by Amy Sumida
“What is happening right now?” Wright mumbled.
“Look, he's a cop,” I got back to the argument at hand. “He might be able to help us. But if you really want me to stop here and take him back to Texas, I will.”
Kirill looked at Wright. Wright lifted his chin. Kirill sighed again.
“Fine. Tell him. But if he goes crazy; you have to kill him.”
“I can do that,” I said amiably.
Kirill made a face at me that said he knew otherwise.
“Would you mind not talkin' about murdering me too?” Wright asked dryly. “It's making me twitchy.”
“I'm not going to murder you.” I waved it away as if it were nonsense. “That's only if you go insane and attack me. Then it's called self-defense.”
“I'm the cop here; I'll be the judge of what is or isn't self-defense and talkin' bout killin' me not only makes it murder but also makes it premeditated.”
“Fair enough. You want to hear it or not?”
“Might could.” He settled his shoulders.
“Is that a yes or a no?” I scowled at him.
“It's a yes, darlin'. Go on now.”
Kirill growled.
“What now?” Wright huffed at him.
“Stop calling my vife darling.”
“Hey, now.” Wright held up his hands. “It's just an expression. No familiarity implied.”
“I had an ex who called me darling,” I explained. “Thor. Ever heard of him?”
“You dated Thor?” Wright gaped at me.
I grinned. “He'd be so pleased that you're impressed by that.” Then I thought it over. “Actually, he'd probably just scowl like Kirill is doing right now.”
Kirill went back to rolling his eyes. “I don't care about Zor, I care about strange man calling you darling.”
Wright's lips twitched.
“You want him to say Thor again?” I offered. “It's almost as funny as thick and thin, right?”
Kirill growled in exasperation and looked heavenward for guidance.
Wright chuckled. “Okay, darl— ma'am, tell me what you want to tell me.”
“When I first discovered the Gods, I thought they were all the same; evil manipulators who trick humans into war. They're not. Some are good and some are bad; just like any race of people.”
“Race? The Gods are another race of human?” Wright asked as if he couldn't believe he was saying the words.
“They're another race of people,” I corrected. “Survivors of Atlantis.”
“You said that before. They're really from Atlantis? The Atlantis?”
“Yep; the sunken continent. Long story, but they tricked humans into believing they were Gods, accepted sacrifices, and made themselves Gods in truth. But humans eventually forgot about them and the Gods didn't like that. Now, a lot of them resort to manipulating humans into war so they can accept the fallen soldiers as their sacrifice. It empowers them and gives them immortality.”
Wright gaped at me.
“Too much?”
He shook his head.
“Okay,” I went on. “I used to fight the Gods alone but then I learned that some gods are on our side. We teamed up and we've been fighting on behalf of humans ever since; hiding from you while we risked our lives for you. Our immortal lives.”
“You said you were part human.”
“I've become many things through my interaction with the Gods. But, yes, I'm human too. It doesn't matter, though. What you need to know is that I'm on your side. I fight for humans. All of my friends and family do too. Now, think this over carefully, Austin Wright. You can hear more about the Gods or I can find someone to wipe all of this from your memory and you can go back to being a normal Texan cop.”
Kirill grunted. “I didn't zink of zat.”
“No, you were too busy freaking out.” I grinned at him.
“Don't act as if you didn't just zink of it yourself.” Kirill shot back with a smirk.
I shrugged but admitted nothing.
Through our exchange, Lieutenant Wright stared at me. He stared at Kirill. He glanced around at the Alūksne woods. A long exhale left him.
Then Wright narrowed his eyes at me. “Why were those men after you?”
Kirill shot me an I-told-you-so look.
“Yeah, but I think this curiosity is more because he's a cop than a human,” I said to Kirill's look before I answered Wright. “All right, Lieutenant, I'll satisfy your curiosity and we'll see what sort of stuff you're made of.”
Wright crossed his arms and waited, looking, for all the world, as if he were daring me to make him crazy.
“My husband, daughter, and I are in Latvia on vacation,” I went on. “There have been some strange deaths here; couples drowning in the lake. We met a god searching for his missing mother. She was investigating the deaths when she disappeared.”
“A goddess was investigating human deaths?” Wright asked dubiously.
“As I said, some of them actually care about humans. Some still believe in a symbiotic relationship; humans give Gods energy and Gods protect the humans. Anyway”—I waved it away—“we were looking for the missing goddess when we were attacked by humans.”
“Why?”
“What?” I frowned at him.
“Why would a god need your help finding his mommy?” Wright lifted a brow at me.
“Ve're shifters,” Kirill said. “Good at tracking.”
“Like dogs?” Wright asked in surprise.
