by Amy Sumida
Sin flagged down a cab. “How about afternoon tea?”
“That sounds amazing,” I agreed as I slid into the cab.
“The Moana Surfrider, please,” Sin said to the driver.
“You got it, bruddah,” the cabbie's local accent made me smile wider.
“This is just what I needed,” I said to Sin. “Thank you.”
“Anytime, sweetheart.” He winked at me.
I leaned against the door and stared out the open window at the crowds of tourists and locals navigating the sidewalks of Waikiki. For once, I didn't cringe away from the herd. I had always avoided Waikiki because of its congestion but now, it was just another facet of home and, for the first time in a long time, I felt as if I were one of them; human again.
We pulled up to the grand, columned entrance of the Surfrider. It had the look of a palace to it with a rectangular, stone canopy that extended over its roundabout driveway all the way to the sidewalk and a front terrace bordered by delicate arches. Palm trees stood in strategic positions to either side of the canopy, like soldiers standing at attention. As we pulled up, one of the valets ran down to open my door even though we wouldn't be using his services.
“Welcome to the Moana Surfrider!” The valet said enthusiastically.
“Thank you.” I took the hand he offered and climbed out while Sin paid our cab fare. “We're here for afternoon tea.”
“That would be at our Veranda restaurant.” He pointed into the hotel toward the left.
“Thank you,” Sin said to the valet as he took my hand. “I think I remember the way.”
Sin escorted me through the luxurious reception area—my hand wrapped around his arm—and to the left where the Veranda restaurant was. Our hostess led us out onto a long, wooden veranda—well, of course—and seated us at the table on the end; a prime spot that gave us a glorious view of Waikiki Beach.
“Thank you so much; this is perfect,” Sin drawled to the hostess.
“My pleasure,” she stammered and hurried off, casting backward glances at Sin.
I chuckled under my breath; my heart lightened by the sunshine, the view, and their interaction. It had been awhile since I'd gone out among the humans with a god escort. The last time had been when we were tracking the Finns. We'd gone for tea then too, at a Japanese tea house in Portland, Oregon, and all of my men were with me. All except Arach. I recalled how Toby couldn't understand why the waitresses were fawning over him. He's one of the few gods I know who is completely unaware of his appeal. My smile faded slightly.
“What's wrong?” Sin asked.
“Nothing.” I shook my head. “Memories. It's going to take me awhile to go numb to them.”
“Hopefully, you won't have to.” He took my hand and squeezed it.
“Hopefully,” I agreed and sighed deeply. “But it's not likely, is it?”
“It's a little soon to throw in the towel, Godhunter,” Sin chided me. “Now, remember why we're here. We need to focus on something else for a little while. Let's try to do that. We won't get a clear mind if we keep filling it with anxiety. Now, breathe deeply of that salt air; it'll help.”
“You're right,” I agreed and picked up my menu as I took a deep breath. “Hey, there's one good thing to being human again.”
“What's that?”
“I can feel the effects of alcohol.” I grinned at him. “I think I'll have a mimosa with my tea!”
“Hey, don't go getting drunk on me,” he teased me. “I don't want to have to carry you home.”
“I think I can handle one mimosa,” I scoffed.
An hour later, I was reconsidering my position on one mimosa. My tolerance must have gone back to baby status when Marduk screwed with me. That one glass had made me tipsy. Not drunk, but not sober either. It turned out to be a good thing, though. A warm feeling of relaxation slipped through me and numbed some of my pain. I had to stop myself from ordering another drink. Instead, I focused on the gentle crashing of the waves on the sand and the live Hawaiian music drifting over from the stage in the courtyard. Sounds of home and normalcy. Life going on despite the shattering of my world.
Some people might have found that depressing—that life continues no matter how bad you feel—but I found it reassuring. A lot had been placed on my shoulders, and I'd half expected the world to explode along with my destiny. But here it was, business as usual, despite the damage to my star. It looked as if I hadn't been as important as everyone thought. And damn if I didn't like that.
Sin kept up a light banter, keeping my thoughts from wandering to sadness, and I was actually able to enjoy myself. After eating lots of little sandwiches, tarts, and tiny scones, we headed out to the street to catch another cab. I wanted to go to my actual home.
“How did you know about tea at the Surfrider?” I asked Sin after we were on our way over the mountain to Kaneohe.
“I've traveled a lot.” He shrugged. “I like Hawaii. It's a bit crowded but beautiful and you can't beat the restaurants.”
“Nearly as good as the ones in Bahrain.” I winked at him.
“Nearly.” He grinned back. Then he sobered. “Are you sure you're ready for this?”
“What? To go home?”
He nodded.
“It's the only thing I want to do right now.”
“Then we'll do it together.” Sin held his hand out to me, and I took it with a bright smile.
Chapter Thirty-Three
We pulled up before my little blue house in Kaneohe, and I nearly cried. This, at least, had stayed the same. The yard was a bit overgrown but still pretty, and the scent of ripe oranges fluttered over to me in welcome. I got out as Sin paid the cabbie again—I was racking up quite the tab—and headed up the driveway to the front steps.
