by Amy Sumida
And we could.
I'd known we were meant to be—Alaric had said as much—but I hadn't known the why of it. Now, I knew. Viper's star could connect with mine like no other. Re, as a sun god, technically had a type of star magic, and he could make my moon glow, but he couldn't do what Viper had just done. He couldn't reach into the heart of my magic and draw it forth. He couldn't magnify it or speak to it. Because Re's magic hadn't been formed by mine. His sun was separate from my star. But Viper, as much as he'd been shaped by his soul, was still my creation. My magic had given him his, my power had formed him, and my soul had found his in the Void.
My star had found a friend.
“Hey there, Star God,” I whispered as I lowered my hand to Viper's chest.
“Hey yourself, Trinity Star.” Viper smiled and I smiled back.
I told you that he had forged a magnificent destiny for himself, Alaric said smugly in my mind.
He was the help that was on its way, I replied in wonder.
Yes. You needed to do this together. It was destined.
Thanks for being here, Al.
Always, Vervain. You are never alone.
Usually, I'd be upset by that, I teased. But today, I'm grateful.
Alaric chuckled. You did well today. Enjoy the victory.
Thanks, Al.
“Pan, if you take picture of my naked vife, I vill disembowel you,” Kirill said calmly.
I looked up just as Pan was putting away his cellphone. The God Squad and the Itakupe were gathered around us, all wearing solemn expressions. Well, all but Pan, who was now pouting. I wasn't worried about Pan taking pictures, Viper was hiding most of my body, but I covered myself in scales again for the sake of my husbands.
“Do you think all the gods who hated me might be nicer now that I've saved them?” I asked hopefully.
Everyone but the owls grimaced at me.
“I swear, I need a PR team,” I muttered.
“Godhunter, what did you do How did you stop the spell from hurting the Gods??” Shaw asked as he stepped forward, in his leather jacket and jeans once more. I noticed that the zipper pull was bone.
“Star magic,” I said with a smile at Viper. “From two stars.”
“Well, your enemies may still hate you, but the Itakupe offer our friendship.”
“I'll gladly accept and count it as another win.” I stretched out a hand and shook his. “Thanks for your help.”
“It has been a surprising honor to meet you, Vervain.” Shaw bowed over my hand. “May the currents be kind to you.”
“And you.”
With that, the Itakupe shifted back into owls and took flight. Once they were gone, I noticed a significant lack of people. In particular, snake people.
“Um, where are the Adroanzi?” I asked. “Some of them did survive, right?”
Viper peered around the cavern and then cursed, “Oh, snake poop!”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Azrael returned with pilfered clothing while we were cleaning up. He'd taken the children out of the park and up the street, where he flagged down a police patrol car. Then, while the officer was distracted by the kids, he vanished—going invisible to watch over the children until the officer had called for an ambulance. The kids, prepped by Az, would hopefully stick to the story he gave them—that of a crazy group of men who kidnapped them, then turned on each other and killed themselves.
After Viper and I got dressed—and after I hugged Azrael for a good three minutes—we finished the clean-up. The Adroanzi had shifted back into human forms upon death so we decided to leave their bodies for the cops to find. Hopefully, that would keep them from searching for kidnappers who didn't exist or pinning the crime on innocent men. The surviving Adroanzi had booked it out of the cave as soon as Viper's attention had wandered, but no one wanted to bother hunting them. The consensus was that they'd been following orders and now, with the lack of a leader, they'd likely disappear. As far as the real snakes, Viper collected them and set them free outside the cave. I assumed that they were indigenous to Texas and wouldn't upset the ecosystem. I mean, it's not as if Adro could have traced somewhere to grab a bunch of snakes; they had to be from the area.
When all of that was done, we traced home. A somber Aidan waited for us outside the tracing room of Pride Palace.
His expression sent terror zipping through me. I immediately demanded, “Where are the children?”
“They're fine.” Aidan held up a calming hand. “Your children, at least.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I nearly shrieked. “Is Zariel okay?”
Aidan blinked rapidly and swallowed. “Tima, Horus and Hekate came here to wait for your return.”
“No,” I whispered.
“There was this... pain. It hit all of us,” he went on as a tear ran down his cheek. “It was brief but when it was over, Hekate was bleeding.”
“Katie!” Persephone cried. “Katie? Where is she, Aidan?”
Aidan waved bleakly toward the hallway that led to the back rooms on the first floor. Persephone went running in that direction, but Teharon overtook her. The rest of us followed with less urgency but just as much dread. The first blast of Adro's spell—it must have made Hekate miscarry. I sent her away thinking that she'd be safe in the God Realm but it hadn't mattered. I didn't contain the blast in time. Not for Horus and Hekate's unborn child.
Our solemn procession reached a spare bedroom with an open door and the sound of sobbing leaking out. I took a deep breath before I went inside.
