The Black Lion: A Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance (Godhunter Book 30) Page 21

  Volos leaned forward and poured me a cup of tea then handed it to me on a saucer.

  I pondered him. In the few minutes I'd known him, I had already concluded that he was a vastly different man than Perun. Solemn, quiet, and pensive; this was a man who listened more than spoke. Where Perun had given me a grocery list of his magic, Volos had only offered his name. While Perun rumbled and made demands, Volos quietly did what needed to be done and let his actions speak for him. Yep, this was a rare case of outward appearances giving a clue to what lay within. Although, that was likely due to human belief. Perun and Volos were a version of a religious theme that can be found in several pantheons; the God of Light versus the God of Darkness. As usual, I found the darkness more appealing.

  “I am a... vhat is word?” Volos frowned in thought. “Psychopomp. Do you know vhat zat means?”

  “I do. I happen to be married to one.” I sipped my tea. “It means that you carry the souls of the dead to their afterlives.”

  “Correct.” He blew across his tea before sipping then set the whole thing down as if one sip were all he wanted. “I carry dead souls. Bring here.”

  “But only the souls of humans who worship your pantheon, correct? There probably aren't many of those left.”

  “Nyet. Not many at all. Nearly none,” he confirmed. “I rarely have to leave my territory.”

  “You're getting at something. Let me guess; you've had to leave your territory a lot lately?”

  Volos inclined his head again. It really was strange to hear this Loki-twin speaking with a Russian accent, but interacting with Jarilo and Perun had prepared me for it.

  “Every death has called me.”

  “You mean; all of the people who drowned were your people? They worshiped gods in your pantheon?”

  Volos shrugged. “I say vhat I mean. I draw no conclusions.”

  “Sounds as if Alūksne has a growing pagan population,” I murmured. “Wait. If you were called to carry them, does that mean you have their souls here?”

  “I do.” He nodded.

  “Well?” I leaned forward eagerly. “What have they said about their deaths? Did you ask them?”

  “Of course, I ask.” Volos grimaced. “Zey say nothing. Only sit in sunshine and hold hands. I've never seen such behavior in ze dead.”

  “Hold hands? You mean the couples have been reunited here?”

  “Da. Zey come at separate times but find each other. Something beyond love connects zem.”

  “Beyond love?” I scowled. “Isn't love enough?”

  “Not necessarily. Love must be extraordinary to survive cleansing of death. Very few find each other in afterlives.”

  “But these couples?”

  “All of zem are together. And all are silent.”

  I sat back and processed that. Sipped my tea. Thought about the Latvians in Lexington.

  “Did you carry a group of men recently? They died in Texas.”

  “Da. I bring zem here too. Zey had vomen vaiting.”

  “What?” I shot forward again. “Those men who tried to shoot us in Texas have wives who died before them?”

  Volos nodded.

  “Did the women drown?”

  Volos nodded again.

  “What in all the hells is going on?” I whispered.

  “I too, vould like to know answer,” he said grimly.

  “Okay.” I put down my tea. “Let's go over what we know. The drowning victims are worshiping a Russian god. They—”

  “Not necessarily,” he interrupted me.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Zey could be vorshiping or zey could be... coerced in some vay.”

  “Coerced? You mean mind control? Enchantment?”

  “Mind control or something else.” He shrugged again. “If human is sacrificed to Russian god, zat soul is given into my keeping vhether zey vorship us or not. If no other god claims soul, I take it.”

  “So, what you're saying is; they don't have to worship your pantheon to be claimed by you?”

  “Correct. A sacrifice dedicated to one of my kin gives us rights to it. But only if no other god has previous claim.”

  “So, these could have been people who didn't believe in any god. Do you think atheists were deliberately targeted?”

  Volos considered this then shook his head. “If another pantheon laid claim to soul, zey could take it, but zey vouldn't receive power from sacrifice. Zat vould still go to god who vas sacrificed to. Only zing different is zat I vould have given soul to other god. Honestly, I don't zink most psychopomps care enough to challenge me for soul.”

  Azrael would have, but I didn't mention that. It wasn't pertinent, especially since Az was retired.

  “So, the humans' beliefs—or lack thereof—had nothing to do with their deaths.”

  “Likely not,” he agreed.

  “Okay. A Russian god is taking sacrifices, sacrifices that have given him or her enough power to capture a fellow goddess,” I concluded.

  “And Mokosh is one of most powerful goddesses in our pantheon.”

  “Well, there have been quite a few deaths.”

  Volos nodded.

  “So, Mokosh probably discovered who the culprit is and they took her, possibly killed her, to keep her quiet.”

  “She is not dead. Ve are connected; I vould feel it. Mokosh lives.”

  “That's one bit of good news.”

  Volos grunted.

  “May I see the souls of the drowned victims?”

  “Zey vill not speak to you either.”

  “It won't hurt to try.”

