by Leia Shaw
“I don’t speak Greek,” she told him between mouthfuls of her meal. “What did you say?”
“Samantha, slayer of wolves, with beauty and fire.” His gaze fell on her hair.
Unruly orange curls had plagued her all her life. It was hardly beautiful, especially with the suffocating humidity of the Underworld. She probably looked like a poofy tabby cat that got stuck under a hand dryer. Still, heat spread to her cheeks at the compliment.
“So, Samantha, do we have a deal?”
She’d be stupid to refuse. Not only did he offer protection, but directions to the holding place of her sister. And all for one small request in return. Only one problem. Unlike most witches, Samantha and Mother Gaia weren’t on speaking terms. A fact she’d keep hidden for now.
“Deal,” she answered with a smile.
“Very good.”
Her stomach growled again and she slurped down the contents of the bowl. The soup tasted delicious but her palate was growing less picky the longer she went without food.
“Ease up, dove,” he said with a chaffing grin. “There’s plenty more soup.”
Suddenly self-conscious, she put down the bowl and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “When do we leave?”
“Straight away. If you’re ready.”
She peered around her, noticing the absence of windows. What time of day was it? How long had she been out? When she turned back to Geo, her sheathed sword sat in his outstretched hand. He was giving it back to her?
At her puzzled expression, he explained, “A show of good faith.” He yanked it back when she reached for it and gave her a stern glare. “But if you slit my throat while I’m not looking, I’m going to be very angry.”
She arched a brow and snatched the sword. “Just keep your hooves to yourself and we won’t have a problem.”
He scowled down at her. “I don’t have hooves. And I told you, I’m not really a demon.”
“Tell that to your horns,” she muttered under her breath.
A warning growl rose up from his throat.
Touchy, touchy. Obviously, he was a smidge defensive about the whole “not demon” thing. Dependent on a powerful supernatural male in the middle of an identity crisis? Her luck sucked.
Chapter 3
Geo left the cabin to fill the canteens with water from a nearby stream. Sam stuffed a backpack he’d thrown on the floor with the blanket from the pallet and a few cooking items he’d instructed her to pack. Kneeling on the floor, she checked her own satchel as well, making sure all items were accounted for.
Grimoire – check. Herbs for potions and spells – check. Water bottle – check. Snickers bar – squished.
“Aw, man.” She tossed it back in the bag.
A growl tore through the cabin, startling her. She spun toward the noise so fast she fell on her ass. A giant…dog would’ve been an understatement, flew out of the shadowy corner and landed on thick paws in front of her. Pitch black in color, covered in bulging muscle, it bared its oversized teeth and snarled.
Holy mutant flea bag!
She crab-walked backward a few feet, never taking her eyes off the beast, until she felt her sword under her hand. “Nice doggie,” she whispered, dragging the sword closer.
She jumped to a crouch, the sword unsheathed and at the ready. The thing’s eyes glowed red as it stared at her weapon. “Nice possessed doggie.”
The fur on its back rose up and its chest rumbled menacingly. Heart pounding, she kept her sword steady in her hands though inside she was shaking. “Okay Cujo, I’m all for animal rights – I support PETA and all that – but if you attack me, I’ll stick you with this nice sharp sword.”
In answer, the oversized mutt growled.
“Erebus.” Geo’s voice filled the cabin. She hadn’t even heard him come in. “Down, boy. She’s a friend.”
Great. The demon had the equivalent of a pet mastiff on steroids and already the thing didn’t like her.
Apparently Erebus wasn’t the obedient type. He growled again, and a line of drool dripped from his mouth. “Not very well trained, is he?” she said to Geo, gaze still locked on the dog.
“He’s not a pet. Put your sword down.”
“What? No way.” In the middle of a showdown with a dog-beast that looked like it wanted to gnaw on her bones – the sword was going nowhere. “One of us is making it out of this alive. I’d prefer it be me.”
