by Sumida, Amy
“You of all people should know zat gods can be killed.”
“I do know that,” I sauntered up to him, because you must saunter when wearing leather pants and teasing your favorite werelion. “I just said it wasn’t as easy as it was before. I can handle her.”
“I zink you’re getting too big for britches, young lady,” his wicked smile put a decidedly sensual twist on his words, as did his hands around said britches pulling me against him.
“Maybe we should take them off then,” I purred into his ear before I nipped it.
His whole body shook and I closed my eyes to enjoy the sensation.
“If you two are done in there,” Odin’s fatherly voice threw cold water over our hot heads. “Maybe you might be interested in finding out another pertinent piece of information.”
“Like what?” I called as I kissed Kirill quickly and headed down the hall, scooping up my gloves as I went.
“Like where to get the antibiotic that you need,” Odin’s single eye gleamed at me with mischief.
“Why do I have the feeling that you already know the answer to that?”
Chapter Nine
I stretched my fingers through the finger-holes and strapped the gloves firmly on. The feel of the blades lying in wait over the top of my hands was comforting even though I had other claws at my disposal now. I could turn into a lioness at will but part of me still preferred my god-made claws.
Inside my pants pocket, in a heavy plastic case, was a syringe full of antibiotic. Odin assured me there was enough to cure ten plague victims. All I had to do was inject Xi Wangmu with it. Simple, I just needed to catch the tiger by her toe.
I had a lightweight coat on over my gear and Kirill by my side. Now all I needed was to find her. But how do you find a goddess who doesn’t want to be found? We walked Chinatown for two hours without a single lead before a rat scurried out in front of us and dropped dead.
I stared down at the tiny corpse as blood seeped out of its open mouth, and felt cold rage fill me. The rats were infected. That meant we only had days before the first humans would succumb. Rats scurried everywhere, taking deadly bacillus with them. They filled up with it and when they bit, they filled you up with it, little living hypodermics filled with plague.
I sent Kirill into the nearest mom and pop grocery store to get Ziploc baggies. When he returned, I carefully picked up the rat with a baggie covered hand, which I was able to pull over and enclose the dead thing in. I couldn’t just leave it there for some child to find. So we walked down to the Police station and turned it in.
I told them I was a veterinarian and I saw this animal die in a suspicious manner. I recommended they send the body away for testing and told them where it was found. At first they didn’t even want to humor me but after I pointed out the blood leaking from the rodents mouth and how it appeared similar to rats found with the plague, they perked up a bit.
I hoped they’d find some way to warn all those people and possibly contain the spread of the disease but I had a feeling things were about to get bad. I had visions of Chinatown being evacuated and pest control people in hazard suits cleaning house. Just please, please don't let them try to set anything on fire again.
A car pulled around the corner slowly, tinted windows way too dark and the windshield practically impossible to see through. It seemed to pause at it passed me, something, with fangs most likely, staring at me from behind the darkened glass. I stared back, getting really annoyed with the stalking vampires bit.
“Is zat vampire car,” Kirill followed the direction of my gaze.
“I believe it is,” I narrowed my eyes at its retreat.
“I zought Blue vas on your side now.”
“Yeah,” I chewed at my lip, “so did I. I'm gonna give him the benefit of the doubt this time though. I'm not going to make the mistake of assuming anything about him ever again.”
“Zis is vise,” he nodded.
Stalking vampires would have to wait. What the hell was I going to do about Xi Wangmu? How could I fight an enemy who wouldn’t face me? She was Black Death alright, creeping in the shadows, hiding from the light. She may not even be in Chinatown anymore. She could have just planted her disease and ran away.
No, deep down I knew she’d stay… to watch.
“Where are you, you evil, ugly bitch?” I called out under my breath. “Xi Wangmu, I know you’re out here. You coward, hiding and spreading disease through vermin. You’re scum, something I’d wipe off my shoes.”
“I am a goddess,” she appeared before me, hair in a tight braid, body wrapped in loose black satin, “one of the first for the Chinese actually. I am life and I am death. What I am not, is scum.”
