Green Tea and Black Death (The Godhunter, Book 5)

by Sumida, Amy

  It was different now.

  “How vas dinner vith your mom?” Kirill pulled back and peered into my face.

  “Enlightening and aggravating,” I laughed, “for both of us.”

  “How so?”

  “She knows everything now and she’s handling it pretty well,” I snuggled deeper into the thick blankets, the chill of the air conditioner making it more enjoyable. “The aggravation came with the info she gave me.”

  “Go on,” he prodded me gently when I fell silent.

  “I don’t know where to start,” I sighed. “How can people who profess to be so holy… who act holier than thou all the fuckin’ time, be such evil bastards?”

  “Ah,” his hand crept up to my shoulders and started rubbing, “Christians have arrived.”

  “They won’t let my cousin dance hula at my grandpa's service.”

  “Vich of ten cousins is zis?” Poor Kirill, I had two lives and the normal one was the one he was least familiar with.

  “Shannon is actually my Uncle David’s daughter, so she's one of two, not ten,” I kissed him on the nose when he wrinkled it in confusion. “She’s very sweet and so pretty you just want to slap it off her but I digress. The pastor of the church that my grandparents have been supporting for over thirty years, says it’s against her policy to have hula in the church because, you’ll love this, it’s a dance to the gods.”

  Kirill let out a surprised bark of laughter, making the whole situation almost worth it. His laugh was amazing and more precious to me than my Birkin. I basked in it for a few minutes before he settled down and urged me to continue.

  “So then she tells my grieving grandmother that she doesn’t want the service to be more than an hour, so Grandma should cut out the video we were going to play of Grandpa talking about his life,” I tensed as I relayed that bit. “What kind of unfeeling bitch tells a widow to cut down the length of the service and then recommends which part to cut? I swear I’m going to bewitch her with excessive body hair in visible places.”

  “Or you could just send her into Chinatown,” Kirill’s attempt at humor only served to remind me that I had way more issues than my personal ones these days.

  “What the hell am I going to do?”

  “I say feed Christians to Tiger Goddess.”

  “You’re supposed to feed them to the lions,” I tweaked his chin, “it’s tradition.”

  “Baby,” he kissed me gently, “zese lions don’t vant zem.”

  “I can’t say I blame you,” I sucked in my breath as he bit into my shoulder.

  “I prefer vitches,” he growled, “zeir meat is much more tender.”

  “Are you teasing me?” I rolled with him, landing on top. “It’s not smart to tease your Tima.”

  “I never tease you,” he lifted his hips enough for me to feel the length of his erection. “My Tima can have vatever she vants.”

  “I want you,” my voice went serious and he went still beneath me.

  “You have me.”

  “For how long?”

  There’d been this tightness in my chest since Trevor had left and it wasn’t just because he’d torn my heart out and tromped all over it. Part of me knew they’d all leave eventually, no one ever stays. Trevor was the one that was supposed to be with me till the day I died, whereupon he’d “follow me across the veil” as he liked to put it. But Trevor had left, so what did that mean? If my steadfast werewolf prince, who literally had to touch me monthly or would die, could leave, then I couldn’t have faith in anyone.

  “I may not be bonded to you like some,” Kirill was a pretty perceptive guy, “but my ties to you go even deeper. Zere’s no ozer for me, no matter vat you say or do, you can not be replaced. You are my mate and I am yours until death takes me, not because of magic or vows but because your voice brought me from darkness, your eyes saw me for who I really vas, your touch healed, defended, and avenged me, and your kiss showed me vat love can be. I am yours forever.”

  “Kirill,” I shook my head as I searched for the words.

  “You don’t have to speak, Tima,” he rolled over me, “just show me.”

  So I did.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Black Calvin Klein dress…check. Black Gucci slingbacks…check. Black Prada purse…check. Black oversized Versace sunglasses…check. Black waterproof mascara…check. Black lion escort…check.

  I was as ready as I would ever be for the funeral.