“Samantha.” She eyed Geo from her peripheral vision. “Put down the sword. Trust me.”
There had always been strays living in the trailer park where she’d grown up. One had Nikki cornered when she was about twelve. It had growled and postured like Erebus. Sam had a rock in her hand and had been ready to fight the thing, but Nikki got down on her knees and put out a hand toward the snarling fur ball. Sam had watched, wide-eyed, as the feral dog’s demeanor changed. And it had eventually backed down and let Nikki get to safety.
Maybe the technique would work on mutant dogs of the Underworld too. A dog was a dog no matter where it lived, right? With a heavy sigh, she slowly sunk to the floor, placing her weapon on the ground.
“Good girl,” the demon coaxed. Was he talking to her or the dog? When the dog came closer, she noticed what swung between his legs and rolled her eyes. The demon was talking her down like she was the snarling beast.
Geo knelt beside her and Erebus relaxed. His tongue lolled to the side as he trotted over to greet them.
“You might want to consider obedience classes,” she said, following Geo’s lead and patting the dog’s shoulder. The thing was several inches taller than she was on her knees. His short fur was soft but he stunk like an animal died and he rolled in it. Typical dog.
“I told you he’s not a pet. He’s…a companion.”
“A companion? Wonderful. Now there’s nothing to stop him from eating me.”
Geo sighed wearily. “Why are you obsessed with things eating you? You’re edible all right, but not in that way.”
She blinked. Did he just imply she was hot? Pushing that odd thought aside, she answered, “Did you see those werewolves you saved me from? There was hunger in their eyes.”
“They didn’t want to eat you. They wanted to mate you.”
Her stomach dropped and she had the sudden urge to hug him for saving her.
Erebus lowered his big muzzle toward her face, startling her backward. Geo placed a hand on her arm. “Stay still. He just wants to sniff you.”
The dog leaned into her neck, his breath tickling her sensitive skin. She tried to remain calm, but considering he’d looked ready to tear her to shreds only minutes ago, it was difficult. With a final huff in her ear he backed away, seeming content with her odor. Of course the dog approved, she hadn’t showered in a few days. “Where’d he come from? One minute, I was here alone. The next, he leapt out from nowhere.”
“He’s a shadow hound.” Now his name made sense. Erebus was the god of shadows. “He travels in and out of shadows. I saved his life when I found him wandering the desert, dehydrated and starved. And he’s saved mine countless times since.”
“Isn’t that sweet?” It was sweet. But Erebus still made her shudder. She hoped she’d never have to be alone with it.
“Go on, boy.” Geo stood. “We’re going into the desert. No shadows for you there.”
As if he could understand him, Erebus turned around and leapt toward the dark corner of the cabin. And then he was gone.
“Weird,” she muttered.
“You’ll find lots of weird here.” He grabbed up the backpack and rummaged through the cabinet, placing odds and ends inside.
“Geo?”
“Hm?”
“Why didn’t you force me to put down the sword with your power?”
He turned around to face her. “Because you need to get used to trusting me.”
“And if I hadn’t put down the sword?”
“I’d have stopped Erebus before he hurt you.” He gazed at her sincerely. “I will protect y
ou, Samantha. No matter what.”
***
Because she was his ticket home. This pretty little witch was his first opportunity to take control of his dismal situation – though he had a feeling keeping her safe for the next three days would prove more difficult than he was ready for. He rummaged through drawers, tossing the essentials in his pack – a lighter, a hunting knife, spare t-shirt and pants, a bar of soap.
His biggest concern was that Samantha appeared to have more courage than brains. What kind of woman went marching into one of the most dangerous realms in existence with just a small sword and magic book? Her plan – or lack of one – to rescue her sister single-handedly was brave but bordering on madness. Was he really going to let the mortal go through with this suicide mission?
Of course I am.
He’d spent the last one hundred and eighty five years living on two basic rules – mind your own business and keep your head down. He’d broken both rules just by rescuing her from the werewolves. But he was tired of waiting patiently for his sentence to be over.
