The look on her face said she already had.
“You asked me here to bargain. Let me bargain with you.”
Silence fell. This was the part where I would get eaten. I’d make it as expensive for them as I could.
“What do you offer?” the god said.
“If you agree to help us crush my father’s forces, I will invoke your name before the troops gathered in front of me. I will tell those who fight with me that you will be present, so they can witness your power for themselves. I’ll make sure that they know your name so they may choose to pray to you. If your power is as great as the power your volhv has shown, that battle will bring you many converts. I will not make this bargain with any other god. No matter how much aid Belobog or Perun offers me, I will reject it. I will not go to their volhvs for help and I won’t seek their counsel. You will be the only Slavic god on the field that day. You will be honored, feared, and remembered. Years from now, they will tell legends about this day and your name will be spoken.”
Silence.
The god’s eyes shone brighter. “Done.”
Darkness swirled around Roman and withdrew back into the forest. He blinked, as if waking up, his massive sword again a simple staff, and his head bare.
Aspid hissed and slithered to Roman, the serpent dragon’s huge head level with him. If he opened his mouth, he could swallow the volhv in one gulp.
Roman shook his head, clearing it.
The dragon opened his mouth, his teeth like long curved sabers. Oh crap.
“Roman!” I started toward them and sank into the mud.
Aspid’s long serpentine tongue flicked out and wound around the volhv. I sped up, splashing through the bog. There was no way I could make it through all this muck in time.
Roman blinked again and smacked Aspid’s nose with his hand. “What did I say about kisses? No kisses unless invited.”
Aspid’s tongue contracted. He pulled Roman into his mouth.
I sprinted.
“Yes, I love you, too,” Roman said from inside the forest of teeth. “I need to go now. Come on.”
The dragon opened his mouth and put Roman back into the mud. The massive serpent looked at me, hissed, and slid into the forest, his obsidian body going and going . . . It would be comical if it weren’t so damn scary. I glanced behind me. Sirin was gone.
“Happens every time,” Roman said. “He misses his father. I’m a substitute until he sees Chernobog in the next flare.”
“You have a weird life.”
“Look who’s talking.” He shrugged. “It’s not that I’m that evil, really. I’m just beloved by evil things.”
A sword wrapped in black canvas rose from within the bog hilt up, like some strange flower. I gripped the hilt. It was cool to the touch. Huh. The last time I’d used it, I’d had to get special gloves and wrap the hilt in three layers of cloth. I pulled the sword free. Some people pulled swords out of stones and went on to rule Britannia. I pulled a sword out of the mud and tried not to think about what I had done.
“This way.” Roman started through the woods. “Well, that was fun.”
“I did the best I could,” I told him.
“Not questioning that.” He dragged his hand over his face. “My uncle will have to be told. Professional courtesy. This is going to really upset the power apple cart. That’s why the Dark God didn’t use me.”
“Why?”
“Because if I had known what he wanted, I would’ve talked him out of it. You have no idea the shit I’ve stopped.”
“He wanted the whole battlefield dedicated to him.”
Roman grimaced. “I know.”
“At least this way, once he is on the battlefield, he won’t be claiming human sacrifices.”
“It won’t be him,” Roman said. “It will be me on the battlefield channeling his power.” He grinned. “I will be a battle volhv. This will be my first time. I’m excited.”
“I didn’t mean to rope you into this.”
“I didn’t mean to bring you into a scary swamp. Things happen.”
“How often are Sirin’s predictions wrong, Roman?”
“Do you want the true answer or the one you can live with?”
“That often, huh?”
He nodded.
The trees parted. Teddy Jo stood in the middle of the road, looking confused. The sun was to our right. We’d lost a few hours somehow.
He saw us and shook his head. “I’ve tried going through the woods twice. I keep ending up on this road.”
“I believe this is yours.” I pulled the fabric off the sword. The blade burst into flame. I tossed it at Teddy Jo.
He caught the blade. His whole body realigned itself, standing straighter, taller, his shoulders wider, the color of his skin brighter. Teddy Jo a second ago was a pale shadow of the one standing in front of me now. I never realized how much the sword meant. And he’d let me borrow it once to pull a prank on Curran.
“What did you trade?” he asked.
“Nothing important.”
He glanced at Roman.
“I’ll tell you later,” the volhv said.
“Nothing important,” I repeated. “Let’s get home. Tell me about the pegasi, Teddy Jo.”
He held out the swing and I wedged my butt into it. Now we had to go home and sort out what had happened to Christopher. If he was even Christopher anymore. At least we’d gotten the dragon out of the way. Thank the Universe for small favors.
CHAPTER
9
ROMAN HAD DECLARED that turning into a crow for the second time in one day was above his pay grade. He whistled, made some kissy noises with his lips, and a black horse trotted out of the woods. He mounted bareback and headed to the house.