Hekate was curled up on the bed, facing Horus, who sat in a chair beside her, stroking her hair. Her makeup was ruined—streaks of black coating her cheeks and making her red eyes even more prominent. She wasn't crying currently, just staring blankly ahead of her. It was Persephone who sobbed brokenly as she watched Teharon try to work his magic on Hekate. Horus watched Teharon's hands with a shell-shocked stare, not an ounce of hope in it. So, when Teharon looked up and shook his head, Horus didn't react.
Hades had to take Persephone out of the room, she became nearly hysterical, but the other women, myself included, went to the bed and laid our hands on our friend in sympathy and support. We shed silent tears for Hekate as the men gathered around Horus. Pan pushed the men away and knelt beside his friend.
“Hey, birdbrain,” Pan said softly as he took Horus' hand. “I'm here if you want to punch someone.”
Horus turned his body toward Pan, his hand still holding Hekate's, and laid his head on Pan's shoulder. Pan rose into the movement to hug Horus, then Horus started to cry. That sound—that terrible, crushing sound—broke us all, including Hekate. Katie started weeping, her tiny sobs adding another layer of heartbreak to the lament. Shoulders hunched and every eye wept as we mourned with our friends.
I let it go on until the sorrow found a lull—that empty place where you can finally take a breath without releasing it on a sob. Then I called on Love and let it fill me, it's pale pink light easing my pain as it billowed up inside me. That was what I wanted for Horus and Hekate—not a removal of heartbreak but an easing of it: a gentle healing. I laid my hands on their heads, and they went still. My eyes were closed, focused on Love, but they didn't move away from me so I assumed I could proceed.
But as I was about to release the magic into them, another power rose. My star brightened inside my chest, pulling Love back into it, away from the couple. I inhaled sharply in surprise and affront, but with my breath, the star released its light. I felt it leave me in a burst of energy. Horus was knocked backward, off his seat, while the brunt of the starlight sank into Hekate. Brilliant white light coated her body, then condensed in her belly. Her womb.
I heard something. It pounded in my ears. Wings? No. Footsteps? It was slow at first but then quickened. I started to smile as I realized what it was: a heartbeat. A rapid, baby heartbeat.
Light faded as I opened my eyes and let my hand fall aside. Hekate sat up, her hands going to her stomach in wonder and her stare seeking min
e. I smiled radiantly, even as tears continued to slide down my cheeks, and nodded. That unreliable star had come through for me twice in one day. I would never badmouth it again.
“Katie?” Horus whispered as he got to his feet, the barest trace of hope in his voice.
Katie just nodded, then burst into tears. But this time, her tears were joyous. Horus launched himself forward and wrapped his arms around his wife. He hugged Hekate exuberantly, then pulled her to her feet and swung her around. They began to laugh that broken, jagged laugh of unexpected joy. Of wondrous relief.
I stepped back; this moment belonged to Horus and Hekate, and they deserved it. But Horus' hand shot out and grabbed mine. He pulled me into their hug and kissed my cheek.
“I bless the day you came into my life, Godhunter,” Horus declared.
“I love you too, Horus.” I hugged them both once more. “Congratulations on your daughter.”
Horus' eyes widened and his jaw fell open.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
My children were outside playing since it was right after breakfast for them. The front door had been shut—something that rarely happens and which had likely been done to muffle the sounds of their sweet laughter—laughter that would have been bitter acid to a couple who had just miscarried. When I opened the door, that joyous sound swept into the palace and made me smile. I sent another wave of gratitude to my star. Thank you for this. Thank you for saving those I loved from death and heartbreak.
I stepped onto the veranda and found Sam and Fallon sitting together, somberly watching the children—his thick arm around her slim shoulders. She looked so delicate beside her husband—so pale against his dark skin. Samantha turned anxiously toward me when she heard me approach. Her hopeful stare caught mine, and I nodded.
Samantha jumped to her feet, whooped with joy, and rushed me. I caught her and held her as she cried relieved tears, all while the sound of jubilant lions echoed behind me.
“You did it,” Samantha whispered in wonder as she withdrew from our hug. “I knew you would. I knew you would save that baby.”
“Sam”—I shook my head—“don't put that kind of faith in me. I'll fail you one day and it will crush us both.”
“No, you won't,” she vowed confidently. “You're the Godhunter; you never fail. Not when it's really important.”
Before I could protest, Hekate stepped outside. She still had streaks of makeup running down her face but her expression was jubilant. “Would you guys get your butts in here? We've got a lot to celebrate!”
“Oh, Katie!” Samantha launched herself at the other woman.
“It's okay, Sam,” Katie crooned. “Everything's okay now. Well, except for the fact that I can't have a drink.”
Sam burst into laughter as she pulled away from Katie. “Of course, you can have a drink, you're a goddess. It won't hurt the baby. Just don't drink Hellbrew or Duat wine.”
