Amy Sumida - Perchance To Die (The Godhunter Book 12)

by Unknown

  So I told him the story of the gods, how they were from Atlantis originally and how they took sacrifice from humans to prolong their lives and make them more powerful. I told him about how the worship waned and how the gods started finding new ways to get sacrifice. How they started manipulating humans into war. I even told him about how I became the Godhunter.

  “We were enemies?” He lifted a brow at me.

  “I thought we were,” I exhaled a little laugh. “You, however, recognized me immediately. You knew I was Sabine.”

  “Sabine,” he mulled the name over and just the sound of it on his lips sent a shock through me. For a second it was Odin's voice, not Griffin's. That deep, refined silk of sound was as familiar to me as my own voice.

  “Yes, Sabine,” I said after clearing my throat. “That was my name in my last life. Odin gave my soul a new body, similar to what I did for you.”

  “Did you experience all of these conflicting emotions?” His mesmerizing eyes focused on me. “Did you have memories from before?”

  “My situation was a little different,” I sighed. “Odin put me into a fetus. I was born with all the memories of my past life because my soul hadn't been erased of them, just like you, but I repressed them. I'm told it was a form of self-preservation because my new body was too young to cope with all those memories. Since it was a new body, I didn't have its memories to contend with either, so I had an easier time of it. Though I had no idea of who I really was until I met Odin and then the memories started to surface. Even now, I still have moments when I remember new things.”

  “Even now?” He glanced down, looking as if he were processing everything.

  “Odin buried a lock of his hair with Sabine,” I said. “I needed it for the spell to bring him back. So I went to Sabine's grave to find it.”

  It was getting easier and easier to refer to Odin as someone else, sitting there and looking at this stranger with his eyes.

  “You went to your own grave?” Those eyes went wide in Griffin's face as Trevor and Kirill went silent beside me. I hadn't told them where I'd got Odin's hair.

  “Yes,” I nodded. “Our son, Vidar, took me.”

  “Our son?” He gaped.

  “Oh, Vervain,” Kirill shook his head.

  “I already told him he had sons. Plus, he did the same thing to me once,” I looked at Kirill with my whatever face. “Except it was worse when Odin did it cause Vidar was standing in front of me at the time. Talk about dropping a bomb.”

  “Are you seriously getting back at Odin when he doesn't even know he's Odin,” Trevor rolled his eyes, “much less remember the incident you getting back at him for?”

  “You two just shut up,” I glared at first Kirill and then Trevor.

  “You vill pay for zat later,” Kirill sat back and folded his arms smugly across his chest.

  “You ever notice how much he sounds like a James Bond villain?” Griffin eyed Kirill.

  “You remember James Bond?” I blinked at him.

  “Yeah,” he blinked back. “I guess I do.”

  “But you don't remember Tima,” Kirill said blandly. “Ouch.”

  “Shut up, Kirill,” I smacked his chest, which made my hand sting and made Kirill raise an eyebrow.

  “Who's Tima?” Griffin looked back and forth between me and Kirill.

  “I am,” I shrugged. “I've got a few titles but at least I'm down one now. I'm no longer Rouva of the Froekn.”

  “What?” Griffin gaped.

  “Sorry, that'll come later,” I shook my head. “This is Pride Palace,” I waved an arm around the room. “Home of the Intare, my werelions. I'm their Tima, their heart, the goddess whose magic gives them life.”

  “But I thought you said you hunted the gods,” he frowned.

  “Yeah, this is gonna take awhile,” I sighed and started to tell him more.

  Chapter Four

  Our Odin information session went way into the afternoon. Some of the Intare brought us breakfast and then lunch. My butt was actually getting sore when we finally wrapped it up and called it a day. Griffin went back to his suite to relax and process while Trevor went to Moonshine to check up on the club. I went up to the library, my solace, not to read but to lay out on one of the sofas on the attached balcony. There was a great view of the territory from there and the sun was perfectly angled onto the balcony at that time of day. I could bask in it and nap like a cat.

