Monsoons and Monsters: Godhunter Book 22

by Amy Sumida

  Brahma froze.

  “That's what I thought!” Sarasvati pointed in his face. “So, don't give me any lip about what or who I've done. You can kiss my fine ass, you cheating bastard!”

  “You tell him, sister!” Artemis shouted as she pumped her fist.

  “Artie, please,” Torrent whispered.

  “What? They're having it out in front of us.” Artemis waved at the Hindu couple. “I'm supposed to sit here and pretend I'm suddenly deaf?”

  “I appreciate the support,” Sarasvati said primly to Artemis.

  “Girl power!” Artemis brought her fist down and smacked her chest with it in solidarity.

  Sara cracked a smile.

  “Great,” Horus drawled. “Now, if you two are done airing your dirty laundry before your deeply uncomfortable friends, we'd like to proceed.”

  “I will speak to Rudra,” Brahma declared as he stood.

  “You will not!” Sarasvati got up too.

  “Try and stop me,” Brahma growled as he strode from the room.

  “Brahma, you will regret this!” Sara raced after him.

  “So, I guess they'll be busy for awhile,” I noted.

  “Who else is there that fits the bill?” Azrael asked as the echoes of our friends fighting faded away. “I know of a Mayan god; K'awiil. He has lightning magic.”

  “He's an abundance god,” Hades said. “This isn't in his nature to do.”

  “As if nature ever stops a god,” Finn huffed.

  “True,” Hades conceded.

  “There's Set,” Horus suggested softly.

  “No,” Re's tone was terse.

  “It would make sense,” Horus argued. “He was fond of Sekhmet.”

  “Sekhmet is alive and doing well in her new life,” Re countered. “Set can find no fault in my treatment of her, and if he did, he would hardly show his displeasure in such a vague manner.”

  “But he may be using your treatment of Sekhmet as an excuse to come after Vervain and me,” Horus insisted. “In which case, this is not so vague.”

  “You?” I asked Horus. “Why would Set come after you? And, while we're at it, why would he come after me? I haven't done anything to Set. His son imprisoned me, not the other way around.”

  “Set has issues with some of the myths created about him and Horus,” Re said with a grimace.

  “And as far as you go, Set would not see things in the same way as you,” Horus noted. “He probably blames you for turning Anubis down after he tried to court you properly.”

  “There's nothing proper about romancing a woman after kidnapping and raping her,” Trevor snarled.

  “I agree with you, Trevor.” Horus held his hands up placatingly. “But I'm not talking about my views; I'm speaking of Set. And Set has always been a little off.”

  “What myth does Set have a problem with? Is it that one where they say that he killed Osiris and tormented your family?” I asked Horus.

  Horus blushed.

  Hekate lifted her brows at her husband. “Why do you have that look on your face?”

  “What look?” Horus asked.

  “The one you wear when I try to talk to you about BDSM,” Hekate said.

  Horus closed his eyes briefly as if he were in pain.

  “Out with it.” Hekate was relentless.

  “Grandfather, please tell them,” Horus choked out. “I can't even say the words.”

  Re chuckled. “It was a dominance myth—and it may very well be the reason Horus balks at BDSM.”

  “No fucking way! Did you fuck Set?” Pan shrieked. “Isn't he your uncle? That's sick, even for me.”

  “I did not fuck Set,” Horus snapped. “The myths have nothing to do with my sexual proclivities.”

  “If that's true, you really should give BDSM a try,” Re suggested casually. “Perhaps start with just some light spanking and work your way up to bondage.”

  “Oh, that would be fun,” Hekate said hopefully.

  Horus' furious look dashed her hopes. Then he transferred his stare to his grandfather.

  “Right; the myth,” Re finally moved past bondage; at least verbally. “It was about Set trying to establish his superiority over Horus so that he could rule Egypt. But in the end, Horus tricked Set.”

  Horus rolled his eyes and groaned. “Why did I ask you to explain it? No one even got your implication to the end, by the way. If you want to make a joke, you have to lay the groundwork before your delivery.”

  “I'm getting to the laying bit,” Re said with a smirk. “Stop being so impatient.”

