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

by Unknown

  “So I don't want to kiss anyone I'm not in love with.” I made a duh face at him. Was this guy for real? “Loving someone lessens the appeal of others.”

  “That sounded like a challenge.”

  “It so was not a challenge!” I stomped my foot. Why did I always attract the idiots? “You're not even interested in me like that, I can tell.”

  “So?” He mimicked my shrug.

  “So?” I gaped at him. “So leave me alone, you freak.”

  “I've been in millions of dreams,” he mused, walking away from me. “Seen countless scenarios of passion. I've molded humans to my will with the crook of a finger. They're simple, easy to manipulate. One look and I know what form they would most desire, how I should touch them to get them to bend to my will. You, however, I can't figure out.”

  “Cause I'm not entirely human,” I rolled my eyes. “We already went over this.”

  “I may not be able to manipulate a god's dream,” he looked me over. “But I always know what their dreams are, what they want above all else. With you, I have to watch. I get only what you play out here,” he waved a hand to indicate the blank slate I'd taken us to.

  “Maybe's it's the faerie blood,” I shrugged again.

  “Possibly,” he agreed. “I don't know but I'm going to find out. I haven't been vexed in a very long time and you have vexed me.”

  “So you're gonna keep bugging me until you figure me out. Is that the plan, Vex?” Well I had to call him something, didn't I?

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “Well I don't,” I slammed a wall down between us, cutting him off completely.

  Chapter Seven

  “It's beautiful,” I said as we all walked into La Tour d'Argent, France's most romantic restaurant.

  By we, I meant Trevor, Kirill, Azrael, and I. It was Valentine's Day and they'd decided to share nicely. It was a huge relief to me, as Valentines always gets a little tricky. I'm not sure if their intentions were entirely good though, they all had a mischievous glint in their eyes.

  “This was the place the fork was first used in France,” Azrael said as we walked over to the maitre d'.

  “Fascinating,” I gave a little laugh.

  “Emperors have dined here and all kinds of celebrities,” Trevor added.

  “And now gods and a Faerie Queen,” I teased.

  “And a Lion Queen,” Kirill whispered as he slid an arm around my waist.

  The maitre d' greeted us, leading us to an intimate table right next to some soaring windows which overlooked the Notre Dame cathedral. I smiled at him and he nodded at me with smug approval, casting a glance over my men as if he knew they were all mine. I guess in Paris they were used to this kind of thing. The term for a threesome was French, wasn't it? Menage a troi. I wondered if they had a term for a foursome.

  The room was richly decorated with thick rugs woven in deep maroon and cream designs, sparkling chandeliers that hung like floating whales above us, massive arrangements of flowers, and tall candles illuminating the tables softly. The room was an odd shape, due to the design of the building itself, which was placed at the juncture of two roads and came to a point at the end. Actually, the pointed end was the front of the building.

  “This is really amazing,” I looked out the window, appreciating the magnificent view of both the Seine river and the cathedral beside it. It was funny how cathedrals resembled castles. A castle for God. The only castle I'd ever seen a god living in was mine though, and only because I'd built it. It had been more of a large plantation house before.

  “I'm glad you like it,” Azrael shared a nod with the other men.

  They were all wearing very expensive suits and they all looked fabulous in them, though they each had their own distinct look. Azrael looked like a millionaire businessman, Trevor looked more like the rebel child of a wealthy family, and Kirill looked like a European Prince(pretty much what he was). Kirill had his long, black hair braided back neatly, showing off the dramatic angles of his face and his slightly angled, Russian, blue eyes were set off by his cerulean tie.

  Azrael had his short hair styled artfully, like a fashion model, his tattoo and wings hidden away, and his diamond eyes were toned down to human blue, a very light blue that was still shocking against his black hair. Trevor's hair was loose, sweeping his shoulders with a devil may care attitude that worked really well for him. He looked dashing, like he'd just ridden up on a horse and leaped off it to come in for dinner.

  The waiter was just as impressed by the men as I was, standing and staring for a few moments before sputtering something in French. Kirill surprised us all by answering him back in perfect French, evidently asking the waiter to use English, which he did immediately. He gave us some menus, recommended a few things, and then stumbled away with several backwards glances.

