by Amy Sumida
“What's up, Bubo?” I smirked. “Did you sharpen your battle claws? Because you didn't finish the job I trusted you to do. I believe your words were 'We'll take it from here.' Except you didn't, did you?” I shook the boy's shirt at him. “You demonstrably didn't take it from there. You left it here for us to deal with.”
Yeah, I was a little pissed. Don't tell me to let you handle something and then fail. Especially not if that failure results in the death of two kids and lands nine more in deep snake dookie.
“My name is not Bubo, it's Shaw,” the man said with utter seriousness. “And yes, we watch over North America, but we don't guard it against snakes specifically. It was the evil of the act that attracted our notice.”
“Oh, great, you're one of those,” I muttered. “It's a movie reference. Forget about it. What I really want to know is what the hell you're doing here, Shaw?”
He frowned as if it were obvious. “We're here to help. We've been watching you. You seem to have picked up the trail.”
“So, now you want to help us? What happened with the Adroanzi?” I demanded.
He frowned.
“The snake people,” I clarified. “What happened when you went after them? You know, the night you told us to let you handle it.” Then I waved the question away. “You know what? I don't care. You didn't kill them and that's all I need to know. You want to help? Fine, we're not going to turn down help, but if you get all stuffy again or if you get in my way, I'm going to break your beak off. Got it?”
Shaw nodded stiffly.
“And what's with the name? Shouldn't it be something Native American? Aren't those your people?” I grumbled. “Where's your cultural pride?”
“We are of all tribes,” he trailed off when he spotted the Native American gods with us. “Teharon of the Mohawks, it's an honor to meet you.”
“The honor's mine.” Teharon hurried forward and offered his hand to Shaw. “Thank you for coming to assist us.”
“I thought I spotted you from the air but wasn't sure. I'm relieved that you are a part of this team.”
“I've been fighting beside the Godhunter for many years now. My grandparents are with us as well.” Teharon motioned Mr. T and Mrs. E forward. “Tsohaonai and Estsanatlehi of the Navajo.”
Shaw bowed deeply to them. The owls gave a clicking cry and my friends inclined their heads as if accepting tribute.
“We will keep watch from above,” Shaw offered. “When you reach the dark one, we will descend and join your ranks.”
With that, Shaw shifted back into a massive owl, his clothes turning into a collar once more, and launched into the air—no wing shield needed this time. The rest of the Itakupe followed him and the birds started circling overhead.
“If they poop on us, I'm having roasted owl for dinner,” I muttered.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The trail led us to a wooded area; it looked like a park. The boy's scent hadn't kept to the sidewalks but often wandered off, leaving me to assume a couple of things: that the Adroanzi didn't have a vehicle and they couldn't hide the kid. The terrain got rough and I was glad I'd worn my boots. Above us, the owls continued to fly, several scouting ahead before circling back. It was probably driving them crazy to have to go at our pace. It would have annoyed me too if I'd been up there with them. I could have been, and I probably would have been able to follow the scent from there as well. But I could end up missing something from that height and this was not the time for mistakes—nine young lives were on the line.
“A cave?” I stared at the shadowy passage, just large enough for Odin to get through if he hunched.
“It's isolated, muffles sound, and is made of earth,” Odin pointed out. “I'm not surprised.”
The Itakupe landed around us, then went into the trees for some privacy to transform. The God Squad, myself included, was still staring at the entrance when they returned—a group of attractive Native Americans dressed in modern clothing. All of them wore stern expressions and leather jackets that went well with their high cheekbones and long noses. Most had long hair—men and women both—but had braided it back for battle.
“We will go in first,” Shaw declared.
I chuckled.
He lifted an eyebrow.
“Don't let me stop you.” I waved him forward. “I just have one word of advice.”
Shaw cocked his head so far to the side that he looked as if his neck might break.
“Trust your gizzard,” I managed to say it with a straight face.
There were some snickers from the Squad, but the owls were not amused. Especially not Shaw.
He straightened his head and pointed out, “That is more than one word.”
“It's an expression.” I rolled my eyes. It was like dealing with Arach. “And a quote. How have you never seen the greatest owl movie of all time?”
“Which of the Harry Potter films do you refer to?” Shaw asked dryly.
I burst out laughing. “None of them, but points for knowing Harry Potter. I'm talking about the movie whose main characters are owls—Legend of the Guardians: The Owls of Ga'Hoole.”
“That is a very long title for a movie.”
“I agree. They should have shortened it to Guardians of Ga'Hoole, it would have better alliteration that way as well.”
Shaw nodded in a pensive way. “Would you prefer to enter the cave first, Godhunter?”
“Not at all.” I shooed him in. “If you wanna take point, by all means, go forth into the creepy snake cave.”