“Far better than dogs. We have animal and god senses which means that I can smell you from here and—no offense—but you need a breath mint.”
Wright snorted. “I 'spect I do. I could also use a damn jacket. It's like the snowpocalypse out here.”
I glanced at the few piles of snow that had managed to survive dawn. Snowpocalypse? Okay. “Maybe we should take this inside?” I looked at Kirill in question.
Kirill nodded crisply. Lesya was upstairs; if Wright tried anything, he'd have to get past the two of us. And that was never going to happen.
“Come on in, Lieutenant.” I headed inside, Kirill at my back.
Wright followed warily. Once inside, he made a beeline for the stove and sighed in relief as he held his hands out to it. “It's colder than a witch's tit out there.”
“Witches do not have cold tits,” I said primly.
Wright stared at me again. “You a witch too?”
I shrugged.
“Of course, you are,” he went on. “Why wouldn't you be?”
“Coffee?” Kirill offered.
“Sure. You got some bourbon to put in it?” Wright turned to warm his bum, rubbing his palms over it.
“No bourbon. Sorry,” Kirill said.
“Shame. Coulda used some for a couple reasons. But mainly cuz it's as cold as a frosted frog here.” He lifted a brow at me. “That better?”
“It's definitely sillier.” I chuckled as Kirill went to get the coffee.
“Lady, I could wax poetic for hours about the coldness of this place and I still wouldn't be able to convey the depths of my dislike for it.”
“Hey, I get it. I like it warm too but I'm part—”
“Tima!” Kirill cut me off. “Baby steps.”
“Right.” I agreed. “This is enough for now.”
Wright snorted. “I reckon it is. Any more and I might need therapy. And by therapy I mean; a bottle of Jack.”
I made another short, huff of amusement as I slid onto the bench behind the table. Kirill put a cup of coffee down in front of me then handed one to Lieutenant Wright.
“Much obliged,” he drawled. He sipped, sighed, sipped again, then said, “So, you were trackin' a goddess with your lion-god nose and then what?”
“Okay, I have to give you a little backstory here,” I said with a glance at Kirill.
Kirill—leaning against the kitchen counter with his coffee and casually guarding the stairs that led to Lesya—nodded.
“I lost my immortality a few months ago and th
at fact was broadcasted to the God World, as a whole, by an enemy of mine. I regained my immortality but that same person conveniently failed to report that bit. So, the attack I mentioned earlier could very well have been instigated by another god, believing that I'm human and can be injured by bullets. But here's the thing; no one knows I'm in Latvia except for people I trust implicitly.”
“What about the guy you met there? Here, I mean.” Wright leaned back on the heels of his cowboy boots and pondered. “The one lookin' for his mother?”
I grinned. “Good question, Lieutenant. But I believe he's genuine. He truly wants to find his mother and appreciates our help. He was also with us during both attacks; the one I mentioned and the one you witnessed. And here's where it gets stranger. We went to Lexington for lunch. That's all. My brother-in-law recommended the place and we went. It happened in the spur of the moment. No one could have known where we'd be going and no one in our group would have had the chance to contact anyone.”
“And yet those men knew where to find you,” Wright said.
I knew what was happening with Wright. He was focusing on what he did best so he wouldn't have to deal with the fact that myths and monsters were real. I didn't blame him. To be honest, I approved of the technique. It gave me hope that he might be able to handle all of this eventually.
“Exactly,” I said.
Wright snorted. “All of this nonsense actually makes sense out of what happened today.”
I grinned. “You say that now but come 3 AM, you'll be sitting up in your bed, in the dark, listening to every creak in your house, wondering if it's a god coming for you.” As I spoke, I lost my smile and started to remember feeling exactly that way myself.
That fear was what had spurred me into the God War. I learned to use a sword. Found spells to enchant, making it strong enough to sever a god's head. Then I snuck into their homes using stolen chants and killed them in their sleep. All in the name of fear. That paranoia had turned my fear into reality. The Gods did hunt me, but only because I'd started hunting them first; killing enough of them to make a name for myself. And the truly terrible thing was; I don't know if the gods I killed deserved what I did to them. I could have killed innocent people. I could have died myself; I was so damn reckless. The only reason I survived those early years was that I'd unknowingly had Thor watching my back.
“Perhaps it would be kinder if I had someone wipe your mind,” I whispered.
“Fuck you and your kindness,” Wright huffed. “I'm a cop because I believe in the truth; difficult or not. If it keeps me up at night, so be it. It's better to know that monsters lurk beneath my bed than to sleep ignorantly above them.”
Kirill made an approving sound.
Wright looked over at him. Really looked. “Gods and monsters, eh?”
