Pride Before A Fall (Book 21 in the Godhunter Series)

by Amy Sumida

  I turned back to the mountain.

  “Very true,” Morpheus said softly. “All right, let's check out the cave and make sure that the Gate of Horn is secure, then we can reconvene with the others and let them know about Arkansas.”

  “I like the sound of Ark-and-Saw much better,” I said.

  “Everything sounds cooler when an owl says it.” Morpheus motioned toward the mountain, and the mouth of a cave appeared.

  “Lead the way.” I waved to the entrance. “And keep an eye out for bears.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  We walked through the Cave of Dreams, peering into every shadow, but there didn't seem to be anyone else there. The stones echoed our footsteps eerily, but no one jumped out at us, and no illusions were cast upon us. It remained an empty, if not completely ordinary, cave. After we had reached Morpheus's living quarters, we started to breathe easier, and I lowered my guard. Stupid, amateur mistake.

  “Everything looks as I left it,” Morpheus noted. “I don't think he's been here.”

  Morph went to inspect the Gate of Horn. The Gate was made of horns, all sorts of animal horns, and some that I was pretty sure came from creatures outside of the animal kingdom. Again, not the most creative of names, but it was apt. The Gate led into the Dream Realm, where dream gods–or faeries–could slip into the dreams of humans. Why faeries? Because, just like the God Realm, the Realm of Dreams had been made by the Fey.

  “Yeah, it looks undisturbed,” I agreed as I looked over the intricate weaving of polished horns.

  “Good, I was trying to be careful,” Phobetor said as he came around a corner.

  His bulk should have been impossible to miss, but dream gods were notoriously sneaky. Phobetor may look dumb, with heavy features and shaggy, unkempt hair, but he wasn't. He was a god; a shapeshifting, cruel god who had fed on human souls for centuries. You know those people who die mysteriously in their sleep? Yep, that was most likely Phobetor. Either him or one of his brothers. And yes, Morpheus had done the same. They had their reasons, most of them involving Zeus, but I won't get into all of that. Let's just say that Morpheus had been hurtling down the highway to his own personal hell when I met him; one step away from evil. But he'd made an amazing about-face and returned to light. Phobetor–not so much.

  “Brother!” Morpheus blurted in surprise.

  “Did you really think that you could keep me out of my own home?” Phobetor sneered. “These stones are as much mine as they are yours. The magic in them responds to my commands as eagerly as yours.”

  “You aren't even supposed to be in the Underworld,” Morpheus stated calmly. “If Hades caught you–”

  “Yes, yes”–Phobetor waved one beefy hand through the air–“but the key word is 'if.' Hades would have to find me first, and that is far more difficult than it seems. Especially on my turf.”

  “All right, you're pissed off, we get it,” I growled. “Did you take my daughter, Phobetor?”

  “Your daughter?” Phobetor's dark eyes went wide with genuine surprise. “Since when have you had a daughter?”

  “He's not the one,” Morpheus huffed.

  “It appears not.” I grimaced. “That was easy. Maybe I should just go up to all of my enemies and simply ask them if they have Lesya.”

  “What are you two talking about?” Phobetor narrowed his eyes at me suspiciously.

  “Someone stole my child,” I explained crisply. “My daughter; she's just a baby. You were on my list of suspects.”

  “Why would anyone steal a baby?” Phobetor looked baffled.

  “Several reasons, most of which begin with hating the child's parents.” I grimaced. “Or, in my case, parent–singular. You may find this hard to believe, but I have a lot of enemies.”

  “Vengeance”–Phobetor nodded–“sure, I get that. But using a child seems like too much work. Who wants to take care of a squalling baby while you're plotting out your tactics? The diapers alone would deter me. I wouldn't be able to concentrate.”

  He had a point.

  “Unless they just killed the child,” Phobetor mused. “Yes, that's probably what they did. Don't concern yourself with looking anymore; your daughter is dead, Godhunter.”

  “She is not dead,” I snarled. “I would feel it if she died. I'd know.”

  “Oh, well then, keep looking, but I don't have her.” Phobetor shrugged. “So, maybe we can get back to my issues now?”