  Horus sighed deeply and waved his hand in a motion to prompt Re to just get it over with.

  “The myths say that Set tried to establish his dominance by seducing Horus,” Re went on. “But Horus caught Set's semen in his hand at the moment of culmination and tossed it into a river; thereby foiling Set's plot to claim that he inseminated Horus.”

  “What?” Hekate laughed as she looked at her husband. “Did he just say 'inseminated?'”

  “And foiling,” I added.

  “It's not true,” Horus huffed. “It's just a story to explain our rivalry.”

  “A nasty, dirty, naughty, kinky, gay story!” Pan squealed.

  “I know I'll regret asking,” Kirill said, “but how did Horus trick Set?”

  “He tossed Set's cum in the river,” Pan was nearly bursting with giddiness. “Weren't you paying attention?”

  “Actually, no; that wasn't the trick,” Re corrected.

  “There's more?” Pan nearly screeched the question.

  “No; that's enough,” Horus said calmly. “They get the idea; Set and I don't get along.”

  “You asked me to tell the myth.” Re chuckled. “Come on; it's funny.”

  “It's not funny.” Horus grimaced.

  “Oh, you have to tell us now, Re,” Finn urged.

  “Let me clarify once more that this is pure myth,” Re said as Horus groaned. “It was said that Horus spread his own semen on some lettuce, which was widely known to be Set's favorite food, and he got Set to eat it.”

  “Oh, gross.” I made a face. “Cum lettuce?”

  “Da,” Kirill said dryly. “I have regret. Deep regret.”

  “Cum is not a condiment,” Artemis said sternly and then giggled.

  “Why would he do that?” Finn asked with profound confusion, his Irish eyes going round.

  “As I said; it was a show of dominance,” Re explained. “In the myths, Set went to the gods and asked to rule Egypt on his own, instead of sharing it with Horus. He tried to call forth his semen from Horus, to prove his dominance, but Horus had tossed the stuff into a river. It invalidated Set's claim.”

  “And then what?” Pan asked with delighted wonder. “Horus called forth his semen, and it popped out of Set?”

  “Just so.” Re nodded and chuckled.

  “Holy shit! And I thought the Greeks were kinky.” Pan whistled.

  “You don't have to enjoy this so much,” Horus growled at Pan.

  “Oh, yes; I do.” Pan waggled his brows at Horus. “I knew you had homosexual tendencies. I've seen the way you check out my ass.”

  “I do not have homosexual tendencies,” Horus said with a weary air. “And I have never checked out your ass.”

  “He's right; he doesn't even like a finger up—” Hekate started.

  “Hekate!” Horus snapped.

  “I was trying to defend you.” She pouted, but her lips trembled with barely contained laughter.

  “Please do not help me,” Horus said dryly.

  “Okay, enough already; we get it.” I held up my hands, and Horus shot me a grateful look. “So, Set is a possibility. Who else is there?”

  “There's that Maori god,” Odin offered. “What's his name?”

  “Tawhirimatea,” Torrent said as he appeared to search the air before him. “I have a list here. Give me just a moment to go through them.”

  “Isn't he wonderful?” Artemis grinned.

  “That he is,” I a
greed, and Torrent blushed.

  “Okay, we have a Hurrian god named Teshub,” Torrent said.

  “Hurrian?” I asked. “Like he's always in a rush?”

  They all just looked at me.

  “Tough crowd,” I whispered.

  “Teshub was Hittite too,” Thor added. “And he has lightning magic. He is said to have slain a dragon.”

  “I don't like him,” I said immediately. “He sounds like a douche.”

  “There's also Tezcatlipoca, the Aztec god of hurricanes,” Torrent continued. “Also, there's a Native American god named Iya, and a Guarani god named Tupa.”

  “Tupa is a creator god,” Hades said. “Those are generally not into destruction. I understand that gods can go against their natures, but this is his main magic, and that is much harder to turn your back on.”

  “How about the Asian gods?” Torrent stopped reading the Internet to look at me. “Did he or she look Asian?”

  “No,” I said as I thought back. “Those were not Asian eyes. I'd sooner say Latino or Spanish. Mayan, Aztec, all those South American gods would fit, but not an Asian.”

