Half Bad: A Reverse Harem Goddess Romance (Godhunter Book 31)

by Amy Sumida

  “Still, we need to try,” Odin insisted.

  “Yes, I agree.” Mukasa held out his hands. “Form a circle, if you would.”

  We gathered around his fire—the flames of which I inhaled to extinguish—and clasped hands. Mukasa nodded crisply when we were in place, then closed his eyes. The Aether opened to us and drew us through—a shivering rush of magic and intention. I became pure thought and yet, I was still connected to the others, hurtling through that in-between realm and into another.

  We reformed in open air. It was a little startling but it wasn't the first time that I'd entered a god territory in the sky. The difference was, this one didn't have a path, it was just clouds and more clouds. I peered through the collection of cumulus, searching for something solid.

  “Adroa!” Mukasa called. “I have brought some friends to speak with you about Adro. Will you receive us?”

  In seconds, the clouds dispersed and solid ground was revealed—ground and a lush landscape. The sky retracted up to where it belonged and a crescent moon illuminated a gleaming path.

  “He welcomes us.” Mukasa grinned, then led the way down the trail.

  The pebbles of the path had the look of glass and barely shushed when walked upon. A few feet away from the silvery road, trees that resembled those on Mukasa's island formed a solid wall, but they grew taller than those on Bubembe and every leaf looked perfect. The grass looked just as pristine, without a single spot of brown showing through its vibrant green, and the flowers that sprouted among the glossy blades looked painted. The air didn't hold their scent, although it was fresh, and no breeze cooled our skin, though it was the perfect temperature. It felt... fake. As if picking a flower would reveal a lack of roots and a plastic stem. I've seen a lot of strange god territories but most of them—even the horrific ones—had at least the appearance of reality.

  The path curved and took us through several gardens, each one different but all with that odd unreality to them. No animals rustled through the underbrush or flew overhead. No cries or caws came in response to our passage, not even the buzz of a tsetse fly. It was like walking through an art installation; I wouldn't have been surprised to see a plaque with the name of the piece. The trail ended at the steps of a white, stone building. Not a temple, just a mansion with its front door wide open. Within the arched doorway, backlit by light, stood half a man.

  The half-man was as white as Adro had been black—a pure white devoid of any hint of another color. He wore half a robe, belted around his waist, and the vivid crimson of the fabric was shocking against his skin. I could see his features clearly, as opposed to my glimpse of Adro, and they added another layer of surrealism. My mind tried to register him as Caucasian because of that skin, but he wasn't. His features were definitely African: full lips, wide nose, and generous cheeks. Or cheek, rather. I would have called him an African albino except that his eye was a deep brown. His hair, short and tightly curled, was as pale as his skin and grew over the side of his face where his other half should have been, going down to about ear level. From there down, was only smooth skin.

  He gave me the creeps.

  Then Adroa smiled and the creepiness disappeared. He exuded as much joy and kindness as Mukasa did and when he held his single arm out, Mukasa went forward to hug him.

  “Thank you for seeing us.” Mukasa drew back and laid a hand on Adroa's shoulder.

  “I'm excited, to tell the truth,” Adroa spoke with a surprisingly normal voice despite having only half his vocal cords. “I don't get a lot of visitors.”

  “I shall endeavor to visit more often,” Mukasa promised.

  “Thank you. I'm lucky to have you.” Adroa looked from Mukasa to us. “And welcome to my home, all of you. I have never seen so many gods from so many different pantheons standing together before. This is a wondrous day!”

  “I wish we brought good news with us,” Odin stepped forward. “But we must speak with you about your other half.”

  “This is Odin. I've mentioned him before,” Mukasa made the introduction.

  “Yes, Odin of the Norsemen!” Adroa nodded. “I've heard many great tales of your prowess. It's an honor to meet you in person.”

  Odin shook Adroa's hand. “And you as well.”

  Then, because it seemed rude to do otherwise, Odin went through the long process of introducing the rest of us. When that was over, Adroa invited us inside to discuss the Adro situation. He led us down a long, white corridor hung with photographs of landscapes from all over the world, his single foot floating above the floor so he didn't have to hop ignobly.

  “I brought him these.” Mukasa waved a hand at the pictures.

  “And I treasure them,” Adroa said over his shoulder—his left and only shoulder. “It's one of the few ways I get to see the world.”

  “One of?” I asked.

  “I bring him movies too,” Mukasa explained.

  “I love American films!” Adroa declared exuberantly. “They show me the Earth and space and other worlds that don't exist. But it doesn't matter if they're real or not because they could be, as far as I know. I like to imagine that they do exist and that wondrous beings people them.”

