The Black Lion: A Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance (Godhunter Book 30) Page 23

  “Head for the castle,” Odin said to me. “I'll stay here and ferry the rest of them over the ward.”

  I nodded, sat back on my haunches, and grabbed Trevor, Viper, Re, and Aidan; two men in each claw. Volos picked up his passengers, and we leapt into the air together. My wings stretched to catch the air and the lions on my back roared their battle cry.

  “Intare!”

  I added my roar to theirs and hoped that wherever Kirill was, he heard us and knew we were coming for him.

  Beneath us, Perun's territory spread out, and I was able to see the whole of it. Much smaller than I'd originally thought, the branches of the World Tree encapsulated the domain entirely; rising from the sides to curve over the top, leaving only a narrow line of sky free. I couldn't see anything beyond the branches; only a veil of mist that betrayed the barrier of whatever territory abutted Perun's.

  Roughly circular, the treetop territory seemed rather plain from up there. Uninspired when compared to the lush Russian Underworld. The most impressive feature was the castle in its center; a sleek thing of storm-gray walls and minarets extending into spikes that went straight up to that rectangular opening in the branches. Even with that clear blue sky overhead, lightning flashed around the castle spires, reflecting off the polished walls. Not stone but metal. The whole thing had the look of a weapon to it; a sword or spear. Or perhaps a lightning rod.

  My suspicion was confirmed when lightning struck one of the spires and crackled over the entire structure.

  Below and behind me, Intare were clearing the ward and shifting back into lion form. They roared and ran after me. Volos and Azrael kept pace at my sides, grim stares focused on the lightning-conducting castle. As we neared, I felt Kirill stir, his mind surfacing out of stasis. He wasn't afraid or confused. In fact, he felt calm. Too calm.

  Kirill! I shrieked into his mind.

  I felt his thoughts shiver, shaking loose of something. Confusion drenched him suddenly then awareness. He roared.

  Kirill, I'm here! I'm almost to you.

  Lesya?

  She's okay. Hold on, baby.

  Zey've got me on altar, Kirill growled. I'm chained. Then a wave of horror washed over him.

  Kirill?!

  Nyet. Not possible. Vervain! He roared and then went silent. Silent as if a veil had been drawn between us.

  I reached down our cord. Mentally shook Kirill. There was nothing; his mind had gone dark again.

  I put on a burst of speed.

  And slammed into a wall.

  Volos and Azrael hit the same barrier seconds after me. We tumbled down a sleek surface together. Tail over snout, I went, wings bashing against something I couldn't see. Not at first. It shimmered into sight as I fell. The Intare leapt from my back, but I clutched the men in my talons closer. When I hit bottom, I curled in over my belly and the men protectively. My back took the brunt of the fall but in that form it did more damage to the land than me. I grunted in pain—one of my wings had been damaged—and opened my claws to release the men. Still on my back, I uncurled my long neck and stared up a length of wall that went all the way to where the World Tree's branches should have been. Except that now, there was a ceiling blocking out the branches.

  “Mate?” Wolf ran up beside my head.

  “I'm fine.” I flopped onto my feet, my broken wing shaking pathetically, and quickly shifted into my weredragon form; half woman, half dragon, and all scaled. “Az, you okay?”

  “Yes.” Azrael came walking up looking unruffled. “I caught the air before we hit.”

  “Good.” I stretched out my broken wing and blew fire on it to heal it.

  My dragon is a unique shapeshifter in many ways but the most inconvenient of those is her lack of healing when we shift. Every other shifter I know can heal wounds by shifting between forms but not me. At least, not when I receive those wounds in dragon form. Odin thinks it has something to do with Dragon-Sidhe being a race of Fey as opposed to a race created through magic and human belief. But, what she lacked in shifting healing, she made up for with fire healing.

  “Volos?” I called out.

  “Fine,” he said crisply, his dark stare focused up the wall.

  I shook out my healed wings and stretched my shoulders. A rumble accompanied by a trickle of smoke escaped my lips as I too stared at the stone structure—obviously more than a wall—that hadn't been there moments before. My dragon narrowed her eyes through mine and tossed my horned-head savagely. She didn't like being thwarted and this felt particularly menacing. My tail swished out as I prowled along the base of the wall, breathing deeply. My claws trailed over what appeared to be ancient stones, stacked so precisely that I could find no seam wider than a hair.

