Vulcan's Kittens (Children of Myth Book 1)
Page 6
Pouring the milk into the two bowls, she sat on the floor with the kittens directly in front of her. They came to her when she called, and she dipped her fingers in the milk and offered it to them. Giggling as they licked her fingers, she coaxed the kittens to put their noses into the milk. Patches inhaled some, and backed up, sneezing. Blackie plunged in and came up spluttering. Seconds later he was in the bowl, front paws and all, slurping noisily. The Spots followed his example and dove into the same bowl. Linn pulled Spot One out and put him by the other bowl, then tried to get Patches back in the game.
By the time they all had full, round little bellies, the floor was covered in milk, as was Linn. She scooped the roaming kittens up and put them on the couch, where they lined up and watched her as she mopped the floor. She put away the mop and went out to find Bes. The kittens crashed on the couch, asleep already.
Bes had left her a note tacked to the barn door. “Chickie,” it read. “Gone to pick up something. Stay in the wards. Enjoy your morning off.”
Linn looked at the driveway. She hadn’t even heard him pull out. How was he able to snooker her when Mars hadn’t been able to do it?
But she knew what she needed to do with this unexpected time. She went back into the house, stopping to pat Blackie’s silky head. Since the dream, vision, whatever it was, she felt a special bond with the biggest kitten. He stretched, slitting open his eyes, and then licked her hand roughly. He was asleep again almost instantly.
Linn pulled an armload of books off the shelves and spread them out on the table. (She couldn’t sit on the couch, as it was full of kittens.) She needed to know more about her enemies. She had read some of the modern retellings of the myths, most of which were ludicrous compared to the original legends. The originals were so dark, she realized, leafing through a very old translation of the ancient Greek tales. Full of blood, pain and death... Linn shivered as she read. She could see that her grandfather had scribbled notes in the margins, but the ink was faded brown with time.He probably bought this book new, she thought.
This made her reflect again on the age of her grandfather. And Bes, she now thought, must be older even than Vulcan. From the accounts she’d read, Bes was one of the originals that had fallen from the other plane, whatever that was.
Wherever that was, she corrected herself thoughtfully.
Chapter 11
Sekhmet brought the Scholar to earth gently, avoiding cities and humans in general. The immortal’s grasp on reality was tenuous at best, and the great cat wanted to keep her functional. Her last death had been a bad one, and while an immortal couldn’t die permanently, the scarring on her face was a symbol of the scars to her soul. An immortal didn’t need to wear scars, deformities, or wounds. As long as they had the energy, they could heal themselves, and others, as the Scholar had done with Peter.
For now, they paced through a wet forest. The rain fell, unheeded, as the Scholar touched leaves and flowers with delight. Sekhmet switched her tail slowly as they walked, impatient to be on, but unwilling to break the delight the Scholar showed with the verdant beauty around them. Her paws sank into the wet leaves deeply, but the Scholar, she noted with amusement, left no tracks at all. Her power caused the immortal who chose to look like a little old lady to float, never touching the ground.
They came out of the jungle abruptly, to a cliff overhanging the ocean. The Scholar clutched at Sekhmet’s shoulder. “Oh, my...” she gasped. “How beautiful. And it just goes on and on.”
Sekhmet slitted her eyes against the bright sun, which glinted off the brilliant blue ocean, and sniffed at the sea breeze that gently flirted with her fur. No one was near that she could smell upwind. Time to take the Scholar to her library and leave all this pleasantness behind.
She sighed. “Follow me carefully,” she told the old woman. The path was all but invisible from above, merely a jagged crack in the cliff edge. Sekhmet stepped carefully onto it, feeling her claws extend slightly as the sea was directly beneath her, crashing waves breaking on jagged lava flow. The path was well-worn, for all the secrecy. Bare human feet had been treading it for centuries. Behind her, the Scholar followed unhesitatingly.
