Lenore was certain that, if Dagon had been in the room at that moment, every god would have gone for him and pulled him into a dozen unrecognizable pieces.
“But you are blood related to Dagon. How did he know that Lenore was your Chosen and not just a blood tie?”
A jolt of agony hit him at Marduk’s use of the word, and before he could hide it, Lenore had felt his reaction. What was he going to tell her? What could he say now that wouldn’t cause them both further pain? Shit!
He tried to avoid Lenore’s questioning gaze for a moment. She would have to wait. Explanations to his brothers were paramount. Switching into a language that he hadn’t used since ancient Mesopotamia, Anshar forestalled Marduk.
“You can’t use the term Chosen in front of Lenore.” He knew his mate would be furious that he was speaking in a tongue she couldn’t understand. But there was nothing else he could do. “Dagon ensured that I’ll suffer great pain if anything is revealed to her. He doesn’t want her to know the extent of the connection between us.” A bitter laugh escaped him. “While I was in the collar, Dagon forbid me to tell Lenore that the sharing of the amulet meant anything more than taking on my powers and…being linked to me.” Anshar had tried to say “aware of all my thoughts,” but still couldn’t, even in another language.
“But back to the ceremony,” Anshar continued. “Dagon didn’t know if it would work. He was taking a big chance with my life, but he felt it was worth the risk.” Anshar could see the anger in all of his brothers. “I also have to swear all of you, including Tess and Huxley, to secrecy. If any of you explain the ceremony to her, I’ll feel, as Dagon has decreed, the fires of hell in my chest.”
Marduk stayed with the old language. “So, when the ceremony was performed, you had no idea if she was your Chosen?”
“No. I hadn’t glowed for her once, so when half of my amulet was removed, I thought I would die and, with the pain,” a look of understanding passed between he and Marduk, “I did wish for the end.”
Marduk’s face was full of compassion. “You look protective of her now,” Marduk intuited. “And since you didn’t die, we have to assume she’s really yours.”
Anshar nodded in the affirmative. “I was going to come to you this morning and tell you. Late yesterday, my light finally appeared and confirmed it all.”
“Does this mean you have consummated your vows?” the boss man asked.
Anshar knew that Marduk was questioning how that could have been accomplished, considering Anshar’s unpredictability when agitated.
“No. We’ve…uh…done other things that made my glow occur.” He thought back and was disturbed for a moment. “Though I’ve yet to see Lenore throw off any light.” He wondered briefly why that was, but Marduk didn’t let him speculate for long.
“Not a concern,” he was assured by Marduk. “It took Tess a few weeks for hers to come to life. Don’t worry. Give it time.”
Anshar nodded, satisfied, and continued, speaking softly now. “You all know that full consummation would probably…change me…and I’ve decided it’s something I can’t risk.” He looked humbled, “I am, however, open to suggestions, and may wish to discuss this later to see if anyone has any ideas that might help.”
“Of course.” Marduk cleared his throat.
Anshar looked around. He had certainly captured all the attention in the room. Each god was aware of Anshar’s problem. Most had their own, but one thing was certain, even though left unspoken. They were all vested, one way or another, in helping Anshar complete things with his Chosen so that, when their time came, they too would know what to do.
Marduk switched back to English. “So Lenore can read your mind, and you have no way of blocking her.” Marduk made it a statement. Anshar tried to answer, but no words would come from his mouth, just a series of strangulated noises. Marduk tried again.
“You share a mind channel that can’t be switched off?”
Again, nothing but Anshar clutching his throat.
“I get it,” Marduk nodded. “Now that we know where we stand, our strategies will remain the same. We will just have to safeguard ourselves against Dagon from this point forward.” He looked to Anshar again before continuing.
“I understand why you deceived us,” Marduk paused. “I’m also more sorry than you can know that you had to go through that procedure without the support of your brothers.” He looked supremely saddened, and Anshar’s heart filled with emotion, only to be seized with dread a moment later as Marduk turned his attention to Lenore.
