by Amy Sumida
One of Anubis' werejackals stood outside the tracing chamber, waiting for us. He had the appearance of an upper-class Egyptian but the manners of a cretin. He grunted, waved a hand down the hallway, then started walking. I shared an amused look with my husbands. The Egyptian Werejackals are unusual as far as shapeshifters are concerned. All shapeshifters have a prime form—one that they consider to be their true shape. Usually, that prime shape looks human. Not so with the Egyptian Jackals. For them, their prime form is jackal. They are jackals who can shift into humanoid beings, as opposed to humanoids who can shift into animals. Just as other shapeshifters take their higher reasoning with them into their animal form, so do Egyptian Jackals take their animal minds into their human forms. They can understand commands and even speak a little but, on the whole, they were simple creatures.
The jackal led us through grand hallways made of cream-colored stone, carved with Egyptian hieroglyphics. Elaborate lotus designs capped onyx pillars that stood guard along the walls every twenty feet. Statues of Egyptian Gods also made an appearance, their polished eyes watching us as we strode through their domain. Finally, the jackal opened a door and waved us into a sitting room decorated with modern furniture—modern compared to the ancient Egyptian ambiance we'd just experienced, that is.
The room had a distinctly Victorian feel, with delicate loveseats, a mantled fireplace, and more fringe than one room should be allowed. Velvet featured predominately: upholstery, drapes, and even table cloths. But it didn't feel feminine. The heavy, wooden desk in the corner helped with that. That and the two virile men who occupied the room.
Re shouldn't make anything look masculine. If you considered him in pieces—his individual features and body—it became a list of attributes that would tell an effeminate story. Dark skin coated in gold dust, golden bedroom eyes bordered by thick lashes, full lips that always seemed on the verge of pouting, high cheekbones, chocolate-brown hair highlighted with blond, and a regal nose. But to get the full picture, you had to consider the sleek muscles beneath that gleaming skin, the corded forearms, large hands, and broad shoulders. You had to acknowledge the chiseled angle of Re's jaw and the way those pouting lips could press together in a firm line that brooked no defiance. Altogether, Re was a man who adored pleasure but who could also bring the pain. He was complicated: a lover and a destroyer of worlds, a prankster and a leader, a loyal friend and a dreaded enemy.
Anubis wasn't a man of extremes but he had made some significant changes that made it seem as if he were. He'd once been cold and calculating—a rapist and a kidnapper who justified his actions with his divinity. He'd been on the verge of evil, but he wasn't that man anymore. I could take credit for part of his change but I also knew that the biggest transformations had occurred when Anubis decided to cleanse himself in the Water of Life.
Only Torrent, Anubis' mother, Anubis, and I knew that the peacock fountain in his English garden held the mystical water that not only granted immortality but also purified souls. It worked even better than the Grayel—washing away all darkness and healing all ills, including that of a broken heart. A dip in that fountain had saved my life once—Torrent's too—and one dunk had taken all of the festering evil out of Anubis' soul, turning him back into the man he had once been. The water refreshed and renewed him, giving him peace, but I had a feeling that the smile he wore had less to do with those changes and more to do with the woman who sat beside him, holding his hand.
“Gello?” I asked in shock.
“Hey, girl.” Gello fluttered her long, crimson fingernails at me. “Hey, Azrael. How you doing, honey?”
Azrael's cheeks flushed a little when I glanced at him. He'd once had a crush on the stunning demoness. I completely understood and even benefited from that childhood infatuation. In my weredragon form, I resemble a female demon in her demon form. I was not, however, quite as curvy as this particular demoness. And I'm not lacking in the curves department so that should tell you a lot.
Gello is stacked. Stacked and gorgeous. Her hair, which hung in perfect waves to her waist, shone a deep red similar to my husband, Arach's. The color went well with her gently-tanned skin and poison-green eyes. Eyes that blinked slowly at us, roaming over my husbands as if they were a buffet and she was feeling a bit peckish. I wasn't offended, that's just Gello; she doesn't mean anything by it. In fact, I think she means it as a compliment. And I think she inherited this way of complimenting men from her mother, Lilith. She certainly hadn't picked it up from her bestie, Holly (AKA the Holy Spirit).
Most gods are given their appearance by human belief. It's part of the bond between gods and humans. Gods had eagerly accepted sacrifices from humans once they learned that the blood gave them power and immortality, but they soon discovered that these sacrifices weren't gifts exactly. They were more like a contract. Accepting the sacrifices meant accepting what humans believed about the Gods. A lot of human belief can be circumvented—such as where a god lives or who they marry—but appearance is not one of those things. I've never met a god who could change his appearance from what the humans believed him or her to look like. The only exception to that rule is shapeshifters who can take any form—like Odin—but those are rare and they always have to revert to their prime body—a body influenced by human belief.