Well shit, why hadn’t I just tried insulting her earlier? It would have saved me a lot of time.
I casually wandered down a deserted alley, drawing her away from innocent passer-bys. She followed with graceful steps, picking her way through the puddles and filth. Her hands started to rise and I fumbled in my pocket with the syringe case.
“You kill your own people,” I grimaced as the case refused to open. “There is no lower scum in my book.”
“I restore balance. What I do is necessary,” she waved her darkening fingertips delicately. “My people know this. Yin and yang, balance, flow, it’s all a part of life. I bring a cleansing, a rebirth, and my people will be strengthened by it. If you were a true goddess, you would understand.”
“Your people still haven’t recovered from your last cleansing,” I snarled, partly in frustration with the syringe. “If you paid any positive attention to them, you’d know that the Chinese population in Hawaii has never improved and is the lowest it’s ever been. The real reason you're here, is to collect the dead as sacrifice. You'll gain a lot of power from this, won't you?”
Her face transformed into a rictus of rage, lines pulling down to her gaping mouth and eyes narrowing. She lunged for me and I automatically defended myself, the needle forgotten in my pants. I didn’t have time to release my blades or pull my sword, so I made do with hand to hand combat.
I twisted and turned, pushing her back into the dirty pavement as Kirill circled around us, looking for an opening. Diving in to help someone in a one on one situation can be tricky. You could end up hindering instead of helping. So he waited and watched while we tumbled about and I appreciated it.
I got in a few good punches. Most goddesses didn’t know a thing about hand to hand combat. Why would they? They were generally pretty pampered. So it wasn’t just good training that helped me get the best of her but her lack of it. She slumped back with the last punch I got to her head and I pushed myself to my feet.
As I brought out the case and was finally able to open it, her hand reached out and clawed my leg. Long black nails tore through the leather and cut my skin, burning and sending a horrendous pain up my calf. I cried out and fell back, Kirill catching me before I hit the ground, and the syringe falling from my hand to break into a thousand pieces on the pavement. Xi Wangmu’s laughter echoed off the damp walls as she traced away.
“Kirill,” I gasped as I grabbed my leg.
“Tima, it’s going to be alright,” he held me tight and traced us home quickly.
When I opened my eyes next, I was laying on the living room carpet, stripped but wrapped in a sheet. My leg was exposed and black blotches were spotting it. At the top of my inner thigh there was a burning sensation and I could feel the skin there swelling. I moaned and clutched at the hands holding me. It was Kirill, he was there. At least I wouldn’t die alone.
“Tima,” he whispered. “I called Trevor and he’s gone to fetch Teharon. Hold on, please hold on.”
“It hurts,” I felt the disease spreading over me, attacking me, making my body into a wasteland of black blood and massacred tissue. “I don’t think I’m going to make it this time. You’re going to have to lead the Intare. I know you can do it, you're steady and strong. Tell Odin, Vidar, and Vali how much I love them, how sorry I am to have
to leave them again. Tell them to let go of me this time and move on.”
“Stop it, Tima.”
“Tell Trevor I’m sorry I hurt him,” the pain was getting worse, it was getting hard to think past it. I guess drinking from the Grayel didn't make me invincible. I guess I was wrong… again. “Tell him I love him and Kirill… I love you… so much. You’re special to me, my black lion. I think I’ve loved you from the moment you faced off with the other Intare for me. You were so fierce in your pain, so beautiful and fearless. Do you remember how you tried to protect me?”
“I remember.”
“You're going to have to leave me here,” I frowned, thinking about my real family. “My family can't know about any of this but can you take care of Nick for me? He's going to be so confused.”
“Of course, Nick vill be looked after. Tima, don’t speak like zis,” he was shaking beneath me, around me. “You’ll be fine.”
“I don’t feel fine,” but then suddenly I did. The pain ebbed and this warm glow came from my center and spread out to my limbs. “Kirill,” I grabbed at him again but this time it was with hope. “I think something’s happening.”
