Paladin (Graven Gods Book 1)

by Angela Knight

  “Are you okay, baby?” Calliope peered at me in worry.

  “I’m not a baby, Cal,” I growled, and bent to collect the sword. Only to pause, my hand inches from the hilt, wondering whether the bitch would take me apart again if I picked it up.

  Thing was, I knew what my mother would say to the idea of leaving any sword -- particularly that one -- lying on the floor.

  “I’ll get it,” Paladin told me. “I can assure you, she won’t do a damned thing to me. Not unless she wants to spend the next century at the bottom of the nearest river. At the moment, I’m tempted to throw her in anyway.”

  “No, I am going to do my damned job,” I growled, despite the aching temptation to let him take over. I picked up the sword and slid it into its scabbard.

  And if my hands shook the whole time, too fucking bad.

  “Weakling,” Eris sneered. “You’re no more worthy of carrying me into battle than the most cowardly genetic trash. Your mother would weep.”

  “And what would Barbara think of you trying to fry her daughter?” Calliope spat, ears back and tail lashing. “She’d melt you down for scrap and sell you to a blacksmith to make into horseshoes.” Which, I gathered, was a deadly insult.

  “You’re as bad as he is. You’ve helped that idiot turn Barbara’s daughter into a bigger pussy than you are. She…”

  Drawing on every last ounce of self-control I’d ever had, I put the sword in its ebony rack, turned, and walked out. I’d have loved to slam the rack behind me, but it refused to produce anything louder than a soft click as it pivoted closed.

  So much for that ally.

  As the hidden door closed, I squared my shoulders. I had a job to do. I was, by all the Elder Gods, going to prove Eris wrong.

  Maybe she’s right, some small voice whispered in the depths of my mind.

  Since age twelve, I’d believed myself a perfectly ordinary person. As an adult, I’d been a shopkeeper and writer. As Eris had sneered, an artist.

  But I wasn’t an artist. I was a Demi and an avatar of a god, and that made me anything but ordinary. And I would damned well do my duty.

  My parents’ murderer was out there somewhere, preying on innocent people. It was Paladin’s job to find Valak and kill him, along with all his thugs, allies and worshipers. It was my job to add my magical power to Paladin’s, to lend him my strength like a worthy addition to my line. Eris or no Eris, I had to step up to the plate and do the job.

  “I don’t care what that bitch says, you’re not weak,” Paladin told me. “Not mentally, and not physically. I’ve been training your body and brain in fighting techniques since your mother died. As you proved when you fought Valak’s thugs, you’re every bit as skilled as you would have been otherwise.”

  “He’s right. You’re more than capable, no matter what Eris said.” Calliope gave my ankle an affectionate shoulder-butt. Her voice dropped to a mutter. “That one always was a bitch.”

  “Yeah. Sure.” I didn’t really want to talk about it anymore. I didn’t even want to think about it. “So what do we do now?” After uncounted thousands of years, Paladin sure as hell knew how to do the job. I’d let him take the lead.

  I blinked, and he was standing beside me. “Tonight’s the Demifair. We need to check in with Zanos-James. See what’s going on with Valak and his thugs.”

  I brightened at that. “Oh, sure.” When I was a little girl, I used to love the monthly Demifair, a gathering of Graven’s Demimonde held on the god of the city’s property.

  James Miles was the prominent owner of a construction firm that had built five schools in upstate South Carolina, a couple of municipal buildings, and three major corporate complexes, plus assorted other projects. He was also the avatar of Zanos, one of the most powerful elder gods on the planet, being even older than Paladin.

  It was because of the Miles family that there were so many Demis in Graven to begin with. The Demiclans knew he’d make sure they were safe in his territory.

  “They’re certainly supposed to be,” Paladin said grimly. “Unfortunately, Valak isn’t making any of us look very good with these killings. Zanos-James wants him dead almost as badly as I do. Which is yet another reason I need to show up for tonight’s fair. He’s called a mandatory meeting of all Graven’s Demis.” His eyes took on a feral gleam. “Afterward, we’re hunting assholes.”

  “Be vewy, vewy quiet.” I muttered in my best Elmer Fudd.