  After napping a little and flipping through a magazine, I decided that was enough alone time and went in search of Kirill. I found him in his new workshop, which was on the basement level with all the other noisy rooms, like the gym and the theater. He was bent over the heavy wood table in the center of the room, hard at work on some carving.

  I walked in, shooting a pleased glance over the racks of tools on the walls and the woodworking machines scattered throughout the room. I'd surprised Kirill with the work room after I'd transformed the old Pride Palace into the new actual palace. I knew he'd love it, he previously had only a little table in my art room back in Kaneohe. Now he had the space to build anything he wanted.

  “Whatchu doin'?” I leaned a hip against the table next to him.

  “Making baby gift for Fallon and Samantha,” he held up a length of wood carved with rose vines.

  “What's it going to be?” I ran my fingers over the detailed work, impressed as always with his talent.

  “Cradle,” he nodded his head toward the rest of it, set out in pieces on another worktable.

  “Wow,” I stroked a hand over his long black hair, unsure over whether I was admiring the hair or the cradle. “That's quite a gift.”

  “I hope she hasn't bought one already,” he leaned into my touch and I felt that rush of heat spread through my limbs, the rush I always got when I touched Kirill.

  “She hasn't,” I confirmed. “I told her not to buy anything, that I could make her whatever she wanted for the nursery with the magic of the territory. I've done a few things already but she couldn't decide on a cradle.”

  “Ah, good,” he smiled up at me, the angles of his face softening, transforming him from a Russian Prince into my black lion. “I vanted to try and make big piece and it's not like you'll be having dragon babies anytime soon.”

  “And besides, I've already got a cradle,” I blurted without thinking.

  “You vhat?” He dropped his carving tool and looked up at me.

  “I, uh,” I chewed my lip. “It wasn't me! Laise made us a nursery without asking me.”

  “Did she ask Arach?”

  “Well, yes but-”

  “And he didn't tell you?”

  “No but-”

  “Presumptuous.”

  “Arach thought it would be easier to let her have her way than to argue with her,” I tried to explain. “Having met Laise, I understand.”

  “And vhy didn't he tell you?”

  “He thought it might upset me.”

  “And did it?” Kirill narrowed his piercing, cobalt eyes on me.

  “Yes actually,” I admitted. “I was pretty pissed but I got over it. He knows I'm not ready to have children and so now Roarke's using it.”

  “I still can't believe Roarke's a father,” Kirill shook his head, thankfully changing the subject. “He's like child himself.”

  “He's over two thousand years old,” I reminded Kirill.

  “Like zat matters,” he huffed.

  “Yeah, there's that.”

  “So do you zink you'll ever be ready?” He went back to carving.

  “For what?”

  “Children,” he grinned but kept his eyes on his work. “Little dragon babies.”

  “I'll be ready someday,” I answered seriously. “Just not any day soon.”

  “Is Arach okay vith zat?”

  “Arach has to be okay with it,” I frowned, thinking back to a recent argument we'd had when he was under the influence of the Darkness. “He's not thrilled about waiting but it's not like we don't have forever.”

&
nbsp; “Immortality is an illusion,” he finally looked up at me.

  “Yeah, you're right,” I agreed. “If it wasn't, we wouldn't be having this problem with Odin.”

  “So maybe you should have baby,” his eyes were so calm, so steady, a peaceful sea compared to my roiling emotions but then he wouldn't be the one birthing dragon babies.

  “I... I'm not ready.”

  “Vhat are you afraid of?”

  “You said it yourself,” I shrugged, “Immortality is an illusion. How can I bring a child into this life? When's the last time someone wasn't trying to kill me? I can't offer a child the stability it needs.”

  “Ze child vould live in Faerie,” Kirill's hand sought mine. “It vould be safe from gods.”

  “But I still wouldn't,” I squeezed his hand. “If I die, then what? It's hard enough with all of you depending on me, I don't think I can add a child to the mix. It would cripple me. I wouldn't be able to leave the house.”

  “So vhat, you vait till god var is over?”