  Volos smiled, a brief flash of a grin, and then stood. “Follow me.”

  Volos, Lord of the Russian Underworld, led me out of his sin-black castle and into the sunlight that was just slightly brighter than the light inside. I realized that I'd been inaccurate about him; he may be cast in the role of the “dark” god but Volos was not a god of darkness. He was clearly a man who appreciated the light.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  “Why did you decide to trust me?” I asked Volos as he led me into the forest at the base of the hill.

  Volos grunted questioningly and lifted a brow. I was struck again by the similarities and differences between him and Loki. It was like seeing a darker, grimmer version of the Norse Trickster God. But then again, I'd seen Loki somber before and the memory of it made me think twice about my description.

  “You said you didn't come forward before because you didn't trust me,” I reminded him. “What made you change your mind?”

  “I saw you vith human.”

  “Human? Which human?” I frowned. “You mean the Lieutenant; the man I accidentally traced with?”

  Volos shrugged. “I don't know his title. His hair vas lighter zan his skin and he didn't like cold.”

  “Interesting description, but yeah, that would be Austin.” I narrowed my eyes at Volos. “So, you've been spying on me at the cabin?” My face heated suddenly as I recalled what I'd done outside of the cabin with Kirill.

  “Vatching you.” Volos nodded. “I left vhen it vas necessary. I did not vatch to invade privacy.”

  “I appreciate that. But why would my interaction with Austin make you trust me?”

  “I saw your eyes.” He slashed a look my way and his eyes went from jewels to fiery orbs divided by slit pupils.

  They shifted back in an instant, but it was enough to tell me what he was and what he'd seen in me. I stopped walking. Volos kept going. I hurried to catch up.

  “You're a dragon?”

  So, there was a similarity between Niflheim and the Russian Underworld. Both had dragons who guarded souls except here, the souls in Volos' charge weren't in a well, waiting to be born. And here, the dragon ruled.

  “I can be anything.” Volos grinned at me. “But human myth has made me dragon at heart. I am Serpent, Horned God, He-who-lies-vithin-roots-of-Vorld-Tree. And you”—he stopped and turned to me—“are dragon too. Rumors are true. At least, zat one is.”


  “I'm a dragon-sidhe. A type of faerie. I was born that way; originally.”

  Volos grunted. “Zen I trust you even more.”

  “Why?” I cocked my head at him. “Not to disparage my fellow dragons—the few who are left—but why does being one make me trustworthy?”

  “I understand Dragons. I may not have been born one, but I feel dragon inside me.” He took my hand and laid it on his chest. “Here. You feel it too?”

  I nodded. “I have a bit more going on in my heart but yes, I feel my dragon there. She reacts to every emotion I have.”

  “Exactly.” Volos released my hand with a soft smile. “And her reactions are pure. Dragons are more complicated zan most animals. Zey have base urges—feed, fuck, and fire—but also human urges—hoard, love, and vengeance against zose who endanger vhat zey hoard or love. Zey defend vhat is zeirs savagely and zey admire zose who do same. Mokosh is mine, and I know you understand zat like no one else can.”

  My dragon lifted her head at Volos' words; in pride and kinship. I felt a shimmer from him and his eyes flashed once more; his dragon greeting mine.

  “She is in your heart, as he is in mine,” Volos went on serenely. “Zey drive us and keep us pure. Zis is vhy I can trust you.”

  “And why I know you weren't involved in Mokosh's disappearance,” I whispered. “A dragon would never endanger his mate.”

  Volos inclined his head with a soft smile. “Just so. She is my treasure, my hoard; hurting her vould be like hurting myself. Impossible.”

  Treasure. It's what my dragon-sidhe husband, Arach, calls me. A Thaisce; “my treasure” in Fey. Volos was right; a dragon can always trust another dragon. But what he didn't add was that we can trust each other to behave as Dragons, not necessarily to be true to other dragons. Complicated beasts—that's what he'd called us—and I was inclined to embrace that description.

  We started forward again. The forest swept up around us; ancient trees with the feel of magic to them. Not as magical as those in Faerie but definitely different than anything you'd find on Earth. On the surface, they were just trees. They didn't breathe like those in the Forgetful Forest. They didn't creak ominously as if they were whispering to you. They were comforting, actually, just as those giant roots were. Their canopy embraced those who trod beneath it; a shield and relief from the sun. But they were too perfect; the idea of trees rather than the truth of them. Every branch swept gracefully upward as if painted by a divine hand. Every leaf grew in glossy green splendor. And the forest floor was free of them; not a single broken branch or browned leaf to mar the perfection. Absolutely impossible; forest floors are usually more leaf-fall than anything else. Even more telling was the grass that grew there.

