“You’re awake.”
No need for any additional speculation. The latter supposition had been correct. Dagon was in the throne room in the presence of the king. He opened his eyes and sat up. He tried for an unaffected air and brushed the dirt off his sleeves.
“Was that necessary?” he asked in a slightly bored tone.
“Don’t question me, or I’ll bring back your two sparring buddies.” Nergal gave Dagon a sneer. “That was a simple warning.”
Dagon came to his feet. “And why did I need a warning?” he questioned, trying to keep the bitter tone from flooding his words. “I’ve been doing everything you want. I have an army of men closing in on the girl, Holly, in Chicago, and another large contingent keeping things under control in Plymouth—”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Nergal cut him off. “Anshar’s woman and her relatives have escaped.”
“How is that possible?” Dagon knew his face registered shock. “I had them under an enclosure restraint and an armed guard.”
“Watch and see!” Nergal waved a hand and produced a vision that allowed Dagon to witness the events that had taken place.
The first scene revealed his guard, standing outside the front door. Not where Dagon had told him to be, but certainly still on the premises and not asleep at his post.
Next, Nergal revealed the women in the basement, prying out the large boulder. Dagon groaned. Of course. He hadn’t penetrated the ground with his block. He was surprised to find a small part of himself suffused with pride that Lenore had figured that out.
What Dagon then witnessed made him realize for the first time, that one god—namely himself—with a bunch of human helpmates—the PP—against the many immortals of the Blue Hills, was inevitably a losing proposition.
His nemeses, en masse, had used earthquakes, rain, and a plethora of other elements to defeat his human troops with an ease that surprised him. How could a band of mere mortals ever hope to compete?
Dagon barely suppressed a sigh when he was shown the tender reunion between Lenore and Anshar. Yeah. So Nergal had been right. The Chosen bond thing had kicked in and superseded Lenore’s allegiance to him.
Instead of feeling beaten, Dagon oddly felt only one sentiment—lucky cousin. Dagon would miss Lenore, but he wasn’t going to show any weakness to Nergal.
“This only tells me one thing.” He postured. “I will never be able to accomplish what I need without immortal backup. Humans can only accomplish so much, and they are at a severe disadvantage when they can’t see their enemy. Arm me with more of our own, and then I will show you success!” Dagon demanded arrogantly.
“We’re thinking along the same lines this time, Dagon,” Nergal pinned his minion with a dark stare. “Except I think the problem runs deeper. I feel that you’ve lost your raison d’être.” He waited for Dagon to protest, and when nothing was forthcoming, Nergal continued.
“Not very long ago, you would have done anything to acquire the powers of the gods that I promised you. Now, I see you almost admire them, coddling the enemy when you should have been beating them.”
Dagon bristled at Nergal’s words but was honest enough to admit the truth to himself. His attitude had started to change when he’d found out that Lenore shared his blood, then had undergone another transformation when he’d been in the jail cell talking to his cousin, Anshar, after so many years. He’d found a connection he’d thought was long lost.
If he were honest, his consciousness had shifted the most when he’d witnessed the camaraderie and unity amongst the group in the Blue Hills that had thrived and grown while he had been sequestered in his centuries-long sleep. However, it was one thing to concede these weaknesses to himself, completely another if shown to Nergal. He needed to assure the king that their interests were still the same.
“I truly felt the best course of action was to use the confinement of the women to get Lenore to behave and to draw the gods out. I can see the folly of my ways, and I’m sure I can do better next time.”
Nergal scowled darkly. “I don’t think you can,” the king stated. “Therefore, I’m infusing our cause with new blood.” He clapped his hands in summons. “Dagon. Meet your new partner.”
Dagon felt the air thicken at his back. With trepidation, he turned and his whole body filled with dread; a dread far greater than when the demons had attacked. Before him was the unbending, unyielding god of war and disaster. Hair the color of fire with eyes that glowed like hot coals, the god stood easily half a head taller than Dagon, who was six foot three. He was massive, even by Dagon’s standards.
