by Amy Sumida
“Love is a type of insanity.”
“Then may I never be sane,” I whispered just before he kissed me.
Chapter Seventeen
I woke to the scent of hot butter, fried batter, and brewing coffee. I inhaled deeply and stretched. My sleep had been nightmare free and my morning free of a little cub who loved to pounce on her mother's belly.
“I love that lion-man of mine,” I murmured happily and snuggled back under the covers.
This is what it would be like if it were just us. I know I had just been thinking about how much I appreciated the Intare magic, but days like this—times when I could focus solely on one man I loved—were precious to me too. Kirill did thoughtful things like this for me normally; taking care of breakfast or Lesya or both. But his contributions sometimes got lost in the shuffle of a busy day. I knew he did those things, and I loved him for it, but there were also other men demanding my attention. Today, I could focus purely on Kirill and our daughter.
When I wasn't tracking a missing goddess, that is.
I opened my eyes and stared at the wood beams above me. I'd been having nightmares about Marduk and his stupid Tablet of Destinies for months now but as soon as someone brought me a problem, I slept like a baby. Was I addicted to being the Godhunter? I'd always whined—in my head—about wanting a normal life but did I truly want to give up the fight? Or did I thrive on it? Had I become so accustomed to struggle that I didn't know what to do when I had it easy? A soldier without a war. Or perhaps fighting Gods made me feel more deserving of everything I had.
“Brussels Sprouts!” I cursed. “That's ridiculous! I can enjoy my time off. I'm not addicted to war.”
I muttered my way into a sweater-dress then pulled on a cardigan. When I looked up in the mirror I cringed.
“Is that a mom sweater?” I asked my reflection. “Am I dressing like a soccer mom? Oh, hell no.” I yanked the cardigan off. I didn't need it anyway; the dress was a sweater. Who wears a sweater on top of a sweater? It doesn't sit well, for one thing. I grimaced at myself. “Pull it together, Godhunter. This isn't the good kind of insanity.”
I'd been talking to myself more often lately. It's an old habit, but it got worse when I lost my magic and became human for a little while. I'd done a lot of talking to myself then. Mainly because I was losing my damn mind. Ironically, talking to myself helped to keep me sane. That didn't seem to be the case anymore.
I looked back at the discarded sweater. Was I scared of being normal? What was wrong with looking like a mom; soccer or otherwise? I am a mom. And soccer moms are fit. They're MILFs, right? MILFs with bags of orange wedges. I scowled at the thin knit, all soft pink and feminine. I didn't want to be that mom.
“It's such a nice sweater,” I murmured. “But do I really need to wear it beneath a fur coat? That seems like overkill, even for a dragon.”
“Mommy, who are you talking to?” Lesya had the door cracked open and was giggling through the opening at me.
“Myself,” I said brightly. “I had no choice; I woke up alone.”
“I talk to myself too. But it's with my toys.”
“That's different, baby,” I said as I scooted her back and stepped out into the main room. “I was just working through some thoughts aloud, not playing.”
“Sit.” Kirill motioned to the bench as he put a platter of pancakes down on the table before it. “Enough talking to yourself. Both of you.”
“I want syrup,” Lesya declared as she scooted onto the bench beside me.
“Is that how you get it?” I lifted a brow at her.
“May I have some syrup please, Daddy?” She asked sweetly.
Kirill chuckled and put the bottle down in front of her. “Not too much; Mommy is tracking someone today, and I don't vant you distracting her vith sugar-crazies.”
I paused with my hand halfway to my coffee cup. “I thought we agreed that we were taking Lesya back to Pride Palace before we meet up with Jarilo?”
“Da, but I changed my mind.” Kirill sat on Lesya's other side. “If ve take her back, other children vill be upset ven she leaves again.”
“But you don't think it's dangerous to take her with us?”
Lesya's eyes ping-ponged back and forth between us while she poured syrup over her pancakes.
“Lesya, that's enough.” I snagged the bottle before she emptied the entire contents on her plate.
“Ve vill be vith her. And she knows how to trace home if she has to. Zat's whole reason ve taught her to trace. Vhy send her back now?”
“But a goddess has disappeared,” I protested. “This could be more than a human killer.”
“I'm not scared,” Lesya declared.
“That's a problem.” I grimaced at her.
Lesya frowned. “I'm a brave girl. Why is that a problem?”
“Being brave doesn't mean you're not afraid, Lesya,” I said sternly. “It means you do what's right despite your fear. But fear is a good thing; it's your instincts telling you to be careful. If you don't have fear, you become reckless and do things like climbing up the wall of a ruined castle.”
“Mommy,” she whined.
“She is old enough to see vhat you do,” Kirill said. “She's already saved you, Vervain. Zis is minor zing; ve only take her tracking. A good start for her. Safe.”
“I don't want her starting this at all,” I growled.
“Zis is our life. It's better for her to be prepared. Better zan coddling her and leaving her vulnerable. She's Intare, Tima. Your heir. She must be taught to lead the Pride.”
