Half Bad: A Reverse Harem Goddess Romance (Godhunter Book 31)

by Amy Sumida

  Adro shouted in wordless rage when he saw me and then started to shift. I noted the direction of his gaze and followed it to a cage on my left. Within the cage, nine human children huddled in fear.

  Oh, hell no.

  The owls and the God Squad were pouring into the room behind me, but I didn't waste time on explanations. I just released my wings and leapt into the air. My flying hop brought me to the children seconds before Adro—in giant snake form—managed to slither down the tiers like an ebony waterfall. I settled into a battle stance before the cage, spread my wings to block the children, drew in a deep breath, and released my fire along with my fury upon the bad god.

  Adro curled over and back upon himself, shrieking horribly. Magic shot for him across the cavern, launched by the other gods, but Adro was already retreating up the tiers and as he ascended, the tiers crumbled away. He made it to the top and shifted back into his other form.

  As we gathered below Adro, Viper strode into the cavern with the Adroanzi docilely following him like rats with the Pied Piper.

  “What have you done to my children?” Adro roared hollowly.

  “Honestly, I haven't the foggiest.” Viper shrugged. “I think I converted them.”

  “You... you...” Adro sputtered. “You cannot convert them! They are mine!”

  While Adro was distracted, I tore open the cage. “I know I look really scary, but I'm here to save you.”

  The kids cowered away from me. Damn. Would shifting into a naked woman be better or worse than my weredragon form?

  “I swear that I won't hurt you—”

  “Let me, Carus,” Azrael offered as he stepped up, then spread his wings.

  The children looked at Azrael as if he were, well, exactly what he was. They rushed forward to cling to him, crying and begging that he save them. Azrael's wings swept down around the children protectively, reminding me of a religious painting I'd seen once. I tried to not let it bother me. So what if a bunch of kids saw me as a monster and Az as a savior? It didn't matter as long as they were safe. Okay, it kinda stung but it was the smallest pain I'd experienced that day and I'm honest enough to admit that it was also petty.

  Azrael quickly led the children toward the tunnel, his wings stretching wide to block them from Adro. But Adro was still raging at Viper and screaming at the unresponsive Adroanzi, trying to reclaim his progeny. He didn't even notice that his precious sacrifices were escaping until it was too late.

  “What have you done?!” Adro screamed at all of us when he finally noticed the empty cage. “Why? Why won't you leave me alone?!”

  “Because you're killing people,” Torrent said with an obvious tone. “You killed kids.”

  “So what? They're humans, they barely live before they die. What do their lives matter in relation to mine? I am eternal, and I am in eternal hell because of them.”

  “You accepted their worship,” Odin said sternly. “You could have refused.”

  “I didn't know it would do this to me!” Adro waved a hand at himself. “Did any of you think this was what we risked when we accepted their offerings? Huh? Can you honestly say that you wouldn't do everything within your power to change this if it were your life?”

  “I would try,” Thor admitted. “But I would also cease those efforts when I realized that changing things could destroy me and all of my fellow gods.”

  “It wouldn't have, you fool!” Adro shouted. “That's why I needed the children. With their young blood, I would have had enough magic to offset the break. It would have been fine if you had only minded your own fucking business!”

  “It wouldn't have worked, Adro,” Odin said calmly. “You would have destroyed yourself and possibly all of us along with you.”

  “No, I wouldn't have. I found a spell to remake a myth. I needed a lot of power to fuel it, including nine children sacrifices, but it would have worked.”

  “What spell?” Odin asked skeptically.

  Adro laughed mirthlessly. “I'm not sharing my secret with you, Oathbreaker. Especially not now that you've ruined everything.”

  “There is no such spell,” Odin declared. “If you found one, it's a fake—a hoax to fool a god.”

  “It's not a fake!” Adro roared. His roar went on and on—frustration, fury, and hopelessness ringing within it.

  I cringed to hear such pain but then the roar gained meaning. Adro began to chant. He lifted his chin and spoke words that resonated through the cavern. Words that sparked in the air and tingled across my skin. Magical words.

  He was casting a witch's spell.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  The Itakupe launched themselves into the air, shifting as they went. The sound of wings became physical, thudding against my eardrums along with the resonance of Adro's chanting. The witch in me recognized my craft and the goddess in me cringed. How was this possible? Adro was a god, he shouldn't have been able to cast witch magic. And yet, there he was, speaking the words and crafting the spell.

  Everyone who had a projectile attack cast it, magic streaking through magic, and the air crackled with power. It sparked with it. I'd never felt such a build-up of energy before—such a vortex of potential. It drew me forward, sucking at my skin like a vacuum, and I found myself digging the claws on my feet into the earth to resist it even as I breathed fire at Adro.

  An explosion of feathers—like that of a burst pillow—filled the air as the Itakupe hit a gleaming barrier. Our magic struck the same impediment and as the owls tumbled to the ground, our magic fizzled out furiously. Adro grinned as he continued to chant. Out of options and time, I reached for my star. This was surely a situation worthy of her help. We couldn't let Adro succeed in his spell.