“Well, someone go in already,” Horus growled. “Or have we forgotten there are children about to be murdered?”
“What is up with you?” I turned to narrow my eyes at Horus. “I mean, you're not a jerk who wants kids to die or anything but you're not this guy either.” I waved a hand at him.
Horus flushed and looked at Hekate. Hekate rolled her eyes.
“What's going on here?” Pan asked as he pointed back and forth between Horus and Hekate. “There's something you're not telling us. And by us, I mean me. I demand an explanation.”
“This isn't the time,” Horus snapped. “Can we just save the children and talk about this later?”
“Save the children?” Pan gaped at Horus. Then he slowly shifted his gaze to Hekate's stomach. “Katie, are you knocked up?”
“What did you just ask my wife?” Horus snarled.
“Oh, whatever,” Pan huffed. Then he amended, “Are you with child?”
Hekate grimaced but then nodded.
Persephone squealed in delight and ran over to hug Hekate. Karni Mata, Artemis, Sarasvati, Mrs. E, and even Eztli offered their congratulations. The women gathered around the Goddess of Necromancy and gushed their happiness all over her. All except for me.
“Horus, get your wife out of here right now,” I growled.
Everyone went still. Behind me, the Itakupe were entering the cave, having waited long enough for our nonsense to end. I cursed under my breath and started following them.
“Vervain, you don't get to tell—” Hekate started.
I swung back to face her. “I nearly lost Lesya because I was dumb enough to go into battle while I was pregnant. Do not make my mistake, Kate. Go back to Pride Palace and wait for us there. Protect that child; we can save these without you.”
Kate deflated. Horus, who had been so gung ho mere moments earlier, put his arm around his wife and gave me a grateful, relieved look. He was worried about the kids because he was feeling the impending weight of fatherhood but his biggest concern had been for his wife and their unborn baby. I nodded to him in understanding as he traced away with Hekate.
“Anyone else have some big news to share?” I asked.
Silence.
“All right then, let's get a move on.”
We headed into the gloom—gloom which darkened with every step. I could see in the dark and Gods are known for their superior senses, but someone didn't like the idea of walking through the pitch-black toward a bunch of snake shifte
rs. I think he was a bit rattled by his bestie's revelation.
“Can one of you sun gods pull a Jerry and let there be light in this damn cave?” Pan whined.
Re's metallic skin started to glow. He turned up the wattage until a halo of light extended a good five feet around him. Pan was about to thank him when a rustling came from above us.
“Oh, no,” Brahma muttered with trepidation. Then he shouted, “Get down!”
It was the last thing that could be heard for a good three minutes. That is, the last thing besides the rush of leathery wings. A flurry of little black bodies swooped down and outward. The bats flew past but that small group was only the beginning; more of them came from further in the cave, doubtless startled by the sound of the others. As they surged by, I pondered the saying “like a bat out of Hell.” One bat couldn't possibly be as impressive as a whole cauldron. And yes, a bunch of bats is sometimes referred to as a cauldron (I learned that along with the owl parliament). The more widely used term is a colony of bats, but I'm going with cauldron because it's the coolest collective animal term I've ever heard. Even better than a murder of crows, in my opinion. Though, I might be biased since I'm a witch. My point is, a single bat—fleeing Hell or some dark snake cave—is hardly cause for alarm. The saying should be “like bats out of Hell.”
After the churning cauldron of bats made their dramatic exit, we straightened and stared at each other in the way people do when they've just experienced something startling and a bit humiliating together. It was the we-are-never-going-to-talk-about-this look.
“Well, that wasn't at all ominous,” I noted as we started down the cave again. “I feel like I need to quote Batman but I can't think of anything besides 'To the Bat Cave,' and that's just weak.”
“Especially since it looks as if we're already in the bat cave,” Trevor muttered.
We made it about twenty feet before we came to an owl blockade. The Itakupe were huddled up and some distressing sounds came from the center of their group.
“How about, holy huddled owls, Batman?” Viper suggested with a smirk.
“Good one, babe.” I fist-bumped Viper as I tried to peer around the shoulders of the owls on the outskirts. I finally gave up and asked them, “What did you find?”
“A trap,” one of the owls said. “Arrows shot out of the walls. Several of our people are hurt. We're tending them.”
“Let me through,” Teharon's voice came from behind me.
The Squad shifted aside so Teharon could approach, then the owls moved for him as well. Six of them were revealed on the floor, propped against the cave wall—all being tended to by their fellow owls.
“I can help,” Teharon offered.
“We have it under control, but thank you, He-who-holds-heaven-in-his-hands,” an owl woman said respectfully.
