by Renée Jaggér
God Trials
WereWitch™ Book Seven
Renée Jaggér
This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.
Copyright © LMBPN Publishing
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LMBPN Publishing
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Las Vegas, NV 89109
First US Release, October 2020
eBook ISBN: 978-1-64971-210-3
Print ISBN: 978-1-64971-211-0
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Note from Renée
Books from Renée
Chapter One
“For fuck’s sake,” Bailey Nordin grumbled, “just give it up. You’re never gonna beat me.”
A Camaro cruised down the winding country roads in the semi-flat land to the east of Greenhearth, Oregon, driving faster than was smart (or legal), with another car hugging its rear bumper.
The Camaro was glossy black and modified in important ways. It was lowered, for one thing, and had been fitted with a 351 small-block Ford engine.
The vehicle right behind it was a white Audi TT, supercharged. Its exact position varied, but it stayed close behind the Camaro, trying to force it aside and pull ahead.
The driver of the black vehicle had no intention of allowing that to happen.
She pressed her booted foot down harder on the gas, kicking her speed up to a semi-dangerous level as the road ahead began to curve. They were veering northward now, ascending into the mountains, where the terrain would become more treacherous.
The Camaro scythed around the bend, flying far enough out to the side that the driver of the Audi might have been able to pass her if he’d reacted quickly enough. He missed his opportunity, and Bailey rocketed ahead again, barely cutting him off as the road twisted around a low cliff.
A rusty pickup truck rumbled into sight, and the stunned redneck driver laid on his horn in terror as the two sports cars jetted past him and vanished up the mountainside.
Bailey grinned at the white car hovering behind her shoulder, filling her rearview mirror. Its driver was glaring through the windshield. In addition to being out in front, she had one other advantage; she knew this road. He’d never driven on it before.
She tapped her brakes, slowing down a hair, right before they came to a sharp bend, so she was able to coast around the curve with her foot off the gas. The Audi accelerated as soon as Bailey’s brake lights went out, only to hit the curve and brake in panicked alarm. Now three car lengths ahead of him, it occurred to her that he might have gone off the road and plummeted into the gorge below.
If that had happened, she had ways of stopping it.
The white car advanced again, though, and its nose was practically touching her bumper once more when the broad pull-over area by the scenic overlook hove into sight. Bailey jerked the wheel to the right and skidded onto the unpaved space less than a second before her opponent.
“Hah!” She laughed as the Camaro fishtailed its way to a stop. “I win.” She killed the engine and climbed out as the Audi came to a stop alongside her.
The driver’s side door of the white car opened and out stepped a slender, handsome blond man. “Goddammit!” he exclaimed, “I was this close to winning, but noooo, you had to go and ruin my first circuit race in this lovely vehicle. Buncha horseshit.” He pretended to glare at her.
Bailey put her hands on her hips. “Psshht, yeah, yeah, whatever. I beat your ass fair and square.”
He sulked, his mouth pouting and his foot tapping on the pavement.
“So,” Bailey went on, “since you lost, you have to forfeit something. That’s the way the game is played. Any ideas?”
“Hmm…” He tapped his chin with a long finger. “None whatsoever.”
Shaking her head in mild exasperation, Bailey strode over to the wizard, put a hand on his neck, and snagged a quick kiss.
“There,” she said. “I’ll take that. Fair?”
He rolled his eyes up as though thinking it over. “Sure, why not?”
The two of them leaned against his car, their arms twined around one another’s waists, and stared out over the scenic overlook, admiring the hills and gorges and the distant blue peaks of the eastern Cascades.
The werewitch nudged her boyfriend in the ribs. “It was a good race. I kinda figured I’d walk all over you and it’d take you five minutes to catch up after I arrived here, so good job.”
“Gosh, thanks.” He snorted, but then nuzzled the top of her head. “It was a good race. And it’s a nice day. The mountains are warmer and drier than how I remember summers in Seattle.”
Unspoken but on both of their minds was the question of whether Roland would ever go home, or if he meant to live with Bailey indefinitely in her hometown of Greenhearth. She suspected the latter.
“Yeah,” Bailey remarked. “We mostly get Pacific Northwest weather out here, but not quite the same as up by the Puget Sound. Anyway, I’m glad we’ve got our lives back. Having time to do fun stuff, not always being at war.”
Roland nodded. “Indeed.” He peered at her face curiously. “Well, as much as things can be ‘normal’ with you being a goddess. That kinda puts a different spin on, uh, everything.”
She frowned. “I suppose. I’m still me. Most of the time, I don’t feel much different, though at times I feel...manic? Like I’m gonna burst or something, not necessarily in a bad way. But you’re right. Shit,” she muttered and shook her head as she looked back the way they’d come, toward the Hearth Valley.
