Of Gods and Wolves (The Godhunter, Book 2)

by Amy Sumida

  He tossed me over his shoulder again. I clutched the lightning bolts and my purse tightly as I watched the stone floor pass beneath us and had to fight even harder not to toss my cookies.

  We went down into what I instantly thought of as a dungeon but was actually the aforementioned pens. They were rooms of stone with a small bed and a toilet in each of them. That’s it and frankly, I was grateful for the toilet when I got a look around at the rest of the accommodations. I was lucky it wasn’t just a bucket.

  He tossed me on the wooden bed and stalked from the room. The door slammed and I heard a bolt slide home. I instantly pulled out my cell phone but of course there was no reception in the God Realm. Thor had probably been calling me from my house earlier or from some god phone he hadn't told me about. I never knew what new machine he'd pull out of his pocket but my puny human phone was not going to work. If I ever met that Can you hear me now guy, I was going to smack the shit out of him.

  I sat down heavily, drew my legs up to my chest, and laid my chin on my knees. I needed to think. How did I get myself out of this one? If only I could stop the horrible churning in my gut, I might actually be able to come up with a plan but I just kept thinking about how my magic had been right on the money and how foolish I was to not immediately start running in the opposite direction of Loki.

  What would Thor do when I didn’t come home? What would he do to Trevor when he found out it was Trevor who'd given up my location to his grandpa? I groaned and thought seriously about giving in to tears. Hell, it was a moot point if Sif killed me. Trevor would probably die right alongside me.

  In five minutes, I was glad I hadn’t started with the waterworks because Loki came tromping back into the pen. He threw my gloves at my feet with a pile of leather that I had the sneaking suspicion was supposed to be clothing. I looked up and tried to keep my expression blank.

  “For your fight,” he gestured to the pile. “I’ll come back for you tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” I stood up. “Why not now? Let’s get this over with.”

  “I have to invite a few friends,” he grinned viciously, “including your God of Thunder and all your wolves. I’m sure they’ll want to be here for the show.”

  “Wow,” I shook my head. “You’re so not what I expected.”

  “Which was what?” He smiled and for a second it brought his face back to its former glory.

  “I don’t know,” I shrugged. “I guess I thought you’d be fun. I thought the Trickster God would be mischievous, not cruel but I should’ve known better after what I saw in Fenrir’s heart.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” He narrowed his eyes.

  “I saw how Fenrir’s mother cast him out.”

  “She was not pleased when he first shifted,” Loki’s eyes got distant for a moment before returning to me.

  “She wasn't pleased?” I sneered. “Wasn't she a giant?”

  “I like big women,” he shrugged, “so what?”

  “I mean, she wasn't exactly normal either,” I huffed. “How could she turn her back on her child for being different?”

  “I haven't the foggiest,” he leaned against the door frame and frowned at me.

  “What about his scars?”

  “What about them?”

  “How did he get them?” It was like pulling teeth with this idiot.

  “What do you mean?” He looked at me like I was the idiot. “He got into fights.”

  “But he's a werewolf,” I wanted to slap the bastard. Did he know nothing of his own son? “He could just shift and heal. Why didn't he heal before the scars formed?”

  “Oh that,” he made an irritated face and picked at his nails. “He wasn't very good at the whole shifting thing at first, got into quite a few scraps before he learned to heal himself. So what does all this have to do with me?”

  “Where were you?”

  “What do you mean?” He finally looked up from his impeccable nails.

  “When your son was thrown away like garbage by his own mother, when he was beaten and tormented for being a monster, when he had to flee his only home to avoid being hunted like an animal, where were you?” I felt the strength of my anger tighten my muscles as I stood to glare at Loki. I loved Fenrir and he'd gone through hell all by himself, because of this man, so this was personal.

  “I was busy. I don’t know how to rear children.”

  “You were busy?” I gaped at him. “You're his father! Your child grew up alone and hunted because you were busy?”

  “It made him strong,” he looked down his nose at me. “He welcomes me to his hall. He knows I did him a service and he respects me for it.”

