by Amy Sumida
“Ve know you better zan anyone,” Kirill chided me. “And two of us are shifters.”
“Oh,” I gave Azrael and apologetic look.
“Jerry jinx it,” Azrael cursed. “I forgot about your super sniffers.”
“Jerry jinx it?” I giggled. “What is that; your version of god damn it?”
“I thought it had a nice ring to it,” Azrael shrugged.
“Yeah, it does. Though it kind of makes you sound like shaggy from Scooby-Doo.”
“I think you mean Velma,” Azrael mused. “She was the one who used to say jenkies.”
“Oh yeah, Velma then. It doesn't matter, I'm totally biting it anyway,” I went to sit on the large couch in our entertainment section of the room... and I don't mean Re's kind of entertainment section. Ours had a couch, a loveseat, a couple of chairs, and a television. And none of the chairs were of the sex toy variety.
“Biting it?” Trevor lifted a brow.
“Stealing it,” I explained. “Using it, making it my own.”
“I like,” Kirill nodded. “Biting it.”
“Everyone knows you like biting it,” Trevor chuckled and punched Kirill good-naturedly in the arm as he passed him on the way to me. “Wait a minute,” he growled suddenly. “I'm not done being upset with you,” he pointed at my angel. “We were going to tell her together.”
“I pulled it out of him,” I gave the cushion beside me a pat. “Now get over it and come have a seat.”
“Vervain,” Odin came over with Trevor and sat on the loveseat. “We should have done this awhile ago, back when you made our rings.”
“I don't want to,” I said simply and they all went silent.
Kirill, who had been in the midst of taking a seat beside me, fell the rest of the way onto the couch. Azrael sat on Kirill's other side and stared across my lion at me in horror.
“Why not?” Azrael asked.
“I've had enough problems sharing links with men,” I sighed. “I don't want any more of you in my head.”
“You don't want...” Odin just trailed off in shock.
“You'd each have a single link,” I went on. “To me. That's it. I'd have links to all of you and then you know Re is going to want one too and if Arach finds out, he's going to be pissed that you guys are doing something with me that he can't.”
“You could offer him the oath if you wanted to,” Trevor said reasonably.
“I don't,” I said again. “I don't want all of these links inside my head. I've already got Blue and Thor, all boxed away like Atahensic's memories are. I've got all kinds of different bonds going on with you guys that predated our wedding and I have the whole blood exchange thing with Arach. There's a lot going on inside my head and body already.”
“I wish I knew what exactly was going on in your head,” Odin growled. “Because right now, I have no idea what you're thinking, Vervain. This is important. It would bind us in tradition and magic. We need to be as strong as we possibly can. Especially now that your star is broken.”
“It's not broken, it's...” I floundered.
“Yes?” Odin lifted a oak-brown brow.
“It's deconstructed,” I finished.
“Decon-” Odin stopped mid-word and put his hand to his forehead, rubbing at it like he was in pain. “This is not an episode of Chopped. You don't get to wave your hand at a mess and say it's just deconstructed star.”
“Minn Elska,” Trevor's hand slid into mine and his soft purr rumbled across my skin as he leaned in to kiss my cheek. “It's your decision and I totally understand.”
“You do?” I leaned away so I could see him.
“You do?” Odin asked in shock.
“You don't love us as much as we love you,” Trevor sighed forlornly.
“You ass-face!” I punched him in the arm. Hard.
“Alright,” he laughed and held his hands up in surrender. “It was worth a try.”
“Not cool,” Az shook his head at Trevor.
“As not cool as telling our wife something we agreed to ask her together?” Trevor shot back and Az looked away. “That's what I thought.”
“That's enough,” I sighed and stood up.
“Hey,” Trevor grabbed my hand. “We're not done.”
“You can't even make a Blood to Mouth oath to me,” I said to him. “You're not a god.”
Everyone went quiet as Trevor's eyes narrowed.
“I didn't mean to sound insulting,” I amended. “It's simply the truth.”
“I've already given you a part of my soul,” Trevor snarled. “And you are the source of Kirill's magic, so you hold his reins too.”