“I gotta admit,” she went on, “I’m still not sure what the hell that means. What the implications are for the future. At least things have been quiet.”
Roland gave her hand a squeeze. “In a way, I suppose the whole ‘deity’ thing is contributing to the quietness. The you-know-who seem to have learned their lesson about fucking with you, and with them out of the way, the impression I’m getting is that relations between witches and Weres have never been better. And not only between us, of course.”
She flicked at his face. “I know that, you dork, but yeah, true. All the fight seems to have gone out of the Venatori now that their nasty stuck-up goddess is dead.
Since Bailey defeated Aradia and her elite contingent of witch-knights, the dreaded Venatori Order had been huddled up in Europe, not making a peep. The girl suspected they were too prideful to make a proper peace offering, let alone an apology, and too weakened to offer further retaliation. They probably hoped Bailey would simply forget about them while they licked their wounds.
She hadn’t forgotten. She wasn’t going to exceed the mandate of self-defense by stamping out their cowering survivor
s, either, though she had the power to do so. She wasn’t like that.
The Men in Black, the Agency, or whatever they were truly called, had also left her alone. They’d worked together against the Venatori, but not hearing from them was probably for the best. No news was good news.
“In fact,” Bailey added, “I’ve even had time to do my proper shaman duties, finally. Kinda nice to use my powers for something other than fighting, weird as that might sound coming from me.”
“It does sound weird,” Roland quipped.
In the five weeks since the final battle, she’d ministered to her packs, resolved minor disputes, and helped a pack from southern Oregon sort through a succession crisis. Their alpha was getting old, and too many of his lieutenants wanted to replace him. Bailey had advised them to select the most prudent and thoughtful of the candidates while assuring the others that they would retain positions of honor at the new alpha’s right hand.
She’d also abused her cosmic powers slightly to make sure Roland got the Audi at an unusually modest price. She was trying to keep to a vow to avoid shit like that, though.
“But,” the werewitch opined, “I don’t think it’ll stay like this forever. Will it? There’s always one thing or another about to go wrong. I dunno. Just a hunch.”
Roland raised an index finger to his lips. “Shhh. If you absolutely have to worry, don’t do it out loud. It can summon the very trouble you’re trying to avoid if you’re not careful.”
Bailey snorted and ruffled his hair. “Bullshit. Old wives’ tale. I’ll worry as much as I damn well please.”
Three seconds after she’d said that, a glowing portal that shimmered like iridescent purple water opened in the air beside them, and out stepped a tall, broad-shouldered man wearing a bulky hooded coat despite the warmth of the day.
Roland cleared his throat. “See? I told you.”
Bailey made a point of ignoring the wizard. “Fenris. Hi, haven’t seen you in a while. What brings you to, uh, this random stretch of back-ass road?”
As usual, the wolf-god’s face was grim but not unfriendly. “Several things,” he began in his deep, gravelly voice. “First of all, I’d like to congratulate you on all the progress you’ve made and the things you’ve accomplished of late. Routine shaman duties may be less flashy than winning battles against a powerful enemy, but they are no less important. Small problems within the werewolf community can easily grow into large problems if not handled with both speed and wisdom.”
She smiled. “Thanks.”
“But,” Fenris continued, drawing himself up.
Roland interrupted, “I knew there would be a ‘but.’ Speaking of which, bend over and spread ‘em, because I’m sure it’ll be bad news. Right?”
Fenris glanced at the wizard, grimacing, but did not respond. He looked back at Bailey and resumed his speech.
“But with your recent elevation in power to the level of outright divinity, another issue has presented itself. You have the abilities and potential of a goddess, yet you are not one. At least, not officially. You have no place in the existing pantheon. No one acknowledges you as ruler over anything besides a handful of your friends and supporters.”
Bailey blinked. She hadn’t thought about it that way.
“And,” the wolf-deity went on, “once again, you have more power than you know what to do with, more than you know how to use. In a way, it’s like when you first arose as a werewitch months ago. The vast majority of mortals do not become gods. You were born mortal, and your mind is only capable of processing information in a mortal way. So far, anyway.”
Roland had slipped out of his casually cocky demeanor and had instead grown aloof with thoughtfulness. “Yes,” he agreed. “There are stories of individuals who’ve suddenly come into immense stores of magical power and found themselves overwhelmed or squandered their potential because they didn’t know what the hell they were doing. It probably helps that Bailey has already been through that process, sorta, but ascending to godhood is beyond anything I’m familiar with.”
The girl looked at the two of them. “I feel fine most of the time, honestly. Once in a while, it’s like something surges up inside me, and I’ll admit I’ve been anxious about the whole thing. But so far, it hasn’t been a disaster for me. Or anyone else.”