I climbed back into the swing. Flying really was overrated, but it was fast, and beggars couldn’t be choosers.
According to Teddy Jo, the pegasi couldn’t be tamed, but they could be enticed.
“They’re curious and they like adventure,” he said, as we flew southwest. “You’re going to walk up to the herd and offer them a gift of some sort. Carrots, sugar, whatever. If you’re interesting enough, one of them might come over and decide to go adventuring with you.”
“And if none decide to adventure?”
“Then there’s nothing we can do.”
Oh boy.
“Why do you need a pegasi, Kate?”
“I need to get to Mishmar.”
“What is Mishmar?”
“My father’s magic prison in the Midwest.”
Teddy Jo chewed on that. “Why?”
“I’d rather not say. But I need to get there as soon as possible.”
“Well, they are damn fast. Faster than me flying. I took one to Miami the other week. Made it in six hours. You need one as soon as possible, I take it?”
“Yes.” It had been three days since I found out about Saiman’s kidnapping, which left us with twelve days until my wedding. In Sienna’s original vision, I had married Curran and our wedding led to the battle. But with the way I was altering the future, I had a feeling the battle would happen before that.
“Then we’ll do this tonight. I’ll pick you up around eleven. Can you be packed and ready?”
“Yes. Can I ask you to drop me off at Milton’s ER? I need to check on a patient there.”
“You sure you want to be dropped off at Milton? That’s a long trek back and you have no horse. I can wait.”
“Why are you being so nice all of a sudden?”
“Well, since you got my sword back, I figure I can be cordial for a day or two. It will wear off.”
“Yes, it would be awesome if you waited for me.”
“Will do,” he said.
Milton Hospital occupied a squat solid building that looked less like a hospital and mor
e like a bunker with narrow windows guarded by grates, thick walls, and spikes on the roof. Most hospitals now looked that way. Things that fed on humans were drawn to the scent of blood, and hospitals were full of bleeding people.
“Depressing places, hospitals,” Teddy Jo said, landing in the parking lot behind some large trucks. He shrugged his shoulders and his wings vanished. “Visiting a friend?”
“Something like that.”
“I’ll come in with you. I could use a nice chair.”
I left Teddy Jo in the waiting area. An older nurse, rail thin, with pale blond hair twisted into a bun, walked me to Adora’s room. The sahanu sat on the bed, flipping through a newspaper. Her color was good. Considering that her intestines had been spilling out twenty-four hours ago, it was a great improvement.
She saw me and tried to get up.
“No, no, stay where you are,” I told her.
“Yes, Kate.” She bowed her head.
The nurse gave me an odd look. I sighed.
The nurse turned to Adora. “If you need anything, I’ll be down the hall.”
Translation—yell for help and I’ll come running. I couldn’t really blame her. I smelled like a swamp and the sword wasn’t exactly helping my trustworthy image.
I pulled up a wooden chair and sat in it.
“How are you feeling?”
“Much better. I will be useful soon.”
I tried to think like Martina. Ascanio’s mother was one of the Pack’s counselors and she’d helped me before. Sadly, I had neither her skills nor her experience.
“Is it important to be useful?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“All things must have a purpose. My purpose is to serve one of your blood.”
“But you’re not a thing, Adora. You’re a person.”
“People must be useful, too.”
Well, she had me there. This wasn’t going well. “Tell me about yourself.”
“I’m fast and strong. I’m proficient with bladed weapons but prefer Japanese-style swords. I possess three power words but can use only one at a time. Among my generation, I’m ranked fourth.”
“Why fourth?”
She hesitated. “I’m very fast, but I have a limited magic reserve compared to two others and a limited kill ratio compared to three others. Also I kill better at short range.”
“How many sahanu were in your age group?”
“Originally, twenty-two.”
She wasn’t surprised by the word. Julie’s information seemed to be accurate.
“What do you mean by ‘originally’?”
She hesitated. “Some people died. Some people were taken from the fort before completing their studies, because they were needed elsewhere.”
“How many completed the course of study with you?”
“Nine.”
“I saw a large dark-skinned woman who wears chain mail and carries a hammer.”
“Carolina. She’s ranked eighth.”
She didn’t seem worried.
“There was also a man with a patched trench coat.”
“Razer.” She paused. “Ranked first.”
“Tell me about them.”
“Carolina is powerful but not as fast as me. Her magic produces a telekinetic push that’s devastating at a range of up to five meters. A quicker fighter or a ranged opponent can take her out. She’s best in a team of two or more, where someone can watch her back.”
“And Razer?”
“Razer is faster, stronger, and more precise than me. His magic is more powerful than mine. He kills his opponents and sometimes he eats their flesh.”
“Is Razer fae?”
She nodded.
