Monsoons and Monsters: Godhunter Book 22 Read online

  Monsoons and Monsters

  Amy Sumida

  Copyright © 2017 Amy Sumida

  All rights reserved.

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  More Books by Amy Sumida

  The Godhunter Series(in order)

  Godhunter

  Of Gods and Wolves

  Oathbreaker

  Marked by Death

  Green Tea and Black Death

  A Taste for Blood

  The Tainted Web

  Series Split:

  These books can be read together or separately

  Harvest of the Gods & A Fey Harvest

  Into the Void & Out of the Darkness

  Perchance to Die

  Tracing Thunder

  Light as a Feather

  Rain or Monkeyshine

  Blood Bound

  Eye of Re

  My Soul to Take

  As the Crow Flies

  Cry Werewolf

  Pride Before a Fall

  (Monsoons and Monsters)

  Beyond the Godhunter

  A Darker Element

  Out of the Blue

  The Twilight Court Series

  Fairy-Struck

  Pixie-Led

  Raven-Mocking

  Here there be Dragons

  Witchbane

  Elf-Shot

  Fairy Rings and Dragon Kings

  The Spellsinger Series

  The Last Lullaby

  A Symphony of Sirens

  A Harmony of Hearts

  Fairy Tales

  Happily Harem After

  The Four Clever Brothers

  Wild Wonderland

  Pan's Promise

  Beauty and the Beasts

  The Little Glass Slipper

  Other Books

  The Magic of Fabric

  Feeding the Lwas: A Vodou Cookbook

  There's a Goddess Too

  The Vampire-Werewolf Complex

  Enchantress

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  Pronunciation Guide at the back of the book.

  Chapter One

  The Fire Kingdom had its first playground. Children playing was not an alien concept to the Fey, but it had been quite awhile since there had been enough children in a single kingdom to warrant a designated area for them to cavort in. Now that the royal princes were of a rambunctious age, the thought occurred to me that it might be nice to have some faerie-children-friendly activity equipment set up behind Castle Aithinne. The Hidden-One babies were starting to drive their mother crazy with their unlimited energy, and the phooka pups had long been running all over creation, getting into fist-shaking, headache-inducing mischief. Then there was Hunter, Roarke's son, who took after his father in so many ways... most of them disastrous.

  We needed a playground.

  I called a meeting with all of the fire fey parents and we discussed the needs of each child. Then we came up with ideas for playground equipment that would fulfill those needs. Within a week, construction began on the Fire Kingdom Playground. An area for the playground was designated within a border of stone blocks that was then filled in with a layer of soft sand upon which the equipment was assembled.

  We had some of the usual playground items; such as see-saws, swings, and slides. But there were also some very faerie-oriented sets. The jungle gym, for example, was over twenty feet high with multi-level platforms. It had a central pole which could be climbed and clawed, rope netting to hang from, metal loops for nimble appendages (of all sorts), and a loft for the children to get a nice view of the kingdom from. Another piece of equipment was a giant, metal wheel, set up on its side, with nubs for handholds welded all over the inner rim—basically a giant hamster wheel. The babies needed a way to run without requiring their parents to chase them, and the other parents thought my concept was an ingenious idea. I left out the part where it was inspired by a rodent exercise device.

  There was also a pond-shaped, foam pad, with trampolines in the shape of lily pads set into the blue “water.” The children could jump from pad to pad, and if they fell, they didn't hurt themselves. In addition to that, there was a rock pit full of tiny pebbles for the children to roll and dig in. Some of the Hidden-One children especially liked burrowing, but their parents didn't want them covered in dirt or sand by the end of the day. Sand can be difficult to remove from fur So, the pebbles were a perfect solution... and they were fireproof.

  Most of the playground was fireproof, actually. Only some of the ropes would burn if there was an accident. Speaking of fire, the playground had been specifically set up around a small crack in the earth which led down to the magma rivers running below the Fire Kingdom. Stone slabs had been placed around the crack to keep the sand from falling in, and they also served as a space to lounge. The crack wasn't big enough for anyone to fall into, only a few inches wide, but it emitted a constant stream of heat that warmed the stone, and that everyone—adults included—enjoyed basking in. In fact, it had become the favorite spot to relax on while we watched over the children.

  Arach and I were currently sitting on a blanket near the heat crevice, Dexter lying between us contentedly. There was none of that sulfur-stench you might expect around an opening that led to magma; just a light mineral-metallic scent that freshened the air. The phooka pups' mother, Neala, was sitting beside me on the right, while Roarke and Taog (father to the Hidden-One children) sat to Arach's left. Roarke and Taog were giving their ladies some time off from looking after the children.

  “Hunter, if you knock Rian off the loft one more time, I'll spank the fur off your butt!” Roarke shouted. “And there will be no hunting tonight!”

  “Don't worry about Rian,” Arach said. “He'll be fine. He needs someone to challenge him. Besides; there's a net below. The only thing injured is his pride.”

