Godhunter Read online

  Under my hand I felt Huitzilopochtli twitch but his face was completely serene. “It’s nothing Sarama, you know humans.”

  She frowned more but she let it go. “You were with Thor?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Sif will not be pleased,” Sarama looked over at Aphrodite and the Goddess of Love frowned. Which meant a slight crease appeared briefly between her brows, giving her a dramatically concerned appearance. Would nothing make this woman look bad?

  “His ex-wife?” I blurted, then groaned when everyone looked over at me. I really needed to work on that filter between my brain and my mouth.

  “You said you didn’t know Thor,” Huitzilopochtli looked smug. “Thought his name was Mark?”

  “Yeah, yeah, you caught me. Congrats.” It was going to come out anyway so what the hell, I just went with it.

  “You must know him well if he’s told you of Sif,” Aphrodite was next to me in three long strides.

  “I just met him actually,” I felt cold shivers crawl down my spine as I watched them all exchange looks.

  “I’ll handle this,” Huitzilopochtli announced and waved them away. “Let the others know what’s happened and we’ll join you later.”

  They left us and I pulled away from Huitzilopochtli without meeting his gaze but still keeping my eyes on him. I’d been acting like I was truly a guest. How monumentally moronic of me. I was a god damned hostage. I needed to get out of Dodge and I couldn’t depend on Tanto, my trusty sidekick, to help me. As usual, I was alone… and what the hell was the Lone Ranger doing with a sidekick anyway, come to think of it? Didn’t his name pretty much indicate that he was more the solitary type?

  I looked behind me at the glass doors. The jungle seemed more foreboding than accommodating but if I could get out into it, I might have a chance to open a trace point home. I wondered briefly if Thor was worried and then tossed that idea out as utter nonsense. I couldn’t afford to think that way. No one was worried, no one was coming. This wasn't a fairy tale. There wasn't going to be a Prince Charming riding in to give me a happily-ever-after. In real life, Snow White stays dead and Rapunzel grows old, alone in her tower. In real life, you gotta have enough sense to stay away from ugly bitches offering you shiny apples and have enough balls to cut off your own hair and use it as a ladder if needs be. In real life, you gotta save yourself and the only happy endings are the ones paid for in massage parlors.

  Huitzilopochtli grabbed my arms, lifted me, and threw me down onto the stone table. I landed hard, the breath whooshing out of me, and I was stunned for a moment from the blow to my head. Little spots swam across my vision and bile burned the back of my throat. Was I going to pass out? I frantically held onto consciousness. The possibilities of what could happen otherwise were too grim.

  Huitzilopochtli leaned over my chest, trapping my right arm under him while he unbuckled the glove on my left. He yanked it off and then followed up with the right. The slap of leather as he threw them across his shoulder was like a death knell. Then I felt my kodachi removed from my hip and I tried to shake off the shock so I could fight but all too soon my vision twisted again as he threw me over his other shoulder.

  “I apologize, my little vicious Vervain,” he walked from the room, his thick soled boots clomping on the cold floor before the sound was strangled by thick carpeting. “I couldn’t let you keep your weapons, you might hurt yourself and I promised you that no harm would befall you here.”

  He dropped me but this time the landing was soft, my fall completely cushioned by a springy mattress. I was still a little dizzy but I was clear-headed enough to look around and see that I was in a hell of a room. Where the other room had been stark, this one was the exact opposite. It was a lush paradise of silk, velvet, plush carpeting, and polished mahogany. The bed I'd landed on was massive, bigger than a California King. Evidently gods weren’t restricted by manufacturer's sizes. The bedding was crimson silk. In fact, the whole room was a bloodbath of color. I guess if you find something that works for you, it's best to stick with it.

  I tried to sit up but he pushed me down with a scary show of speed, covering me completely, and let’s just say his blood was flowing fine to all areas of his body. His lips, inches from mine, spread in a slow smile as I tried to squirm away. I closed my eyes tight, hoping he couldn’t take my mind without catching my gaze. His laugh vibrated from his chest to mine, that velvet sound again, stealing over me, seeping into me. I could feel my legs clenching with pleasure and I groaned in embarrassment.