“Ve vanted you to give us the oath, Tima,” Kirill said softly. “So ve could have a complete union.”
“So you can have a complete union?” I growled and my husbands went still. “Because what we have now is what; incomplete? I made vows to you under the moon,” I waved an angry hand at Trevor. “I drank sacred wine with you two, I gestured to Azrael and Kirill. And I went to the Void for you!” I pointed to Odin. “But my word isn't good enough for you now?” I felt my beasts rising inside me and there was nothing I could do to stop them. I was just too angry. “I'm suddenly untrustworthy? I give you my magic and my love and you throw it back into my face?!” I roared, a combination of wolf, lioness, and dragon.
Odin stood up and calmly slapped me across the face. I stood there, stunned, staring at him in shock as my animals crept back down into my chest to wait. What would we feel now? Was I angry? Sad? Disappointed? Do we attack or whimper?
“Thanks,” I whispered and blinked as the beasts backed down completely. We were relieved, that's what we were.
“You're welcome,” Odin laid his palm to my stinging cheek. “I'm sorry I hit you.”
“It worked,” I stretched up on my toes to give him a kiss. “But I still don't want to give you an oath.”
“Vervain,” Odin huffed.
“I gave you all my oath already and I accepted yours. Even yours, Oathbreaker. I took you at your word,” I shook my head. “If my vows aren't good enough for you now, you can leave.”
I turned and walked out of the room.
Chapter Fifteen
“Let's go,” I said to Re as I walked into the dining hall.
Re, who had been lounging in one of the chairs set before the fireplace, off to the side of the dining table, sat up in surprise. Torrent and Artemis had been keeping him company and Torrent leaned forward as Re got up.
“Are you sure I-” Torrent started but then saw how his girlfriend was staring at him, “can't offer you some refreshment before you go?” He smiled innocently at Artemis and she rolled her eyes.
“I'll tell you all about it when we get back,” Re gave Torr's shoulder a pat.
“Thanks,” Torrent looked genuinely appreciative, his green eyes shining with excitement.
“Um,” I cleared my throat. “You may wanna steer clear of my husbands for awhile.”
“Why is that?” Artemis asked.
“I may have upset them a bit,” I waved it off. “We shouldn't be gone that long but you might want to go hang out in Artie's territory for awhile.”
“Excuse me?” Re huffed. “We're not just going to see Samedi. This is our date night, remember? We're going out afterward. I get you all night.”
“Oh, right,” I chewed at my lip, wondering if I should go back upstairs and apologize to my men. I had been pretty harsh on them but I was honestly upset that they needed more from me. Hadn't I just given them the wedding they'd all been wanting? Did I really have to give them my blood too?
“Lala?” Re cocked his head at me in concern. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I'm good,” I squared my shoulders. “Let's go.”
“If you're sure,” he shrugged and took my hand.
We went out to the tracing chamber and Re led us through the Aether, bringing us out into a round room with a polished ironwood floor and red velvet wallpaper. Doors circled us, each one a different size an
d material. There was a stone door, an iron one, even one woven out of rattan. Totally bizarre. Re stepped toward the largest door, one made of ebony and bound with gold hinges. He rapped smartly on it.
“Did we just fall down the rabbit hole?” I asked Re as I peered up at the domed ceiling and the crystal chandelier hanging from its apex.
“This is a collective tracing room,” he waved at the other doors. “Each one leads to a different territory.”
“Why are they connected?”
“They're all Gede,” Re said as if it were obvious. “Except for this one, this is-”
“For fuck's sake! What you want?” A woman snapped as she opened the door. “Oh! It's Randy-Re! What you doing here, my little rascal?”
“Maman Brigitte,” Re bowed. “I've come for a little tête-á-tête and I've brought someone for you to meet. This is Vervain Lavine, the Godhunter.”
“You!” I declared in horror. “You're dead.”
I knew those blonde curls and those innocent eyes, blue as a robin's egg. They were far from innocent and the mind behind those eyes was severely damaged. But not as damaged as it was going to be after I sank my knife into it.