  There was a childlike innocence to this man, and I wondered if that came from being completely devoid of negativity. He didn't come across as simple but he was utterly guileless and that's what made him seem young to me. Part of me saw the beauty in this but the other part—must have been my badder half—saw the horror. We need the bad to temper the good. I don't mean evil, evil is different from bad in my opinion—another level of it. And the term bad is really just an opinion when it comes down to it so I suppose I mean that we need some darkness to temper our light—things like ambition and desire and even anger. Without those “bad” emotions, we're just, well, half a person. Strength can't shine without weakness, happiness isn't as bright without sorrow, and good is not impressive without bad. Everyone needs a little devil on their shoulder, tempting them to be naughty because, frankly, naughty can be really fun.

  Adroa brought us to a room that was—thankfully—painted a neutral tan. All the white had been getting to me. Here, a plush carpet squished beneath my feet and puffy couches waited to be plopped down on. Golden light fell from reed chandeliers above and a large TV hung on one wall—the wall the couches faced.

  “Hmm... I don't have enough chairs,” Adroa murmured. “Let's see what I can transform...”

  “Zat's fine,” Kirill assured him. “Some of us can stand.”

  “Are you sure?” Adroa's half-face twisted into concern. “That doesn't seem hospitable.”

  “We don't mind,” Hades added his assurance.

  “Okay then.” Adroa took a seat on the central couch, sort of floating back onto it.

  I wondered if only the good half got to float while the bad half hopped. Hopped and crawled. Interesting. The good one floated around Heaven while the baddie slithered across the Earth. Sounds familiar.

  “Now, what am I up to on Earth? Is it truly horrible?” Adroa asked.

  “It is,” Odin said gravely. “And it may end up hurting all of the Gods.”

  “Hurting all of the Gods?” Adroa leaned forward onto his knee. “How is that possible?”

  “We believe that Adro is gathering magic he'll use to reconnect you,” Thor said.

  “What?!” Adroa shrieked. “No, he wouldn't. I wouldn't. We wouldn't! That could be disastrous. Every god knows that there are certain aspects of our myths that you cannot tinker with. Ours is this.” He waved a hand at himself. Then he relaxed back. “You must be mistaken. He knows better.”

  “We could be,” Odin said diplomatically. “It is merely a theory at this point. But his Adroanzi have killed a lot of people and lately, those people have been children. Adro also told my wife that he was almost done—that implies a goal. What other goal could he have?”

  Adroa considered this, then scowled. “I don't know. Honestly, I don't have the capacity to think like him. I simply don't have it in me t
o contemplate impure actions. He, however, can think of nothing else. I don't envy him, even though he has the freedom of the world. I can't imagine what his days are like or how horrible he feels every moment of them.”

  “I don't think evil pities itself,” I said gently. “It's happy with how it is because it has no choice, that's its version of normal.”

  “Perhaps,” Adroa agreed. “I know you look at me and pity me but this existence isn't so bad. I do miss intimacies with... oh, you know. But other than that, I'm content. Adro, though, he has desires that can't be fulfilled without hurting others. Desires that should have been controlled by me. He may not pity himself, but I pity him, and I hope that all of you will as well. He found a way to reproduce but knows no love—he can't conceive of it, not even for his children. He has nothing to bring him true joy, nothing good to delight in. Only evil can give him satisfaction. That is no way to live. It is simply a very, very long and lonely death.”

  “And death for those he targets,” Hades added in a soft but stern tone. “We need to stop him, no matter what his goals are. Can you help us?”

  “Help you?” Adroa blinked his single eye. He lifted his hand and waved it to indicate the room. “How could I possibly help? I can't leave this place nor can I contact Adro. We are two halves of the same person but we're eternally separated in every way.”

  “But you were once whole,” I said urgently. “And you once lived on Earth. Even though it's been a long time, you must have some memories of it. Can you think of anything that might help us find Adro? Anything that might help us trap him?”

  Adroa thought about it for a long time. No one rushed him.

  “The children,” he finally whispered.

  “What about them?” Mukasa asked.

  “You said that the Adroanzi killed children?”

  “That's right,” Thor confirmed, leaning forward urgently. “They followed them and bit them.”

  “Oh.” Adroa deflated.

  “Why? What difference does that make?” Odin asked.

  “I thought they were being sacrificed.”

  “They are,” Odin insisted.

  “Yes, but not in the way that our people used to sacrifice their children,” Adroa argued. “Following people home to protect those who trust them and kill those who don't, is an Adroanzi myth bound by the rules of belief. They may have found a way to give the power of the kill to Adro, but their kills are not sacrifices per se. If Adro wanted the full strength of a child sacrifice, he'd need someone to kill that child in the ritual manner of our people. And that ritual would leave a link between Adro and the child's parents. I would have recommended that you attempt to find the link and follow it to Adro.”

  “If he's not getting additional magic from them, why go after the children?” Teharon pondered.

  “Maybe those kills were mistakes,” I whispered.

  “What do you mean, V?” Torrent asked.

  “What if the Adroanzi meant to abduct the children but the kids fought back?” I asked. “What if they accidentally killed them? Or rather, killed them too soon.”