Fenris gave a slow nod. “So far, yes. You still possess a mortal body, and you’ve not exercised the full extent of your powers, which is for the best. If you’d tried, the results might have been devastating. There’s no way a mortal can deal with such a change to the fundamental nature of their being without learning some major adaptations, and those changes might permanently alter you.”
The werewitch went cold within. She had proven her bravery many times, but being brave was not the same thing as never feeling fear.
Roland sighed. “I can see where this is going. Back to the Other for oodles more training, am I right?”
Fenris’s mouth twisted into a small smile. “Not quite.”
Bailey took a deep breath. Although things had been nice and quiet for weeks, she’d expected something like this. Though she’d rather linger around town, enjoying the peace she and her allies had purchased through so much effort and sacrifice, rational thought told her that Fenris was right.
What if the Venatori came back, or a disgruntled shaman challenged her, or a natural disaster struck? Bailey might need her new powers, and, not knowing how to fully control them yet, might make a catastrophic mistake, destroying herself or others.
She let out the breath she’d taken. “All right. Whatever I need to do, I’ll do it. I’ve made it through do-or-die scenarios before. Just give me a warning of what to expect. Otherwise, I trust you to teach me. You’ve always been good at that, Fenris. I could never have got this far without you.”
He raised a hand and put it on her shoulder, but then retracted it.
“It is possible,” he stated, “that I alone will not be responsible for what is to come next. You see, what I must do is take you before a conclave of other gods and goddesses to discuss with them how to handle your situation. And since I’ve heard from them only recently, we must go as soon as possible.”
Roland squinted. “Which gods are we talking about here? We’ve met Freya and Balder. Freya is technically my goddess, anyway.”
“You, Roland,” Fenris answered him, “must stay behind. The deities need to speak to Bailey alone. Or Bailey and me, in any event. At this very moment, they are discussing her. I’ll not have her misrepresented.”
The werewitch rubbed her eyes. “Okay, then let’s go. I’m ready.”
Fenris closed the portal he’d arrived through and opened another. Bailey wondered where it led. “I cannot promise you’ll be back any particular time.”
“Understood.” She turned to Roland and clasped him in a big hug. “Take care of my dumbass brothers while I’m gone. Maybe it’s them who should be taking care of your dumb ass. Either way. I’ll be back when I can, or at least send word.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I’ll miss you. Stay safe and be strong. You always do, but still.”
She kissed him back, then turned toward the glimmering amethyst doorway. “This time, there’s no external threat. That helps.” She strode into the portal behind the wolf-father, leaving the wizard alone.
He watched her go, trying not to admit that the sight depressed him. A thought popped into his head.
“Oh, shit,” he rasped. “What the hell am I supposed to do with her fucking car?”
Bailey’s eyes bugged out when she examined the place into which they’d warped. “Holy crap.”
“Exactly,” Fenris agreed.
The girl let out a sputtering chortle. “I keep forgetting that you’ve learned how to make jokes. No offense.”
After the deep chill and brief sensation of dizziness that always accompanied teleportation, they had emerged into a long, broad, high-ceilinged hall made of pale stone and sparkling blue crystal. Ahead, an arched doorway
waited, though a whitish haze obscured what lay beyond it.
“Are we in the Other?” Bailey asked. “Or somewhere else?”
Fenris motioned for her to follow him as he tramped down the hall. “We are in a portion of the divine realm that abuts and overlaps part of the Other. I cannot explain it to you beyond that.”
She shrugged. “That’ll do. I get the idea.”
The corridor looked as though it stretched for miles, but it felt like mere seconds before they passed through the hazy white arch. The room beyond was even more stunning.
The floor and walls were of smooth white marble, though the windows that looked out on the azure void and clouds were made of thin sheets of the blue crystal they’d seen in the hall. The domed ceiling was marble and gold. Six golden thrones lined the edges of the circular chamber, and everything was studded with jewels that pulsed with an inner light. Everything was so beautiful, it hurt Bailey’s eyes to look upon it.
It was the beings seated upon the half-dozen thrones who commanded the most attention.
In the leftmost chair was Freya, whom Bailey recognized, a tall, severely beautiful woman with Nordic features wearing a crown of green leaves and ivy, with emerald sparks playing about her eyes and fingers.
Two seats to the right was Balder, still wearing a golden suit of armor. His hair matched, and his perfectly sculpted face was placid and innocent.
Between the two of them was another Norse deity Bailey assumed must be Thor Odinson, given his huge muscles, red beard, and dented iron helm. A great hammer rested near his booted feet.
To Balder’s right was a slender, dark-haired, plainly dressed man Bailey thought looked oddly familiar, though she couldn’t think of where she might have seen him or who he might be. He wore a curious, mischievous little smile.