  Anyone who's ever been in a forest knows that trees can be both shelter and death. They clean the air and provide food and homes to animals. But they also block sunlight and hold in moisture. Any plant life that wishes to grow beneath them must be able to flourish in dank and dark. Hardy shrubs, moss, and weeds; those are the things you find beneath heavy tree cover. Very rarely do you see grass and then only in patches; places where sunlight has found a way through.

  This grass there was thick and verdant. Our steps barely disturbed it; unlike the grass in the Forgetful Forest, that would stab at anyone who moved too carelessly. At the edges of the lush carpet, within the embrace of tree roots, grew wildflowers. Again, an unlikely occurrence. Flowers generally need sunlight to flourish. Unless they were of a more delicate, exotic variety... which wildflowers aren't. But this was the God Realm and an underworld to boot. Wildflowers in darkness were, by its very unlikelihood, to be expected.

  We stepped into a meadow; one of those I'd seen from overhead. Here, the flowers were more exotic; the sort you might find in wetter climes. Ironically, some of them looked like blooms that would have done well in the shade of a forest; the very varieties I mentioned earlier. These were delicate beauties that needed a balance of light and water; too much of either and they'd die. Yet they thrived here, in direct sun and with so much moisture in the air that my skin grew slick with it. It looked as if the god who had designed this place had wanted to shake things up a bit. Bring the wallflowers—or shade-flowers, rather—into the spotlight.

  Sitting amid those exotic flowers, their faces turned toward the sun as if they were plants themselves, were several couples. Men and women leaned companionably together, hands clasped and eyes closed. Women had their heads on male shoulders and men had their arms around female waists. It looked peaceful.

  “My territory is vet place,” Volos said in a hushed tone. “I am God of Underworld but also of Earth and Vater. I have both here in abundance, but zese souls stay far away from rivers and lakes of my home. Zey vill not leave forest.”

  I made a face. “Can you blame them? They were drowned.”

  “Death should have removed all fear from zem.” Volos scowled from me to the souls.

  I blinked. He was right. The same had happened to Kirill; all of his sadness and human darkness had left when he died. He'd returned with a relatively-clean emotional slate. So, why were these souls holding onto human hangups? It had to be something to do with them being sacrificed.

  I stepped forward, looking at the souls with more than my eyes; using all of my senses. My dragon jerked inside me; head lifting. I breathed in deeply. Scent translated into sight and colors burst before my eyes. A faint trace of god magic clung to them. Whoever had taken them as sacrifice had left their mark on these souls. And I recognized it.

  “They are touched by the same god I sensed outside their homes in the Human Realm.”

  Volos shrugged.

  “No, it isn't all that surprising,” I agreed as my eyes narrowed. “But it's not the only scent on them.”

  Volos went still.

  I smiled; if you could call the baring of teeth a smile.

  Fire flashed in Volos' eyes, and I returned it with my own heat before speaking a single word. A name.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Volos and I came out of the Aether to utter silence but it didn't last long. I cried out, shoulders hunching inward and hands shifting into claws; bombarded by savage emotions that weren't my own. My men; they raged. They feared. Something was terribly wrong. As my beasts went wild inside me, Volos searched the island with a quick turn and narrowed stare. He finished with a furious look my way—conveying everything I already knew—and I roared. I roared another name.

  “Kirill!” My voice echoed across the water and the world went still.

  I could feel Lesya; she was safe but scared. I could feel my husbands and even my newest lover, Viper. But I couldn't feel Kirill. He wasn't dead. Like Volos, I had a bond with Kirill that would have broken with his death. I would have felt it, even behind Volos' wards. Wards which were powerful enough to block the magic that united me to my men. I hadn't sensed their panic until I left the Underworld. Which meant that Kirill was someplace just as heavily warded. And I was pretty damn sure where.

  “I need to fetch someone,” I said to Volos. “He'll get us past Perun's wards.”

  Yeah; it was Perun's scent that clung to the souls along with that of another god. I should have suspected him earlier. At the very least, his name should have been brought up after that storm on the lake. But, even Jarilo hadn't considered that Perun could be behind his mother's disappearance. Or maybe he had but had no proof of it. Either way, I should have thought of it. When a wife is murdered, the first suspect is usually the husband.

  “No need,” Volos said with a grim grin. “I am God of Underworld; trickster who steals from great Perun. His territory is open to me; no vard can keep me out.” He held a hand out to me. “Ve vill save zem together, Dragon Queen. My son, my mate, and yours.”

  “And whoever took them will burn. We'll turn them to ash then burn the ashes,” I snarled.

  Volos grinned viciously.

  But before we could clasp hands, a huge group of people appeared around us. Volos snarled, reared back, and
crouched, talons sprouting from his fingers as his cloak billowed around him. The group snarled back, hands curling into claws and magic shimmying through the air to make it crackle like static.

  “Stop!” I shouted and grabbed Volos. “These are my people! Stand down!” To my men and lions, I added, “He's a friend!”

  Everyone lowered their weapons. And by weapons, I mean their hands.