“Damn, just what I had a craving for,” Hekate joked. “But seriously, I'm not taking any chances with this little girl. No alcohol for me.”
“A girl?” Sam asked. “You know it's a girl?”
“Someone spilled the beans.” Hekate nodded toward me.
“Sorry, but I couldn't resist,” I said completely unapologetically. “The look on Horus' face was priceless.”
“Tima! Tima! Tima!” The Intare started chanting.
“I think that's your song,” Kate noted with a smirk, then pulled me inside the palace. “Come on, Tima, you'd better face the music.”
I looked back at my children.
“Go ahead.” Fallon waved me off. “I'll watch the kids.”
“Thanks, honey.” Samantha went to give her husband a kiss.
“Bring me a glass of Hellbrew.” He winked at her.
The entry hall was full of lion men, every one of them wearing proud, ecstatic expressions. They cheered when they saw me and, with hugs and kisses, drew Katie and me along a path that led into the dining hall. There, the God Squad waited, bottles of Duat wine already on the table. Thor stood at the head of the table, in front of the center chair, but he pulled it out for me as I approached.
“Okay, that's enough.” I held up my hands and everyone went silent. “The star acted on its own. I was trying to heal Horus and Hekate's hearts with love, but the Trinity Star drew back my love magic and replaced it with its own power. It was the star who healed the baby, not me. And because it did so, we know one thing for certain.”
“And that is?” Horus lifted a dark eyebrow at me.
“Your daughter is meant to live. She's important, Horus. Important enough for my star to bring her back to life.”
An awed silence met that news.
Horus broke the silence with a disdainful sniff. “Of course, she's important; she's my daughter.”
The room exploded into laughter.
“I don't care if it was your star or you, Vervain,” Horus said. “You loved us enough to try and you gave the star a path to Katie. That means that you saved my daughter. My daughter.” Horus looked around at everyone, then shouted, “I'm going to have a little girl!”
The cheering began again and corks were popped from bottles of Egyptian Underworld wine and Hellbrew—the only things that could get a god drunk. Hekate got apple juice. Glasses made the rounds and toasting began: to Horus and Hekate, their baby girl, and me. We even found a few minutes to celebrate the fact that we saved the entire God Realm and all the Gods in it.
Then Azrael got up and started to leave.
“Where are you going, Mr. Hot and Feathered?” I asked a little drunkenly.
“I've got a couple of things to pick up.”
“Now?” I scowled at him. “What do you need to get so badly that you'd leave us now?”
“Austin and more Hellbrew.” He grinned at me. “We're out of both.”
I blinked. “Dad gum it! I forgot about Austin.”
“It's a good thing that you have a guardian angel then.” Az kissed my forehead tenderly.
“Better even than owls,” I vowed.
Chapter Forty
Azrael returned with the Hellbrew first, then went back for Austin. They walked in on a bunch of celebrating gods, deep in their cups.
“What in tarnation is going on here?” Austin asked as he stared around the room in shock. “I didn't think y'all could get drunk?”
“Not usually,” I slurred. “But when underwear makes winos, we can.”
“Is that some kinda weird god wisdom?” He cocked his head at me.
“I believe she was trying to say, when underworlds make wine,” Az translated for me. “Hellbrew and wine from Duat can get most gods drunk. Have a seat and I'll get you something to drink. Do not, and I repeat, do not drink any of that.” He waved at the bottles of Hellbrew. “It's made in Hell.”
Austin jerked back as if Satan himself might pop out of a bottle. “Copy that.”
Az went to find Austin a drink that wouldn't kill him while Austin stepped up to the table.
“I want to sincerely thank all of you for what you did for Texas. I know this is kinda your thing, and I'm not sure how much of this you'll remember.” He shook his head as a couple of Intare roared and cheered simultaneously. “But it's the first time I've seen y'all in action. Well, I didn't see all of the action, and honestly, I'm grateful for that, but you know what I mean. Just, thank you.”
“No problemo,” I murmured into the table, then pushed myself up with Herculean effort and gave Austin a thumb's up.
“Vervain?”
“Huh?”
“What are you wearing?”
I leaned back in my chair to look at myself. I had a black T-shirt on; it was part of the pilfered clothing that Azrael had brought Viper and me. There was an upside-down pig on my shirt. No, wait, the pig was right side up, I was just looking at it upside-down. There were words too, but I couldn't read them.
“What does my stirt shay?” I asked Re.
Re frowned at the writing, then burst out laughing.<
br />
“What?” I pulled at the shirt, trying to twist it enough that I could read it.
“No, please, let me say it,” Re begged.
“Then shay it already,” I growled.
“It says”—he had to pause to chuckle—“rub my butt then you can pull my pork.” Re wagged his brows at me.
I gave a wheezing, drunken laugh.
“I had to find them clothing fast,” Azrael explained to Austin. “I just grabbed some things off a wash line and pinned a twenty-dollar bill in their place.”