“Lenore,” Marduk spoke directly to the new Chosen for the first time. She’d been shut out of a great portion of the conversation and didn’t yet know what an integral part of the group she was about to become. Anshar steeled himself for her reaction. Once she became fully aware of her eternal link to Anshar, and once their mating was consummated, any allegiance she felt toward Dagon would be severed. But that hadn’t happened yet and, for some reason, Marduk played into it. “Next time you speak to Dagon, tell him we all say hello.”
Anshar saw her nod with obvious suspicion, then got the shock of his life as the god of thunder rose to his feet, approached, then bowed over Lenore’s hand, bestowing a kiss.
“Welcome to our home, goddess.”
Chapter Nine
“You’ve made a serious error, Dagon.” Nergal, Underworld king from hell—literally—did not look pleased.
“Things are proceeding according to plan.” Dagon couldn’t understand Nergal’s anger or the reason for being abruptly yanked into the bowels of the earth. “Lenore is under my control and has reported to me as ordered. We’ve already found out that our next target is in Chicago.” Dagon ticked off his accomplishments. “I have a team scouring that city now, armed with pictures of the girl, Holly. Don’t you see? We’re ahead of Marduk’s gang. He has yet to put anyone on the ground there.” Dagon waited for the praise he expected to come.
“Fool! It will all be for naught. You have paired Anshar with his Chosen,” Nergal sneered. “When he finally mates with her, you can kiss Lenore, and any information she may pass on to you, goodbye.”
Dagon scoffed. “You know as well as I what he truly is. There will be no mating. Do you really think he would risk fucking her? She’d be dead long before it was over. You’re forgetting, she was a mere human only days ago and, even if her body could take it, her mind wouldn’t be able to grasp or accept his altered self. We have nothing to worry about.”
Nergal still looked irate. “You underestimate the strength and resolve of a Chosen,” he spat. “She may shun Anshar at first, but her bond will not let her do anything other than cleave unto him. Even now, I can see into her thoughts.” His eyes rolled inward. “She’s drippingly attracted to Anshar, and if it weren’t for the dear boy’s sensitivities, they would already have consummated.” He growled. “When it finally happens, you will lose this round in my game, and we will be back to square one. How many errors do you expect I will allow?”
Dagon knew that Nergal was referencing to his botched attempt on securing Marduk. When the thunder god and his Chosen had been in his possession, they had both escaped. Dagon’s plan had been to lure the other gods to their doom using Marduk as bait, but they rescued their leader instead, foiling his plan.
“That was a minor miscalculation on my part—” Dagon began.
“Silence! You will listen to me.” Nergal’s frustration with Dagon was palpable. “You will find a way to keep the girl under control.”
Dagon perked up. “Perhaps I could use the collar and order her to cease her attraction to Anshar,” he said, hopefully.
“Fool,” Nergal’s voice rose menacingly. “The magic in the metal can supersede many things, but not the bond between a god and his Chosen. There is no wedge that can be driven that deeply.”
Dagon fell into deep contemplation. He knew there was a way to fix this, he just had to think a little harder, and Nergal was all “up in his grill,” making it difficult to concentrate.
“Find a way, Dagon.” Nergal clearly did not like to lose. “Show me some success, or I will remove you from the scene and replace you with someone who will get the job done.” He paused and crooked a finger at Dagon. “I do have one new piece of advantageous information, if you’ll come closer.”
Dagon saw Nergal look around, making sure that no one lurking might hear. He lowered his ear for Nergal’s whisper and, once it was done, Dagon’s head snapped up with a sly smile.
“That’s very good,” Dagon was pleased. “And don’t worry, my king, I’ve got this covered. The sooner I get back to work, the better.” Dagon was sure of himself now.
“As you wish.” Nergal snapped his fingers, and Dagon, the pain in the ass, dark god vanished. Dagon had always been a trial, but now that he’d picked up the latest in human jargon, he grated even worse. Nergal was relieved to be alone, but that solitude didn’t last long.
Ereshkigal, his beautiful but remote queen, misted in.