  Sure enough, our son was already scurrying back up the central pole in the jungle gym, eyes glowing with determination to get revenge upon his playmate, while Brevyn laughed and pointed at him. Hunter wasn't at all fazed by his father's threat, but the rapid approach of the dragon prince had him scrambling. He hissed down at Rian, and my son roared back. Brevyn nearly fell over, chortling.

  “Boys,” I sighed as I looked over at Neala.

  Neala's children, a mix of girls and boys, had just turned five in October. But they, as most faeries, grew faster than human babies and were closer to the size of ten-year-olds. They were bouncing across the lily pads like frogs, trying to knock each other aside in mid-leap. One of them succeeded in slamming his brother off-course, and the offended sibling shifted into canine form and started snarling.

  “Conan!” Neala shouted.

  Yes, the kid's name is Conan. It's Fey, okay?

  That was all Neala had to say. The snarling phooka pup shifted back into a boy and came trudging over to his mother holding the remnants of his shredded clothing. Neala gave him a hard glare and then a new pair of pants. Conan pulled them on, received a kiss on his cheek from his mother, and smiled brilliantly as he hurried back to the playground.

  “Neala, you need to teach me that trick,” Roarke huffed. “Hunter never list
ens to me.”

  “No one ever listens to you,” I said dryly, and we all chuckled.

  “Har-har.” Roarke grimaced.

  “It's a mother voice,” Taog said sympathetically. “Fionnaghal has it too, but damned if I can manage it. When I yell at them, my children just stare at me like I've lost my senses, then they go back to whatever they were doing. I have a theory that they learn to listen to their mother's in the womb.”

  “You're simply too soft on them,” Arach declared sagely. “Children need a firm, fiery hand.”

  “Says the man who taught his son that dragons get whatever they want, whenever they want it,” I scoffed.

  “No!” Neala gasped. “King Arach, that was a tragic mistake, I'm sorry to say. A parent must use every trick they can think of to keep their children in line, and one of the most successful is bribery. If you give them everything they want, you have no leverage.”

  “Yes, well, parenthood is a learning experience for us all,” Arach said loftily. “That was obviously a lesson I should have reserved for when he was more mature.”

  “Or not given him at all,” I noted. “The lesson I need to teach my sons is to not listen to their father.”

  “Now, A Thaisce”—Arach gave me his indulgent husband look—“our son needs to know that he is royalty—dragon royalty—and that makes him important.”

  “Our son needs to learn to love his people and place their needs as high as his own,” I countered. “Such is the responsibility of a king.”

  “Yes, yes, the people are important too,” Arach agreed. “But there is an order to things; a hierarchy.”

  “You're an elitist pig,” I pointed out calmly.

  “An elitist dragon, my dear,” Arach corrected. “Pigs are far lower on the food train.”

  “It's called a food chain, Arach,” I corrected with a giggle. “Not a train.”

  “Chain?” Arach made a face. “Why have a chain of food when you could have a train? A food chain sounds like bait. Sometimes humans baffle me.”

  “Would 'sometimes' be the moments when you're awake?” I smiled innocently and then made a train sound, “Toot, toot.”

  “A Thaisce, your teasing stokes my fire to an inferno,” Arach purred into my ear. “Be careful, or I shall shift into a dragon and carry you off to our favorite hot springs.”

  Before I could respond to that tantalizing threat/offer, a commotion came from the castle entrance, drawing my attention away from my randy husband. The sound of barking echoed out of the cave-like opening to us, and then came a bunch of shouting. Within the shadowed archway, I started to see a glimmer of white; then there were little flashes of red as a pack of wild hounds came streaking out of the darkness, running straight toward us. Right on their tails was a group of goblins, rattling in their armor as they chased the dogs.

  “What the what?” I stood up and got a better look. “Are those the cŵn annwn?”

  Dexter jumped up and started to growl, his sleek fur standing on end. I stroked him absently.

  “It appears so,” Arach noted as he strode forward and held up an authoritative hand. “Hold!”

  “Ease down, Dex; they're not a threat,” I said to the nurial, and he settled.

  Our goblin guards pulled up short, putting an end to the clanging, but the barking continued, and the dogs kept coming. They dashed to Arach, then circled him, whining. Arach held his hands out to the animals, and they went to his palms, licking and nuzzling them. Arach crouched among the pack, and the dogs seemed to sigh, settling around him in relief.

  “Jiminy Cricket,” I whispered. “I forgot about the hounds. They ran off after the battle with Arawn. How did they even get here?”

  “They are faerie dogs, A Thaisce.” Arach stood with a wide grin on his face. “And they're also hounds of a Wild Hunt. You said that Arawn and I had a connection, that he was even named after me. It seems that our bond has drawn his floundering Hunt through the Aether to me. Their master is dead, so they sought a new one.”

  “We already have Dexter.” I stroked the nurial by my side, and he looked up at me in agreement. “Where are we going to put more canines?”

  “These are hunting dogs, A Thaisce,” Arach said. “They'll have a kennel to sleep in, but they're also fey, so they should be fine roaming free.”