The path dipped into the cliff wall, through a narrow cleft that brushed both of Sekhmet’s shoulders. Just as she was considering shifting forms to her more slender human shape, it widened until she was standing in an almost perfectly tubular tunnel. Lights hung from the ceiling, lighting the glassy black walls. The Scholar touched the wall and muttered.
“Yes?” Sekhmet asked, unsure if she had been addressed.
“An old lava tube. Remarkable!” the woman exclaimed.
“Your hostess thought it would be a secure location for your library and lab,” Sekhmet told her.
“So we are close, then.”
“Yes, follow me.” The big cat was careful not to move too quickly, although she was sure Hypatia could keep up. No point in pushing the Scholar; she would just push back.
Sekhmet paced off a quarter of a mile as the humans counted it before they came to a round wall blocking the tunnel. An ordinary steel door was mounted in it, with an iris scanner at the lock. Sekhmet looked into that, wincing as she was scanned. Cat’s eyes were too sensitive for these things.
She heard the click as the door unlocked, then the Scholar pulled it open for her. Handles were awkward with paws. She could shift to human form, but with all the tension staying a great cat was far more comfortable. She felt safer in this form. The look of the tunnel changed immediately. No longer bare walls of lava, they were now painted and there was a linoleum floor. They came to a second door, this one a simple wooden door, and it swung open with a push of Sekhmet’s nose. She held the door open for the Scholar with one paw. “Enter, lady,” the cat bade her companion with a hint of a purr in her voice.
“Ah...” The Scholar sighed as she stepped into the great chamber. Lined with shelves of books from floor to the distant ceiling, the stacks radiated out from the center of the vast room, where a circular table stood, surrounded by chairs. A couple of ratty couches were arranged near it in a comfortable seating arrangement. Sekhmet knew from experience that it was a great place to study with a group. Or to play games.
The Scholar seemed to straighten and grow as she walked to the nearest shelf. Sekhmet sat, curled her tail around her paws and purred. The lights brightened a little. Sekhmet glanced up ruefully at the ornate chandeliers and toned it down a little. Last time she’d blown bulbs here, the librarian had made her change them. That had not been a pleasant chore.
The Scholar turned back to the cat, her eyes bright. “This is a well-appointed library, indeed.”
“Good. Let me show you to your chambers, then, and you may return here afterwards.”
They paced slowly through the library, as the Scholar stopped every so often to exclaim over a volume she’d spotted. Sekhmet ruefully thought of the human phrase "herding cats" and tried to keep the woman moving forward. Finally, at the outer ring of the library, which was shaped like an eye when viewed from above, they met some of the librarians.
Sekhmet bowed to the tiny persons who stood waiting for them. Paws together, she lowered her body, and almost brushed the floor with her nose. Hypatia picked up her cue and sank into the human version of a curtsey.
The Coblyns were a chancy people. They had lurked in Welsh mines for centuries before beginning a slow diaspora across the globe, and they were the original goblins. Treated with respect, they were happy and helpful. Slighted, their anger could be terrible. The band that watched over the library was probably the most easy-going she had ever met, but it never hurt to be careful.
“Aloha!” the tallest Coblyn called as they reached them. He stepped forward, lei in hands. Sekhmet crouched to allow him to put it around her neck, reducing her size as he did. One of the others did the same for the Scholar, who actually blushed and patted the lush flowers she had been given. Sekhmet eyed her with amazement. The years were literally falling away from the Scholar.
Sekhmet smiled at the byplay. They ought to have done this years ago instead of allowing the Scholar to retreat so far. Forgotten, she padded at the back of the little entourage, listening to a conversation that was mostly about books. She felt a touch at her shoulder and looked into the face of their hostess.
Letting the others go ahead out of sight, she looked into Pele’s eyes. The goddess was in Crone form, leaning on an ebony wood staff. Flames leaped in her eyes. Sekhmet was undisturbed by the immortal’s fierce expression. “The pieces draw together, Pele. All was well last time I saw them,” she answered the unspoken questions.”
