Wrath of the Goddess (Goddess with a Blade)

by Lauren Dane

  “There is. And I slept through most of it, which helps. I’m sorry about your friends. David told me about Thena when I checked in.”

  Rowan shrugged. “Thanks.”

  “If you want to talk about it, I know a little of what you’re going through. I’ve cast an enchantment here so no one can hear us. Whatever you say it goes no further.”

  Something about Genevieve called to her. A shared sort of caution. Both very powerful in unpredictable ways. Unique.

  Not a lot of people on the planet would understand the problems Rowan faced. Genevieve was one of them though and that had forged a bond between them. A fast friendship and blunt sort of safe harbor.

  Which is why when the food showed up, Rowan dropped the small talk. “Thena and her husband only got married six years ago. They always acted like goopy newlyweds. All over each other. It was freaking adorable and she acted like it was so annoying when she totally loved it.” She glanced up from her fries. “And now she’s dead. And we haven’t found him yet. Will you take a look at my old apartment and Thena’s house? I know for sure magic was used at my place, but there’s this absence of something at Thena’s that’s bugging me.”

  Genevieve nodded. “Yes. This is why I’m here. Though your David made sure to let me know the position of sidekick was already taken. I want to help. I don’t say what I don’t mean. I’m too old to be any other way.”

  Rowan snorted. “When David first came to work for me, he’d jump at every loud sound. I’m sure I made him cry more than once.”

  So young when he’d moved to Las Vegas. Now he had a sense of confidence in his own skills she knew would only improve with time. He was adept with blade and handgun and was blossoming as an investigator.

  Another person she was responsible for.

  It wasn’t a burden. He was part of her family. She’d give her life to protect his without a second’s hesitation. But he was far more than a valet. A great deal like a son, though she wasn’t that much older than he was.

  Rowan shook that off. “I suggested we have a guest sidekick spot, but he wouldn’t hear it. He does think you’re an okay addition to the team. As for the situation at Thena’s? And magic in general... To be honest, there’s a lot of this I just don’t know how to examine. I can tell magic was used, but not who did it. Not why.”

  “You’re not the type to like not understanding something.”

  “I don’t mind a mystery. If I can figure out the why of it, the who or what of it. But with magic, I’m acutely aware of just how much I don’t know.” She was afraid she’d miss something integral and wouldn’t even see it.

  The lives lost, those of her friends who’d been snuffed out simply because they were connected to her, needed to be given the respect of an investigation that left no stone unturned.

  “I’m sorry. I’m wandering around from topic to topic. I’m usually more precise.”

  “You’ve suffered great loss and I daresay there’ll be more by the time this is over. You’re allowed some topical drift. By the way, I’m looking for some long-term housing here in the area. Hotels are fine for a week or two, but I like a home. I’m done with Europe for a while and I haven’t lived in the United States since the 1920s. New York City at the time was simply marvelous.”

  “You’re staying in town?” Rowan found herself pleased by that. “You know anyone within my sphere ends up as a target, right?”

  “Anyone who thinks to target me will be in for a nasty surprise. I actually hope someone tries.”

  Rowan believed the sincerity of that statement. Genevieve had that light in her eyes. Intense and slightly scary. Otherworldly. She snorted, holding up a hand. “I don’t wish you any harm, but I do admit after seeing you in action, I’d probably enjoy watching you kick someone’s ass with magic.”

  Like therapy only with punching.

  * * *

  Genevieve had known a lot of people over the centuries she’d been alive. She’d liked some of them. Loathed a lot too.

  She gave her heart to less than a handful each century. The pain of loss was hard to bear and though her kind was long lived, many of those she came into contact with were not.

  They died. And she mourned.

  The older and more powerful she became, she loved less often.

  Each loss was different. The pain was more philosophically embedded into her life. Centuries of experience had taught her it did no good to wall herself off entirely. She gave her heart and her trust very rarely. And loved fiercely once she did. Understanding the pain that would come and accepting the price.

  Rowan Summerwaite had been one of those creatures. She’d streaked into Genevieve’s life like a comet. White hot and yet icy cold at the same time. Another soul who’d learned and experienced in her short life ten thousand times that the average person ever would.

  In Rowan, Genevieve saw a friend who did not need to be saved. She didn’t fneed protection or salvation. She was her own person, her own power growing by leaps and bounds. There was no competition or rivalry.

  That gave her comfort. Real connection and friendship.

  And the lines around Rowan’s eyes bore the pain of loss Genevieve had worn more than once. Genevieve knew that grief would mark her friend deeply and irrevocably. And because Genevieve knew that, she wanted to help.

  It wasn’t just Rowan either.

  It was Las Vegas right at that moment in time. She was supposed to be there. Something hung in the air, anticipation and expectation.

  When Genevieve pushed back from the table with a hearty sigh of appreciation, Rowan looked to her and asked, “You ready to get a move on? I want us to go to my apartment first and then Thena’s.”

  Though she wanted to lean in and hug Rowan, Genevieve held back, understanding that the other woman needed to keep her emotions in check and locked down.