“Good. He’s departed.” She sat on her throne and spread elegant, jewel-encrusted skirts to each side, giving Nergal a full glimpse of her stunning legs, from toe to thigh. Not that the look would do him any good.
“What do you want, Eresh?” Nergal used the nickname because he knew how much it bothered her, it having been her pet name when they’d first met. She narrowed her eyes.
“Just coming to gloat over Dagon’s poor moves in this game.” She gave a small, satisfied smile. “The score is already two Chosen to nothing in my favor, and there looks to be more very soon. I was wondering if you cared to up the stakes.”
Nergal smiled at his bride, unwilling to show any doubts or weakness. Besides, he had some aces up his sleeve. “Why not, my dear. After all, we wouldn’t want you to get bored.” The odds were decidedly in his favor.
Dagon had better fix things, and fast. Nergal was tired of waiting.
****
When Dagon spun back into his office, he threw a glass paperweight at the wall, feeling satisfaction at its splintering. He was piqued at Nergal for having so little faith. Seriously! Anshar was forbidden to speak the word Chosen and, even if Lenore developed feelings for the all sky god, she was not hostage to her amulet. Wait. What? He sucked in his breath. Hostage…hostage. Oh my gods. That was it! His stroke of pure genius lit Dagon up from within. He found his feet doing some kind of celebratory dance. It felt good.
Matthew strolled in, and Dagon was aware that the human did a double take.
“Are you doing the moon walk?” Matthew asked. His slightly too-close together eyes bugged out of his head.
Dagon paused and searched his memory bank. “Yes! Yes, I believe I am! Matthew,” Dagon grabbed the human’s arm. “I’ve just had the most glorious idea.” He narrowed his eyes in thought and questioned his employee. “Lenore’s mother and grandmother are local, are they not?
“Uh huh. They live out near the beach somewhere.” He flipped open the laptop on the desk. Dagon waited while he typed. “Yeah. Here they are. The house is listed under Lenore’s name. Town records show it as her home address, along with her mother, Angela Crest, and her grandmother, Addie May Penmarch.”
Dagon looked at the location and clapped his man on the back. “Good work, Matthew. I’m going to pop in and introduce myself. Meet me there as soon as you can with a car and a couple of your men.” Take that—Dagon did an imaginary snap of his fingers—ruler of the Underworld. Buzz kill Nergal was not about to get him down. Dagon misted out.
****
Pathetic was the first thing that came to mind as the rogue god looked at the small beach cottage. Surrounded as it was by beautiful new houses, it looked dowdy and out of place. Funny, he assumed Lenore’s salary was more than adequate to afford better accommodations for her elders, especially since she lived, most of the time, rent free at the office. He’d have to ask her about that, if she was speaking to him, next time they met.
Dagon approached and knocked on the door. He would have appeared inside, but he couldn’t be sure how much of Lenore’s business her people were privy to.
A pretty, trim, red-haired woman answered the door. No older than fifty, she had to be Lenore’s mother. Dagon would have pegged her as much younger, but for the blondish-gray hair blending into her cropped cut.
“Can I help you?” She looked him up and down like a slab of meat…a prime cut if he wasn’t mistaken…then took a second, slower glance. She obviously liked what she saw. Dagon stood a little taller.
“Are you Angela Crest? Lenore’s mother?”
Recognition lit her features. “Mom,” she called back into the house without giving him an answer. “It’s Lenore’s hunky boss at the door!”
His mouth dropped open, and apparently he wasn’t the only one surprised. An expletive exploded from somewhere within. Angela opened the door and gestured for him to enter. Hmm. What exactly had Lenore been saying about him?
“Shoes off, please,” Angela gestured to his very expensive crocodile footwear and received his scowl. She scowled right back.
“If you want to come in, the shoes come off!” Some kind of electrical energy zipped off the woman. Dagon couldn’t quite place it. He decided not to agitate her any more than necessary and reluctantly slipped off his shoes.
She led him to a sunroom, where a striking white-haired woman stood to greet him. “I’m Addie May,” the older one said, extending her hand in a regal manner. “Welcome to our home.” She gestured for him to take a seat, which he did not.