  “Maybe,” I gave him a little grin. “It can't last forever, right?”

  Kirill made a huffing sound of disbelief, which pretty much said it all.

  Chapter Five

  A horrible, howling, squawking cacophony alerted me to trouble outside. I hurried down to the first floor of Pride Palace and rushed out to find Griffin surrounded by wild beasts. He looked terrified, holding up his arms to ward off the vicious attacks.

  Attacks of tongues and feathers. It was Geri, Freki, Hugin, and Munin, Odin's wolves and ravens. They must have recognized him. I hurried out and wedged myself in between the wolves, shooing the ravens off gently.

  “Calm down everyone,” I shouted. “Yes, it's him but he doesn't know he's him.” Then I sighed and mumbled under my breath, “I sound crazy even to myself.”

  The wolves backed off, sitting on their haunches to stare at Griffin balefully. The ravens settled on my shoulders and gave one last squawk apiece.

  “What the hell is this?” Griffin waved at the animals.

  “They were friends of Odin's,” I made a calming motion with my hands. “They recognize his soul inside you and they're just really happy he's back. They weren't trying to harm you.”

  “They sure fooled me,” he growled and the wolves whimpered.

  “They love him, go easy,” I waved the wolves over and they padded to me, heads hanging down. Then they leaned heavily into my legs from either side.

  “Go easy?” He huffed. “I come out here for a nice peaceful walk and I get attacked by werewolves and angry birds!”

  “First of all,” I pointed at him. “That was kind of funny, the angry bird bit not the werewolf thing, they're obviously not Froekn. Second, they were not attacking you, I just told you they were merely excited to see you. They're animals, get over it.”

  “Fine,” Griffin closed his eyes tight before looking back at all of us. “They're excited, they recognize me. I wish I could recognize me. I don't know what I expect to see when I look in the mirror but it's not the face that's been there lately.”

  “Griffin,” I absently stroked Geri's head and he whimpered. “I'm so sorry that you have to go through this. Teharon warned me that it would be difficult but I believed in Odin. I knew he was strong enough to weather anything. I just never considered that his strength may not be available to you. That nothing he was would be available to you.”

  “Vervain, I...” he looked me, just looked, and I looked back.

  This body wasn't Odin. He looked nothing like my dead lover. Griffin's hair was wavy and dirty blonde, struggling to reach his shoulders. He had a short-cropped beard surrounding a gentle mouth and lips that were prone to smiling, as evidenced by the fine tracery of lines at the corners of his eyes. His face was so beautiful it needed the beard to give it a little edge but the beard wasn't originally Griffin's. When Griffin had first arrived at Pride Palace, he'd had short hair and a clean-shaven jaw. He had looked too pretty then, like one of those soft-faced boys you see in magazines, standing next to women who aren't as beautiful as they are. Oh, and he'd had blue eyes. Haunted blue eyes.

  No, this body wasn't Odin's but then Odin's body hadn't been his either. It had been the image his followers had invented for him. Magic had made Odin look like he had. I really had no idea what he'd originally looked like and I didn't care. It didn't matter what shape his face took or whether his hair was blonde or brown, this was Odin. His soul was the same, I just needed to reach it, to get beyond the memories of his new body and find the true man inside.

  “Odin,” I whispered, my heart in my voice. In my eyes.

  “No,” his eyes tore away from mine and he headed back to the palace.

  Chapter Six

  You'd think that when reality was as magical as mine, dreams would pale by comparison but that's just not true. As my life got more wonderfully complicated, my dreams got simpler and more profound. I guess once you stop wishing, wanting, or yearning, you're dead. No matter how amazing your reality is, there's always something that you want. Or someone.

  I wanted Odin.

  My dreams reflected this. I'd been dreaming of him often, ever since his death, but now the dreams were different. I knew it wasn't really him speaking to me anymore, just the desires of my heart. The dreams themselves were much sweeter without him arguing with me but far less precious. Generally, I didn't know that when I was experiencing them though.