  The star brightened inside my chest and relief washed through me, but when I wished for Adro to be stopped, my capricious star only shimmered. Was I supposed to reach through it to the Nine Great Magics myself? It was a connection between the Nine and me and there had been times when I was able to use the magic as if it were my own instead of making a wish on the Trinity Star. But what would help me here? Control? Hate? None of the others seemed as if they'd help. And that was why the star was always my best bet: it combined the Nine and made them into something more than the sum of its parts. Something infinite and unstoppable.

  I tried anyway. I sent my awareness through that blinding light and reached for Control—or Domination, depending on how you used it. It seemed the best option. My awareness started to slide through the realms into a place where only energy existed. I felt the magic reaching back for me like a long-lost lover.

  Come closer, touch me, it spoke into my mind. I can give you the power to rule all that you behold. All of that and more.

  I flinched away. I knew that voice. Not the sound of it exactly but the feel of it. It's subtle manipulation. I had listened to it once, back when evil had ruled my heart, and I had nearly succumbed to all it offered. With horror, I realized how dangerous it was to touch a magical source like this, especially after I'd been touched by evil. Without the star or Faerie to serve as a bridge or mediator, I was susceptible to the allure of raw power. Any of the Nine could corrupt me, even Love. I'd seen first-hand how Love could twist a person. These were unlimited sources of magic and without limits, even the purest soul could go bad. Faerie had once implied that I'd been chosen because I was strong enough to bear the Trinity Star, but she'd never said that I was strong enough to use the magic the star could access. And there was a huge difference.

  My willpower buckled. I could hear the steady pound of my army marching to war and the cheering of humans I conquered. I felt their worship. Their adoration. Their fear. My back straightened and my chin lifted. My heart filled with purpose and pride as all thoughts of Adro disappeared.

  Vervain! Alaric, the Consciousness of the Void, shouted in my mind. Remember who you are. You don't want this. You want to save the world, not rule it! Just hold on a little longer! Help is coming.

  But the magic was whispering to me again. It's righ
t here, all the power you need. You could change the world. Stop all wars. Become a true goddess. Just let me in and set me free.

  Somewhere deep inside, I saw the truth. I knew that this vast power couldn't act on its own. It was helpless without someone to wield it—a sword in its sheath. It fueled the Fey and the Gods, it even powered the spells of witches, but it was confined. No one could touch it as I could, or give it a body to inhabit and the true freedom it craved. Only I could release Domination upon the Realms.

  And what great things we shall do together, Control declared. We got so close last time. But now, you're wiser and pure. Evil isn't clouding your mind or heart. You'll do better, Vervain. You'll accomplish what you set out to and you'll do it mercifully. You will bring peace to Earth. Utopia.

  I whimpered through clenched teeth. I knew that if I let Control in, I would lose myself as surely as I had to evil. I'd become the Dark Star once more except for this time, it would be one of the Nine Great Magics that ruled me, not darkness. Images of a great destiny rolled through my mind, both tempting and horrifying. I wanted what it offered but I knew it was a lie. Despite my certainty, I was losing the fight. Domination was seeping into my star, blocking out all other magic. The Trinity Star would soon cease to exist.

  Then I felt a hand in mine. Strong, sure, and steady. My eyes were closed, but I could see the light coming from that hand and flowing into my skin. The star inside me responded, expanding its light to speak to this one. Speak. Stars can speak to each other. I immediately knew who was holding my hand, even without reaching through our connection—which I couldn't do while joined with Control.

  “Viper,” I whispered into the cyclone of sound whirring around us.

  Viper pulled me back. His star urged mine to break the connection between Control and me. To save us both. That bond didn't break so much as thin—stretch back into its normal tether. But at that distance, the urge to claim the power vanished. My willpower returned and I regained control of myself. How ironic that reaching for Domination had nearly enslaved me.

  I opened my eyes and turned my head to smile gratefully at Viper. But he wasn't looking at me. His glowing eyes were set high on the cavern wall—on Adro.

  Adro was shouting his spell now, but the words were lost to the fury of the world. And yes, the world was angry. It began to rumble all around us. Gods braced themselves like pirates on the high seas—arms out and legs wide. Rocks started to fall from the ceiling and the very air tore. A rent formed before Adro, the sound of its creation echoing like thunder—a terrible, shrieking, torturous noise. It was a tall, jagged thing edged in crimson like a wound. The bloody borders glowed and clung together as they were stretched apart, but they weren't strong enough to resist the spell.

  A white shape appeared behind the opening, hazy at first. It came into focus as the tear widened, revealing one terrified eye and a hand lifted in warding. Adroa's half-face was a picture of protest and pleading—mouth open on a cry—and his tall body bent nearly double as he tried to fight the pull of his bad half's spell. The magic drew him forth regardless, yanking him from the God Realm and into the Human to leave him standing on the Earth for the first time since he had been made a god.