“So you’re the god.” She continued. No preamble, just right down to it. She also looked him up and down. Did her gaze linger, too long, on his muscled thighs as her daughter’s had? “You look it,” she gave a curt nod.
“Thank you.” I think. Dagon was caught off guard by the demeanor of these two.
“Can I get you some refreshment?” Angela asked. “Ambrosia perhaps?”
Was she kidding? He hadn’t had ambrosia in several millennia, and where would they have procured it, anyway?
“My daughter teases. We weren’t expecting you so soon. It hasn’t yet fermented properly.”
Now Dagon knew something wasn’t quite right. He revised his original preconceived notion of the women, and looked around the room a little more carefully. Jars of herbs, perhaps tea, numerous candles and melted wax, stones, sticks, a gazing globe…rolls? Shit! He groaned and cradled his head in his hands. Lenore’s people were witches. How could that have escaped him?
As if they hadn’t been watching him closely, Addie May continued. “It’s a shame you couldn’t have been a vampire.”
“Or a werewolf!” her daughter expounded.
“Even zombies these days are getting much better press than gods.” The women nodded at each other, regarding him with…sympathy?
“It’s true, you know,” the older one started up again. “In books…movies. Gods are so passé, but you can only work with what you’re given.”
“Cease!” Dagon commanded. He was not used to being treated like this. “You have no idea what game you play at here.”
“Oh, but we do.” Lenore’s mother actually had the audacity to come closer and pat his shoulder. “We just had our timetable a little amiss is all.” She spoke as if to an imbecile.
Dagon looked on incredulously as the two shrugged at each other.
“If you sit quietly, it will only take us ten or fifteen minutes to pack,” Addie May spoke again before they headed, as one, toward a room off the back.
Dagon sputtered. “What are you packing for?” He really didn’t want to ask.
Angela turned. “You’re here to take us into town and stow us away in an upstairs room at your headquarters. Surely you can’t mean to deprive us of the few things we need to make ourselves comfortable?”
Addie May’s voice called out from a spot unseen. “Daughter dear, would you grab that jar of fermenting ambrosia on the window sill please?”
“Mom, the ambrosia’s up front. That one’s the kombucha.”
/> “Okay. Well, bring them both,” was the answer.
Angela disappeared, grabbing the glass container, and leaving Dagon to shake his head. What was he getting himself into? Hellfire! Witches. They’d always confused the shit out of him.
The wait for Matthew was interminable. Dagon found himself agreeing that the cat could come, the fattest black cat he’d ever seen, who eyed him malevolently. He let the women call a neighbor to water the plants while they were away, and he’d been coerced into sitting on a suitcase so the pair could get it closed. Were these women crazy?
“Do you have any idea the danger you’re in?” he finally asked, when half the house was packed and waiting in the front hallway for Matthew, whom they were likening to a taxi.
Angela scoffed. “Better than you do, dear,” she said calmly to his amazed face.
If she patted him again, he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions.
“Our forte is divination, after all.” Addie May put in her two cents.
Dagon spluttered. “If you knew all this would happen, why didn’t you leave before I came for you?”
Addie May sighed. “That’s not the way this particular set of circumstances is supposed to play out. You’re just lucky that we’re very foresightful,” she soothed, “or else we might have decided not to like you.”
Dagon gripped his head again, and, thank the gods, Matthew pulled up in the driveway at that moment, accompanied by another large man. They got out of the car and approached the door.
Angela sniffed, looking at Matthew “I know it’s not very charitable of us, but him…” she canted her head in Matthew’s direction, “…we don’t like.”
“Although with the size of him, he’ll be very useful carrying our things to the vehicle,” Addie May said, practically.
Dagon could already tell that Addie May was one of those thoroughly annoying people who tended to look on the bright side of every situation.
“Now hurry off and tell Lenore that you’ve got us,” the redhead ordered him. “We need to get this ball rolling. I have no intention of missing the annual Witchfest International. It’s in the UK this year, you know.” She grabbed a basket of something and headed for the car. “Come on, Mother!”
Taken By Storm Page 8