  “That's a relief,” Trevor said. “I'd hate to have to deal with them again.”

  “They weren't so bad,” I chided Torr and waved a hand to the fireplace mantle, where a gold cat statue sat. “Amy gave us that prosperity cat.”

  “Yeah, after making us do her dirty work for her,” Trevor huffed.

  “True,” Kirill agreed.

  “Anyway,” I drawled out the word, “we've got a few names to start with. Let's look into these gods and see what we can find. Hopefully, Brahma and Sara will be back by the time we've gone through them.”

  “Don't hold your breath,” Horus muttered.

  “And don't eat any salad made by Horus,” Pan added with dramatic seriousness.

  “I hate you with the passion of a thousand suns,” Horus said calmly to Pan.

  Chapter Fourteen

  More days passed without any results. Eros was nowhere to be found. Wherever he was hiding out, it was somewhere the sirens couldn't go. Brahma and Sarasvati hadn't returned either, and we weren't sure whether it was due to their fighting or to Rudra. We decided to give them a little more time before we panicked, though. They were gods and this was a member of their pantheon; they should be able to handle themselves. As far as the other storm gods went, they were proving difficult to locate as well.

  “We found him!” Pan declared as he knocked rapidly on my bedroom door.

  I was in the tub with Kirill, a baby monitor nearby. Lesya was up in her room; asleep in her crib. Trevor was checking on Moonshine, Azrael was in Shehaquim, and Odin had gone to handle his duties in Asgard. Kirill and I finally had a moment all to ourselves, and Pan was ruining it.

  “I kill him now,”” Kirill said calmly as he got out of the tub. “You vait here; it won't take long.”

  I appreciated the view of water sluicing off Kirill's beautiful body; the light glistening over the curves of his muscles as he grabbed a towel and dried off briskly. I didn't return to sanity until he'd wrapped the towel securely around his waist. Then I was able to process what he'd said.

  “Ha-ha,” was my delayed reaction.

  I climbed out of the water and toweled off quickly, but Kirill had a head start and beat me to the door.

  “Go away, Pan.” Kirill kept his arm braced across the doorway, barring Pan's entrance.

  “Dad found Eros!” Pan shouted to me as he ducked beneath Kirill's arm.

  Kirill sighed and rolled his stunning, cerulean eyes.

  “Did he catch him?” I asked excitedly as I went past the men and into my dressing room.

  I grabbed some clothes and went behind a dressing screen to put them on. It may seem a bit 1940's-starlet to have a dressing screen, but it had come in handy too many times to count. You'd be surprised how many men—who aren't my husbands—follow me into my dressing room when I was trying to get dressed. Pan was one of the main offenders, and he didn't differ from his SOP this time.

  “No; he wasn't sure how you wanted to handle it,” Pan said. “If you want to kill Eros yourself, Dad didn't want to interfere and ruin your fun.”

  “How thoughtful of him.” I chuckled, and then I saw Kirill. “Kirill, as good as you look in a towel, you'd probably better change.”

  “Da”—Kirill pulled off the towel and gave me another sigh-inducing view of himself—“towels are best left at home.”

  “Unless you're the hitchhiker,” Pan said merrily, completely unfazed by Kirill's nudity.

  “What?” I blinked at him.

  “The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy; ever heard of it?” Pan took great delight in pointing out that I hadn't understood his pop culture reference. “One of the rules is to always take your towel with you.”

  “Son of a soppy biscuit,” I snapped. “You got me.”

  Pan bowed.

  Kirill shook his head as he headed toward his tower room to throw some clothes on. I went to the intercom beside the suite's main door and called for Aidan. He wasn't on watch, but one of the other lions went to fetch him for me. It only took a few minutes for Aidan to get to my room. He came in at about the same time that Kirill returned; dressed in jeans and a T-shirt that read: “I do the lion's share of work around here.”

  “Tima?” Aidan asked as he strode in.

  “I need you to sit in here with this.” I handed him the baby monitor. “Go ahead and watch TV, but keep this close by, and when Lesya wakes up, take her to Samantha. She'll watch Lesya until I get home.”