  “He still has a child’s desire for his father’s love,” I was shaking from holding back the tears I refused to shed in front of him. “He wants you to see how strong he is, how much he’s accomplished. He wants your approval because you’re his father, even though you’re a heartless bastard.”

  He slapped me hard enough to send me to the floor and as I spat blood, I laughed. He dragged me to my feet and shook me. “You find me funny now, witch?”

  “Yeah, I do.” I licked the blood from my lips and grinned at him. “You sent the one person who could’ve brought real happiness into your life away and now you have to find thrills in blood and death. You didn’t ruin his life with your selfishness, you ruined your own.” I laughed again and it was the best witch cackle I could manage.

  He threw me onto the bed so hard, it wobbled and groaned. “You’re right, your blood does thrill me, witch. Maybe if you survive Sif, I’ll keep you. I think that might make me happy.”

  “Well since it makes you so happy,” I spat a mouthful of blood on him. “Enjoy it while you can because after I fight Sif, I'm coming for you.”

  He glanced down at the blood on his white shirt and smiled a twisted, horrifying version of happiness and stomped from the room.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I dressed in the outfit Loki had given me only because I couldn’t fight in my dress. The leather was black but that’s the only resemblance it had to my usual fighting gear. It was more holes than leather and wouldn’t offer me any protection. I was wearing a sadist’s wet dream but at least it wouldn't hinder my movements.

  I frowned as I looked down at the amount of flesh the bustier bared. It would’ve fallen, if not for the tightness of the fit and the lines of boning running through it. It had spaghetti straps and three long, ragged stripes going across my belly to up under my breasts like some huge cat had got a hold of it. One probably had, knowing Loki.

  The pants were attached, making it some kind of S&M jumpsuit. There were long stripes cut out of the legs as well, front and back, and there were unnecessary buckles everywhere. I really hate unnecessary buckles.

  I had curves hanging out of the leather, and not the normal ones that I don’t mind showing. The underside of my breast peeped through. I don’t know why the underside seems more intimate than the top but it does to me and I wasn’t comfortable with it showing. I also wasn’t comfortable with parts of my ass showing through the stripes on the back either. To top it all off, there were matching heels to go with the ensemble. Yeah, like I was going to fight in heels. Right.

  I put them on with every intention of kicking them off, once the fight began.

  I tightened my ponytail, then twisted my hair up into a bun and fastened it with my hairsticks. It wasn't as secure as the braid I usually wore wrapped around my head but at least it was out of the way and wasn't going to provide an easy handhold for Sif. If I had to use my sticks, the pony would still keep my hair out of the way. It would have to do.

  When everything was in place as best as it could be, I strapped on my gloves and immediately felt better. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed them. They had been with me from the beginning of this whole god hunting fiasco and they'd saved my life more than a few times.

  As a witch, I knew enough to enchant my weapons to give them some added juice but what I didn't know was
how much power could really be put into leather and steel. God weapons were far superior to anything I could have created and I needed that extra boost, since gods needed to be decapitated to be stopped. It's not easy to cut someone's head off, those gloves made it seem that way though. They made me feel powerful, confident, and like maybe I had a chance against the Atlanteans.

  It was good to have them back but what price was I about to pay for them?

  “They’re all anxious to see you, Rouva,” Loki stood in the open door and I seriously contemplated attacking him right there. Then I remembered the comment about the sabertooth's cock. I needed to be better prepared to fight Loki.

  “Then let’s not keep them waiting,” I grabbed my dress and purse, then walked toward him. I wasn’t about to leave anything of mine behind again. He backed up, indicating the direction I should take with a little hand flourish.

  As I walked down the cold corridor, I felt the stones vibrating beneath me. A thin tremor, like putting your ear to the train-tracks and knowing that somewhere close there was hundreds of pounds of steel rushing your way.

  This wasn't a train though. The roar came from the throats of gods, not the steel belly of a beast, although they were just as dangerous. Even more so. You could step out of the way of a train.