  “This isn't willing,” I squeezed my eyes tighter and tried to think of cockroaches crawling on me, anything to disgust instead of excite.

  “Are you sure? You body seems to think differently” He rolled, pulling me with him, wrapping his arms around my back and tightening them meaningfully.

  “I’m kinda into Thor,” I still didn’t open my eyes but I felt him go rigid beneath me. Well, more rigid.

  “Now you say you belong to the Thunder God?”

  “No, I didn’t say I belonged to him, you pig,” his phrasing pissed me off enough to make me open my eyes and glare at him. “I said I was kinda into him, implying that we started something which I was thinking about taking further, maybe.”

  “That doesn’t sound like he’s claimed you,” his smile returned as his tension left.

  “No, of course not, I just met him,” oh shit, I just kept telling this guy more and more. Telegraph, telephone, tell-a-Vervain! When would I learn to keep my pie-hole shut?

  “Not that it would really matter if he had. I've got you now,” he looked like the matter was completely settled.

  “Look, no offense,” I tried to push back but he held me firm. “But I’m not into pushy gods who are trying to get my people to kill each other, or me for that matter. It’s just not a turn on for me, what can I say?”

  He let go and I scrambled off the bed, immediately searching for my weapons. They were sitting on an inlaid wood table near the huge fireplace. I started for them but Huitzilopochtli’s voice stopped me.

  “Leave them, Vervain,” he sat up and sighed, “I’ve already allowed you to keep your hidden dagger. I cannot allow you to have the gloves, they’re too dangerous. I can feel the god-power in them. And the sword,” He walked over to the table, picked up the sword and admired it. “Beautiful but deadly, just like you.” He put both the sword and gloves in a long box on the mantle. The lid shut with a click and I knew it had locked with something extra special.

  “Magic lock?” I knew I looked defeated but I was past the point of caring.

  “Yes,” he closed the distance between us, standing just a breath away, and did nothing but run a hand gently down my hair. “I’ll send for some new clothes for you. The bathroom is through there,” he nodded to a door almost completely hidden by paneling. “Use whatever you desire and then get some sleep. I can feel your exhaustion.”

  “And you’ll be sleeping where exactly?” I couldn’t believe he was just going to let me be.

  “Here, with you,” he smiled again and again I felt that warm, traitorous rush. “But not until later tonight. You’ve been granted another small reprieve, use it well.” He left, closing the door behind him with an ominous click. I felt the rush of power and knew he’d sealed me in with magic, just like my gloves.

  Chapter Seven

  Two hours later, I was yanked from sleep by a strong hand and a rich voice telling me to dress for dinner. Dinner? What time was it? I normally didn’t sleep in the middle of the day and it had messed me up. After going without sleep the night before, I could have done with a lot more of it though.

  I struggled up, staring down at my jeans-clad legs with blurred vision. Never a good idea to sleep in jeans but it was either that or get undressed and I wasn’t about to get naked in Blood Boy’s Bed of Lust. The groan poured out of me as I rubbed my eyes. I could feel a bruise beneath the point of my daggers hilt, where it had dug into my stomach while I slept.

  “Come here,” Huitzilopoc
htli held out a hand, something red hung from his other one.

  I was too tired to care. I went over and just stood there. He could have struck me down and I wouldn’t have lifted a finger. He could have shaved my head or stabbed a knife into my heart and I wouldn’t have moved. Instead, he grabbed the hem of my shirt and started to lift it.

  “Whoa,” I whacked his hands, outraged adrenaline surging through my exhausted limbs.

  “I’m going to help you dress,” he reached for me again and when I kept a death grip on my shirt, his eyes narrowed, his voice turning to ice. “You’ll let me dress you and we’ll play nicely or I’ll tear the clothes from you and be everything but nice to you. Your choice.”