“Good. And the little ones?” The concern in her voice softened the fierceness.
Sekhmet chuckled. “Not so little. They grow fast.”
“I cannot leave here, you know.” She whose power was so woven into the soil and seas of this place that the very ground glowed when seen with the Sight, and who had been a terrible enemy to those who invaded, laid a tremulous hand on Sekhmet’s shoulder.
Sekhmet licked Pele’s cheek. She understood the old woman’s dilemma. Torn between duty and family.
Pele laughed, a rusty sound. “You are a most impertinent cat.”
“I am that,” Sekhmet agreed contentedly.
“Keep an eye on him.” The little tremble was back.
“As always. Bes is with the little ones, now. Vulcan goes to Quetzalcoatl’s court. I will join him there, now that the Scholar is safely with you.”
Pele nodded. “Blessings on your journey,” she intoned, touching the cat softly on the forehead. Power flickered on her fingertips.
Sekhmet felt the burn as the goddess gave her energy. She stretched her head out and bumped her nose against Pele’s, evoking another laugh from the goddess (whose wrinkles were only temporary, fitting her awful mood). Then the big cat turned and ran back the way she had come. Time to join the battle.
Chapter 12
Linn was still sitting at the table, making notes in a lined pad she’d found on the bookshelf, when Bes called her to come outside. Again, she hadn’t heard him until he wanted her to. Annoyed with this failure on her part, she went out onto the porch and felt her irritation dissolve.
“Oh! They are so beautiful...” She walked down to where he stood, holding the reins of the two most beautiful horses that she had ever seen. One was a buckskin, the other a palomino, but both sported the classic white spotted blankets of an Appaloosa.
Bes grinned. He held the reins of the palomino out to her. “Can you ride?”
“A little.”
“She’s well broken. You’ll do fine, she’ll take care of you.”
Linn looked at him, then at the horse. She focused, then her Sight kicked in. She staggered a little, but when Bes caught her elbow, she straightened. His aura was flaming white, still too bright to look at directly. The horses, though... Little flickers of green, green as grass, danced over them. The mare pricked her ears at Linn and blew a little, relaxing into a hip-shot pose, obviously bored. “Bes, are they...?”
He let go of her and she closed her eyes, trying to turn the Sight back off. “No,” she heard him say. “Merely warded with the power of their owner. Good, child, you’re seeing better.”
Linn opened her eyes and was relieved to be able to see normally again. “Who is their owner? Do all immortals have different colors? What kind of horse are they?”
Bess threw up a hand, laughing, to ward off her questions. “I’ll answer as we go. I’d like to be back before the kittens awaken.”
Linn nodded and put her foot in the stirrup. She swung up awkwardly. She only rode in the summer when visiting Grampa Heff, so she was out of practice. She settled into the deep-cantled saddle, liking the way it held her legs in place. A roping saddle, she wouldn’t fall out of this easily. She looked over at Bes, who looked very much at home atop the gelding. The dwarf god ought to have looked absurd, but he didn’t, just relaxed and confident.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“I need to show you the wards and teach you how to make them yourself.” He nudged the gelding with his heels and the horse ambled to a start.
Linn felt her eyes widen a little. She couldn’t do wards. She didn’t have the power like they did.
Bes headed toward the woods. She let her mare come up alongside him, where she could talk easily to him while they still covered open ground. “So who did you borrow the horses from?”
“Coyote, of course. Old dude packs serious mojo, and I had to talk to him anyway.”
Linn blinked, trying to wrap her mind around the Egyptian god’s words. He’d talked to the creator god of Native American legend? She tried to remember what she had read about that entity. “Um... isn’t he another trickster god?”
Bes chortled. “Yes, indeed he is. Maybe the trickiest of us all.”
“Do you know Loki?” Linn asked next.
“You ask a lot of questions, anyone ever tell you that?” He grinned toothily at her.
“Frequently,” she responded dryly.