Before he could reply, Trevor and Teharon came tracing in. They ran over to us, Trevor taking my hand and Teharon laying his palm to my chest. Teharon was the Mohawk God of healing and he was good at his job… very good, as my continued existence attested to.
But, as it turns out, he wasn’t needed this time.
“She’s healing herself,” Teharon pronounced as he sat back. “I was hoping it would be so. The drink from the Grayel has given her recuperative powers. It just took awhile to battle such a deadly disease. She’s going to be fine.”
“Zank you,” Kirill wept and hugged me tighter. His musky lion scent, like sawdust and citrus, enveloped me, calming my racing heart.
Trevor sat back, stunned. “Sweet mercy,” he breathed out through the hand covering his face. “I thought I’d lost you. I…” he stumbled up and looked down at me with wide, tear drenched eyes.
“Trevor,” I could feel my body condensing, my blood flowing cleaner and removing any traces of infection. “Don’t go. We need to talk about this, come back home.”
“Vervain,” he backed up and my heart fell. “I can’t go through this again. I need to…” he backed away further and faded as he traced out.
“Trevor!” I tried to get up but my whole body had gone limp with the drain of energy it took to heal.
“Shhh,” Kirill rocked me and exchanged a worried glance with Teharon. “He’ll be back, Tima. He has to come back.”
“Or he’ll die,” I whispered, right before passing out.
Chapter Ten
The shrill ring of the phone seemed louder than usual in my sleepy head. Like a blow horn to the brain. I groaned as I reached for it. What the hell time was it? I squinted at the clock as I held the receiver to my ear. 1:37 am. Kirill snuggled closer to me under the covers.
“Hello,” my heart ramped up; a phone call in the early hours of the morning was never good.
“Vervain?” It was my cousin, Jess.
“What is it?” I sat up straight in bed, effectively waking Kirill and upsetting Nick at our feet.
“I’m sorry to wake you,” there was a distinctively uncomfortable pause. “Grandpa just passed away.”
“What?” I knew my grandpa wasn’t doing so well. Jess had moved out here from Ohio to help Grandma take care of him. He hadn’t been looking too good lately and I’d thought I was prepared for his death but my shaking body was telling a different story.
“He’s passed away,” Jess continued through my shock. “Grandma’s not taking it so well. I thought you might like to come over while we wait for the doctor to arrive and pronounce.”
“Yeah,” I wiped my hand over my face and felt Kirill’s arm snake around me supportively. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”
I hung up and looked at Kirill. I fought gods and all the creatures created by them but losing my grandpa was the hardest battle of my life. He wasn’t just my grandpa, he had raised me. My mother had me pretty young and never married the man who may or may not be my father(I'm still not sure how the magic Odin performed to bring me back had worked), so my grandparents were my second set of parents really. I’d lost my possible father years ago and that was hard but my heart knew my real Daddy had just died.
My birthday was six days away.
“Vervain,” Kirill wiped at my cheeks and I suddenly realized I was crying. “What happened?”
“My Grandpa’s dead.”
Chapter Eleven
I held my grandmother as she cried into the phone. She was listening to my aunt and her preacher husband pray. Oh yeah, did I neglect to mention that although my mom was a witch, my mother’s family are all staunch Christians?
My mom was the black sheep and I followed in her footsteps happily. A path the rest of the family was determined to ignore we even traveled. As I listened to Aunty Dorris launch into a round of praying “in tongue”, I thanked all the powers that be that I was Pagan. Now that I was technically a Goddess, I guess I was as Pagan as they came.
For all of you fellow Pagans out there, let me just educate you quickly on one of the little gems of Christianity. Praying in tongues was supposed to be a gift of the Holy Spirit, a gift that allowed the receiver to speak in a language unknown to them. When I was a little girl, my Aunty Dorris's husband, Harvey, gathered all the children together in Sunday school and prayed with us until we were blessed with the gift.