  “He said it was nearly over,” Odin murmured thoughtfully. “Perhaps this is his big finale.”

  “A large sacrifice of children to give him a final boost,” I growled.

  “We have to look for missing kids!” Horus declared as he jumped to his feet.

  We all stared at him in surprise.

  “What? Come on, this is a lead, right? Let's go!”

  “I'm so sorry to rush off,” Odin said to Adroa, “but Horus is right. We need to start investigating missing children from the Austin area immediately.”

  “I understand, of course.” Adroa held up his hand to ward off Odin's concern. “Please, if there is anything I can do, come back and let me know. I will adjust my wards to allow all of you through. In fact, return anytime, even to just visit.” He grinned. “I'd love the company.”

  “I would be honored to.” Odin clasped Adroa's hand. “Thank you for your help.”

  “Good luck,” Adroa said sincerely.

  “I will stay a bit longer, I think,” Mukasa said.

  “Wonderful!” Adroa smacked his palm on his thigh. “We can have dinner on the terrace.”

  We made our goodbyes and hurried back to Adroa's tracing cloud as I wondered what eating with half a mouth would be like.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  I texted Austin as Torrent searched the Internet for children who'd been reported missing in the Austin area within the last day. There were nine. The number made me shiver. It was a powerful number, especially for me, and I assumed it had some significance for Adro as well. Sure, one or two of the children might have been abducted by a human, but I didn't think so. Nine felt right, or wrong, rather. And if Adro had all of the kids he needed, their hours were numbered.

  “He's going to kill those kids tonight,” I concluded.

  “I think you're right,” Odin agreed.

  “But all we need is something one of them wore,” Trevor pointed out. “They couldn't have taken the kids through the tunnels, which means that we'll be able to track them through the city.”

  My phone beeped. I read Austin's message, then relayed it to the others. “Austin says he's leaving work now and he'll meet us at his house.”

  “I've got addresses for the missing kids,” Torrent announced.

  “Are there any near where we found Viper?” I asked.

  “One is a couple of blocks away.”

  “Perfect. We can trace into that empty building, then go from there,” I suggested.

  “I'll fetch Austin,” Odin offered.

  “Hold on.” I stopped him with a hand on his arm. “I think Austin should sit this one out.”

  Odin blinked, then huffed a laugh. “I completely forgot that he's not one of us. You're right. Text him and tell him we're hunting Adro down tonight and he should stay home and wait for our call.”

  I nodded as I texted. I was pretty certain that Adro would be focused on killing children tonight which meant that it was safe for Austin to be home alone.

  “Now, who wants to hunt a child-killing half-god?” Pan asked brightly as he raised his hand.

  I slipped my phone back into my pocket and stood up. “Let's go get this mother pucker.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  We didn't have to go invisible right away. It was midday in Austin and the sidewalks were crowded with a diverse selection of people; we didn't stick out as we would have on the streets of Lexington. But as soon as we neared the missing child's two-story, brick home, we went camouflaged ourselves in magic. Trevor snuck inside through the backdoor and had to creep past a herd of police officers to get to the child's bedroom. He grabbed a shirt out of a laundry hamper and traced back to us; it took him less than three minutes. Once we had the shirt, we went down the street a ways, where we used a van as cover for returning to visibility. Then all of us shifters took a deep sniff of the shirt.

  The next hour or so was spent strolling around the neighborhood, trying to find the boy's trail. There were multiple fresh trails leading from the house but it was hard to determine which of them was the one we needed. We had to split up and follow them all. Finally, Kirill got a whiff of fear and snakes. He texted us his location and we converged on the spot. Once we had the correct trail, it was a done deal; wherever that kid was, we'd find him. Adro would have to trace the boy to the God Realm, bury him deep underground, or submerge him in water to get us off his trail. The first was impossible and the last two unlikely. Oh, and it was a boy who we were tracking: Scott Anders, age 9. The shirt had the logo of a little league team on it and smear of mustard. I was going to tear this half-god into quarters.

  We were a few miles into the hunt when the owls descended.

  By this point, it was late afternoon and we were nearing the city limits. The number of structures had thinned and so had pedestrian traffic. Perhaps that was why the Itakupe felt brave enough to land as a flock and bar our path forward. By
the way, I looked it up and I was wrong. Owls do occasionally form flocks. There's even a name for them—a parliament of owls. Isn't that fantastic?

  We stopped walking because, well, owls.

  “Oh, goodie,” I growled. “The Guardians are back. What area do you guard or do you just fly around America, looking for snakes?”

  The owls extended their wings and lifted them, forming a shield around one of their flock. These were big owls and the wing thing worked; I could barely see past the feathers. I did notice a haze through the cracks so when the feather barrier dropped, I wasn't surprised to see the man I'd spoken to—or rather, who had spoken to me—the night of Viper's rescue. Why he'd bothered with the privacy shield when he hadn't the other night is beyond me. I'd never heard of a shy shifter.