“Me?” She pulled back in surprise, her creamy skin blushing pink. “I've no quarrel with you, Godhunter.”
“Vervain?” Re was looking at me in horror.
“That's Brighid, Thor's dead ex-girlfriend who tried to kill me!” I pointed accusingly at the woman.
“Brighid?” She blinked and then burst into laughter. “You done fucked her crazy, Re,” she slapped his chest and then shook her head at me. “Godhunter, don't you know who I be?”
“Like I said,” I growled, “you're dead. Or at least, you're supposed to be and I intend on rectifying that right now.”
“I am not Brighid!” She shouted, snapping me out of my focused fury.
“What?” I scowled at her.
“My myths were based on her,” the woman explained with heavy huff. “When the Scots and the Irish came to Haiti, they brought with them a belief in Brighid. Some say she a goddess, some say she a saint,” she shrugged. “But then, my people made her into me.”
“Your magic was based off of Brighid's?” I finally began to understand that this wasn't the crazy zombie queen Thor had killed.
“Yes,” she cackled. “Please, child,” she huffed, though child sounded more like chial with her Creole accent. “Do I act like that stuck up bitch?”
“No,” I cleared my throat. “Actually, now that you mention it; you're nothing like her.”
“That's right,” she nodded decisively and took my hand. “Now come in here, sexy woman. My husband is gonna love you.”
I sent Re a horrified glance over my shoulder but he was too busy laughing his golden ass off.
Brigitte pulled me down a hallway, chattering the whole time about all my men and would I tell her the secret to keeping them satisfied. She was especially interested in what techniques I used on Re and was convinced that I had some kind of love goddess juju that I needed to share with her.
I've never met a woman so crudely charming. Brigitte was breathtakingly beautiful, with a generous body which I realized now was a lot curvier than Brighid's had been. She was a sexy angel with the vocabulary of a dock whore and the humor of Robin Williams (the really vulgar stand-up stuff, not his clean movie characters).
I was completely fascinated.
“Husband!” She shouted as we entered a large room.
I wasn't sure if it was a dining room, a living room, or a bedroom. It had qualities of all three. There was a long table set to one side with a mouth-watering buffet laid out upon it and several people feasting at it. In the center of the room a thick rug was topped by a motley collection of seats; everything from chaise to La-Z-Boy, and more people were there socializing as well as imbibing in the plethora of narcotics strewn across a coffee table in the middle of it all. Then, around the edges, were several beds of different styles, all of them full of naked, writhing couples. All except one, that is. The largest bed had only one occupant; a half naked man with walnut skin and muscles that went on for days.
He slid out of the four-poster bed and stretched, showing off a flat stomach and a trail of dark hair leading down into his eggplant colored pants. Swiping a top hat off the bedside table, he sauntered over to us as graceful and sleek as a panther, stepping over empty bottles of liquor and overflowing ashtrays like they were simply detritus in his forest. He smiled like a panther too; teeth pearly in the darkness of his face, and his muscles flexed like he was about to pounce. Instead, he slapped the hat on his head and opened his arms wide in welcome.
“Re!” He hugged my boyfriend like a lost brother. “Sa fé lontan. Where ya been, boy?” He grinned wickedly. “I heard you got yourself pussy whipped, and not in a good way, ya know?” He laughed and it was an exuberant sound. I wanted to laugh with him but felt that it would probably be inappropriate. “But that can't be true,” he went on with a gleam in his ebony eyes, “not of the Sex God himself.”
“Eh, bonehead,” Brigitte called to the man. “You wanna meet Vervain? She's the Godhunter, owner of the Re-whipping pussy.”
“Is that right?” The man turned and set shiny eyes on me. His face flickered, the image of a skull flashing over it for a moment. “You the girl who conquered the rod of Re?”
“That she has,” Re said proudly.
“Wow, um,” I cleared my throat and glanced around to see that we had gained everyone's attention. I decided to just go with it. When in Rome and all that. “Yep, that's me, just call me the Re-Rider.”
The whole room burst into laughter.