  “Yes, I’m full for now.”

  On the drive to Rowan’s apartment, Genevieve left the windows down to take in the scent of the night air. Of humanity and supernatural power pulsing through the very road beneath the car. Las Vegas was a crossroads and so many types of magic seemed to swim around it making a heady brew for one who knew how to draw that energy to bolster their own.

  Genevieve did, her belly full of magic and pancakes.

  She couldn’t miss the threads of darkness there either. Something very bad was in Las Vegas and the woman driving had a target on her back for trying to protect people from that darkness.

  Genevieve was entirely certain she’d stand with Rowan to stop that tide.

  “Do you want to take the back way? It’s a freight elevator. We can get off a few floors below my place and walk up,” Rowan asked as they turned into the drive of the residential tower her apartment was in.

  Genevieve considered a moment as they found a spot in the parking garage. “No. I want to come in the front door.” Genevieve got out and began to walk, soaking up all the magical signatures, sifting through them, cataloging.

  Beside her, Rowan’s energy was a constant thing as she prowled through the parking garage, ready to do violence to anything that tried to stop them.

  When they got to the elevator bank, Rowan slid her keycard out, but Genevieve stayed her. “Let me.” She didn’t know if the keycard would mess with any of the layers of spells she could see on the keypad.

  Instead, Genevieve opened herself to the voices of all those who came before. Let their power coil up until the whispering was as loud as the crash of waves. Then slowly, as she’d learned over centuries, she reined the magic in until it obeyed and then slowly let it trickle out to find and undo all the spell traps.

  As she did it, she took note of all identifying markers, tucking the details away. Tasting, sampling, stealing bits and pieces of power she might be able to use later. Magic she’d use to destroy the being responsible for the darkness of the workings that h
ad killed those she cared for.

  Some of the power poked back. Attempted to work its way inside her defenses. Which she knew would be fairly impossible because her internal wards were better than what was trying to get in.

  “Ballsy, I will give that to you,” she muttered.

  * * *

  Rowan kept watch as Genevieve worked even though she was dying of curiosity about whatever the witch was discovering.

  Brigid was very close to the surface. Her heat and power lending strength and focus to Rowan. So much power and awareness it felt as if her skin was about to burst.

  The Goddess liked Genevieve. Was fascinated by the puzzle of just exactly who and what she was.

  On the way up to the penthouse, Genevieve chanted under her breath, her eyes half lidded, gaze blurry.

  As the doors slid open at the top, leading them into a small elevator lobby, Rowan held in place until Genevieve sucked in a breath and shook off whatever she’d been accessing to do whatever magic mojo she’d just performed.

  “There’s something very unique about the spellcraft used here,” Genevieve said at last, indicating it was safe to enter.

  “So you know who did it?”

  Genevieve shook her head. “More like I know who didn’t do it. Hold a moment. There’s more.”

  Rowan took up the spot at her side, blade drawn, feet wide, weight braced for sudden movement.

  Genevieve’s smile went feline a moment as she took it in. “You’re pretty amazing, you know that? It’s interesting to be with you.”

  Rowan laughed. “It’s dangerous.”

  Genevieve lifted one shoulder. “I’ve been alive a long time. I’m pretty tough. Interesting is a lot more rare than dangerous.”

  And probably lonely. Maybe even bored. Rowan had been there. And she recognized that in her friend.

  Genevieve did more chanting, this time adding some movements of her hands. And when she clapped loudly three times and dropped her fists to her sides, Rowan felt the magic fall away.

  “This is very ancient working. The way the spells tie into one another, some of the transitions are unlike most middle and modern age magical casting and working.”

  “So someone found a cache of spells in some old ass cave? Like a blockbuster movie with all sorts of pretty people?”

  Genevieve’s laughter lightened the air around them.

  “Perhaps. But even so, this isn’t cheap. This sort of power.” Her smile wiped away as she indicated Rowan open the front door. “And there’s no way whoever cast this was able to do so without a boost. And for a magical boost, you know from personal experience, there’s an exchange. A payment to be made when dealing with beings strong enough to handle this kind of magic. No average mage, witch or magician is going to be able to even get the attention of a power like that. Nor should I imagine they’d want to.”

  Rowan thought that over as they halted again. “So you think this is being done by some expert level magic wielders. Who are getting the boost to do this really ancient spellwork from some paranormal big bad.”

  After a pause, Genevieve nodded. “Yes. This is lattice magic. Complicated because all the threads of multiple spells all knit together to make one super spell as each individual spell also works. This sort of thing would be done by at least two, more likely four people.”

  They went room by room until the entire apartment had been cleared. It took three hours and Genevieve was noticeably paler by that time.

  “We should return to my hotel. I’ll need food and medicine,” Genevieve told her. “I’ll explain everything I’ve found here on the way and as I refuel. Then we can go to your friend’s home.”

  Though Rowan was dying to know, she remained quiet the ten minutes it took to get back to Genevieve’s hotel.

  Genevieve’s cook, house manager and authority figure, Lorraine, opened the door and in rapid-fire French, ordered them inside and to go sit at the table where she’d already laid out food.