  * * *

  The sun was just setting when Calliope, Paladin and I arrived at Zanos-James’ sprawling farm just outside Graven. Childhood memories started flooding back before we’d even parked the car, vivid recollections of magical games and chasing lightning bugs in the summer dark.

  “God, I loved this place,” I told Cal as I drove into the graveled lot and started hunting a space. Sleek BMWs and Audis stood next to pickups and beaters held together with bondo and duct tape. Most Demis had money, but others had a tougher time of it. “Some of my happiest childhood memories revolved around the Demifair.” Spotting a likely spot, I whipped into it.

  Cal and I got out and headed through a copse of oaks, maples and sweetgum trees, their foliage aflame with fall. Just beyond them was a cluster of clearings occupied by tents and a long brick barbecue grill.

  Zanos-James presided over the cooking chores, surrounded by a cloud of hickory smoke and the scent of grilling meat rubbed in various spices. A couple of huge coolers stood off to one side, one mounded with ice, steaks, hamburgers and hotdogs waiting for their turn on the grill, the other piled with ice, canned soda, and every brand of beer known to Wal-Mart.

  Given the jeans and forest green golf shirt, Zanos-James could almost pass for a typical suburban Southern male. He’d been a central figure of my childhood, one of my father’s best friends. Though he looked about thirty-five, he was probably closer to seventy. Demis are long-lived people; at least when it came to natural causes. As my family had proved, unnatural causes are a different story.

  Graven’s god had one of those ridiculously handsome Demi faces that somehow contrived to be incredibly masculine at the same time. His nose was so straight it could have been laid out with a laser, a wide, sensual mouth, and bright green eyes under thick brows. His beard was a sexy sable goatee and mustache combo that called attention to that erotic mouth, and his hair was short and curly. He was about three inches taller than Paladin -- or rather, what I’d always thought Paladin’s height to be, which made the avatar 6’2” or so. Those extra inches made his muscular frame look more like a dancer’s than Paladin’s heavyweight boxer build.

  As I approached, Calliope riding one shoulder, he laid steaks over the flames, his gestures quick and competent. His big hands were marked with the kind of calluses and small scars a man got when he did construction work for a living.

  Definitely not the pampered kind of millionaire god.

  Zanos-James looked up at us, his gaze keen on my face before he smiled. “Ah, you got the amnesia spell broken. Good to see you again, Paladin-Summer.” He took the hand I offered, bowing over it in one of those gestures only an immortal could pull off. His green eyes went intent as a cat’s, as if he was addressing me separate from Paladin. “I am deeply sorry for what you’ve suffered. Both your parents were great people. I counted myself fortunate to call your father my friend.”

  “Yes… I, uh…” I had to stop and swallow the burning knot in my throat. “Thank you.”

  Zanos-James looked around as a tall blond rose from the campfire where a circle of avatars sat. “And here’s Ulf-Mark now.”

  “Summer!” A note of intimate joy in his voice, the man strode around the grill to meet me. Calliope hopped down from my shoulder, ducking aside, as if to give us plenty of room for our reunion. Being a Demi, Ulf-Mark was of course tall, broad-shouldered and ridiculously handsome. Examining that clever face, I recognized traces of the boy he’d been twelve years ago. His hair was a shining summer blond, and his winter-sky gray eyes were sharply intelligent. He was a head tall
er than I was, and a little more muscular than Zanos-James. He must have worked like hell to put on that much mass at his height. He’d be strong as a bull.

  “Nice to see you again, Mark.” I hesitated, not sure how to greet my father’s god in this new body, then reached to shake his hand.

  “Oh hardly!” He drew me into a warm hug, and I felt Ulf, his love for me so like my father’s. They’d always seemed intertwined, as there’d been no separating them.

  At least until one of them had died.

  But not both of them. My eyes stung. Part of Daddy survives after all. It was a comforting realization.

  Odd that I didn’t see Paladin as part of my mother. Or perhaps it wasn’t really all that odd. There was nothing remotely motherly about him.

  “Glad to hear it,” he said dryly.