When I brought Odin back from the Void and put his soul into a new body, that body didn't escape this contract either. Because it wasn't about the body, it was about the magic. When Odin was reunited with his magic, the body he inhabited instantly transformed into the image the Norse myths had given him. I mention all of that only so I might tell you one of the great things about Gello. Even though her appearance was chosen for her, at least generally, by humans, it fit her perfectly. Some gods feel restricted by a body that doesn't suit them. Not Gello. Hell, even her name worked for her: she jiggled when she walked. Gello looked like a temptress from Hell and that's exactly what she was.
“I'm fine, thank you, Gel.” Azrael cleared his throat.
“Are you two together?” I waved my hand back and forth between Anubis and Gello. “I mean, of course, you are; you're holding hands. But, is this... serious?”
I looked at Anubis pointedly. I didn't want to come out and ask if Gello was the soul mate I'd foreseen for him, back when I'd used my Love magic to help Anubis realize that he had true love in his future. Because what if Gello wasn't her? What if Anubis were simply spending some time with Gello while he waited for his soul mate? And then I go and reveal his secret to Gello. That would be awkward. So—for once—I tried to be circumspect.
“It is,” Anubis confirmed. “Gel, you want to tell them?”
“We're engaged!” Gello held out her hand to display the gigantic diamond on her left ring finger.
The rock was so big, I could barely see the gold band. That didn't surprise me; Anubis has a thing for diamonds—the bigger, the better. I still have a case full of jewelry he'd bought me, including a fortune's worth of diamonds that I was supposed to wear on our wedding day (an underworld shotgun wedding that I'd fortunately avoided). Not that I would ever mention any of that to Gello.
“Best wishes!” I went forward with open arms.
Gello stood up to receive the hug and while I hugged her, my mind raced. I was remembering the future—a future that wouldn't happen now that I'd fixed things. My daughter had come back in time, using my Ring of Remembrance, and took me forward to a future where I was dead. That was the only way I could go forward in time safely—being dead in the time I headed to.
The ring had been created by the Fey to allow the long-lived Faeries to go back in time and re-experience things they'd forgotten. If you went into your past with the ring, you couldn't change anything; you'd simply be a passenger, experiencing what had already happened all over again. I, however, had found another use for the ring. I used it to be in both the Faerie Realm and the God or Human Realm all of the time. When I left one realm, I jumped either back or forward to the last time I'd left the other realm—a time
I had yet to live and therefore could experience freely. In this way, I could raise my children without losing any time with them, or with my husbands, for that matter.
But I digress.
I had never tried to go forward in time because I could have screwed things up royally. No one's even sure what would happen if someone tried to jump forward into a time they had yet to live through but would still be alive in. Would you rewrite yourself? What would happen after you cam back to the present and relived that time? Wit magic, especially faerie magic, anything was possible. But since Samara knew I was dead in her time, it had been safe for her to go back in time, grab me, and bring me forward.
It was during this jaunt that I fell in love with Re. The main thing I had to fix—the incident that made my life take a seriously wrong turn toward the fatal—was letting Odin walk out on me without putting up a fight. In that broken future, Odin had left and I had to replace him. I had replaced him with Re. While this me was in that future, I spoke with Re and he shared his memories of us with me. Then I returned to my present and brought those memories with me. Somehow, they then jumped from me to Re like the common cold.
But, again, I digress.
In that future, I also discovered that Anubis had found his true love and married her, but they had separated because of a horrible argument and I never met the woman. Their argument had been about me and my need for a new lover. I don't know what exactly happened but my availability had put a strain on their relationship. When I returned to the present, I knew that the future would be different. I was assured that I'd still have my children—they were destined to be born—but other things might not happen when they had in that future or they might not happen at all. Horus and Hekate had gotten married but Anubis hadn't, and Persephone hadn't gotten pregnant yet.
But now, Anubis was engaged and this time, I wouldn't come between him and his wife.
I moved from Gello to Anubis and when I hugged him, I whispered in his ear, “Congratulations, I'm so happy for you.”
“Thank you, Vervain,” Anubis said as he released me.
He'd said Vervain, not Miw-sher—his usual nickname for me. That alone was telling and it had me smiling wider.
Anubis reclaimed Gello's hand and said softly, “All of this time and she was just another underworld away.”
I blinked. I hadn't thought of that. The God of the Dead and a demon. I suppose it was fitting. But honestly, seeing them standing together—Anubis looking so dashing, like an eccentric billionaire, and Gello looking like one of his playthings—I wouldn't have thought they'd make a good couple. If you had told me that they were fated for each other, I would have laughed my ass off. But here was the proof that my love magic knew better than I. They obviously adored each other.
After my husbands offered their congratulations, Anubis waved us toward some seats.
“Please, make yourselves comfortable. Re told me that you have something important to speak to me about.”
I looked at Kirill and he nodded; I'd do better at explaining this. If it was up to Kirill, he'd probably say something like, I'm Death God now, please give me lions back.
“I don't know if you've heard yet, but Kirill has become a full god,” I went with a more thorough approach.