  I looked in the full length mirror in my bedroom and started to shake. Nothing brings home the reality of death like a black dress. Seeing myself standing there, dressed for mourning, made my grandfather's death sink in past the defenses I'd put up. He really was dead and no matter how much magic I had or how many gods I knew, I couldn't bring him back.

  “Tima,” Kirill put his hand on my shoulder and some of his strength flowed into me. “Come on, I drive.”

  We pulled up outside the stark, two-story church, tucked away on a piece of prime real estate in Kaneohe. I looked around cautiously as I closed the door of my Jag. Memories lurked in the barren cement landscape. Bad memories. But I could do this. I took a step forward and saw myself as a five-year-old child, holding tight to my grandmother’s hand as she led me through the yawning mouth of the doorway.

  I saw the little gathering of wary youngsters again, all of us knowing better than to be excited over the prospect of watching a movie in church. If only my mother had known what grandma was up to, I might have been spared that little horror. I was lucky though, I knew enough then to feel an inkling of wrongness. My magic helped me get over the rest.

  The film had been about the rapture and tribulation, in non-Christian terms the instant deportation of all good Christians to Heaven and the torment and trials of all the baddies on earth. At the age of five, I thought I was a baddie in the eyes of the church. How could I not be, I was a witch. I had nightmares for years about finding myself alone while the water turned to blood and horrible monsters roamed the world.

  I shook myself free of the memories; being dunked under water as people prayed, boys telling me I couldn't like unicorns because they were evil(they're in the damn Bible, thank you very much), adults yelling at me for asking too many questions at Sunday school. Well, you tell me where the dinosaurs fit into the myth of creation? I never got it and they never forgave me for that. I wasn’t even a black sheep. I was a black cat in a room full of white, fluffy sheep. I smiled a little at that thought, as I looked up at my black lion walking beside me. I guess we were well matched.

  My mom came walking up with Grandma and I looked around for the rest of the tribe. Uncle David, his wife Donna, and their children, Sean and Shannon, pulled in to park. Uncle Daniel, my mom’s twin brother, was with them. My aunt and her brood were nowhere to be found.

  “Where are Aunty Dorris and all of them?” I asked my mom.

  “They’ll be here,” she cast a sideways look at Grandma, then whispered. “They went to a birthday party at the beach.”

  “Isn’t Harvey supposed to be doing the service?” I felt myself going very still, like right before I had to kill someone.

  “Oh, there they are,” my Grandma perked up like she always did when the good Christian children showed up. What would she say if I told her I’d met Christ and he was a pretty cool guy, just totally not into all this crap that they’d built around him? Oh, and that he was a hippie.

  I loved my grandma too much to cause a scene at Grandpa’s service, so I just clung to Kirill and let him lead me inside. The cool, holier than thou air seemed to welcome me at first but soon it became frigid, like it always did. No, I’m not bitter, I’m grieving, piss off.

  We sat in the second pew, the hardwood making my lush butt wish it were even lusher. Why does everything in a Christian church feel like punishment? My mom sat in front of us, Uncle Danny taking my grandma’s left while Aunty Dorris sat on her right. Uncle David was next to Mom, his family next to me and Kirill. Where, might you ask, was Harvey and his kids? Oh w
ell, they were up at the pulpit of course, singing like they were having a concert for Christ.

  I took a deep breath.

  A murmuring started behind me and all I could think was, “What are they going to do now?” I turned in my seat and saw what all the excitement was about. Grandma's church was finally feeling the presence of the Divine.

  The gods had arrived.

  Persephone’s hair was back in a modest bun and she looked more mature than I’d ever seen her, walking up to me on Hades’ arm. Behind her came Pan, his normally jolly face etched with seriousness and beside him was Horus, whose expression was more caring than I’d ever seen.

  Brahma was there, his black hair as slick as his designer suit, and Finn looked just as GQ next to him. Teharon’s long hair was neatly braided but Blue’s dark locks hung loose to his shoulders. Mr. T and Mrs. E brought up the end of the Native American group, and behind them were the Vikings.