  “Our issues,” Morpheus snapped.

  “Exactly.” Phobetor grinned maliciously. “And the Godhunter has nothing to do with them. This is a family matter.” Phobetor shoved me roughly, sending me crashing through the Gate of Horn. “Sweet dreams, Vervain.”

  I tumbled back into the blue mist, sending up a puffy wave of the stuff when I landed. It curled over me, blocking my vision briefly. But I heard the Gate of Horn shut with an echoing crash, and then a flash of energy pulsed over it, shining like a lighthouse through the fog. I narrowed my eyes on that. Just as Morpheus had done with him, Phobetor had forgotten that you couldn't lock a god out of–or into–their own domain. As a faerie, I could roam the Realm of Dreams freely. This was more my home than it was theirs.

  I stood, intending on storming back through the gate when the sound of my own voice stopped me. It tickled my ear, just a faint echo drifting over to me from a nearby veil.

  The entire Realm of Dreams was wrapped in blue mist; it hovered over the ground and hung in the air in sheets. Every veil of condensed mist was a doorway into someone's dream. The Fey had once used the realm to enter the dreams of mortals and discover their deepest desires. Then they would use those desires against the dreamer. If you know the fantasies of a king, you can rule his kingdom. But this was the first time I'd entered the realm and heard my own voice drifting out of one of those curtains.

  Someone was dreaming of me.

  I turned, chills coasting over my arms, and headed toward the sound of my voice. Within two steps, I knew who the dreamer was. I heard the proof of it in my very words.

  “Lesya,” my voice said sweetly. “Hey, little one. Mommy's here. I love you so much, baby girl. I can't wait to take you home with me.”

  I was trembling, my eyes filling with tears, as I stepped up to the veil. A panel of mist was the only thing separating me from my daughter.

  “Daddy's here too,” my voice went on.

  “Hello, my little Lesya,” Kirill's voice strengthened as I touched the mist.

  I pushed against the veil, anxious to get through it, but it solidified beneath my palm.

  “What the fuck?” I growled and pushed harder.

  The mist darkened to black briefly and beat back at me, flapping against my fingers.

  “No!” I shouted and started pounding the veil with my fists. Every hit made the blue darken like a bruise and sent ripples over the surface of the veil. “Lesya! I'm here! Mommy's here!”

  I was crying while I screamed, pouring all of the magic I had into my hands. I turned my fingers into claws and began to tear at the veil. Nothing hurt it. It wasn't really corporeal. Still, I kept shrieking and tearing. I blasted it with fire, drowned it with water, I even froze it with ice. I conjured up every weapon I could think of. I could do nearly anything within the Dream Realm... except, it seemed, reach my daughter.

  “Lesya,” I moaned as I slid down the veil and knelt before it. I laid my cheek to the surface of the mist and just wept.

  “Mommy,” a little voice came through the veil, garbled and stunted, like a child's first attempts to speak. “Mommy!” Only the one word, but it was full o fear.

  “Lesya!” I screamed. “Lesya! I'm here, honey. I'll find you. I swear I will find you!”

  “Mommy,” the voice drifted away.

  “No! Baby, I'm here! I'm right here! Don't go, Lesya, don't go.”

  “Vervain!” Morpheus stood beside me. He looked at the veil with wide eyes, then at my stricken face. “Is that? Is Lesya in there?”

  “Yes,” I sobbed. “But I can't reach h
er, Morph. Someone has blocked her from me, even here.”

  “Oh, fuck that,” Morpheus growled and lifted his hands.

  His palms filled with pale-blue light as his ebony wings whooshed open behind him. The mist in his eyes swirled, and the twin mist in the Dream Realm responded to it. The veil before us shivered, bulging out toward Morpheus, but then, right when I expected it to break; it snapped back into place. Morpheus narrowed his eyes and poured more power into his hands. The ground beneath us trembled, the veils around us flapped like laundry left out in a storm, and the mist itself sparked and crackled. The vibration intensified until both of Morpheus's palms flashed, and the entire realm shook violently. Veils swished aside, the cacophony of millions of dreams filling my ears, but Lesya's veil remained firmly in place.