“Some of my best friends are what you might call monsters but I don't recommend using that term around me again. At least not with that tone.”
Wright grunted. “Gods, shapeshifters, and Latvian men shooting at you.”
“Yep.”
“I'm in.”
“I hope you don't come to regret those words, Lieutenant,” I said sincerely.
“Call me Austin, Tima.”
I stood up, came around the table, and held my hand out to him. “Call me Vervain.”
“Vervain?” Austin grinned as he shook my hand. “Sounds witchy.”
“It is,” Kirill rumbled and held out his hand. “I'm Kirill.”
“Nice to meet you both.” Austin shook Kirill's hand.
“Now, would you care to sit down, Austin?” I waved at the spot I'd vacated on the bench.
“Sure 'nuff.” Austin nodded and slid onto the bench, stretching one leg out.
Kirill sat down on the other end and angled his knee for me to sit on.
I chuckled. “I'm good standing, honey.”
“Can I come down now?” Lesya whined.
“Can I trust you around my daughter, Austin?” I asked before I answered her.
Austin Wright grimaced at me as if I'd just insulted him. “I'm a cop and a Texan.”
“I don't know why that makes a difference but I'm going to trust you anyway.”
“Mostly because ve can kill you in seconds,” Kirill declared dryly.
“You can come down,” I called back to Lesya as Austin grimaced at Kirill.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“I assume you came by to see what we found out about those shooters,” Austin announced after Lesya had come down and been introduced.
My daughter had pestered the Lieutenant with questions, which he had obligingly answered until Kirill called her a pochemoochka—whatever that is—and Austin told her that she had a ten-gallon mouth, which made me chuckle and Lesya go silent in confusion. She was now seated on her father's lap, drinking hot chocolate and waiting for her chance to pester Mr. Wright again.
“I did,” I confirmed his assumption. “Care to share?”
“We only got an ID for one of them; the rest must never have been printed,” Austin slipped back into cop mode. “The man we identified was from Alūksne; a fact which we only discovered because I sent the prints directly to the Latvian Police and they were nice enough to reply.”
“You mean you don't have a super, James Bond computer that instantly identifies people from anywhere in the world?” I teased.
“Hardly. But, I'll be sure to ask the Chief for that the next time they upgrade our system.” Then he went serious. “Odd thing is; those guys didn't fly over from Latvia. There are no records of the one we identified on any plane, and we searched the footage from the airports that did have flights from Latvia—two to be exact—and those men did not get off either flight.”
“They were traced in,” I said, more to Kirill than Austin.
“Da. I assumed.”
“So, are they like occultists or something?” Austin asked.
“Occultists?” I repeated.
“You know; worshipin' Gods. Gods other than Jesus.”
I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing and Kirill rubbed a hand across his face.
“Does he worship Uncle Jesus too?” Lesya asked innocently. “Like the people in that pretty church?”
Austin went still. “Did she just say Uncle Jesus?”
“I'm married to his brother,” I tried to explain. “Brother by another father. But you need to get over the 'other than Jesus' bit; all Gods are from Atlantis.”
Austin gaped at me then looked at Kirill for an explanation of my madness.
“It's lion zing,” Kirill said. “Vervain must have multiple lovers. She has six husbands and one boyfriend. One husband is Azrael, Angel of Death and brother to Jesus Christ. Zat makes him Lesya's uncle by marriage, not just title of respect.”
“Angel of... six...” Austin stuttered. “I'm sorry, I'm gonna need a minute here.”
“Take all the time you need,” I said generously.
“Jesus is your uncle?” He finally asked Lesya. “Jesus Christ? Lord and Savior? The guy who walked on water?”
“Yes,” Lesya said slowly and frowned as if he might be slow. “But I don't know about the water part. Or the lord and savior part. I'm not sure what a lord is but Uncle Jesus doesn't do much saving; my mommy and daddy do that.”
Austin's mouth fell open then he looked back at me.“Jesus?”
“You were doing so well, Lieutenant... I mean, Austin. Are you really getting hung up on the J-Man?”
“J-Man?”
“It's vhat he likes to be called,” Kirill said in a deadpan voice.
“He's a good one, by the way,” I offered as Austin rubbed at his forehead. “His father, not so much, but the J-Man's all right. A bit of a stoner but at least he cares about people. He even comforts them when he has the chance.”
“He's a stoner?”
“They all were back then.” I shrugged. “Smokin' the hashish and making water into wine. Although, now that I think about it, I'm not sure how much either of those t
hings would affect his god metabolism.” My eyes widened in revelation. “Maybe the stoner thing is an act. Huh.”
“Jesus Christ,” Austin whispered.
“Yep, that's who we're talking about.”