  Then she pointed at Rowan and demanded she eat everything she was served and to drink the tea.

  While Rowan poured out for them both, Genevieve ate several pieces of jerky and then pulled a pretty bong out from under the low table and methodically loaded the bowl and took two very large hits of skunky weed.

  Genevieve’s power brought with it the need to quiet all the voices in her head or be driven mad. She smelled like a stoner but it kept her from losing herself and, as an added bonus, it kept her from using her magic to level an entire city block when she couldn’t find parking.

  Though several hours before she’d eaten enough for three people, Genevieve ate two sandwiches and a bunch of fruit and vegetables before finally sitting back with a sigh.

  Rowan gave her thanks for a smoothie of some sort and sipped cautiously and was rewarded with a berry banana thing she approved of.

  “She’s a kitchen witch,” Genevieve said with a wave of her hand indicating the smoothie. “That should do wonderful things for your stamina and chase out fatigue.”

  “That’s handy.” Rowan sipped again and wished it worked to sweep away all the grief too.

  “Grief is the price we pay for loving deeply. It never goes away. But you learn to live with it. I’ve lost those I loved. More than once. I can’t imagine I’d have given up what joy they brought to my life. For all great magic there’s a price,” Genevieve said.

  “Can you read minds? Because I know I didn’t say that out loud,” Rowan said, not entirely sure if she should be comforted or angry.

  “Some things don’t need to be said to be understood,” her friend told her with a shrug. “Now then. The spellwork in and around your penthouse starts in the parking garage and continues its way up. It would’ve had to be set into place slowly. Layers upon layers. Up to your front door, the working would have taken at least three days.”

  Which meant she’d been right that they’d been casing the place for a little while.

  “From the back, the private elevator spellwork had been set at least twenty four hours prior. As they rode up, they’d be unfurling the spells they had ready to go. Traced them along the doors to your place so it burst through your wards. When that happened, they tossed out other spells to catch the traps that had been waiting. Then boom.”

  “So like a magical chemical reaction?” Rowan asked.

  “Yes. When workings meet a certain spell, it triggers a cascade of magic. Each successful smaller spell leads into the larger ones and then the largest of all. Your physical security, the power, all went out, that energy sucked into the spell to continue to feed it from their side. The ones in the elevator we rode up from the parking garage were meant to remain untriggered until you rode it to the bottom. It would have attached itself to you and sent back information about your movements.”

  “Motherfucker.” She wanted to punch these assholes bloody. “How could they have been around that much and Carey never noticed? He was good at his job. Cautious. Too cautious to miss being cased by multiple people right on his front doorstep.”

  “As I said, this is ancient magic. They may have sent garden variety sorcerers after you from time to time, but whoever did this work? Whoever controls the spells and the power? That’s no ordinary magic wielder. No small power. My people, the Conclave Senate, will need to know this. End it before it ends us. I need to know more.”

  The thing about old, powerful creatures is that their wants were mercurial at best. It was difficult to deal with them because you couldn’t predict what it would take to get them to bend your way. Rowan understood that very well indeed.

  “Can you figure out who? Like a signature deal?”

  “Let’s go to your friend’s house. Then I want to see her body. And then Carey’s as well. And then, I have spells that burn bodies to ash. Holy fire, in essence. An honorable way to show a beloved comrade from this world and into the next.”


  Brigid burned so bright within Rowan hissed at the heat. “I think fire is a good way to go.” It was part of Brigid’s essence. Part of her power and magic.

  “It’s a way to protect them from any further abuse and naturally, it’s a way to deal with evidence to a murder we can’t reveal to the human authorities.”

  “I think that would be good.” She still needed to go speak with the Devils at some point. Outside the city proper was fine for investigating but hunting was something she needed permission for. And as old and powerful beings, they sometimes had information they liked to pass her way.

  For a price.

  Speaking of price... “Are you all right to continue? Do we need to come back so you can eat more often?” Rowan didn’t want her friend to run herself down and she knew use of magic could easily do so.

  “Madame has packed me food and I’ve got some joints in my bag. I should have brought that before. I don’t often go out and use that much of my power in one go. It was harder than I’d anticipated, undoing all that spellcraft. But we learned a great deal. It was worth it. And in a strange way, fun. I learned things. That’s rare.”

  They took off again, this time away from the heart of the Strip and toward the outer edges of the city where all the people who worked there lived.

  “What are we doing after this?” Genevieve asked.

  “We’ll look at Thena’s house and then I’ll take you to where she and Carey are. I’ll take you home after that because I have to stop at Clive’s office and also, given the direction of this investigation I’ll need to seek parley with the Dust Devils.”

  “Why are you disposing of me so quickly?”

  Rowan snorted. “Clive’s office is full of Vampires. You barely even like Clive and he’s my husband. His employees, except for a few, are way more annoying and I don’t have sex with them to blunt the worst of it. The Devils though...they’re not really first night in Vegas territory.” They’d see a being as powerful as Genevieve coming from miles away.