  “No”–Morpheus dropped his hands in shock–“it's not possible. I am master here. It's simply not possible.”

  “I'm a faerie, and I can't part this veil,” I whispered. “It's useless. Whoever has blocked her from me, must be very powerful. More powerful than I, it seems.”

  “We know that she lives, Vervain.” Morpheus crouched down beside me. “That's something.”

  “I knew that already,” I said morosely. “Now I know that Lesya's scared, and she's looking for me. She wants her mommy. My baby is frightened, and I can't help her. I can't even comfort her.”

  I started crying again, and Morpheus gathered me against his chest, his wings folding gently around me, and rocked me like I was the child.

  “Shh, now,” he said. “We're going to slaughter whoever has scared Lesya. I swear to you, Vervain. We shall slaughter them and revel in their screams.”

  Then he carried me out of the Realm of Dreams and away from the only connection I had to my daughter.

  Chapter Twenty

  “What happened to Phobetor?” I asked after I'd finally pulled myself together.

  “I wounded him,” Morph said softly, “and he fled.”

  “I'm so sorry, Morpheus,” I whispered. “Brother against brother is a horrible thing.”

  “Not just brother. I've fought them all. My entire family is nearly gone,” Morpheus noted calmly. “Only Phobetor and Mother live. And they both hate me.”

  “They're angry,” I corrected, “but they don't hate you.”

  “Phobetor said; 'I hate you.'” Morph grimaced. “He used those words exactly.”

  “People say mean things to those they love,” I protested. “They don't really mean them.”

  “Thanks for trying, V, but we both know how evil my family is.”

  “It was something that was done to them. Your family was forced to murder people in their dreams for centuries,” I said firmly, ironically defending my enemies. “That takes its toll. It's miraculous that you've escaped their fate. But we shouldn't forget that they are victims too.”

  “Victims or not”–Morpheus set his misty stare on me–“my brother just tried to kill me.”

  “You still have your grandfather. And you know that you're my family now, right?” I laid a hand gently on his shoulder. “You're part of the Squad, which makes you a brother to all of them. That includes the Intare and the Froekn. Your family has grown, not diminished, and you are loved, most especially by me. I love you, Morpheus. You are not, nor will you ever, be alone.”

  “This is why gods are willing to fight for you, and even die for you,” Morpheus murmured. “You love so perfectly, Vervain. Thank you. Thank you for freeing me from my nightmare and truly making me a dream god. I'm honored to be considered a part of your family.”

  “You make our family stronger, in both love and magic.” I kissed his cheek. “We're lucky to have you.”

  We shared a silent moment, taking courage and strength from each other.

  “You ready to get back to our family?” Morpheus asked.

  “Yes,” I said “and if they haven't found anything, we're heading to Arkansas. I don't care what your grandpa said.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The entire Greek territory had been searched, and no trace of Lesya had been found. I told the Squad about the events in the Realm of Dreams, and a stillness settled over us. It was time to take some advice from an owl and head to Ark-and-Saw.

  Following the map and coordinates Athena had given me, I led the Squad out to Dallas County, Arkansas. I didn't want to take a huge group into the Human Realm, so I had sent the Intare home. They weren't too happy about it, but I promised to text them if we found Zeus and needed back-up. That seemed to assuage their lion pride. Lion pride... har-har.

  Arkansas is a huge producer of timber, and Dallas County turned out to be the largest timber production county in the state. Guess what type of trees they harvested the most of... yep, oak. The very magic that I had left Zeus with. I groaned when they told me. I groaned even louder when I stood before a pair of massive, iron gates that were adorned with crossed lightning bolts. Behind the gates, up on a hill, stood a Grecian mansion.

  “Unbelievable,” I muttered.

  “You left Zeus with a marketable magic,” Trevor huffed. “That bastard went from being king of a god mountain to king of a human one.”

  “A timber tycoon.” Odin narrowed his eyes on the building. “It's like he's rubbing it in our faces.”

  “It would have been smarter of him to have kept a low profile,” Hades growled. “I don't care how much power he has over trees; it won't save him from the fires of Hades. I'll burn his fucking timber to ashes.”