  Adroa shook his half-head in denial and screamed something at Adro. Adro only smiled and stretched out his arm, eager to be made whole. I couldn't help feeling a twinge of sympathy for him. Who wouldn't want to be complete? But life gives us all burdens to bear and most of us don't threaten entire races with our attempts to overcome them.

  The Itakupe were gaining their feet but all they could do was watch as impotently as the rest of us. The spell was too far gone; it had advanced as I fought my inner battle. Nothing would be able to stop it now, not even my star, it seemed. Or perhaps the contrary thing simply didn't want to stop it. If that were the case, it meant this was fated to happen. But I just couldn't imagine how that could be. Because I knew, without a doubt, that I was witnessing the end of the Gods.

  And that would mean my end as well.

  My stare sought my husbands. Azrael wasn't there but Odin, Re, Trevor, and Kirill were all stumbling across the shaking floor, trying to reach me. I knew we wouldn't reach each other in time so I mentally connected with all of them, including Az, and told them I loved them. I let them feel that love and my deep gratitude to have been given what time I had with them. I thought of my children too and Arach. I deeply regretted leaving him without saying goodbye. My poor dragon. I hoped he'd be strong enough to survive my death this time. Azrael was on his way back to us and his sudden panic stabbed at my mind but was soon lost to the cacophony of emotions inside me. They were all calling to me, their voices jumbling into one sound, but I felt what they were trying to convey. Love—in the end, it's all that matters.

  Adroa's two halves stood together, staring at each other: one in horror and one in triumph. Energy swirled around them—sparking and flashing—and their arm-less sides, those flat places where they should have been connected, glowed. A web of light crackled to life like lightning, arcing from one glowing side to the other, then slowly started to draw Adroa to Adro. It was almost beautiful. They swung gracefully from facing each other to facing forward, that sparkling energy popping eagerly. As they neared each other, their skin shifted—one lightening and one darkening—and a deep umber color infused them until they were both the same shade of rich coffee. Their heights evened in the same way—one shortening and one growing—until they looked like two halves of the same man.

  And the halves became one.

  The moment of their union heralded many things. First, came a rumbling crack as if mountains had collided, then the world bucked like a wild horse, sending gods tumbling. Light burst from the reunited god, emanating in all directions like an exploding star. There was one second of sublime euphoria for the completed Adroa—one moment when his expression smoothed into utter joy and his arms opened and lifted in a gesture of profound freedom.

  Then the magic that bound gods to humans shuddered.

  Every god felt it, not just those who stood there, bearing witness. The trauma of the blow to the foundation of our existence rippled out from the wound that was Adroa. Adroa dropped to his knees and emitted a blood-curdling scream. Seconds later, the gods echoed him.

  All but Viper and me.

  During Adroa's unification, the Trinity Star had decided to do something at last. She acted on her own, or perhaps in response to my need. Or maybe even in answer to Viper's star. I don't know for certain. I honestly wasn't paying attention, what with the existence of nearly everyone I loved ending. All I know is that Viper and I rose off the ground seconds before it shook and light began to emanate from our skin just as it started to emerge from cracks that spread across Adroa's new body. Viper's light magnified mine and the combined illumination rushed forward to encapsulate Adroa. As soon as he was confined in a bubble of starlight, the other gods stopped screaming and started to get to their feet, albeit panting and unsteady. But Adroa's cries only worsened.

  Viper and I rose to Adroa's height. We stared directly into his brown, terrified eyes as the cracks in his flesh widened and the whirling magic inside him was revealed. Outwardly, he appeared to be one man but inside, his magic resisted. Dark and light fought each other in the ultimate battle, forced to inhabit the same space. They couldn't find peace and they certainly couldn't unite. They had been born to be separate and their collision was creating a chain reaction that would have detonated the entire God World... had the light of two stars not been containing it.

  With one last scream, Adroa burst apart, his body disintegrating as all of his stolen magic struck the obstacle of starlight we'd placed around him. The starlight brightened until it was all I could see but I didn't close my eyes. The Earth trembled, the God Realm tensed, and the Aether rang with a discordant note. Reality stretched like a rubber band before snapping back into place. That snap sent Viper and me tumbling to the ground.

  Viper wrapped himself around me, even as I tried to do
the same to him. But as he moved, he shifted, becoming a giant snake. His coils caught me and cushioned our landing but the shock wave of magic still left me gasping. No other ward would have contained that explosion—that living bomb. I could feel it in my chest—the certainty that had there been no Trinity Star, there would now be no Gods and possibly, no realms. I laid across Viper's curled tail, my arms and legs akimbo, and stared at the barren cave wall in weary relief. Even the platform of rock Adroa had stood upon was gone.

  I swung my head wearily toward my right and met the stare of a giant pit viper. A slender nose nuzzled my face before Viper shifted, his body taking shape around mine, and I found myself lying within a pair of muscular arms. He cradled me closer and I lifted a claw-tipped hand, shifting it on the way to his cheek. The transformation slid over my entire body until we were both sitting there naked, pressed together, with my hand on his face. We stared into each other's eyes as if we could see forever in them.