“Erra,” Dagon nodded his head in greeting. “So nice to see you again.”
“Full of lies, as usual,” Erra’s voice was flat and devoid of emotion, and wasn’t that just crap for Dagon. Nergal might as well have sent him a fucking robot. There was nothing remotely soft about the war god. Here was an immortal who relished death above all things and had been confined to the Underworld for thousands of years for his transgressions. Had the guy benefited from any rehab? Dagon doubted it. Surely Nergal wasn’t thinking of letting him loose?
He turned to the king. “You must be joking.” Dagon could only hope that this was another of Nergal’s tests. “You can’t seriously be thinking of sending Erra above?”
“I am.” Nergal’s look dared Dagon to argue. “I’ve offered him an incentive that should keep him under control, and he’s been working on his anger issues.” The king sent a quick, pointed glance toward Erra that Dagon couldn’t decipher. “If he disobeys, he will lose his chance of reward and will be returned to the Underworld for the rest of eternity.”
Reward, huh. And what was that supposed to mean? Dagon knew how much was at stake, putting Erra into an unsuspecting world. But he also knew that Nergal was not about to unleash destruction on the earth’s surface or, heaven forbid, admit defeat to his wife if such a major screw-up were to occur.
After this latest setback, with Lenore and her elders free, Erishkigal had probably gloated that the king was an impotent old man commanding a band of misfits. Dagon was proving nearly ineffectual, so he grumblingly supposed that an infusion of evil was needed. Nergal smiled at him. Dagon hadn’t hidden his thought process, and Nergal—bastard—knew he had come around.
“Isn’t your spouse going to be angry when she finds out who you’ve employed?”
Nergal only laughed heartily. Okay…maybe the king liked it when his queen was angry. Then Nergal’s visage turned somber, and he didn’t give Dagon an answer, but changed the subject.
“I expect you to fill Erra in on the entire situation before I send either of you up to the surface. I want to see that you will be able to work together,” the king sent a warning glance to Erra, “in harmony.” He rose from his rock-hewn throne. “I’ll give you a few minutes of privacy to discuss your plans. You will then let me know what agreement has been reached before you are free to go.” Nergal drifted from the room.
“Who do we kill?” Erra’s initial words grated. Dammit. The war god had a one track mind.
There would be no killing. Dagon hadn’t been totally averse to some collateral damage in the beginning, but he’d changed his mind and climbed on board with Nergal’s wishes. The king only wanted the gods rendered powerless and bodiless again, to win some kind of game he had going with the queen. This was what he explained to Erra.
“Marduk and his men…”
Erra interrupted. “I hate Marduk.” Dagon remembered that the thunder god had kept Erra from waging war a good many times in ancient Mesopotamia.
“Yes, well, he’s not the most amiable of characters,” Dagon agreed. “But pay attention, please. He and his men are not to be killed. Nergal only wants to stop them from fulfilling the one thing that will make them able to stay embodied on earth.”
“And what is that thing?” Erra got right to the point.
“It must be proven that they cannot protect the person for whom they have been made corporeal,” Dagon continued.
“It is a game that Nergal and Ereshkigal have been playing. In the year 1624, our targets were given the chance at physical eternity if they protected one Thomas Morton, but they failed and were sent into a bodiless state. Ereshkigal lost that round but was not to be denied. She is allowing the very same gods to meet women who share a common bloodline with one in the group, regaining their physical selves in the process. If we are to succeed for Nergal, we must make sure they fail to protect their own progeny.”
“So we kill the mortals.”
Dagon thought of Lenore, and it was all he could do not to punch Erra in his arrogant nose. “No! We make them…unavailable.”
“It does not sound fun. The task should be simple enough.” Erra clearly wanted to be out in the world so badly that he was even willing to put aside his prime motivation.