Waiting. That’s all he’d done the past century and a half – biding his time in this gods forsaken hell hole, surviving, and hoping for a miracle.
But now there would be no more sitting around waiting for the gods to remember him. In this little witch he could see his redemption as clear as her amber-colored eyes. He’d take her to the Games, collect on his favor then return home without a backward glance. Callous, yes, but he could do it. He would do it. If the Underworld had taught him anything, it was that heartlessness meant survival.
He’d thought the earth plane was harsh. The Underworld made it look like a stroll through a child’s playground. And this was only halfway to Hades. Thank the gods Ares had only meant to punish him, not condemn him. The Underworld was a penance. Hades was eternity.
“Are we ready?” Samantha’s voice cut into his thoughts and he turned to face her.
Sword at his waist, backpack on his back, he looked over his charge. She was so small – at least six inches shorter than him. So vulnerable. The long pants that covered her legs would be hot but would protect her from insects. The last time he’d been Topside was in the early 1800’s – women wouldn’t have been caught dead wearing men’s trousers. But the Underworld contained a large number of modern women so he was familiar with the concept. Samantha’s billowy sheer top covered a tight shirt with thin straps. He was getting aroused imagining that thin fabric stretched tight across her breasts. He subtly adjusted himself and forced his gaze to her face. An elastic band held back her hair, showing off her peachy skin and a spattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose. The desert sun would not be kind to that lovely skin.
He grabbed his cowboy hat from the floor and strapped it on top of his pack. She wore her sword on her back, a satchel over her shoulder, and an expression of pure determination.
What in Hades name did I get myself into? He sighed. “Ready.”
Geo opened the door and walked out into the muggy Underworld air. Samantha followed but he stopped her with his arm, nudging her slightly behind him. “First rule. Always wait for my signal that the area is clear.” With her independent streak, he’d bet she was rolling her eyes.
He checked the forest first. Thick and overgrown meant lots of room for hiding. But he’d set enough traps and murdered enough trespassers to earn a reputation among the inhabitants to stay far from his land. The desert bordered his property. They were relatively safe on their mile walk to the forest’s edge. But to be sure, he did a cursory scan of the sky. He’d learned never to underestimate the winged beasts from above.
The earth sun shone through the Underworld veil, painting the sky a scarlet red. Light enough to be called day, but a far cry from the pretty blue of earth. The choking heat and humidity of the Underworld was because of its nearness to hell – in the fiery center of the earth itself. There was no moon or stars in the Underworld – just long hours of pure darkness. No streetlights to make a path because there was no electricity – something he’d learned about in books. Those who didn’t bear the mark of a criminal could go Topside when they pleased. He’d established relationships with a few vampires who’d bring back treasures he would trade for handmade furnishings. He was good with his hands and could build almost anything. In the god realm, he’d been forced to make weapons for the many wars between gods. But it gave him plenty of time in his workshop. It was his sanctuary – his most sacred place. Other than his mother, his shop and tools were what he missed most since falling from the realm.
Home. It hadn’t been perfect but it’d been pretty damn close. He missed his soft, warm bed and the easy access to food he didn’t have to hunt down, skin, and burn to make edible. His mother’s warm eyes and light laughter. Friends he’d had since childhood. He even missed the flowery scent of the air. The memory of it was fading. He’d been here too damn long.
His attention turned back to his task. Keep the witch safe, deliver her to the Underworld Games and, mostly likely, to her death.
When he sensed there was no danger, he motioned to Sam and stepped forward.
“All clear?” she asked with a bit too much attitude in her voice for his liking.
He turned to face her with a disapproving frown. “All clear. But it might not have been. You just stormed out of the cabin without checking for danger. If I hadn’t stopped you, you would have strolled merrily into the forest without a second thought.”
He expected her to argue, or at least huff in indignation, so she surprised him when she hung her head and murmured, “Sorry.”