“No, I hadn't.” Anubis looked at Kirill. “Congratulations.”
“Zank you.”
“How did that happen?” Gello asked.
“It's a long story but to sum it up, he was connected to a goddess who tried to kill him. He killed her instead and took her magic,” I said. “She was the Russian Goddess of Death and Winter.”
“Death and Winter?” Anubis lifted a brow. “You're an Intare death god now?”
“Da.”
“You've come for your brothers, haven't you?” Anubis lifted a winged eyebrow.
“We truly appreciate all you've done for us, Anubis—” I started.
“I'm not offended, Vervain,” Anubis interrupted. “Of course, you'd want them back, and I'm even willing to release them to Kirill. But how will he take them? I mean in the physical sense. How will he transport them from Aaru to Pride Territory?”
“He will not,” Azrael answered. “I will.”
Anubis blinked.
Gello laughed in delight. “I'll bet you thought you'd never use the scythe to harvest souls again, Az.”
“Not like this,” Azrael agreed. “I've used it in battle, though.”
“This is better, I think,” Gello said gently.
“Who are you?” I gaped at her.
“Excuse me?” She straightened in affront.
“The Gello I know would never choose the peaceful harvesting of souls over their brutal extraction during battle. So, I ask again, who are you?”
Gello laughed softly and glanced at Anubis. “I am a changed woman.”
“Love can do that to you,” I murmured. Then I glanced at Anubis. “Love and water.”
“I'll just have your lions summoned,” Anubis got up and headed toward the door, giving me a secret smile as he passed by.
Chapter Fourteen
Rick, Hamish, Alan, and Noel looked as alive as the rest of us. That was mostly thanks to Anubis' territory magic but also had something to do with human belief, just like a god's appearance. As I mentioned, Gods form a sort of contract with humans; they got sacrifices and the humans got protection, guidance, assistance, and a place to go when they died. It was the last bit that allowed souls to exist in the God Realm. Without god intervention, they would return to the Void and cycle back into another life, but those who form a connection with a deity could bypass the Void and reincarnation and go straight to the afterlife of their choice.
And that's what Anubis had done for my lions.
But now, Kirill could fill that role. He could offer his living brothers a place to go if they died but first, he would offer the souls of his dead brothers a way to come home.
“Yes. Hell, yes!” Noel spoke first.
“We can go home?” Hamish asked with his Scottish burr, his eyes going misty.
“No offense, Anubis, but I'm so over your jackals,” Rick added and flung back his blond dreadlocks.
“No offense taken,” Anubis assured him. “They can be a bit... trying at times.”
“Alan?” Kirill asked. “Vhat about you?”
Sweet, soft-spoken Alan stepped forward and hugged Kirill as his answer. Kirill hugged him back and the other men joined in until it was a celebratory huddle.
“What do we have to do?” Rick asked eagerly.
“I offer you a home for your soul—a place to live on forever,” Kirill declared with the tone of ceremony. “Do you accept me as your god in exchange for zis afterlife?”
The dead lions looked at me, eyes filling in concern. I don't know what Anubis said to them when he offered them a place to live, but I doubt it was this. I was a little surprised myself, but I wasn't worried. I knew Kirill well enough to guess at his intentions. This wasn't about taking from me, it was a way to share my burden and a way to make sure our brothers were safe.
“You aren't betraying me,” I assured them. “I can't give you what Kirill can and his connection with you will allow him to take you with us in case we ever have to leave the territory.”
“But, Tima,” Hamish said, “you are our goddess.”
“And I will remain so. Kirill and I will become a pantheon; we'll share you. You will not lose me by accepting him; you will regain your home and family.”
I didn't tell them the other benefit of Kirill accepting allegiance from the Intare—that if I should ever die, he could keep them alive and sane; the burden wouldn't fall solely on Lesya. That gave me peace, as Kirill had known it would. As much as I hoped to live forever, it was good to know that if I should die, I could go into the Void without looking back.
“I accept your offer.” Hamish held his hand out to Kirill. “I'm your lion.”
Kirill grinned and clasped his brother's hand. Light started to seep from between thei
r fingers. It extended up both of their forearms to shimmer into their bodies. But while it settled into Kirill, it only grew brighter in Hamish until he seemed to be made of light.
“I give you into my brother's keeping for now, Hamish,” Kirill said solemnly.
Azrael stepped forward then, his scythe in hand, and swept the blade through Hamish's glowing soul. The scythe siphoned the illuminated phantom of our lion into itself like medicine into a syringe. The writing on the blade came alive, brightening into a gleaming pale blue. Soul onboard.
“Is that safe?” Alan asked hesitantly.
Everyone looked at him in surprise and he grinned.
“Just kidding. I'm next.” Alan stepped forward. “Beam me up, Azzy.”
Chapter Fifteen
“Azzy,” I repeated Alan's nickname for my angel as we stepped out of Pride Palace's tracing room. “I like that.”