“Nice Jaguar,” Sin commented as he climbed the cement steps beside me.
I glanced over my shoulder at the carport and saw that the wind had pulled my car cover off, exposing the Jaguar that I'd taken as spoils after I'd killed my first god. It sounds more mercenary than it was.
“Thanks,” I murmured as I felt beneath the metal railing and amid the overgrown branches of a flowering bush for the magnetic, hide-a-key box. “It belonged to Ku.”
“I figured that out from the vanity plate. Ku Ku K'chu; very cute.” He chuckled.
“He wasn't so cute when he tried to kill me,” I muttered as I opened the door and stepped inside.
I breathed in deeply as I crossed the threshold. The scent of incense and papery, dead orchids hit me. I stared around myself and let the peace of home seep into my bones. This place was all mine. No lions or gods shared it with me. I hadn't taken it as spoils from a dead goddess. I had paid for it with hard-earned cash and decorated it all by hand, no magic involved. I'd hung the white gauze across the ceiling myself and draped it to make the living room look like a tent. I'd scoured flea markets and antique shops for the Moroccan furnishings and knickknacks. I'd saved up my pennies for the Chinese, hand-carved dining table and the Chinese wedding bed, back in the master bedroom. I'd even grown the orchid that now lay sad and dry in its ceramic pot in the center of the dining table. I loved every inch of this place; from the kimonos hanging on the dining room walls to the slight smell of oil paint that drifted down the hallway from my art room. One story of thin wooden walls and tiny rooms with creaking, hardwood floors and old jalousie windows. A shack compared to what I'd been living in, but it was all mine; no one had taken it from me.
“Um, Vervain?” Sin stood just outside the front door.
“Yeah?” I turned to look at him.
“I can't come in.” He squished up his face. “You have a ward.”
“Oh! Enter, Sin, and be welcome.” I said the releasing chant as I waved my hand toward the door.
Nothing happened.
Sin's expression went surprised and then apologetic.
“Jiminy Cricket!” I cursed. “I can't even let you past my wards?”
“Hey, it's okay. I'll just wait here. You take you
r time.”
“Sin, I... uh, I kinda wanted to stay.”
“Here?” His thick eyebrows lifted. “Without any protection?”
“My ward seems to be doing the trick.” I waved at him pointedly.
“But, I thought we were going to—”
Whatever he was about to say was cut off by a wave. As in a massive amount of water. Sin went tumbling over the railing to the right and into my front yard. As I gaped at the over-spray splattering my entryway, footsteps alerted me to someone's approach. I looked up in time to see Cephissus try to cross my threshold. A flash of light shoved him back into the bushes.
“Cephissus?” I asked in shock.
The River God was Narcissus' father. I hadn't seen him since I'd gone into his territory to look for a missing goddess. Cephissus had given a portion of his territory to his son, and Narcissus had used that portion to trap and kill other gods, including Nemesis, the goddess I'd been searching for. Narcissus probably would have killed me too, but Qaus saved me; right before Narcissus raped me. Seconds before. And by “saved” I mean; Qaus killed Narcissus.
“Little pig, little pig, let me in,” Cephissus growled.
“Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin,” I replied automatically. Then I grimaced and snapped, “What the hell do you want, Cephissus?”
Sunlight brightened his blond waves and cast shadows over his blue eyes. Cephissus is a pretty god, but he had a greedy twist to his lips, and I happened to know that he was a rapist; it was how Narcissus had been conceived. Huh. I guess that's where Narcissus got it from.
“I want my son back, you horrid bitch!”
“Why does everyone keep calling me a bitch?” I asked hypothetically.
Of course, Cephissus answered anyway, “Because you're a murdering, magic-stealing harlot.”
“A harlot is something completely different, and I didn't kill Narcissus,” I said calmly. “I probably would have if I could have, but I didn't.”
“Bullshit,” he hissed.
“It's true.”
“Then who killed him?” Cephissus narrowed his eyes at me. “Tell me who killed my son and you just might live.”
I hesitated. Qaus had killed Narcissus to save me. How honorable would it be for me to send Cephissus after him now? Not very.
“I can't tell you. That man saved my life, and I won't betray him.”
“Bullshit,” Cephissus scoffed with a sneering look. “You're just trying to save your ass now that your ass is human.”
“How the hell do you know that?” I whispered then gaped at him.
Cephissus grinned maliciously and pulled a rolled-up newspaper out of his back pocket. He smoothed it out and held it up to show me, taking great joy in watching my reaction... which was impressive, I'm sure. The paper was a copy of the Hermes Herald—one of the few newspapers printed exclusively for Gods—and its front-page headline read: The Godhunter Has Fallen.
“What the farfegnugen?” I muttered.
Then it dawned on me. Hermes and I had a shaky truce going and now that his son undoubtedly hated me, that truce was most likely broken. Which meant that Hermes was back to wanting me to pay for the death of his girlfriend, Aphrodite. How strange it was that everything was cycling back to the beginning.