  Odin was with all of his sons, Vidar, Thor, and Vali. Thor’s son Ull was there as well. They were all so amazingly beautiful that people couldn’t help staring. I laughed a little under my breath to see the stir they caused. I guess I’d gotten a little numb to their stunning looks, which when applied en masse, were a bit overwhelming. Like a sledgehammer overwhelms a watermelon.

  They converged on me, piling into the pews behind me and planting a kiss or hug on me as they went by. Before the crowd could recover from that overdose of beauty, Fenrir walked in with Trevor beside him and several of the Froekn. The werewolves looked both sympathetic and nervous, and I couldn’t blame them. Their Prince was arguing with his mate, who’d just lost her grandfather. What a day.

  Then I did a double take. Trevor had shaved his head. All of his beautiful silky hair was gone, leaving only a shadow of color on his scalp. He caught me gaping at him and looked away, running a self-conscious hand over his head. I swallowed hard and looked past him, I'd have to deal with that later.

  Behind Trevor were a few of my Intare. Darius of course, and Fallon with his Froekn girlfriend Samantha, as well as Aidan, and Lucian. Kirill had told me the rest of the lions were staying home due to a lack of space. My Pride would have filled the pews all by themselves, but they'd sent their love and sympathies. That was enough for me.

  The pews behind me were completely filled as it was. The other guests had to make due with the remaining pews across the aisle. My grandmother didn’t even notice, she was too busy listening to my cousins sing, but the rest of my relatives gave me curious looks, especially when my lions filed up to kiss and nuzzle my hands.

  Then the service began.

  The idiot pastor who wouldn’t let my cousin dance, started it off, then my Uncle Harvey took over. It actually began well. They played the video of my grandfather talking about his life, growing up in the Big Island, joining the military, going to college in Wisconsin, and meeting my grandmother. I started to cry silently, just seeing him there talking and more lucid than he’d been in years, was heartbreaking. He'd had Parkinson's, then taken a bad fall and never recovered. Seeing that vibrant man wither away had been a dull, constant ache for me. It was almost a relief to have him at peace.

  My sunglasses and relative quiet hid my tears but Kirill still knew. His arm snaked around me and his face nestled into the curve of my neck. A soft purring started, vibrating against my skin and warming me. I was so thankful at that moment that my lions differed from normal lions in the fact that they could both purr and roar. Magic has a way of altering things and the werelions of my Pride had a little cat in them. Kitties always knew how to comfort best.

  Then my uncle stepped up and started talking… about his life. Yes, it became the Harvey show. Oh he mentioned how my grandfather was such a great man of god but then he went off about how he’d met my aunt right before he was due to leave for Australia for nine months. They’d dated and started to get serious so he asked her one night, “If I asked you to marry me next week, would you?” She of course said yes, to which he replied “Well, I don’t want any ties here when I go to Australia.” She told him she’d wait and he’d left. Then when he returned, he’d avoided her. At this point in the eulogy… sermon… lecture… whatever… I felt my jaw drop. The entire God Squad behind me was shifting and whispering.

  “So one day I was praying,” Harrve continued into the shocked silence. “And Jesus told me I needed to get married.”

  “I did no such thing,” I looked over my shoulder and felt my jaw release even further. Jesus had snuck in. He winked at me from behind his purple John Lennon glasses. “I never mess with people’s love lives. I leave that for the witches.”

  I almost ruined the service by laughing.

  “And Bob was so insightful,” Harvey finally tied in his little story to my grandfather. “He knew I was calling that night to ask Dorris to marry me.”

  “He blew her off, then proposed over the phone?” Sephy’s shocked whisper trailed over to me.

  “We’ll talk about it later, Bunny-Nose,” Hades whispered back.

  Oh yes, there would be talk after this debacle.

  “I’m not here to convert anyone,” Harvey just kept going.

  “Well that makes two of us,” Jesus added.

  “I just think Bob would want me to tell everyone that he’s at peace now in Heaven,” I rolled my eyes but Harvey didn’t see it because of my big shades. “And he’d want all of you to have the same security in knowing where you’ll be going after you die.”