  I looked over my shoulder at Loki and he smiled.

  “It turns out that a lot of my friends are interested in seeing you fight,” he pointed to a door at the end of the hall. “Right through there, Hunter. Sif is waiting.”

  I turned sharply on my heels and strutted through the door. If I was going to be entertainment, I’d give them a hell of a show. Thor said the gods were afraid of me because it's easier for a human witch to kill them. Something about them taking our energy and so being susceptible to those of us with the power to take it back. But even with that kind of PR, I'd never run into a god too scared to fight me. Maybe this fight would help my image. If I did it right, they'd all think twice before coming after me.

  When I opened the door, I was hit with the noise. The pulse of contained magic and the cheering of powerful voices were enough to stop me for a second. I looked around, surprised to find a big, open, stone floor with terraced seats going up the sides. It was nothing like the Froekn pit. This was an actual fighting arena. Sheesh, Loki really was a bloodthirsty bastard.

  The seats were filled with stomping, screaming gods and growling, barely restrained wolves. I saw Thor at the far end with Fenrir. The God Squad held him back when he spotted me. Trevor and some of the Froekn were with him as well. I guess Loki hadn’t allowed the whole pack to invade. Wise of him. There probably would have been a war.

  I gave them all a reassuring smile before I took another look at the cheering throng. My friends were outnumbered, there were more gods there who wanted to see me fight than who didn’t.

  I strode forward, putting some sway into my hips, working the sex magic, and I heard a few murmurs before everyone grew quiet. Across from me, stood a tall blonde woman dressed in brown fighting leathers and carrying a short sword. Why she got the real outfit and I had to wear something from Sluts-R-Us, I had no idea.

  I automatically reached for the short sword I usually wore hunting, before I remembered I didn’t have my kodachi. I’d have to fight her with claws and daggers alone. Shit. I tossed my stuff to the side and turned to face her.

  Sif walked forward, swinging her sword in a couple testing arcs as her long braid swung out behind her. I smiled. Stupid woman. I was going to use that braid against her if I got the chance.

  I walked forward, swishing my hips with the help of those high heels and smiling coldly. When I walked past Loki, who was sitting in a bottom row in the middle of the arena, I bared my teeth and said, “Pay close attention, Loki. You'll be next.”

  “You’re going to die slowly, bitch,” Sif yelled at me before Loki could say anything. “I’ll grind that pretty face under my boot when I tire of your screams.”

  “Blah, blah, blah,” I flung my hands down so the claws popped out with a loud snick and the gods inhaled sharply. The Froekn were calm, they’d already seen that trick, but I silently reveled in the effect my weapons had on the rest of the audience. My claws were always a crowd-pleaser. “Aphrodite said something like that too and we both know what happened to her. Oh, and by the way, she had me chained to a wall at the time.”

  The entire crowd gasped and my pleasure went up a notch. This might be kinda fun after all. I kicked off the heels and planted my feet firmly on solid stone, stretching my toes and my arches by doing a little bouncing. There weren’t any grooves carved out of this floor, as opposed to the Froekn pit, so going barefoot was even more of a plus. I lowered my face, eying her patiently, looking her over for any possible weakness I could exploit and letting everything else fade into the background.

  She ran at me and I reached for the war magic, feeling strength and agility flow through my muscles. I watched her blade as she swung, concentrated on the angle of it and dropped lightly to my knees, so it passed harmlessly over my head. While I was down there, I punched her in the gut, tearing at her as I twisted my wrist and stood. She doubled over and I kicked her in the butt to send her tumbling.

  There were a few laughs and howls but mostly the throng held their breath as Sif got to her feet. She looked down at the blood pouring from her belly and narrowed her eyes at me. The blade swung up onto her shoulder in a graceful arc as she came at me more carefully.