Bes went off into gales of laughter, clutching the saddle horn. Linn regarded him with mild irritation. He annoyed her more than anyone she could remember meeting, but she still liked him.
Finally he straightened and wiped his eyes. “You remind me so much of your grandfather. Yes, I knew Loki.”
“Knew?” Linn thought the immortals couldn’t be killed.
“Long story. Catch me some winter night and I’ll tell you, child.”
They entered the forest, and Linn reined her mare back until she was behind him. They fell into silence, both of them aware of the forest and not needing to speak. Bes pointed, then veered off the path. Linn stayed with him, weaving through the trees in the open forest. There was little brush, and she enjoyed the spicy scent of the forest as they traveled farther than she had gone before.
Bes stopped his gelding in a little glade with a cairn of rocks in the center. He pointed to it. “Look at that with your Sight, child.”
Linn focused on it, watching as it began to blaze with the orangy-red she associated with her grandfather. A thin thread of light stretched off in either direction. Bes dismounted and put his hands on the top rock in the pile. He closed his eyes. Linn could see the power flowing from him and mixing with the power her grandfather had left there. The flames leapt up and the thread got thicker.
Bes looked at her, his eyes flickering with the power. “Come down, child.”
Linn slid off her horse and joined him by the uncanny fire.
“You asked if every immortal had a different color. Not quite, but there are some who say they can tell whose power is whose by the shades.”
He took her hands in his and held them to the cool, rough surface of the rock. She could feel the warmth of his Power flowing through her skin. It prickled a little. She watched the flickering light dance through both their skin with fascination. Then she could see filaments of fuchsia join his white. She jerked her hands away with a cry.
“Was that me?” She was wringing her hands as she backed away. They tingled painfully.
“Yes. Your Power, not much, but enough that anyone trying to enter the wards would alert you,” he said quietly.
Linn shook her hands and blew on them. “It hurts!” she scolded.
He nodded. “It’s not an easy thing to use. Your grandfather and I have been doing it for so long... well, I feel it, I’m not sure he still does.”
“Why didn’t you warn me?” Linn demanded.
“Didn’t want to scare you, and I was helping.”
Then the
other thing registered. “Pink?! My power is pink?”
He laughed.
Linn glared at him. “I... don’t... like... pink!” she hissed, then mounted up again. Bes again got in the saddle much more gracefully than someone who looked as old as he did ought to be able to manage.
“Why do you and Grampa even bother looking old?” she asked. He looked at her and she felt her face flush. She was being rude. “Sorry,” she mumbled, looking down at her mare’s mane.
“What?” He prompted, pretending not to have heard her. Bes reined his gelding closer.
Linn repeated at a louder volume, “Sorry,” and gave him a look.
“I can’t give you all the answers today. Or even in a year. Some things you might never know. But this one’s easy. How do you think humans would react to people living amongst them that never aged?”
He rode off and she followed him silently, thinking about that. He was right. Historically, people had been pretty brutal to outsiders. How many lifetimes had the immortals chosen to live, pretending to die and then reappearing somewhere else, far from family and home?
She maneuvered up alongside him and reached over to put a hand on his sleeve. “Bes, I’m sorry. It’s all just... so much.”
“Sometimes I forget just how young you are. Child, it’s a long life you’ve got, never mind what me and your Grampa got to put up with. Now, we have five more wards to get to.”
She fell back again silently. He helped with the other wards, but by the time they were done with the last one she could feel tears rolling down her cheeks. Her hands hurt so badly she could barely move her fingers.
“Home and dinner will mend much of it,” Bes told her gruffly. He handed her a red bandana to wipe her face with.
Linn just nodded. She was so tired he had to help her remount, and she just followed him home, reins lying slack on the mare’s neck. The mare was happy to follow her brother the gelding, so Linn let her mind go blank. When they got back to the cabin, she was half-asleep. She slid off the horse into Bes’ arms. He carried her to the couch like a baby, shooing the kittens that met them at the door.