  “Should be?” I frowned at the hounds, and they stared back at me balefully. “Oh, all right. I hate to see domesticated animals homeless. But you dogs better not bother my Dexter.”

  The hounds whined.

  “Excellent!” Arach exclaimed. “Come along, fire hounds, I shall find someone to feed you.”

  “They're not fire hounds,” I called after Arach. “They're coon dogs; cŵn annwn.”

  “They are fire hounds now,” he called back.

  “Men,” I said to Neala, and she made a huffing sound of agreement.

  Chapter Two

  The cŵn annwn followed Arach everywhere, and being the type of person who basked in adoration (aka a dragon), he loved every minute of it. Arach strode about Aithinne with his pack by his side, like an English lord with his hunting dogs... except with more attitude. I suppose there was no need for comparison; Arach looked like exactly what he was; a dragon king with his hunting dogs. Except he usually included my children in the shenanigans. Rian and Brevyn would walk with their father, in a sea of fur, mimicking his posture and expressions. Dexter and I would watch this Mary Poppins procession with expressions of irritation and amusement.

  Until the howling began.

  It started with some light whining and then escalated into full-blown yowls. The dogs danced around Arach, running off and returning like they had to pee and needed to be let outside. Except they had access to the kingdom and could come and go as they pleased. Pee was not the problem, though they were pissing people off. Arach was at his wit's end and had finally locked the cŵn annwn in their kennel, to keep the dogs away from all of us. But the cacophony they made echoed up to us, even in our tower bedroom. The dogs were disturbing the peace big time.

  “They remind me of Lassie,” I noted as I bounced Rian on my lap.

  At two-years-old, Rian was closer to the size of a six-year-old human child, and was as mature as one, but he still loved being bounced on my knees. Arach was on the floor with Brevyn—who was a little behind Rian in his development. Brevyn was around the level of a human four-year-old, but he was quickly catching up to Rian, thanks to the piece of Aednat's dragon-sidhe soul he now possessed. Aednat being my faerie mother from my past life, and therefore, Brevyn's faerie grandmother, if not godmother.

  We were in the nursery with the door shut so that the howling was as dampened as possible. The nursery's window faced the front of Castle Aithinne, so we had it open to the warm breeze. The scent of ripe apples wafted in from the Forgetful Forest. Sunlight streamed over the autumnal trees, turning the basic colors of red, orange, and yellow into their more extraordinary cousins: cinnabar, amber, and gold. It would have been a peaceful and beautiful day if not for those damn dogs.

  Arach was building a monument out of wooden blocks for Brevyn. This was his third undertaking. The instant his construction was completed, Brevyn would launch forward with delighted giggles and knock it all over. I wasn't sure if it was such a good idea to teach a child that it was okay to demolish someone else's hard work, but Brevyn was so damn cute when he laughed that I let it go.

  “Who is Lassie?” Arach asked and then grimaced as the howling got louder.

  “A dog from an old television show,” I explained. “When something happened that Lassie wanted to tell her owner about, she would run up to him and bark like crazy. Then Timmy would ask her; 'Has someone fallen down the well, Lassie?' And Lassie would bark more, and—”

  “Blessed barghests!” Arach exclaimed, cutting me off mid-Lassie explanation. “You're brilliant, A Thaisce! Get up, we're leaving, and bring Rian.”

  He scooped up Brevyn and hurried out of the nursery.

  “What just happened?”
I wondered.

  “Daddy said you're a brill ant,” Rian explained, as if I might not have heard Arach. “Hurry, Mommy; he's leaving without us!”

  Rian scrambled off my lap and after his father.

  “Hey now!” I chased after my boys. “The word is 'brilliant,' Rian.” Then I went back to talking to myself, “Is it a dragon thing that makes them not hear properly, or just the fact that they don't listen?”

  Dexter lifted half an eyelid to see what I was going on about, decided it was some Vervain ridiculousness that he wanted no part of, and went back to sleep.

  I caught up with Rian at the top of the spiraling, central staircase, and scooped him up. Rian laughed delightedly and threw his arms around my neck as I raced after Arach. I could see my husband's crimson hair disappearing down the curve of the stairs. The stairs, like most of Faerie, were magical. They never take as long to climb or descend as they should. I've tried numerous times to pay attention to every step I took—even going as far as counting them carefully—and I've still never been able to catch the enchantment in action. But I could see the evidence of the magic before me now; Arach was gone in a few heartbeats. However, I was also at the bottom of the stairs within two steps and caught sight of my husband racing down the corridor toward the back of the castle.

  I caught up with Arach at the kennels. With one arm hefting Brevyn on his hip, he used his free hand to undo the lock on the cage and release the hounds. Then he crouched down among the quieting animals and stared somberly at them.

  “Are you trying to tell me something?” Arach asked the dogs.

  The cŵn annwn sat back on their haunches and took deep, relieved breaths. I strode up to them and considered the animals. What could these dogs possibly want to tell Arach? Their master had been killed, and they came to Faerie to find Arach; end of story.