  Her anger brushed against me like a living thing. Snake scales, dry and smooth, with that reptile stench and the threat of poisoned fangs. I used it to keep me focused. This was kill or be killed, if I had to get all cliché about it. I had just gutted her and she’d got up like it was a freaking flesh wound. That meant only one way would do. I had to take her head. Thor was watching and I knew Ull was beside him but I couldn’t let their possible reactions sway me. I had no choice. I wasn’t ready to die. Not even for love. Hell, especially not for love, that was just plain dumb.

  Her stomach was healing as she approached me and I frowned as I tried to remember what Ull had told me about her. She was a grain goddess. A goddess of the crops. Harvest and renewal. I groaned. She could regenerate like the wheat in the field, cut her down and she grew back. A rare talent for a god but of course she had to have it.

  Here’s hoping she couldn’t regrow her head.

  “Let’s see what else you got, witch,” she sneered. Why did they always use the W word like it was an insult?

  “Well today I've only got lollypops or ass-whoopings,” I called out loudly, “and I’m all out of lollypops.”

  The gods cheered and the wolves howled in laughter but I heard a few groans as well. Sif wasn’t too impressed with my comedy routine. She went back to cursing me and calling me all kinds of uncreative names. I mean come on, if you’re going to put on a show, put on a show. She knew I was coming; she should’ve had some material prepared.

  I studied her face as she approached. I felt like I should really know what she looked like before I killed her. The better to haunt my nightmares. Maybe it was some kind of twisted form of respect. Maybe I just didn't want to be a psychopathic killer and this was my way of preventing it. Either way, I believe humans wouldn’t kill so indiscriminately if they still had to look their opponent in the eye. With the invention of far reaching weapons, came casual killers. Push a button, pull a trigger, and close your eyes. A child could do it… and has.

  I had an instant and terrible thought. How many gods sitting there watching me had helped make those weapons of mass destruction a reality. Would bombs have even been invented if gods hadn't decided they needed more sacrifice? Was there a beautiful muse out there, screaming for Sif to kick my ass, so she could go back to inspiring greater weapons?

  My rage rose up like a tide, salty-sweet and cold with the waters of the deep. Was Sif a part of it? How many deaths had she orchestrated so that she could regrow her flesh like that? So she could live as a goddess and not have to worry ab
out death or old age. The wave rushed through me and I knew it would stop today. Today I'd cut down the harvest and salt the earth. Nothing was going to grow back after I was finished.

  So I went back to memorizing Sif. I took in her white skin, her icy gaze and pale blonde lashes. I memorized her straight nose, her straight brows, and her straight lips. The woman was all pale and rigid, she even stood perfectly, her small breasts barely touching the line of her stiff body. It was like looking at a female icicle.

  If this was Thor's idea of beautiful, I had no idea what he was doing with me. I was pretty much her physical opposite; curvy, short, dark-haired, and dark-eyed. I was a multiracial mix and she was a poster child for the Aryan race. We were very yin and yang in a horrifying, murderous kind of way.

  When she got within striking distance, Sif lifted her sword expertly and twisted it about so it looked like she could be striking from anywhere. I watched it twirl, taking in her body movement with my peripheral vision but keeping my attention firmly on the sword.

  People will tell you to watch the eyes or watch your opponent's body but I've never had luck with that. I watch the weapon, especially if it's a sword. If you keep your eyes on the hilt, you know which way they're going to strike just from the angle of it. So I watched the hilt and when Sif lunged, I twisted my body to the side. She missed me but I wasn’t able to get a strike in either. My gloves were cool but her sword gave her a longer reach.

  We turned back to each other and the crowd found its voice. There were cheers for Sif but surprisingly, there were a few for me too and they didn’t all originate in the corner with the Froekn and God Squad either. Hmph, fickle friends she had there, but then again they probably weren’t her friends at all. They’d just come to see the Godhunter get her comeuppance.

  “You can’t hurt me, human,” Sif sneered. “You’re like a fly buzzing in my ear. A simple annoyance.”

  I smiled brightly. “The Egyptians used to give medallions of flies to their best warriors. It was considered the greatest honor to be compared to a fly. A fly is very hard to catch.” She brought her sword down and again, I stepped aside. “See?”