  I felt my fingers go slack and he immediately reached for me, his eyes shining in triumph. He pulled the shirt over my head, I lifted my arms like a good girl, and he sucked in his breath sharply. I wasn’t looking at his face but I felt the warmth of his gaze. His hands went to my collar, then skimmed down my front, over the black lace of my bra, stroking me gently before continuing down to the jeans. A cold, trembling horror spread in his wake, closing my throat and burning my eyes. I’d envisioned death at the hands of a god numerous times but never had I considered the possibility of life at the hands of one. Maybe because it was so much worse.

  I wasn’t sure what the worst part was, the panic, the humiliation, or the fear. Maybe it was the realization that I was in over my head and had been the whole time. That no matter what, there would always be someone stronger, faster, meaner, and out to get me. It was a cold splash of reality that wasn’t going to do a thing for his seduction routine, although I wasn’t sure seduction was really what he had in mind anymore.

  He undid the button and zipper of my jeans and then pushed them over my hips slowly, kneeling to scrape the material down my legs. I stepped from them, barely keeping my knees from buckling, and tried to back away but he grabbed me firmly around the hips and stared up the length of me.

  “You’re beautiful,” he breathed, “why are you trying to hide from me?”

  “Maybe because I don’t like being forced to strip.” I stared down at him with undisguised hatred. “I don’t know what type of woman you normally associate with but I generally don’t get naked around a man I’ve only known for a few hours.”

  He blinked and got abruptly to his feet. “I only wanted to see you,” he jerked the red silk over my head. It caressed my skin and my fear-weakened body shivered in reaction. I pulled my anger further to the surface and used it to push away any trace of that weakness.

  The silk ended up being a cocktail dress. Versace, I noted with grim humor. I pulled it down and reached around to zip up the back. It was covered in beads and shimmered as I moved. I had no idea how the little spaghetti straps held the weight of it but I had to admit it was amazing. I wanted to check myself out in a mirror but I wasn’t about to give Huitzilopochtli the satisfaction.

  He held a pair of red satin stiletto heels out to me and I obediently put them on. He had a hell of an eye because he got both sizes perfect. He took my arm and led me to a chair, pushing me down into it without a word. His fingers ran across my temples and undid my hair before pulling the mass of it back. I felt him hold the gathered weight in one hand as he pulled a comb through it with the other. The snarls of my hair swiftly surrendered to his expert fingers and I closed my eyes to the pleasant feeling it evoked. Which only made it worse. I popped my eyes back open, determined to keep them that way through the rest of the torture, bliss, no torture, definitely torture.

  Finally, he laid the brush down and offered me his arm. “Our guests await us in the dining room.”

  What else could I do? He was obviously insane, threatening me one minute, then brushing my god-damned hair the next. I took his arm and let him lead me to the dining room. My head swam from the combination of his insanity and sleep deprivation. Maybe it was all just some weird form of torture. Maybe he just wanted a living Barbie doll he could dress up and parade in front of his friends. I tried to untangle the mystery on the long walk to the dining room but it was hard enough to remain on my feet. The strange torture habits of Aztec gods would have to wait till later to be pondered. Maybe the Discovery channel would do a special on it. I choked back an exhausted giggle.

  “Are you alright?” Huitzilopochtli stopped me before we crossed the threshold.

  “I could use a little more sleep,” I blinked at him and he brushed my hair back gently to study my face.

  “Have some food and then I’ll take you back,” he played the concerned lover so well, it made my flesh crawl. I just nodded.

  The room we entered was done in cream and gold. The carpet was plush cream, the walls were creamy stone and the curtains that hung around the two large windows were a color I’d once heard referred to as crème fraiche by a pompous up and coming artist. All the accessories were gold; the curtain rods, the fixtures, even the little chatchkies were all gold… solid if I was judging crazy Aztec boy correctly. I felt like I’d walked into a gilded marshmallow. The gods I’d met earlier were congregated at the far end of the room, around a bar made of golden walnut. There were delicate chairs in the same walnut cowering behind them but the gods remained standing.