I didn’t get it.
As a young witch, I knew intimately what the supernatural world held. Now I know that it was also the knowledge my soul carried over from being Sabine. When Odin used his magic to put my soul into my mother, it hadn't been exactly reincarnation. I wasn't reborn to experience the world anew. I'd been born with the memories and knowledge of a full life. I'd just repressed a lot of it so that I could deal with being a child all over again. By the time I met Odin, I'd gotten so good at repressing, I didn't recognize him at first. Seeing him acted like some sort of a trigger though and those memories did break out eventually.
Back then though, in that stuffy, stark room filled with children, I didn't know why I had knowledge of things. I just knew. I knew there were no impossibilities, so this gift of speaking in another language without studying it, didn't seem so far fetched. I waited with great anticipation for such a cool magic to overtake me. When the other children finally started to “speak”, I laughed. They were talking gibberish, no proper cadences of any known language recognizable in their speech. They were faking it to get out of the hot room.
My uncle scowled at me, then decided I needed one on one help. He sat next to me, praying for hours, but the Holy Spirit never filled me. He finally gave up, muttering under his breath about apples falling close to trees and my general unworthiness. It was my first moment of disillusionment with my grandparents’ religion but more importantly, it was my first insight into my uncle’s personality.
“Vervain’s right here,” Grandma’s voice brought me back to the present. “Sure, hold on,” she held out the phone to me as I gave her the universal, cutting the air, I don’t want to talk to that idiot, motion. The phone landed in my gesticulating hand.
“Hello,” I muttered.
“Hey, kiddo,” Uncle Harvey's voice grated on my already flayed nerves. “How you doing?”
“I’m doing,” I rolled my eyes.
“Well we’ll be out there on Wednesday to help,” he continued as if I cared.
“We’re fine, just send Aunty Dorris for the funeral,” I countered. The last thing I needed right now was my crazy Christian relations out here in the middle of a possible plague.
“Oh no, I wouldn’t leave her alone at such a horrible time,” my stomach clenched on hearing confirmation of what I knew was coming. “I’ll be flying out with her, Connie, James, and Jacob.” On Grandma’s dime I was certain, since they had no money.
My aunt and he
r husband had been spewing out babies since she’d married him when she was still a baby herself. My cousins started popping up when I was two years old and kept popping up every two years like clockwork, except for the last few, which had come yearly. There were ten kids now, living in a house owned by the church, and supplementing their income with money from my grandmother.
Whenever I brought up the fact that she didn't have a lot of money and she shouldn't be sending so much to my relatives, grandma would say “God will provide”. Well she didn't know the gods like I did or she wouldn't be so sure of their help. The only one doing any providing was her.
But at least I wasn’t bitter.
“Yeah, I gotta go now,” I handed the phone to Grandma while Harvey was mid-preach. I just couldn’t deal with his bullshit at the moment.
Kirill’s hand rubbed my lower back and I took comfort in it for a moment, while I watched the EMTs carry my grandfather’s body out of the house. I couldn’t help making a list of grievances in my head. Number one, tiger goddess prowls Chinatown. Number two, ex-rapist gets me drunk or possibly roofied me and tries to seduce me. Number three, current boyfriend catches seduction mid-kiss and leaves me. Number four, tiger goddess tries to kill me with the black plague. Number five, my grandfather dies. Number six, relatives from Hell…that’s the Christian Hell with two Ls not the Viking goddess with one…descend upon my helpless grandmother. Number seven, I get to celebrate my twenty-seventh birthday in the midst of this mess, without my wolf or my grandpa.
Weren’t bad things supposed to come in threes?
My Uncle David, the baby of the bunch, showed up with his daughter Shannon and I breathed a sigh of relief. Sweet, beautiful Shannon took Grandma’s other side while Grandma started to ramble about the rapture and how if Grandpa had just held out one more month, they would have ascended to Heaven together… but it’s okay because she’ll see him next month when the rapture takes her. My poor cousin’s face blanched.