I gaped at him. Yes, Kirill was making sense and yes, he'd said similar things before about Lesya's future. But just the day before he'd agreed to take her home. Why the sudden change? Or was it sudden? Kirill was the one who had pressed for teaching Lesya to trace. Had the thing with the Mesopotamians changed him too? Was he seesawing with his old self as I was? And, most importantly, how did I feel about his new perspective? Lead the Pride? She'd be three in a few months. Come on.
“What about getting backup?” I asked.
“Zis is my country; I vant us to handle it alone.”
“Kirill, I don't know—”
“Vervain, let me be alpha for once,” he said softly. No , not softly, quietly. He dropped his voice but his stare remained sharp. “I can look after my family.”
Damn. What could I say to that?
“All right,” I gave in. “We'll try this on our own.”
“I'm going with you?” Lesya asked gleefully.
“Da.” Kirill bent and kissed her forehead. “Mommy vill track and I vill teach you.”
“I'm going to track like you, Mommy. I'll help find lost people.”
“That's right, baby,” I said brightly while something clenched in my belly.
Chapter Eighteen
Jarilo waited at the end of the peninsula, just past the treeline on the rocky shore. He stood near the water, his stare set on the calm surface, his hands deep in the pockets of his coat, and something about him reminded me of—
“Ull,” I whispered in shock, stopping in my tracks.
“Vhat?” Kirill had kept walking with Lesya but paused to look back at me.
“Jarilo,” I kept my voice down, “doesn't he remind you of Ull?”
Kirill frowned and stared at the man.
“Look past his coloring. Look at the angles of his face and the curve of his lips. How did I miss it?”
“He is not Ull, Vervain,” Kirill said gently.
“Of course not.” I finally looked at Kirill. “Ull's soul is in Brevyn now. That man is not him, but he looks remarkably like him.”
Kirill cocked his head and nodded. “Easier to see vith light before him. Strange.”
“And if he's not Ull then that man I saw the other day may not be Loki,” I concluded in epiphany.
Kirill blinked. “Zat makes more sense.”
“And whoever he is, he's likely involved in the drownings and maybe even in Mokosh's disappearance.”
<
br /> “Perhaps. Or he vas just curious.”
“Let's ask Jarilo.” I strode out of the trees and up to the waiting god.
“Godhunter, thank you for coming,” Jarilo said solemnly.
“Please, call me Vervain.”
“Zank you.” He nodded then held up a bundle of silk. “I brought a piece of my mother's clothing.”
“Great, but first, I have a couple of questions.”
“Okay.” He lowered his hand.
“Why were you raised by Volos?”
Jarilo blinked, his lips parting in surprise.
“Because zat vas our agreement,” a man said in a Russian accent as he stepped over to us.
I shifted my gaze and gaped at the new guy. “Thor? What the... you're not Thor.”
“No.” The new guy grinned. “But I understand your confusion.”
“What the hell is going on here?” I demanded of Jarilo. “First I see Loki, then I notice that you look like my dead friend Ull and now, Thor's twin walks up.”
“Our pantheon is very close to the Norse,” the not-Thor explained. “Several of us are similar in magic and appearance. I am Perun, God of Sky, Zunder, Lightning, War, Storms, Rain, Law, War, and Fertility.”
I nearly rolled my eyes; Thor had droned on about all of his magic when we first met too. I decided to go with the same reaction. You know; for old time's sake.
“Impressive resume,” I said dryly. “Could you just do me a favor and say the name Thor?”
“Vervain,” Kirill chided but his lips twitched.
“Zor? Vhy?” Perun frowned as Lesya giggled.
“I just wanted to hear Thor's twin say his name with a Russian accent,” I admitted. Then I noticed the way Jarilo was casting awkward glances at Perun. “Hold on; you're Jarilo's father?”
“And Marena's.” Perun looked pointedly at Kirill. “I'm sorry for vhat she did to you. I raised her better zan zat.”
Kirill's eyes widened. He didn't speak, only nodded; once, curtly.
“Vhat are you doing here, Perun?” Jarilo asked his father.
“I'm searching for your mother,” Perun said as if it were obvious. “She's missing.”
“I know she's missing,” Jarilo growled. “I've been searching for her for over a veek!”
“I only heard zis morning. I'm sorry, Son. I vould have come sooner.”
“Don't call me son.” Jarilo glared at Perun.
“Okay.” I waved Kirill back with Lesya and got between father and son. “If we're going to work together, I need to know what's going on here. Perun, you said you had an agreement about Volos raising Jarilo. Is that what this animosity is about?”
“Mokosh, his mother”—Perun nodded to Jarilo—“is my consort. She is also consort to Volos. Ven my vife left me, I decided I vanted child vith Mokosh but so did Volos. So, ve... vhat is vord? Back and forth; give and take?”
“You compromised?” I offered.
“Da, ve make compromise. Mokosh cast spell so she vould conceive twins, and ve agreed zat whoever fathered babies vould choose child he vould raise and other man vould have remaining infant.”
“And you chose Marena,” I whispered as I stared at Perun.