  They turned to us as we walked in and met us at the long table in the middle of the room. The table stood proud under white linen, covered with bone china and more gold flatware than I knew what to do with. The glasses were cut crystal and so were the candelabras placed on each end. A massive floral arrangement of ivy and white roses exploded from a vase in the precise center. Everything was immaculate and it made me immediately search for something with the greatest staining potential.

  Huitzilopochtli escorted me to a seat to the left of the head of the table. I fell more than sat into it but he didn’t seem to notice as he took the head chair. Only then did everyone else sit. It made me very nervous and I had to fight to keep from fidgeting. It was all a little too upper class Manson for me (Charles not Marilyn) and I tried to cover up a shudder as the thought of what we might be feasting on struck me. Did they all drink blood? Was I about to be served a banquet of blood or raw meat?

  When the servants walked in, I flinched. The gods I’d dispatched before had all lived alone. I didn’t think they needed or wanted servants. Yet here was a whole retinue of help for Huitzilopochtli. It was chilling to think that I could have walked into a god's home and found not one but several adversaries. I swallowed hard as I looked over the servers. They all had the look of Huitzilopochtli, restrained ferocity under a guise of elegance, and a horrible revelation hit me when one of them filled my glass with a deep red wine.

  “Are they vampires?” I leaned over and whispered to Huitzilopochtli.

  He nodded, “In a way. They're my priests, the ones I spoke of earlier. They’ve served me well and will continue to serve me for all eternity.”

  I shuddered as I thought about being a servant and a bloodsucker forever. Talk about the short end of the immortality stick. One of them placed a dome-covered dish before me. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I felt a movement of air as he took the lid away but I still didn’t look.

  “And in the Master’s chambers, they gathered for the feast,” I whispered as I opened my eyes. “They stabbed it with their steely knives but they just can’t kill the beast.”

  On the plate before me was a beautiful Cornish hen surrounded by a mound of crispy roasted potatoes. I heaved a sigh of relief.

  “What were you expecting, little witch?” Huitzilopochtli's laughter tickled my ears.

  “You eat normal food?”

  “Of course,” he frowned slightly. “You’ve read too much nonsense on vampires. We’re as you. The only difference is, we need blood.”

  “Then the sun?”

  “No effect, I’m a sun god after all, it’s the source of my power,” he sobered a little, “although something in the transfer did weaken my children. It takes them centuries to be able to stand sunlight. It’s almost as if th
e heat of the sun must be matched by the heat within. Without the balance, one consumes the other.”

  “Garlic, holy water, crosses, stakes through the heart?” I’d killed a vampire once and it had been easier than killing Ku but if what he was saying was true, I’d been careless and lucky… very lucky.

  “Garlic is just plain ridiculous,” he waved it away. “Holy water is useless, how could something created for blessing be used to kill a god? Crosses are associated with old magic but they’ve no power over vampires. And as far as stakes go, shove a big pointed stick through anyone’s heart and they’ll have trouble getting up again but still the only way to kill them is through decapitation, like us. They’re of my line after all.”

  “But these are all strong human beliefs,” I studied him, wondering if he was trying to mislead me. “Gods are shaped by our beliefs. Those things should hurt vampires, if for no other reason than because we believe they will.”

  “Your belief only shapes gods, vampires aren’t gods, they are the creations of one, and as such they’re untouchable by human belief. I’m not a vampire but a god, so people’s beliefs of vampires don’t apply to me.” He cut into his hen with relish. “Besides, what human truly believes in vampires? With the creation of artificial light, humanity has gradually forgotten the reasons they should be afraid of the dark.”

  “That’s a bit of a catch twenty-two isn’t it?” I still hadn’t touched anything.

  “It’s the truth,” he made a prompting motion with his fork at my food. “Vampires are not what you believe them to be and neither am I.”

  “Enough of this nonsense,” Lir's sharp voice carried from his place, two settings down. “Do you even know who you’ve captured, Huitzilopochtli?”

  “I’ve caught a sweet witch in my net,” he leaned in and kissed my cheek. I felt tingles dance down my spine. They met halfway with the terror creeping up from my gut and changed into a wave of nausea. I was hoping my identity would escape notice.