by Amy Sumida
The Aether is also where magic happens. As a witch, I use it for crafting spells. I can tap into it with my mind and create new realities there. Of course it's not as simple as it sounds. There's a lot of work and usually a few ingredients necessary for creation but once something is made in the Aether, it manifests on the physical plane.
When I was little, my mom told me stories of people who could travel the Aether, a practice called tracing, but the ability was lost to history. The spells had become scarce and unreliable, the destinations vague, the potential risks high. To take your physical body, make it pure consciousness, and send it shooting through the Aether to another location was a mind boggling concept to me. Yet there, beneath me, was proof it could be done. This man could trace, had in fact taken me along for the ride... and I just killed him. Great.
The man was a bloody mess. I'd nearly decapitated him in my blind attack. I didn’t know it at the time but it’s one of the few ways you can kill a god. Don’t laugh, there are monsters out there who can put their head back on and keep going without missing a beat. Or just sprout two more. Can you say Hydra? Beheading doesn't always work. I repeat, beheading doesn't always work. Remember to take the heart too. Oh and burning is usually quite effective as well but with gods, the head is the most important part to take. I digress.
After I stopped screaming, (I was actually thankful I’d been able to delay the screaming portion of the evening for that long) I tried to wipe away the blood in a very Lady Macbeth fashion. Out damn spot, out. It was useless. I found the bathroom, not even caring that there could be someone else in the house, and went into the shower fully clothed. I can’t even remember what the bathroom looked like. All I recall is the way the water ran bright red and how I stared at it, mesmerized as it swirled down the drain. It was the first time I'd ever killed, as in anything. Well, except cockroaches but in Hawaii they don't count.
I stood under the spray and my body began to shake so I added more hot water. It never occurred to me to take my clothes off. I just sluiced the water off them when I was done and patted myself dry with towels. I remember leaving the towels on the floor like I was an obnoxious hotel guest. What did it matter? I think any attempt at manners had been lost when I'd left a corpse in the living room.
I came out of the bathroom to complete silence. I don’t know what I was expecting. Shouting, screams, policemen waiting to gun me down. There was no one. I was totally alone… in the home of a god. It all sank in. The man praying to Ku. The Hawaiian in the trees. The Aetheric Plane. I had killed Ku. One of the main gods of the Hawaiian pantheon was lying on a white tile floor with his head barely attached because of me. What the hell kind of karma had I just racked up? Would it matter that it was clearly self defense? I decided it did. Then I decided to snoop around.
I mean I didn’t even know where I was. Like I said, I knew about tracing but had been warned at a very early age to never attempt it. So I had no idea if I was still in Hawaii or even on the same plane of existence. I had just traced! I could’ve been anywhere. Tartarus, Niflheim, Minnesota. Oh please, don't let me be in Minnesota. Well, then again, there is that big mall there.
I crept through the god’s house and hoped he was a bachelor. The last thing I needed was the Mrs. walking in. What's the proper thing to say in that position? “Hello Mrs. Ku, lovely home you have, sorry about the corpse of your husband. Oh and for making your husband into that corpse.” That was one conversation I didn't want to have.
The place was deserted though. I walked past room after room filled only with modern Hawaiian furniture (go figure). The golden gleam of Koa wood merged with Hawaiian textiles everywhere. High ceilings were crossed with wood beams. Creamy white walls were a stark contrast to dark, hand carved tikis placed artfully. The Hawaiian statues looked like they were museum quality and they were all of the same god. Guess who… yep, him.
A set of sliding glass doors opened to a wide expanse of yard. That in itself screams money when you live in Hawaii, which I was relieved to find myself still inhabiting. Coconut trees crowded the edges of the well manicured lawn like gossiping socialites at a cocktail party, snubbing the shorter kukui nut trees around them. A retaining wall penned them all in, preventing any suicidal snubbed kukuis from leaping over the cliff beyond. The house overlooked Waimea valley. I couldn’t see it but I knew the Heiau was below and to the right.
You'd think a god would have an ocean view.