“She looked like Mokosh.” Perun shrugged helplessly. “Choice vas hard so I vent vith who I reached for first. My hand vent to Marena because of how much she resembled her mother.” He looked at Jarilo pleadingly. “How could it be anymore zan zat, Son? You vere mere hours old ven your mother made me choose. It's vhy she made me choose right zen.”
Jarilo's jaw hardened. I had a feeling there was more to the story than that, but I had enough information to feel comfortable about working with them. Or at least with Jarilo.
“I'm sorry to blunder into your bad blood,” I said to Jarilo. “If you don't want him helping us, I'll support that.”
Jarilo blinked again, this time slowly. “You agree vith me? You zink I have right to my anger?”
“I think that your parents did the best they could but it left you feeling unwanted,” I said diplomatically. “I don't know what has happened between you two since then so I can't and won't judge, but you seem deeply upset so I have to assume this is more than being the twin he didn't choose.”
“It is,” Jarilo said stiffly then grimaced. “But for my mother's sake, I vill take all help I can get.”
“Okay then.” I stepped back and looked at Perun. “What help can you offer?”
Perun shrugged. “I listed my... resume, as you call it. My magic is at your disposal, Godhunter.”
“Fair enough.” I looked at Jarilo. “Just one more thing; I have more than one husband and children with three of them. I understand how hard it must have been for your mother. I hope you at least feel loved by her.”
“I do.” Jarilo's expression softened. “I vouldn't be here if I didn't. My mother means a lot to me.”
“That's all I need to hear.” I held out my hand. “Let's find her.”
Chapter Nineteen
My dragon senses are stronger than any of my other senses. Stronger than wolf and lion combined. When I called up my dragoness and used her sniffer to take a whiff of Mokosh's blouse, I not only caught her trail but also got an impression of her physically; an approximate height and build. Mokosh was taller than me and thinner but not by much. With that “sense” of her came a visual representation of her scent; a golden-green ribbon with hints of turquoise in it.
I handed the blouse back to Jarilo and followed Mokosh's trail to the lake. The men eased aside to give me space, but Lesya broke away from her father and ran up to hold my hand.
“What do you smell, Mommy?”
“It's more what I see,” I tried to explain. Although my dragon nose is stronger than my lion's, scenting a trail is very similar in both forms. “Go smell the shirt Jarilo's holding.”
Jarilo held out the blouse to Lesya and she took a deep sniff. She came bolting back to me, her nose working double-time and her eyes widening. Kirill stepped up to take her other hand.
“I smell it right here! I see it! It's pretty,” Lesya exclaimed then she scowled. “But it ends there.” She pointed at a spot above the water.”
“Yes; she went into the water there,” I agreed and looked back at Jarilo.
“I know zat much,” Jarilo said. “As I told you, zis is vhere I left her. She vent into vater to meet vith Tsar Vodyanik.”
“He invited her to his lair?” Perun asked in surprise.
“Da,” was all Jarilo said to him. He looked back at me to add, “Can you see vhere she vent underwater?”
“Water doesn't hold scent,” I said as I scanned the shore. “But if she left the lake, I'll know it. I'll search the shore and if we don't find a trace of her here, we'll try the islands.”
“All of zem?” Kirill asked.
“All of them.” I nodded at him then looked at Jarilo. “Just to be sure. But, hopefully, we won't have to look far.”
“Thank you, Godhunter... Vervain,” Jarilo amended.
“Of course.” Now that I'd seen his resemblance to Ull, it was all I could see and looking at Jarilo hurt my heart a little. It may have been a factor in establishing my sudden desire to do everything I could to help him. I started walking along the shore, Lesya and Kirill at my back.
“Help her look, Lesya,” Kirill instructed. “Try to find zat same scent coming out of vater.”
“Okay!” Lesya let go of her father and ran ahead of us.
“Lesya!” Kirill shouted. “Do not leave our sight.”
“Okay, Daddy!”
As Lesya prowled the shoreline, I let my dragon take over and breathed deeply of earth and water. So many scents assailed me; the green of fresh life just starting to reach through the cold earth, the rich minerals of the soil, the fresh wet and slightly murky smell of the lake, feathers, fur, and scat. So much to sift through, but I'd focused Mokosh in my mind which meant that her scent would bloom like a beacon amid those others. I just had to breathe it in.
Ha
lf an hour later, Lesya was still roaming ahead and I was still sniffing the air like a bloodhound when the distance between myself and my daughter became an issue.
“Uncle Trevor!” Lesya screeched and sprinted off into the trees.
“Lesya!” Kirill roared and chased after her.
I followed wordlessly, all thoughts of Mokosh cast aside. The Lioness reared up, focused on her young, and replaced the Dragon. I roared, even louder than Kirill, and loped after Lesya like a beast after prey. Tree trunks passed by, leaves crunched under my feet, and the shadows of the woods closed in around me. My lioness didn't do so well in forests; she's more of an open plains kinda girl, and the wolf inside me offered her services. But the Lioness didn't listen—couldn't even hear the other animal—too intent was she on her daughter.