That’s what I thought. There had been reports of children born to seemingly normal parents with facial features and abilities consistent with those of the fae as described in legends. Mostly in urban areas up north, ones with a large concentration of Irish immigrants, such as Boston and Weymouth. By the last census, six percent of Atlanta’s population had claimed Irish ancestry. I knew this because the Pack had detailed maps of the city and at one point I was asked to help tag them by the mythology of their culture. In the post-Shift world, where you were from mattered because the myths and legends of your homeland followed you.
Nobody knew exactly what the fae were capable of. Some called them elves, some called them fairies, the fair folk, or Tuatha Dé Danann, but everyone agreed that they were bad news.
“What are his powers?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I only fought against him twice. He didn’t use magic to win.”
That meant he won on speed, strength, and skill and she had more than a normal human’s dose of all three. Razer would be fun.
“Are there any other fae among the sahanu?”
“Yes.”
“Among the nine?”
“Irene is fae,” Adora said. “I think.”
“What are her powers?”
“I don’t know.” Her mouth quivered. She didn’t want to disappoint me and she must’ve been worried about my disapproval. She was under enough stress already from everything I had put her through. I had to move on.
“Thank you. When you feel better, I’d like you to write down everything that you think is relevant or useful about the other sahanu of your generation. Is there an age category older than yours?”
“No,” she shook her head. “We are the first generation. There are younger generations.”
Ugh. “How old are you, Adora?”
“Twenty-four.”
Only four years younger than me, but there was an almost childlike simplicity about her. Her world was clearly defined: making me happy and serving me was good, being useless to me was bad. She was giving me all of the information I wanted without any hesitation. Two days ago she would’ve likely died to keep that information secret from me, but now, with her allegiance shifted, Adora kept no secrets, like a young child who instinctively recognized an adult as an authority figure and was eager to prove she was smart and resourceful. Most people were at least somewhat jaded by their midtwenties, but for her there were no shades of gray. It wasn’t the naiveté of someone who believes the world is a nice place; it was an innocence, bolstered by the childlike belief that she was doing the right thing, because a person of power and authority assured her she was.
I needed to put a crack into that worldview. There had to be something in her psyche that rebelled against the view of my father as perfection wrapped in golden light.
“How long have you served my father?”
“Since I was seven.”
“Is that when you were brought to the place where the sahanu are trained?”
“Yes.”
“Did you have a family before you were brought there?” If there was any human emotion in her, I should get a spark now.
“Yes. Some children were orphans, but I wasn’t. My mother and father were very well compensated. I was chosen because of my magic.”
My father, never missing a falling star. “Did you miss your family?”
She hesitated. I held my breath.
“Yes. But now the sahanu are my family.”
And yet she gave me information that would help me kill them without any hesitation.
“Were you angry that your parents sold you? Did you feel abandoned? Did you think it was unfair?”
She opened her mouth and closed it.
“My father isn’t here. Your instructors aren’t here. It’s only me and you. Did you think it was unfair?”
“Yes,” she said quietly. “I cried. And I missed my mom, my dad, and my sister.”
“Do you think other children might have missed their parents, too?”
“Yes.” The strain was showing on her face. Too much. I had t
o change the subject.
“Have you ever killed for my father?”
“Yes.” She exhaled. We were back on familiar territory.
“Who did you kill?”
“During training I killed several martial artists and weapon masters.”
“Why did you kill them?”
“For practice.”
“Were they forced to fight?”
“No, they were paid to kill us.”
That was a familiar tactic, one my father learned from Voron. “What about after your training was complete?”
“I killed the Followers of Guram. They had taken one of Sharrum’s people and killed her, and he was displeased.”
I’d run across the Followers of Guram before. They were a nasty sect and they liked skinning people with tattoos, which they considered a mortal sin, to curry favor with whatever god Guram prayed to. Guram was a prophet of sorts and the rumor was that once you heard his sermon, you would become a devotee. Law enforcement stomped them out, but they were like a hydra. You crush one head and another pops up in a different city. Although I hadn’t heard about them for a few years.
“How many of the followers did you kill?”
She smiled a small smile. “All of them.”
Wow. “How long did it take you?”
“Two years.”
“What about Guram himself?”
“I killed him, too.”
“How did you feel about killing all those people?”
“Sharrum wanted them dead.”
I finally realized why she disturbed me so much. She was what Voron had wanted me to be. A killer without any remorse, without any doubt or questions. Point and watch the blood spray.
My father had done that to her. Like he told me, he’d given her serenity of purpose. And she was serene. The only time she became agitated was when I tried to send her away. My father was the closest thing to a god she knew. When your god orders you to kill and accepts full responsibility for it, it frees you from guilt, shame, and doubt.
This had to stop. My father had to be stopped.
“Adora, what do you want to do?”
“I want to serve you.”
“And if I said you couldn’t, what would you do?”