  “You guys are gonna give our waiter a heart attack,” I chuckled.

  “He must be gay then,” Trevor smirked at me from across the round table(Az was on my right and Kirill on the left), “cause only a gay man would ignore your beauty.”

  “Oh wow,” I lifted my brows at him. “We better get some wine to go with that cheese.”

  “Absolutely,” he beamed at me and motioned the poor waiter back over.

  He ordered a bottle of something that must have been expensive because the waiter's eyes got even bigger. He nodded and sped off with a purposeful stride. A different man came back with the bottle, presenting it to Trevor like it was his first born son. Trevor nodded and the guy pulled a tool out of his belt and opened the bottle. Then he took this little silver bowl that was hanging on a chain around his neck and poured some of the wine into it. He took a sip and nodded, as if supremely satisfied, then poured a little into Trevor's glass. Trevor swirled the wine, sniffed it, and sipped. Then he nodded back and the waiter poured us all glasses. All of this was done in complete silence.

  “What the hell was that?” I whispered as the waiter bowl-wearing dude away.

  “That was the sommelier,” Azrael explained. “When you pay that much for a bottle of wine, you and the restaurant both want to be sure that it's good.”

  “How much is this wine?” I looked suspiciously at Trevor.

  “Minn Elska,” he sighed. “We can afford it.”

  “I know we can afford it,” I rolled my eyes. “That doesn't change the fact that it's a bottle of wine.”

  “It's a 1983 Château Pétrus,” Trevor took a slow sip and sighed.

  “Uh huh,” I took a sip and had to make a little sigh of my own. It was fantastic. “How much?”

  “Why must you ask that?” Trevor sighed again but in a much more pained manner.

  “Because I'm part Japanese.”

  “Only one quarter,” Kirill made a sort of head tilt that I think was supposed to be like a shrug.

  “So?”

  “So I zink fey blood probably outweighs Japanese,” he lifted a elegantly arched brow at me. His hand slid up and he lightly touched my temple, sending a zing of delight through my chest. “Your eyes are more slanted ven you turn dragon zan ven you're normal.”

  “You're trying to distract me,” I narrowed my normal eyes on him.

  “Oh just tell her already so we can get on with the meal,” Azrael shook his head.

  “It's around two thousand,” Trevor finally gave in.

  “Dollars?” My mouth dropped open and I stared at my half-empty glass.

  “No, ice cubes,” Trevor rolled his eyes.

  “You could buy a car for that,” I blinked at him.

  “A very bad car,” Kirill noted.

  “I've had excellent cars which I paid less for,” I huffed.

  “Vervain,” Trevor snapped. “Just drink the damn wine and enjoy it.”

  “Okay,” I huffed and took another sip. “It is excellent.”

  “Thank you,” Trevor smiled, satisfied.

  “But it better be for that price,” I couldn't help adding and they all groaned. “Well, there are starving children in... p
retty much everywhere. Drinking wine that costs two thousand dollars seems rather heinous to me.”

  “If it will make you feel better, I'll send a check for the same amount to Feed the Children,” Trevor sighed.

  “Actually, I think I'd prefer it go to the ASPCA,” I said thoughtfully.

  “Vhat's zat?” Kirill lifted a brow at me.

  “The American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals,” Azrael smiled at me softly. “Because when animals are abused, they can't even speak about it, right, Carus?”

  “Right,” I agreed.

  “Fine,” Trevor shook his head. “ASPCA it is, can we drink the wine now?”

  “Go ahead, fur face,” I squished my own face up at him. “Drink your pretentious wine.”

  The waiter returned and Trevor ordered for me since he'd been there before(go figure), and I didn't know what to get. First we had some strange appetizers. There were Madeleines stuffed with an anchovy filling, slices of white radishes with salmon tartare on top, little triangle pastries stuffed with cheese and mustard, and pressed beef(don't ask).

  Now in case you don't know what a Madeleine is, it's a soft, cake-like cookie. Normally I love them, I eat them with tea, but I'd never have thought to stuff them with something savory, much less anchovies. It was odd, oddly tasty, and just plain odd.