  “I know exactly where I’m going,” I murmured and a chill coursed down my spine.

  It was a good thing I was immortal now. I just had to make sure to be very careful and not get beheaded because if I died, Death would be waiting. Not the physical act of dying but the man himself, Anubis, God of the Dead. He was still sending me little gifts and poems, even after that stupid night, to remind me that he was pining, still wanting and waiting. And if I died before he won me back, he’d still win. He’d made that abundantly clear.

  That thought brought me to an obvious progression. I turned in my seat to face Jesus.

  “Is he happy?” I whispered. “Is Grandpa okay?”

  “Of course he is,” Jesus leaned in. “He’s groovin’ in his paradise. You know the power of belief. You know there’s a Heaven simply because they believe in it and your grandpa was a good dude, he’s there.” Then he lost his smile. “I can’t guarantee entrance for your uncle though.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “What happened to the syringe?” Odin whispered to me as we all ate the food that always follows a funeral service.

  “It broke when I dropped it,” I looked around to be sure no one was listening. We(all of my god friends and I) had taken up a few tables at the back of the room but we were still pretty close to everyone else and were still obviously the topic of many conversations.

  “I’ll get you another,” Odin followed my gaze and smiled at my grandmother as she walked up.

  “I didn’t know you had so many friends, Vervain,” she stopped behind Jesus, almost as if she knew instinctively where her god was. “Thank you all for coming.”

  “My condolences on your loss,” Jesus turned in his seat and took her hand. “Your husband is happy and free of pain now, may you be as well.”

  I hoped no one else noticed the slight glow that flowed from his hands to hers. I looked around frantically to be sure and no one seemed to be focused on their hands. They were all staring at Grandma’s face though and when I looked up, I saw why. She was beaming, serene and happy all at once.

  “Thank you,” she kissed Jesus’ cheek, gave his hand one last squeeze, and drifted away.

  “What the hell was that?” I whispered over to Jesus.

  “Whoa there, lion lady,” he drawled in his hippie-esque voice, “Hel had nothin’ to do with it, wrong pantheon completely.”

  I snickered, “Okay, then what did?”

  “Not what, who,” he grinned like a socialite who’d been given her first black American Express card. “
She’s one of mine, and that means I get to help her. I just gave her a little peace, a small meditation on her Heaven.”

  “Thank you,” I reached over and took his hand, swallowing hard past my tears. “I owe you one… actually I owe you a couple. This is the second time you’ve helped me out.”

  “It’s all good,” he patted my hand. “There’s no owing between friends. Besides, what I did for her is like part of my job, you dig? It’s the least I can do for someone with her kind of devotion.”

  “Thanks anyway,” I wiped at a stray tear and pulled my shades down. “It’s nice to know you’re one of the good guys.”

  “Well now,” he pursed his lips, “I guess that all depends on how you look at it.”

  “Alright, alright,” Horus held up an elegant hand, “Enough meditative, transcendental bullshit. This food is amazing.” He bit into a cupcake and groaned.

  “Vervain, can I talk to you?” Trevor came up beside me. Fenrir and the Froekn had taken the table in front of us and I hadn’t gone over to check on them yet. Maybe I was procrastinating a bit.

  “Um,” I looked over and saw Fenrir watching us with a mix of hope and concern. “Sure,” I got up and gestured to the door, “Let’s go outside.”

  He nodded and headed for the door, leaving me to trail behind. My heart hurt, it was so uncharacteristic of Trevor. Where had my lover gone? I swallowed past the anger and pain, and left the church behind him, walking into the cool night with relief. I hadn’t realized how stifling the building was to me.

  As soon as we reached the shadows, he turned and pulled me against him. I stiffened at first, startled by the sudden attention, but quickly melted. He was stroking my hair and murmuring things to me that I couldn’t hear. I inhaled the spicy musk that was Trevor and sighed. I had missed this so much.

  “I’m so sorry,” his words finally became clear for me as he lifted his face. “Your grandfather was more like a father to you, wasn’t he? I can’t imagine losing Dad. Are you okay?”