Now he felt like an ass for chastising her. “It’s alright. You didn’t know. But next time –”
Suddenly he fell backward, landing hard on the ground. He looked up at the sword pointed at his throat. The little witch had tripped him with a simple foot sweep. He grinned.
“I think I’m plenty prepared for any threats.” She stared down at him with a saucy smile.
With very little effort he kicked the sword out of her hand, grabbed her legs and flipped her on the ground, covering her with his body. “Think again,” he whispered in her ear.
He inhaled a lungful of her scent. Patchouli and sage. She smelled like the herbs witches used for spells. He should be disgusted. Everyone was mistrustful of witches – with due cause. But this one breathed life into his most personal places – and he didn’t just mean his cock.
She struggled beneath him, her cheeks flushed and chest heaving. Several necklaces – silver chains with various charms and a piece of leather tied around a feather – drew his gaze to her pale, slender neck. A neck he could sink his teeth into. He liked the look of her underneath him far too much. Nearly two hundred years without a woman…why couldn’t Ares just have had him flogged?
“Let me up,” she yelled. “You’re squishing me.”
Reluctantly, he did. “You’d be more than squished had I been someone else. Your stance is too narrow. That’s why you fell over so easily.”
She scowled at him and straightened her clothing. “Don’t tell me how to fight.”
“Then stay behind me and I’ll do it for you.”
“Never.”
“Stubborn.”
“Bossy.”
Gods, she was a saucy thing. Repressing a smile, he picked her sword up off the ground. “Spitfire and ambition will only get you so far, Samantha.” He held out her sword. “Knowledge and patience are the foundation for success.”
“My sister doesn’t have time for me to be patient.” She started to put the sword back into its sheath.
“No.” He grabbed her wrist, noting the bracelets adorning it. He’d heard witches often blessed charms and wore them on their body for protection. If that were true, Samantha had enough to get both of them to Hades and back unharmed. He’d have to ask her about it later. Now, under her icy glare, he positioned her sword arm out in front of her. “Widen your stance.”
She tossed him a dirty look but did as he said.
; He walked a circle around her. “Good. Now scan.”
She looked left then right. “Clear.” She took a step forward but he grabbed the back of her shirt and tugged her against his chest.
“Never forget the sky,” he rasped against her ear.
Her breath quickened and he could hear her heart pound wildly. She looked up then whispered, “Clear.”
“Good. I can’t use a dead witch so try to keep yourself alive, yes?”
“I suppose I can try,” she answered drily.
He eased away then stepped ahead, following the foot trail he’d used many times before. “Let’s go.”
From behind him, he heard a sing-songy voice. “We’re off to see the wizard…”
Just a few short months ago, the forest was a sad, dead place. Ravaged by the Dark King, the trees shriveled, the grass turned yellow, and the deformed wildlife of the Underworld had been on the brink of extinction. Then a young half-witch, half-sorceress killed the King and took over as Queen. The halfling – Queen Eirian – packed a powerful punch, and under her care the forest started to grow again. Green leaves bloomed on the tips of the trees for the first time in years.
“Tell me about the journey,” Samantha said, keeping pace beside him. “You said something about a desert?”
“Yes. We’ll have to cross the Marwolaeth Grim.”
“What does that mean?”
He hesitated before answering, “The grim death.”
Her eyes widened and she gulped. “Sounds charming. I can’t wait.”
“It’s better than the alternative. The forest is faster but teeming with demons and werewolves. The desert may be harsh but it’s safer.” Now probably wasn’t a good time to mention the desert beasts. Not as deadly as demons but still something to fear.
“Well, I’ve always dreamt of a sandy vacation. I was thinking more like Maui or Cancun, but, hey, the Grim Desert makes for a great postcard. Maybe I can pick up a souvenir T-shirt. I’m thinking” – she gestured across her breasts – “I survived the Desert of Death.”
He laughed out loud. Damn he liked her spirit.
Her face fell. “That’s if I survive.”