“Not so easy,” Dagon lectured. “Let me warn you that there is a degree of difficulty that presents a challenge. The problem lies in that we don’t know who the women are until the gods locate them and, once they locate them, we have to act fast before they’ve been put under the gods’ protection.” Both Nergal and Dagon knew that as violent as War was, he played by a concrete set of rules. Mentioning the word Chosen might throw the big guy off his game.
“You know,” Dagon continued, “once the women are inside the gods’ compound they will be much harder to deal with. I understand that they might even, using some form of manipulation, be turned into full-fledged goddesses.” Dagon was pretty sure Erra wasn’t up on all the immortal-making rules.
“It still doesn’t seem difficult. I have killed goddesses before, not to mention many gods. Your own aunt and uncle were extremely easy to extinguish.”
Dagon’s visage suddenly tightened and his gaze riveted to Erra. “Which aunt and uncle?” A few had died, but only one pair under violent circumstances.
“Your cousin Anshar’s parents,” Erra answered without emotion.
“No. You’re wrong.” Dagon’s eyes narrowed. “Anshar changed into his beast and killed his parents.” Dagon stood, stunned. His heart clenched and he held his breath.
“Wrong. Anshar changed to stop me, but he was too late.” A neutral look stayed on Erra’s face.
Dagon felt the need to sit down, and he staggered back to the kings’ throne.
“Why would you do that?” Dagon felt as though all the blood had drained from his body.
“I was ordered to perform the necessary task. It wasn’t pleasant, but sometimes duties are not.” His face held only mild remorse for what he considered a job. “The boy was far gone with rage when I left, but I spared his life because he was not part of my orders.”
What the fuck! Who had ordered Erra to such unprovoked violence…and did the asshole in front of him really feel that he deserved kudos for sparing the young Anshar? Dagon was incensed for his cousin but struggled and hid his emotions.
“So you’ve proven that goddesses are not impossible targets. That’s good.” Dagon swallowed hard, thinking of Lenore again—her life in eventual danger. He needed to change the subject entirely, or he was going to be picking a huge fight. One that he might not win. No. He needed to deal with this in a smarter way.
“Are you familiar with the English language?” Dagon recognized that he and Erra had been speaking in their ancient tongue which, in the past, had been most familiar to them.
“Nergal has given me the contents of a book called the dictionary,” the god of war acknowledged. “I will be able to communicate.”
Good luck with that, thought Dagon, knowing how well he had fared sharing minds with a human. He wasn’t going to enlighten Erra about the possibility of a brain-suck. The war god would strip his victim dry and leave him for dead. That would not make for an auspicious beginning on earth.
Things were going to get very tricky when they emerged above. Dagon consoled himself. He might not be as dangerous as Erra, but he had a fine reputation for adroit scheming.
Chapter Nineteen
The T-Taj was packed to the rafters. Twelve gods were all home, as were the two newly made goddesses. Huxley was still recuperating, and Dr. Dani-Lee had taken a short leave of absence from the hospital, moving in on a temporary basis until the gods deemed her apartment safe. Lenore laughed to herself. Add to that, two witches and an ornery black cat named Wizarr—whom the dog, Archie, refused to become friends with—and it was no wonder that Kulla had decided that a guest house was needed.
Lenore stood outside in the burgeoning light and breathed deeply of the Blue Hills scent she’d decided she loved. It was a gorgeous, bright spring morning, and the entire group had convened on the large stone terrace outside the atrium office. French doors were thrown open to allow easy access, as well as fresh air in and out.
Beings with bodies balanced coffee cups, and everyone, visible and invisible, perched on surrounding stone walls, wrought iron chaises, and overturned planters waiting for Marduk to speak.
“What I see is amazing!” he started off, looking around. “A few months ago, this place was little more than a haunted house. Now, we have friends, mates, pets, family members… I’m not sure if you’ve all met Lenore’s mother, Angela,” the thunder god indicated Lenore’s mom’s petite form, “and her grandmother, Addie May.”
Greetings were called out, and Lenore felt pride as her grandmother stepped forward.