  Ulf aside, Mark wasn’t particularly fatherly either. While the god’s touch was familiar, his was not. As he hugged me, he felt tall and hard and muscular under the knit shirt and light windbreaker he wore. He didn’t exactly cop a feel, but there was something about the way he held me, as if he was giving it some thought.

  Paladin didn’t like that one bit. He didn’t actually growl, but it was close.

  I eased back out of the avatar’s arms, fighting Paladin’s need to shove the man away. Judging from his smile, Ulf-Mark was either unaware of the undercurrents or chose to ignore them. Probably the latter; avatars aren’t known for being clueless.

  He cupped my cheek in one warm palm. “You look so much like your mother.” There was genuine sadness in his eyes, a deep well of grief. “I miss Barbara and Graham more than I can say. Theirs was a true marriage in mind, body and magic.”

  As opposed to one solely for purposes of breeding.

  The sadness lifted, and I had the impression it was Mark giving me that boyish grin. “It’s hard to believe you’re the same skinny little girl who used to run around with my sister.”

  I grinned back. “How is Sara?”

  “Doing pretty well.” His grin took on a note of pride. “She’s an avatar for the goddess Asmera. Married Idar-Scott last year, and they’re expecting their first child. Asmera-Sara says it’s going to be a boy.”

  I blinked, floored by the idea of my tomboy buddy as anybody’s parent. This was the same kid who’d always carried her doll around by one foot. “Sara’s going to be a mother?”

  “Yeah, sometimes it’s hard for me to believe too. But I guess we’ve all grown up.” He smiled back at me, so slow and sensual I felt the impact all the way to the toes of my boots.

  If things had gone differently, we’d be married by now. Maybe I’d be pregnant with a child who’d eventually become Paladin’s Avatar.

  Yet the idea of sleeping with some other Demi, feeling the touch of a man who was not Paladin… No. Just no.

  Ultimately, though, I’d have no choice. This thing between Paladin and me was nothing more than a beautiful illusion.

  As if sensing my chaotic emotions, Ulf-Mark smiled in grave sympathy. “All this must be really strange for you. I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose your entire childhood, even the memory of your parents wiped out of your mind.”

  “Paladin didn’t exactly have a choice. It was that or let Valak get his claws in me, and that would have been a lot worse.”

  “Yes, I realize that, but… I’m just sorry, that’s all. My whole family grieved for you, and after I experienced Ulf’s memories, I felt the loss even more.”

  Before the conversation could get seriously painful, Zanos-James picked that moment to interrupt. “First set of steaks are done, folks. Who wants theirs mooing?”

  As we started queuing up for the food, Ulf-Mark rested a palm on the small of my back. I glanced at him, and blinked. There was nothing fatherly in the gesture.

  And I wondered suddenly if Ulf wanted to resurrect our parents’ matrimony plans…

  Chapter Nine

  A couple of hours later everybody had stuffed themselves on steaks, hotdogs, hamburgers, and the various sides and desserts provided by the Demiclans’ cooks. And damned good cooks they were, too.

  I got up to try to waddle off all that food with a tour of the surrounding clearings, ringed as they were with tents that served as shops for assorted enchanted goods.

  You could buy anything from herbs and potions to magical weapons and armor, plus grimoires, gemstones and whatever else an inventive Demi might whip up to house some spell or other. Most of the work was breathtaking; immortality gave artisan gods a long time to hone their skills.

  I found myself stopping to chat every few minutes, reacquainting myself with merchants I’d known from childhood. Every one of them seemed to remember my family fondly. I ended up buying a ring here, a chunk of fudge there, and stopping to admire magical weapons that made my fingers tingle with their power.

  “We need to stop here,” Paladin told me when we reached one particular tent consisting of a canvas roof draped over wooden supports. A long folding table filled the narrow space, covered with polished quartz, gemstones and geodes of various sizes ranging from robin’s egg to bowling ball. All of them swirled and glowed with radiant magic. A vinyl sign draped the front of the table: “Cleansings, Scrying Crystals, Gemstones.”