I looked at the arrows embedded in owl chests and grimaced at Viper. “That holy owls thing was kinda spot on. Get it? Owls with holes—holy.”
“Vervain,” Viper scolded.
“What? They're going to be fine. These are the super-healers, remember?”
“I apologize for my rudeness, but if your wounded are stable and being seen to, we must move on,” Odin said to the owls as he eased past them.
“We were just preparing to do so,” Shaw said as he joined Odin. “The wounded and those tending to them will remain here while the rest of us go ahead.”
Odin nodded crisply and the two men started to lead the rest of us through the tunnel. The cave had widened a bit and the ceiling lifted a few feet but the passage was still only large enough for two people to walk abreast. I scanned the tunnel as we walked.
“What triggered the arrows?” Odin asked Shaw before I could.
“A trip line,” Shaw's voice conveyed his irritation at being caught by so simple a trap. “We should have been paying more attention but there was a sudden flight of bats that distracted us.”
Odin glanced back at Re with a grimace.
“Don't blame the Sun for shining,” Re said defensively. “I only turned on the light because I was asked.”
“They're called a cauldron,” I informed Shaw.
“Excuse me?”
“The bats.” I grinned. When was I going to get another chance to use the term? I had to jump on it while the bat iron was hot—or the bat signal still on. “A large group is called a cauldron.”
“I don't believe that's correct,” Shaw protested.
“It's not often used, but it is correct, I assure you,” I insisted.
Then something clicked beneath my foot. I froze and looked down. A portion of the floor had sunk in—a square portion just beneath my boot. Damn it, I'd allowed myself to get distracted by bats too!
“Do not move, Vervain!” Odin said urgently as he hurried back to me. “Everyone stay where you are and look at the ground around you carefully. There are likely to be more traps.”
“I can't just stand here all day,” I grumbled.
“We're gods, whatever happens when Vervain lifts her foot, we'll likely survive it,” Blue pointed out. “I suggest that she just steps off and we take our chances.”
“The first trap was arrows.” Eztli grabbed her husband's forearm. “What if the second is a giant ax swinging at the level of our necks?”
Blue swallowed visibly.
“Anyone got a boulder?” Torrent asked. Then, in response to the looks he was getting, he added, “To set on the trigger plate and hold it down.”
“I don't carry boulders in my pockets, Torrent,” Finn said dryly.
“When did they find the time to do this?” I whined. “This is some serious Indiana Jones crap.”
“The Adroanzi are a large group,” Shaw said gravely. “We underestimated their numbers and that's why we weren't able to neutralize all of them as I'd implied we would.”
“In other words, they probably had a bunch of people here, working on booby traps while others went out to kidnap children?” I shot back.
“Yes.”
“Okay then.” I sighed. Then I frowned in thought. “I don't need a boulder. I need something thin that I can wedge between the cracks of this trigger.”
Brahma pulled a switchblade out of his pocket and handed it to me.
“You carry a switchblade?” I asked as I took it.
“Not all of us have claws at our disposal.”
“Fair enough.” I started to crouch, but Odin stopped me.
“Give it to me.” Odin held out his hand.
I handed over the knife and Odin knelt beside my trigger-pressing foot. He flicked the blade out, then shoved it between the pressure plate and the cave floor. Using the heel of his hand, he pushed down on the hilt until the blade was wedged firmly.
Odin looked up at me but remained where he was to say, “Lift your foot very slowly.”
I carefully lifted my foot and the pressure plate stayed put. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief as Odin got to his feet.
“All right, we need to be especially aware of our surroundings,” Odin declared. “Watch the floor, the walls, and the damn ceiling. In fact, split up the watch. Form groups with each person focusing on one area.”
“We don't have the time for this,” I huffed. “If only the tunnel was wide enough to accommodate my wingspan.”
Shaw looked around pensively, then shook his head. “It's still too narrow for us as well.”
“I could do it,” Odin offered. “A raven can navigate this tunnel, no problem.”
“No,” I whispered. Then I repeated in a stronger tone, “No. Not alone. You have a bad track record with caves.”
Shaw cocked his head at Odin in that weird, owl way.
“I died in one,” Odin said simply.
Shaw's eyes widened.
“We're dealing with a god,” Azrael reminded us. “These traps have been mild so far, likely left by his children, but he could do far worse and there might be triggers above ground level as well. Even humans have motion detectors.”
That sobered
us.
“You know what?” I snarled as I shifted into my half-dragon form—without the wings or tail so I didn't mess up my clothes. “Screw this. They're just a bunch of snakes.”
Shaw's stare took in my horns and golden scales. “The rumors are true; you're a dragon.”
“That's right, Hedwig.” I slipped past him. “And I come equipped with my own armor.”