  Wolf howled and the Intare roared. Odin had caught up to us with the rest of them. I bashed the stones with my fist but it did nothing so I started to shift back to full dragon. I'd take the damn wall down stone by stone if I had to.

  “Vervain, wait.” Odin grabbed my arm. “This is territory magic. Every stone you pull will only be replaced instantly.”

  “So, what? We stand here and do nothing?” I snarled as I turned to face him. That's when I noticed the wall that had come up behind us, hemming us in. Yep; definitely a stone structure. I made another snarling sound of frustration.

  “No, we don't give up. We find another way past it.” Odin stared down the length of the thing. “This isn't a prison. Look.”

  All of us turned to follow Odin's gaze.

  “No way,” I whispered as I started forward.

  My taloned feet dug angry furrows in the earth as I headed toward another wall, this one set at a 90-degree angle to the first. They didn't connect. Between them, a passage loomed, extending up to the seamless stone ceiling. It should have been pitch black inside our stone vault but god light filled the place. Perun wanted us to see. Why?

  “Another game,” Volos said in a low tone as if he thought Perun might be listening.

  “Is that a maze?” Azrael asked as he strode up beside me.

  “No,” I growled. “It's a fucking labyrinth.”

  “What's the difference?” Wolf asked as he drew closer.

  All of my men were gathered protectively around me even though I was likely the most dangerous person there.

  “Choice,” I said grimly. “A maze gives you options while a labyrinth leads you where it wants you to go. A fact which the movie got wrong.”

  “Well, we are most certainly being led,” Odin murmured.

  “The question is why,” Re noted, staring around warily.

  “He's delaying us,” Odin concluded. “But he wants us to find him.”

  The Intare had all shifted back into lions forms. They prowled around us, snarling past bared teeth as they waited for my order; waited to pounce. If only I had an enemy before me to point them at. All I had was a damn wall.

  Correction: a damn labyrinth.

  “No choice,” I muttered and started for the passage. “At least that part is easy.”

  Chapter Forty

  The way narrowed and the ceiling lowered as we ran. Yes, ran. If this was a labyrinth as I'd concluded, there wasn't any sense in being careful. There would be one way forward and that was it. All paths led to Perun.

  I took lead, Volos just behind me. He'd had to shift again to get through the passage but, like Odin, he could take any shape he wished. Volos had gone with human but had armored himself in dragon scales; a glossy black suit that looked straight out of a Fantasy movie and was obviously a part of his body. Odin had taken one look at that shiny armor and crafted his own set with a nod of acknowledgment at Volos. I might have been jealous if I hadn't been so afraid.

  What were they doing to Kirill? Why him? Would they drown him too? Could he be drowned? No, Kirill had mentioned an altar. They were sacrificing him but how? Why? The thoughts tumbled through my mind as I ran, breath pumping out of me as my claws, digging into packed earth, drove me on faster.

  Then the earth became water.

>   I fell forward into a pool. The men behind me shouted and pulled up short. I flailed, my form not intended for swimming. At least not in water. Hands grabbed me and pulled me under. I snarled before I was yanked below the surface. My wings bent forward like a shroud.

  The light of the labyrinth only penetrated a few feet then all became darkness. Still, I saw them. Pale skin, large eyes, and sharp teeth. Their hair billowed in the water around their fatally beautiful faces. They smiled sweetly. Fingers snaked into my hair. Curled around my horns. Grabbed my wings. They pulled me down to the bottom. Mud sucked at my feet.

  I shifted to human and slipped free. Smiles turned to snarls. Pointed teeth snapped menacingly. I kicked out and made for the surface, using each impact to send me shooting even faster upward. They gave chase.

  Bodies entered the water nearby. Men dove for us. The Rusalki—it had to be them—jerked like sharks tasting blood. They turned toward the men as one and sped off. Internally, I shrieked, but I needed air. I broke the surface, gulped in a few breaths, then dove back under.

  My lovers were fighting off the women with fists and claws and magic. Starlight streamed from Viper's hands while sunlight flared from Re's. The Wolf had gone into werewolf form, and Azrael had his scythe in hand, slicing through water as if it were wheat. Behind them, lions poured into the pool; blindly diving in to save their Tima like a bunch of lemmings off a cliff. Thankfully, my lions can swim, but they aren't so vicious underwater.