  A young blonde woman sat behind the table reading a romance novel. She looked up and stood at our approach, smiling. “Paladin!” She sounded so glad to see him I felt an instant stab of irrational jealousy. Mostly because she had the deliciously lush body and exquisite looks of a Victoria’s Secret model, though she wore a loose shirt and jeans that seemed designed to disguise her looks rather than call attention to them. “Back again?”

  “Filled ‘em all up,” he told her, reaching into a pocket. He pulled out a small spelled velvet bag, embroidered with sigils and tied shut with silver cord. Opening it, he spilled out a handful of small rocks. Unlike the glowing stones on the table, they looked dark, as if something black and oily swam inside them. They also radiated such a sense of evil, I realized the spell on that bag must be powerful indeed to contain it. “How much?”

  She spread a hand over them, cocked her head, then named a figure that made my eyebrows rise. The woman laughed. “I see you’ve got Summer in there too.” She gave me a friendly smile that made me feel a lot less paranoid. “Hey, girl. Long time, no see.”

  I blinked. “Diane? Diane Delano?” She’d been buddies with Sara, Opal and me. We’d had slumber parties and gone to movies and giggled our way through the first half of our respective childhoods together. Demi kids of roughly the same age tended to pal around together, since the community wasn’t that large to begin with.

  “Iva-Diane now,” she corrected. “Death goddess.”

  That made me blink again. Artistic, dreamy Diane, avatar of a death goddess?

  “Yeah, surprised me too.” Diane gave me a slow, bittersweet smile. “I missed you, kiddo.”

  “I…” I broke off.

  “Would have if you’d remembered me.” Her smile widened, grew less shadowed. “But hey, maybe we can get together and go see a movie or something.”

  “Yeah, I’d like that.”

  While we’d been talking, Paladin pulled a wallet out of my pocket and handed over a black credit card that had me blinking. I hadn’t known I could even get that thing.

  Then again, I probably couldn’t. Paladin evidently had his own finances.

  Diane swiped it through a gizmo attached to her cell phone, then handed over the phone and a stylus for a signature.

  She picked up the stones, though I’d have hated to touch them with my bare skin. Her eyes flashed blue, then began to burn. Her hands glowed bright.

  And the sense of evil drained away. She handed back the stones, now glowing brightly with the magic she’d filtered. “Boy, those guys really were assholes, weren’t they?”

  Paladin grinned. “Pretty much. Thanks, Diane. Without you, I’d go eeeeeviiiiiiiil.”

  She snorted. “Yeah. Right.”

  He shrugged. “
Pretty damned close.”

  I traded phone numbers and emails with Diane and we agreed to go out the following Saturday.

  Feeling better about life, I headed back to the main clearing, where Zanos-James was holding court among his warriors. They sprawled in those canvas chairs you see at football tailgating events, the kind with a metal frame and a cup holder in one arm. There was enough magical power in the air to make the nape of my neck tingle.

  And no wonder, given there were twenty warriors, male and female, most avatars of one god or another. Even those who were merely Demi radiated magic. It was a talented and dangerous crowd.

  “There you are, Paladin-Summer.” Zanos-James waved me over, his smile as friendly as his eyes were sharp.

  It suddenly struck me how strange it was to hear my name hyphenated like that. Especially since I was more used to hearing Paladin’s name connected to my mother’s. A pang shot through me, and Zanos-James’ gaze softened, as if he realized what I was thinking.

  “He’s always been perceptive,” Paladin murmured as we dropped into the chair beside the big Avatar -- our usual place. “There’s a reason he’s god of the city.”

  Paladin had told me he served as Zanos-James’s lieutenant in this paramilitary organization of Graven’s defenders. Which was why I wore a shoulder holster under my leather jacket and a knife in my boot. I’d probably have felt a little ridiculous if everybody else wasn’t wearing just as much hardware, most of it magical. As I settled into the camp chair on the Graven god’s right, Calliope jumped into my blue-jeaned lap. I immediately started scratching behind her ears, feeling a little less out of place.

  Cal was actually one of several familiars among the avatars. There were also two other cats, three dogs, a wolf, and a black-footed ferret, all of them sprawled on or around their avatar partners.