  “Try the salmon tartare,” Azrael recommended.

  “Uh, that's okay,” I eyed the pink heaps of slimy fish. “I don't like raw fish.”

  “You just said you're part Japanese,” Azrael argued.

  “I also live in Hawaii and don't like the ocean,” I rolled my eyes. “I'm a complicated woman, get over it. I'm not eating the tartare.”

  “Hand it over,” Kirill's hand shot across me toward Az. Az fished a twenty dollar bill from his wallet and placed it on Kirill's palm.

  “Are you betting on me again?” I looked over at Kirill.

  “I'm vinning on you again,” he laughed. “I told you, yahoos, I know our voman.”

  “I know her too,” Az frowned. “I've touched her soul ferchrisakes.”

  “For Christ's sake, really?” I interjected but was ignored.

  “I have an intimate, magical bond with her,” Trevor said over me.

  “And I'm going to kick all of you out of bed tonight if you don't behave,” I snarled, a little of my beasts popping out, and they all sat back in their chairs and shut up. Which was very satisfying for me.

  “Your amuse bouche,” the waiter was back with four little bowls to deliver. “Green asparagus velouté with white asparagus jelly, finely chopped white asparagus, crispy buttered toast and some duck foie gras. Bon appetite.”

  “Did he say there's jelly in my soup?” I dramatically whispered to Azrael.

  “Vervain,” Az tried to give me a stern look but he broke down and started to laugh. “You're going to do this all night, aren't you?”

  “Were you expecting any different?” I smirked.

  “I guess I was,” he shook his head. “I have no idea why.”

  “Cause it's Valentines Day and we thought she might be sweet and romantic,” Trevor chuckled.

  “I am sweet and romantic,” I huffed. “I'm the damn Goddess of Love, you can't get more romantic than that.”

  “Tima,” Kirill leaned toward me. “You killed last Goddess of Love because she vas torturing you. I don't zink being Goddess of Love makes you romantic.”

  “Okay fine,” I undid the pins from my hair and let it fall down around me. “You want romantic?” I closed the distance between us and slid my cheek against his. “You look amazing tonight, like a fairy tale Prince come to life,” I whispered and then pulled back slowly, holding his eyes with mine.

  Kirill's stare was fixed on me, his jaw clenched, and his hand reached for my face. Oh, this was about to get good, my lioness perked up inside me. But then Trevor cleared his throat and Kirill's hand fell back to his lap.

  “I was getting to you, Mr. Impatient,” I slid my foot over to Trevor's leg and ran the toe of my shoe along his calf. He jerked upright in his seat. “So sensitive. You know, I just realized you're all royalty of a sort. My Wolf Prince,” I retracted my foot before I got too naughty, that wouldn't have been romantic. “My Russian Prince,” I cast Kirill a soft look, “and my Prince of Hell,” I looked over at Azrael, “who also happens to rule Heaven. Does that make you a king too?”

  “No,” Azrael swallowed hard. “I think I'd rather be a Prince of Hell.”

  “Three Princes then,” I shifted my eyes around the table and felt all humor leave me. My face settled into lines of affection, love rising inside me in a warm rush. “You make me feel like I rule the world. I'm sorry I make light of things so much. To be serious all the time would leave me paralyzed in a constant state of disbelief over being so lucky to have such incredible men in my life. Men who I love so much, I would do anything to preserve this forever.”

  “Maybe ve should let her make jokes,” Kirill finally spoke into the heavy silence.

  “You might be right,” Azrael took a deep breath. “Any more of that and I'll be kneeling at her feet.”

  “And I'll be leaping across this table and running off into the night with her,” Trevor added.

  “Ah, my lovely men,” I chuckled. “Go on then, eat your jelly soup.”

  “And she's back,” Trevor laughed.

  After the jelly soup, there was the first course. A large terrine was brought to our table(a rectangular pan filled with weirdness) and two scoops of beige mush was put on each of our plates with two scoops of brown jelly. The French sure do like their jellies.

  “Des Trois Empereurs,” our waiter said as he laid my plate before me. “Truffled goose foie gras with port and sauternes jelly.”

