully, filling my lungs with wonderful fresh air, and then looked down at the man beside me.

  It was Griffin.

  He stared at me with open relief, lines of strain standing out around his eyes and mouth. I stared back at him in shock and growing hope. Had he been worried for me? What was
he even doing there? He gripped my arms and pulled me forward into a hug, his body shaking against mine.

  “I thought you were gone,” he whispered. “I came by to speak to Aidan and Trevor was shouting about your soul being taken. They were all rushing away, going on about dream gods while they left you here sleeping. I didn't know what was happening and most of the Intare went with them, so I just stayed with you. I thought someone ought to be here in case you wake up.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  “What happened to you?”

  “Do you know that place between being asleep and awake, where you still remember your dreams?” I smiled at him lopsidedly. “That's where-”

  “Vervain!” Persephone was standing in the bedroom doorway. “Hades is missing! He never came back from speaking with Hypnos and I'm really getting worried.”

  “I think I might know why,” I jumped out of bed. “Let's go.”

  “I'm going with you,” Griffin stood and faced me with a determined look. “Where are we going?”

  “Back to Hell.”

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Persephone said we couldn't trace directly into the Land of Dreams. It was a situation similar to the Viking territory, a shared area divided among a few gods. So we could either trace into Hades' palace to travel across the Dividing Road and the Vale of Mourning or we could trace to the entrance of the Underworld and go from there. The Dividing Road was where souls were judged by three Kings and the Vale of Mourning was a place where souls consumed with unhappy love went. If I never saw another soul judged it would be too soon and the thought of seeing a bunch of crying dead people didn't sound appealing either.

  When I mentioned my misgivings, Persephone said the entrance would be easier anyway, that way we'd only have to cross the river Lethe instead of having to cross the river Cocytus and the Acheron. I can't say I wasn't relieved.