Relieved that I wasn’t stranded somewhere impossible to return from, I headed back inside. My brain had started to function again and it was reeling from the reality of my situation. I began to search in earnest, not with thoughts of thievery but simply out of plain curiosity. It wasn’t long before I found the one room that seemed special. The big KAPU (Hawaiian for sacred – don’t touch) written across the door might have given me a bit of a clue.
For lack of a better word, I’ll call the room a study. It was full of books and gadgets I’d never seen before. There were weapons everywhere, not just hanging decoratively on the walls but scattered on the floor, as if they'd been tossed there after a long day at the office, if you catch my drift.
As if that wasn’t disturbing enough, a wave of magic washed over me, prickling up my arms. When I turned in its direction, all I saw was a massive book. It sat enthroned on a lectern, watching me with the curiosity of a bored tyrant. Covered in dark brown leather instead of luxurious silk, this book wasn't a bejeweled Emperor but a barbarian King. Completely unadorned by gilt or lettering, he needed no crown to proclaim his dominance. Power was decoration enough and this literary monarch wore it like a battle-honed sword, sheathed but still obviously dangerous. I approached it respectfully and it chose to be benevolent, granting me access to spells I never knew existed and information on a race of people who had come from Atlantis. No, not the resort, the actual lost continent.
With new knowledge came renewed fear. It would be wiser to appease my curiosity somewhere else. Somewhere safer than the home of a god I'd just decapitated. So I ran through the house, grabbing up a large bag (a piece of Ferragamo luggage to be exact, Ku had excellent taste) and hurried back to the study. The book went into the bag and then a couple of the more interesting gadgets on top. I told myself I was not a thief, I took them in the interest of knowledge and besides, Ku did try to kill me. To the winner go the spoils right?
By the front door I found a set of keys sitting in a koa bowl. I grabbed them up and continued my panicked flight right out the door, hoping the spoils included a getaway vehicle. I paused to get my bearings for a moment in a huge, circular, covered drive and located the garage set back to the left. A sleek, black Jaguar with an Eddie Would Go bumper sticker peered out at me indolently.
Eddie being Eddie Aikau, surfer and local hero who was last seen paddling away from the stranded Hokule'a canoe in an effort to fetch help. I shouldn’t have been surprised to see that little bit of homage to local culture but I was. I mean damn, I’d just found out gods were real; picturing them purchasing motivating bumper stickers was just a little too much for me. Then I noticed the vanity plate. KuKuK'chu stood out against the rainbow background of the Hawaii license plate. Hmph, Ku was a Beatles fan and, evidently, he was also the walrus.
I spared one second to giggle, nearly on the verge of hysterics, and then jumped in behind the wheel. In no time, I was zipping down a private drive and breaking with a squeal when I came to an imposing iron gate. I looked around frantically and finally found the remote clipped to the passenger side visor. With shaking hands, I hit the button and hit the road.
I haven’t dated a local boy since.
About the Author
Amy Sumida lives on an island in the Pacific Ocean where gods can still be found, though there are very few fairies. She sleeps in a fairy bed, high in the air, with two gravity-defying felines and upon waking, she writes down everything the voices in her head tell her to. She aspires to someday become a crazy cat lady, rocking on her front porch and guarding her precious
kitties with a shotgun loaded with rock salt. She bellydances and paints pictures on her walls but is happiest with her nose stuck in a book, her mind in a different world than this one, filled with fantastical men who unfortunately don't exist in our mundane reality. Thank the gods for fantasy.
You can find her on facebook at:
https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Godhunter-Series/323778160998617?ref=hl
On Twitter under @Ashstarte
On Goodreads:
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7200339.Amy_Sumida
On her website:
https://sites.google.com/site/authoramysumida/home?pli=1
Or check out her Cafe Press store for Godhunter merchandise:
http://www.cafepress.com/godhunter
And you can find her entire collection of books, along with some personal recommendations, at her Amazon store:
https://sites.google.com/site/authoramysumida/home?pli=1