  “But, Tima,” Aidan whined. Aidan was not parental; not in the least. Which is why I was taking great delight in making him babysit... in a way.

  “Did you not catch the part where I said that you get to just sit back and watch TV?” I asked. “The most work you'll be doing is carrying Lesya down a flight of stairs.”

  “Yeah, okay,” Aidan huffed as he went to sit on the couch. “But I'm not feeding her. She gets crumbs everywhere. I have no idea how one little person can make such a massive mess.” He kept muttering about the messiness of babies as he walked.

  “Where are we going?” I asked Pan as we ignored Aidan and headed downstairs.

  “Ireland,” Pan said.

  “Ireland?” I lifted my brows. “What the hell is Eros doing in Ireland?”

  “Hiding,” Pan said as if it were obvious.

  Which I suppose it was.

  “Yeah; valid.” I grimaced. “I'm just not looking forward to going back there after our last visit.”

  “The last visit?” Pan asked.

  “Vhen ve rescued Lesya,” Kirill reminded him.

  “Oh, right.” Pan frowned. “Weird coincidence.”

  We walked out of the gilded, cage elevator and into the tracing room.

  “You don't want to bring any Intare with you?” Pan asked as he took Kirill's and my hands.

  “No.” I sighed. “If Eros catches me, he may stimulate my sex magic again, and I don't want my lions hit with it.”

  “But you're fine with me being hit?” Pan waggled his brows at me. “I'm deeply honored, Vervain... and a bit excited, if truth be told.”

  “I should have killed him,” Kirill said to me.

  “It will be fine,” I assured Kirill. “All right, Pan; take us to Ireland.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “There he is,” Pan whispered.

  “Is he shopping?” I asked with shocked annoyance. “The fucker thinks he's on vacation.”

  Eros wandered into a touristy, but cute, Irish shop after peering in through the window. We had our invisibility glamours on, so we hurried across the street—avoiding the cars and people who couldn't see us—and stared through the shop window at Eros. He was flipping through a display of scarves. He flung one around his neck as the shop girl came over to him. One look and the poor girl was smitten. She blushed as Eros said something to her. Then he took the scarf from around his neck and wrapped it around hers. He leaned in and
whispered something in her ear. Her eyes went round, and then she rushed over to the shop's door, locked it, and flipped the Closed sign. She hurried back to Eros, took his hand, and led him into the back room.

  “Son of Anarchy!” I growled. “He just seduced that girl in two sentences.”

  “Are ve going to stand here and vait?” Kirill asked me with amusement.

  “Well, I sure as hell don't want to barge in on them,” I huffed.

  “I'll do it,” Pan offered.

  “How long can he possibly take?” I asked. “The man nearly came in his pants after one kiss from me.”

  Kirill chuckled. “But you are special, Tima.”

  “Thanks, honey,” I said to Kirill. Then I included Pan in, “Let's drop our glamours and go grab a drink across the street at that pub.”

  “I suppose a beer is just as good as watching someone have sex,” Pan said as we slipped around a corner and into an alley, to drop our glamours.

  I looked at Pan's newly appeared form with open-mouthed shock. Kirill also emerged with lifted brows and rounded eyes. Nothing outranked sex with Pan; except maybe taunting Horus. Pan stared back at us with utter seriousness for two seconds before he burst into laughter.

  “Got you!” Pan chortled. “Nothing's better than watching people have sex; except for actually having sex yourself.”

  “You are horny little man.” Kirill shook his head at Pan.

  “Well duh.” Pan tapped the horns hidden in his curly hair.

  “Come on, you two,” I huffed. “It's cold out here, and I want some strong Irish tea.”

  “Tea?” Pan gaped at me. “You're going into a real pub to drink tea?”

  “You're damn straight I am.” I eased back across the street and through the throngs of foot traffic.

  This time it was much easier since people could see us. We stepped into the pub, found a table near the window, and Pan went to the bar to order our drinks. I watched him have an animated conversation with the bartender, then they both cast disappointed looks in my direction. I rolled my eyes, and the bartender shook his head as he filled a cup for me from the battered tin teakettle on the hotplate behind him. However, I noticed that he refilled his own mug at the same time.