  “Thank you,” Azrael nodded to the waiter as he left. “The three Emperors served to three Princes. How funny is that?”

  “I don't like foie gras,” I declared. “Bad enough that they put it in my jelly soup but now it's a main course?”

  “Just eat it, Vervain,” Trevor growled.

  “Do you know what foie gras is?” I whispered to him.

  “Yes, Minn Elska,” he said with false sweetness. “I'm a werewolf, remember? I've technically eaten it raw.”

  “Now that was unnecessary,” I squished my lips up in distaste.

  “Just try one bite,” Azrael nudged my hand.

  “Oh okay,” I sighed and put some of the mush on a piece of toast. They all got still as I lifted it to my mouth and took a bite. I chewed thoughtfully and swallowed. “That's the best dog food I've ever had but it's still dog food.”

  “Hand it over,” Azrael put out his palm and Kirill put his twenty back in it.

  “You disappoint me, Tima,” Kirill shook his head.

  “That's what you get for wagering on your woman,” I declared primly and tried some of the wine jelly with the liver mush. It was too weird and I decided two bites was enough.

  The second course was something more mundane but very delicious. It was a piece of fish in a creamy sauce, very nice and I was very happy. There were even mushrooms in it. I love mushrooms. Then came the third course. There was great fanfare for the presentation of it. Duck Tour d'Argent. We didn't even get it right away, instead they handed each of us a card with our individual duck's number on it.

  “What's this?” I asked.

  “That's the number of ducks that they've sold here,” Azrael explained. “You have the exact number of your duck.”

  “Well I guess I got his number,” I waved my card at the men and they groaned. “His number is definitely up.”

  “Please stop,” Trevor begged.

  “He's a serial-hey,” I stopped and looked over to where they'd taken my numbered duck. “What are they doing to Donald?”

  “Donald?” Kirill looked to Trevor and Az.

  “Donald the Duck,” Az sighed. “It's a cartoon.”

  “What is that thing?” I waved to direct their attention back to the bird.

&n
bsp; “It's a duck press,” Trevor grinned.

  “Whatchu talkin' bout, Willis?” I eyed him.

  “Just watch, Vervain,” Az nudged me.

  I looked back and saw that they'd removed the meat from the duck and placed the rest of the duck carcass into a machine that looked kind of like a book press except it had a canister at the bottom and a spout that hung over a pan. The waiter turned the wheel at the top and out of the spout poured a brownish red liquid.

  “Is that blood?” I asked in a quiet voice.

  “And bone marrow,” Trevor nodded, practically salivating. “They do all the work for you, no bone sucking necessary.”

  “I think I'm going to puke,” I swallowed hard.

  “Your a dragon-sidhe,” Trevor looked back at me in shock. “I thought this might appeal to you.”

  “I don't like bone marrow,” I kept my gaze focused firmly on Trevor and away from the duck torture.

  “Zey make blood and bones into sauce,” Kirill said succinctly.

  “A faerie once tried to do that to me,” I swallowed hard.

  “Tima...” Kirill started to look concerned.

  “I'd like to go home now,” I said in a small voice. “I don't feel good.”

  “Minn Elska,” Trevor gaped at me.

  “I don't like French food,” I whined like a four-year-old. “This is gross and fowl. F-O-W-L fowl, get it? Yeah, even when I'm grossed out I can make a joke. Now can we go?”

  “Just give it a chance,” Azrael cajoled.

  “Why couldn't they have done that in the kitchen,” I whined. “Why did they have to bring their fowlness out here?”

  “I zink fowl joke is dead,” Kirill whispered to me. “Oh, zat vas funny too, da? Fowl joke is dead?”

  “Is this really supposed to be romantic?” I asked just as the waiter placed my dish in front of me. I pulled back, horrified at the brownish-red plate of food, and the waiter jerked back as if I'd slapped him.

  “Mademoiselle is unhappy?” He asked, disbelief in every word.

  “No, she's fine,” Trevor waved him away. “She's just being obstinate.”

  “I'm being what?”

  “Just try the duck, Vervain,” Trevor growled as the waiter backed away. “Take one bite.”