  “You're so sexy when your vengeful, Sizzle-Butt,” Persephone purred.

  “Thank you, Bunny-Nose.” Hades pulled his wife close and kissed her.

  “Don't kill him before I find out where Lesya is,” I said to Hades.

  “I'm not an idiot, Vervain,” Hades huffed.

  “I was just making sure. I know how distracting vengeance can be, Sizzle-Butt.”

  “Enough of this, let's go get him.” Vali strode forward and shoved the iron gates. “That tree-hugging bastard could have my sister in there.”

  The gates flew open, and all of us marched up Zeus's driveway. Zeus must have seen us coming because he strode out onto his veranda to meet us. He centered himself precisely on the top step, framed by the columns on his porch as if he were posing for a photograph. Zeus looked much the same as I remembered him; stormy, blue-gray eyes giving me a hard stare, pure white hair cropped short, and skin like polished oak. His huge frame was clad in human clothes; a pair of gray slacks and a dress shirt of crisp white cotton. He held his arms out to his sides as we came to a stop before him. A shimmering haze of energy ghosted over his fingers as he surveyed us.

  “Oh, please, give me an excuse to kill you, Brother,” Hades growled.

  “You're on my turf now, Brother,” Zeus said scornfully. “And this time, I was prepared for your arrival.”

  A massive group of burly men, humans all, came around the sides of the home and stood before Zeus. They were holding shotguns, which they leveled on us.

  “Fucking psychic gods,” I snarled.

  “You're involving humans?” Hades huffed. “Their weapons won't do anything to us; you know that. All you'll accomplish is a lot of bloodshed that will only make us angrier.”

  “Kill them, and you make me stronger.” Zeus smirked. “These are my men, bought and bound with blood and money.”

  “You can buy followers?” I asked Azrael.

  “It is a contract, in a way.” Azrael nodded. “How is money different from rain or sunshine? We provide what humans need in exchange for their worship.”

  “Shit,” I muttered.

  “So what?” Odin asked. “We don't have to kill them to get past them.”

  “Damn straight,” Pan said gleefully as he focused his attention on the humans.

  The humans began to tremble, then sweat beaded on their skin. I was actually impressed that the men were able to withstand Pan's panic magic as long as they did. It had taken a full minute before they began to scream, dropping their weapons as
they fled.

  But that didn't faze Zeus in the least. He had used the whole thing as a distraction. While everyone was watching Pan work, smug that we would win this skirmish in minutes, Zeus was calling upon Nature herself to defend him.

  We didn't hear it right away, as it was drowned out by the shouting of the panicked men, but once the humans were gone, the sound of rustling and creaking warned us that Zeus was far from finished. We looked toward the disturbance and watched in shock as the trees from the woods to our right–the forest itself–converged on us.

  The oaks had pulled themselves free of the earth and were moving over a slithering mass of their roots; rocks and dirt falling free in their wake. It was a disturbing sight, these tree tentacles grasping and pulling themselves across the yard. Branches waved overhead, raining leaves in a wild warning of what was to come.

  “What is this; the Last March of the Ents?” I asked. “Are there a couple of hobbits in those branches? Or maybe Zeus is the hobbit.” I looked over at him suspiciously.

  “You were a fool to leave me the Oak, Godhunter!” Zeus shouted as the trees formed another barrier between us.

  “Hey, moron,” I shouted back, “I'm a faerie. You can't kill me with a tree. Believe me, people have tried.”

  “We shall see,” Zeus said. “Attack!”

  I thought they'd launch acorns at us or pelt us with falling branches, something ridiculous like that. I was not prepared for the Roots of Doom. I should have been; I've seen Sephy fight with roots and vines often enough. But when you see a walking oak tree, you don't think rationally.

  Each of the Ents–I mean oaks–shot their mass of roots out toward us, entangling every god there... except for Persephone. The Spring Goddess simply held up her delicate hand, and the roots trembled in the air before her like a tangle of terrified snakes. As the rest of us grunted and fought against our bonds with magic and muscles, Persephone twirled her pointer finger and sent her tree-soldier right back at Zeus.