  He walked up to me, through the trees clinging tenaciously to the mountainside. I was sitting on a rough woolen blanket, my hair blowing in the clean, crisp, mountain breeze. He was smiling, his bare arms catching the random patches of sunlight that filtered through the branches above. A god walking the earth, you could see the divinity in his bearing, in the breadth of his shoulders, the way his eyes surveyed the world, and his commanding height. His dark brown hair was highlighted with golden strands and his neatly-trimmed beard framed a severe mouth that was nonetheless sensual. So beautiful, every part of him, but it was his eyes that I loved the most.

  I froze like a deer under Odin's gaze and he smiled, sensing the conquest. It felt like a game, which was ridiculous since we'd been lovers for what seemed like forever. Why would he think he needed to win me? I was well and truly won. Wasn't I? I frowned and he stopped, head tilting in question.

  “Sabine?” His voice, rich and silky like melted chocolate, was just as I remembered it but it spoke the wrong name.

  “Vervain,” I corrected.

  “The herb?” Now he was frowning. “You're Sabine, my wife. What's wrong with you?”

  “I'm not Sabine anymore, Odin.”

  “And I'm not Odin anymore,” his voice hardened and as he spoke his face changed, the angles softening, the skin turning more golden. His hair lightened and his body shortened, compacted in on itself. The only thing that remained unchanged were his eyes. “If you want me to accept you, you must accept me.”

  “Damn,” I ground my teeth. “Why is it always about acceptance? Am I cursed to learn this over and over?”

  “If you don't learn it right the first time.”

  “I brought you back, Odin,” I insisted. “You, not Griffin. Griffin is gone.”

  “But the physical affects the spiritual,” his arms spread open. “You know this already. You may have brought back Odin's soul but in doing so, you forced him to become me. Now you must take responsibility for what you've done, just as Odin did. You say you're no longer Sabine and yet you expect me to be Odin. You're new body has made you into a different person, just as mine has made me.”

  “This is a god damn dream,” I realized, shocking myself a little. “I'm fucking arguing with myself and I still can't win.”

  A little chuckle, the barest laugh wafting through the trees. I turned to peer through the foliage, scanning the underbrush for any kind of movement. Nothing, but I knew something was there. Someone. Then I remembered it was my dream.

  “Come out, come out wherever you are,” I sang as I brushed away the b
ackground, including Odin, who was standing before me frozen, as if on pause.

  All that was left was white space... and a man with wings.

  It didn't appear to be the same man that had attacked me in my dream and yet, I knew that it was. He was thickly muscled this time, larger and taller, with sparkling white wings and long, dark hair. His eyes were forget-me-nots blue and were so bright, they seemed to be lit from within. His face was angled sharper, all teen qualities gone, and he was devastatingly handsome. But there was that same quality of danger to him, something that warned me off.

  “You again?” I lifted a brow. “You gonna stick around this time?”

  “I'm still here, aren't I?”

  “Yeah, after you hid in the bushes like a Peeping Tom,” I grimaced. “What do you want? This is personal stuff,” I waved at the blank space.

  “I was just curious,” he shrugged.

  “Oh hell no,” I waved my hand side to side in his face as I approached him. “Do not get curious about me. There's nothing interesting here, I can assure you. Just move it along, nothing to see.” I waved him on.

  “You're funny,” he grinned and the sense of danger surrounding him lessened. A little.

  “And short,” I nodded. “Yes, I've been told. Who are you, anyway? You gonna tell me that at least?”

  “Nope,” he grinned again. “It's much more fun to be a man of mystery.”

  “Uh huh,” I huffed. “Well you're an interloping man of mystery who doesn't even have the decency to keep to the same face so I can recognize him.”

  “You didn't seem to like my last look,” he shrugged. “And you recognized me just fine.”

  “You looked a little young for me,” I snorted. “And just because I didn't want to make out with you doesn't mean I didn't find you attractive. You look pretty damn good now but I'm still not interested.”

  “Why not?” He sounded more curious than insulted.

  “Because I'm already in love,” I shrugged.

  “So?”