“Thank you for having us in your home,” she began. “I don’t want to hide anything from you, so I need to tell you a few things right away. First, Angie and I are both practicing witches, with the majority of our powers being in the field of divination.”
Lenore bit her lip as Addie May perused the house’s occupants, or at least the seven who were corporeal.
“Second, even though I can’t see all of you…”
Did she just zero in on Shamash who had leaned over to say something to Lahar?
“…I can hear every word you’re saying.”
Lenore couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that escaped.
“And I wonder why you think you should be monitoring the microwave.” Addie lifted her nose. “I don’t smell any popcorn.”
Lenore hid her amusement as Shamash closed his mouth with a snap. If shock could be measured, the god’s reaction would be off the charts.
It was obvious that it had been a very long time since Shamash had to be polite to any elders, but he tendered a more than sincere apology. “Sorry, ma’am,” he mumbled.
“Not necessary,” her grandmother said lightly, clearly delighting in the expressions on the faces she could see. “Now my daughter has something she’d like to add. Angie?” Gram nodded her head.
“Hi.” Angie gave a little wave around the room. “I’m afraid it’s me who has to make the biggest apology.” Lenore’s mom was short and so slight it looked like a good breeze would blow her away.
Lenore had no idea what her mother was leading up to.
“I was restless and up early this morning and went around the house exploring.”
At least the other immortals still looked as confused as Lenore felt.
“I heard a lot of noise coming from a room toward the middle of the house.”
Ah. Lenore laughed. The gods had convened earlier for a workout. Things could easily get out of hand, language wise. She assumed her mother was about to let them know she’d secretly listened in on all of their off-color and ribald jokes, since she could probably hear them just like Gram.
“I stood outside the door until I thought you were all through, then opened it just a smidge to take a look.” Was her mother actually blushing? “I, umm, saw more than I bargained for.”
This time when Angie glanced around, Lenore realized that her mother was looking right at the invisible gods and had used the word “saw.” The guys had figured it out at the same time, and their mouths dropped open. They looked back at her mom, who managed to catch each and every eye. Well, go figure. Her mother was just like Hux. She could actually see the invisibles…and boy, she must have got
ten an eyeful earlier this morning!
After their workout, and with much shooing of the women, Lenore knew that the gods had all stripped down to head into the attached sauna room. It was a ritual they enjoyed, even though they couldn’t feel the heat. Their naked asses, and everything else, would have been on full display.
“Just to reassure you…”
Lenore rolled her eyes. Angie’s next words clearly weren’t going to make them feel any better. “…there wasn’t anything I hadn’t already seen during some divination.”
Lenore groaned. Was this really her mother speaking? Great. She’d been peeping at them over some enchanted water bowl.
“It was just a little more…lively in person.”
Her mother was giving her a tension headache.
“Not to mention that you’re all wonderful to look at…in all the right places.”
Lenore groaned.
Absu was the first to find his tongue.
“You are all such juveniles,” he chastised his friends. “I am unaware that being viewed by a lovely lady, such as Angie, should be any kind of a problem. My physical prowess has gone without admiration for centuries and I, for one, thank you for the kind attention.” He came forward, reaching toward the little witch.
The gods, after Absu’s comments, all looked like they were rethinking their positions. Lenore could see the gears turning. They were nodding in agreement that it really wasn’t so bad.
Absu, much to everyone’s delight, was able to lift her mother’s hand to his lips for a kiss. The invisible’s touch worked with Angie like it did with Huxley. Clearly the gods were thrilled at the turn of events. Angie could see them, and they could touch her! Lenore let out a breath. All embarrassment had drained from the room with the revelation that it had been a long time since any of them had felt a female hug.
Almost the entire bunch lined up, and Lenore could tell that Marduk was so amused that he let the morning agenda slip for a few minutes while each god wrapped themselves around the little witch for a squeeze. Her mother was at a loss for words but beaming.
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