“Oh yes!” The man swung off his top hat and bowed with a flourish. “Bon maten! You are most welcome in my home, Godhunter. Any woman who can talk like that, has a place at my table.”
“Just so long as she don't have a place on your cock,” Brigitte sidled up to the man and slipped her arm around his waist. “Vervain, this is my husband, Samedi.”
“You can call me Sam,” he stuck his hand out to me and I shook it with a smile.
There was something very endearing about this open attitude. Very freeing. Though I wasn't all that comfortable with the public sex taking place in the shadowy corners.
“Nice to meet you Sam,” I ignored the sounds of a woman reaching her pleasure in the background. “You can call me V if you like.”
“Hail to the V!” Samedi shouted and everyone laughed.
“You're damn straight,” Brigitte slashed her hands down around her crotch, framing her naughty bits in a move I'd only seen WWF wrestlers do.
I was confused for just a second before I remembered an old commercial about some female hygiene product. I blushed as Brigitte's maneuver became clear.
“Ah, now she blushes,” Samedi chortled. “Oh, what fun. Thank you for bringing her, my friend,” Sam thumped Re on the back. “Are either of you hungry? Thirsty?” He picked a bottle up from the floor and offered it to me. It was encrusted with jewels and their colors formed some kind of symbol.
“No, I don't think she can handle that,” Re pushed it away. “But thanks anyway.”
“I've drunk fey wine and sucked down dragon fire,” I scoffed. “I think I can handle whatever is in that bottle.”
“You hear that everyone?” Samedi shouted with a grin. “She says she can handle whatever I give her.”
“I don't think that's what she said,” Re scowled at Sam.
“Just give me the damn bottle,” I laughed.
“With pleasure, Madam,” he handed me the bottle.
I pulled out the cork and was instantly assailed with the scent of rum and peppers, like hot peppers. Something worse than a jalapeno. I grimaced, I wasn't much into spicy food. I know, it's ironic what with the whole dragon thing. But I couldn't back down after I'd made such a fuss. So I chugged back a swig and instantly, my dragon fire surged up in response. I ended up spewing flames across the room like a circus performer.
Everythin
g went quiet for two seconds and then there was cheering so loud, I winced.
“Santé! To the Godhunter!” Baron Samedi reclaimed his bottle and held it aloft. The room echoed his toast and then he took a long swallow.
“Nicely done,” Brigitte whispered to me. “I knew you had some tricks. Does Re like that fire thing?”
“Um,” I glanced at Re but he just shook his head at me, utterly shocked. “I haven't tried it with him yet. Generally, I restrict the fire play to sex with my dragon-sidhe husband.”
“Well be careful with Re's hair if you do try it on him,” she offered in a louder voice. “You don't want to pull a Michael Jackson.” She moved her hands up around her head, “Poof! It's all gone. That would be a cryin' shame.”
“I'll try and remember that,” I said dryly.
“I'm a sun god, Brigitte,” Re shook his head. “I'm fire-proof.”
“Are you?” I asked him. “Good to know.”
“How did you not know that?” Re shook his head at me.
I just shrugged.
“Hungry?” Samedi took my arm and steered me towards the dining table.
“Hey now,” Re was starting to get irritated.
“What?” Sam shot over his shoulder. “My wife is right here, I'm not going to seduce your woman in front of her.”
“Oh but you'd do it in front of me?” Re huffed and followed us.
“Absolutely,” Sam held out a chair for his wife and then one for me. “It makes it all the more fun.” Then he pulled a walking stick out of thin air and stuck it between his legs, waving his hips so that it waggled between his wife and me. “You think you girls could share all this?”
“Put it away, Sam,” Brigitte slapped the stick on its end so that it shot backwards through his legs and only the shiny silver knob remained at Sam's crotch. “That stick is false advertising.”
“Ain't nuthin' false about my stick,” he laughed and pulled the walking stick out so he could rub his crotch, unimpeded, against his wife's shoulder.
“What is that; a cornichon?” She laughed, waving her pinky at him.
“Oh, you know it's the biggest pickle you've ever eaten,” Sam laughed and leaned down to kiss Brigitte sweetly before taking a seat on her left.