“You have to come out sometime, bitch,” Cephissus snarled.
“And he's back to calling me a bitch,” I grumbled.
“And the longer you wait,” he went on, undisturbed, “the more gods there will be out here, waiting with me. You—”
A blast of soft, shimmering light hit Cephissus before he could call me a bitch again. He stuttered into silence. His eyes went wide and started blinking rapidly. His whole body began to shake.
“I'm a little teapot, short and stout,” Cephissus started to sing.
I gaped at him. What the hell? As I watched Cephissus start dancing with a maniacal grin—one hand on his hip and the other extended in a spout—Sin strode up the steps on my left and stopped directly behind him. His silver eyes glowed with moonlight and his expression became murderous. He lifted a pair of hedge trimmers and opened them around Cephissus' neck. With a snarl, he closed them, cutting into Cephissus' throat. Cephissus gurgled and clawed at the metal, his eyes glazed with insanity. The gardening tool wasn't nearly sharp or strong enough to behead the River God, even with Sin's divine strength behind it. Sin yanked it away, closed it, and started stabbing Cephissus instead.
The sounds Sin made while he accosted Cephissus were startling; growling, grunting snarls similar to noises I've heard the Hidden Ones make. So startling that they jolted me out of my shock. I ran to the kitchen and got a butcher knife.
“Sin!” I tossed him the knife.
Sin caught it with a vicious grin and started hacking at Cephissus' neck. Blood sprayed everywhere, covering Sin, my front porch, and a good portion of my entryway. Luckily, I have a hedge of thick bushes growing in front of the steps. The steps themselves are angled alongside the house instead of positioned straight out toward the street. The bushes create a screen that blocks my front door and, in this instance, Cephissus' murder. Still, if one of my neighbors to either side of me decided to pop into their yard and peer over, they'd get an eyeful. Then we'd have HPD to deal with on top of a murdering god. Or a murdered god, rather. There was even a police station right down the street from my house. But no one screamed and no sirens pierced the savage sounds Sin made or the wet thuds of the blade. Finally, Cephissus was in two pieces, one of them being his head.
Sin looked up at me, shoulders heaving. “I'm sorry I took so long. I had to find a weapon.”
“Um. It's okay.” I looked up from the body to Sin. “You blasted him with Lunacy?”
“Yeah, it was the first thing that came to mind.”
“Impressive. Lunacy usually takes a little longer to work for me when I use it against a god.” I blinked. “I mean; when I still had my moon magic.”
“Are you okay, Vervain?” Sin stared at me in concern.
“Am I okay?” I laughed with a note of hysteria. “You're the one holding a butcher knife and covered in blood. Too bad we just missed Halloween.”
Sin grimaced and looked down at the body. “Yeah, we're gonna need to deal with this. Give me a minute.”
He picked up the body and slung it over his shoulder then grabbed Cephissus' head by the hair. Sin winked at me through his bloody mask then disappeared.
I leaned out of my doorway and checked out the crime scene splatter. “Damn, this place looks like a slaughterhouse.”
Sin popped out of the Aether, appearing exactly where he'd been.
“Sweet Tarts!” I shouted. “Don't do that!”
“Sorry.” He chuckled, making himself look even more sinister.
“That was fast.”
“I dumped him in an incinerator; it's all good.”
“You just happened to know where to find an incinerator? Gee, have you done this before?” I grimaced at him.
“No, Vervain, I don't go around killing Gods and popping them into incinerators. Killing other gods is hard for us to do, remember?” He drawled.
“Yeah, I know. You have to be enraged,” I whispered as I stared at him. It finally occurred to me why he'd been grunting and growling like that; Sin had been furious—mad enough to kill another god—all because that god had threatened my life. “Thank you, Sin. You saved my life again.”
He gave me a soft smile and a nod before his expression hardened. “Things have just gotten worse, V.” He waved a hand at Cephissus' newspaper, its angry words glaring at me from a pool of blood. “I'm sorry, but I don't think you should stay here. You heard that guy; he was willing to lay siege to this place, and you're human now; you can't trace. You'd be trapped if someone else came for you.”
“Yeah. I know that too.” I sighed.
“Why don't you pack some things while I clean this up?” He waved at the blood. “And maybe hose myself off.”
I smiled wanly and started to head toward t
he hallway. “Okay.”
“Vervain,” Sin called after me.
I turned to look back at him.
“You've still got me and Ninka; you're not alone in this.”
I grinned and tried to make it genuine, but it was hard to be optimistic in the face of blood, death, and betrayal.
Chapter Thirty-Four
When I came out of my bedroom with my suitcase, Sin was just finishing rinsing off the porch. He was clean as well; wet but clean. I set my suitcase down by the door and went to the bathroom to grab a bottle of bleach because that's what you do when you clean up a murder, right? Everyone knows that you need to bleach the bloodstains. On the way back, I stopped in the art room. Kirill used to sleep in my art room, and he still kept some clothes there for times when we visited Hawaii. I grabbed a shirt and a pair of jeans for Sin. They might be a little big on him but they were better than soaking wet clothes.