  None of that mattered.

  As I tore into water women, Odin and Volos shifted once more. Odin took a form I'd only seen in Faerie; that of a Hidden One—the most fearsome fey ever born. He chose something that suited water—even though Hidden Ones are fire faeries—altering the shape a bit to suit his needs. He also gained mass once he was underwater, taking up as much space as the pool allowed him. Then he set to chomping.

  Volos didn't become a dragon but a vortex; something I wouldn't have thought possible. I only knew it was him because I witnessed the change. His body melted into the water then churned into a cone that sucked in rusalki like a jet engine. Or a blender.

  The water turned red.

  I was suddenly thankful that I had shifted. In my weredragon form, I would have been tempted to take the time to feast. As it was, I used the opportunity to swim to the opposite bank. The lions followed me, doggy-paddling through the crimson liquid as Odin and Volos had their fun. I climbed onto dry land, shifted back into my weredragon form, and sluiced the water off me with quick movements before squeezing out my hair. The lions were more aggressive about it, shaking wildly to dry themselves, and I stepped back, out of the flood zone.

  Viper, Re, Azrael, and the Wolf crawled out of the pool, and we waited together for Volos and Odin to finish. They finally emerged, back in their scale armor, and stepped up to me with stoic expressions.

  “Well, whatever happens, we've at least stopped the drownings,” I said. “Well done, you two.”

  “Zis is only beginning,” Volos announced with a faraway look in his eyes. “Mokosh and Jarilo are near but also very far.”

  “As is Kirill.” I set my stare forward. “Let's get closer, shall we?”

  We started running again.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Thirty minutes of running cooled my fury and helped focus my mind. I slowed to a stop, the others following suit, then spun in a circle. My chest heaved, breath panting, and I knew my eyes were glowing; I could see their light on my arms.

  “This is getting us nowhere,” I said those words again and bashed my fist against a wall.

  It shivered. Rippled. I froze and stared at the “stone.”

  “We're playing into Perun's hands,” I whispered. “All while he does who knows what to Kirill.”

  I tried to feel Kirill again but his mind was still dark.

  Then a grating rumble echoed down the passage from the way we'd come. The lions at the back of our line started to whine and sway uneasily. I couldn't fly in such close quarters so I pulled my wings in tightly and wedged through the ranks to reach the back. The Intare parted for me, eyes set toward that grinding sound.

  “What is that?” Viper came up to stand at my shoulder.

  “A damn joke!” I snapped. “Who does he think he is; the Goblin King? Ugh,” I groaned. “Now, I really have to come up with some Labyrinth lines.”

  My dragon eyes had already made out the contraption that clamored toward us. It was meant to make noise and a lot of it. A scare tactic. But it didn't appear all that dangerous—unlike the Cleaners it reminded me of—just a rattling battering ram moving steadily forward. Not all that rapidly either. It had a definite pace.

  “So, he wants us moving at a certain speed,” I murmured thoughtfully.

  “You want me to handle it?” Viper asked casually.

  “Sure.” I grinned and delivered the perfect line. “Let's see how you deal with this little slice.”

  Viper grinned, showing off thin fangs, then bounded toward the thing. A studded panel was all we could see of it but with Viper's first hit, the metal crumpled in upon itself and the odd motor was revealed. Gears and metal bits went flying as star god fists proved stronger than imaginary steel. Viper pummeled the thing till it wasn't a thing anymore, just a useless lump of metal. Which I guess is technically a thing, but you know what I mean. Then he punted the enormous ball back down the corridor like a soccer player going for a goal.

  “He kicks! He scores!” Viper held his arms up victoriously as the rest of my men rolled their eyes and turned away, heading back toward the front of the line as if unimpressed.

  The lions, at least, nudged Viper playfully and approvingly with furred shoulders as he passed. The Intare are a lot like me; they know that laughter is a gift, especially in times like this, and they had learned to take every gift offered them.

  “At least there weren't goblins running the thing,” I muttered as I escorted Viper back to the head of the line.

  “Why do you keep talking about Goblins?” Viper whispered to me.

  I blinked. Looked over at him. Realized that Viper's pop culture education was sorely lacking. And even worse; I had wasted that fantastic Jareth line on him! I'd thought I'd been doing right by him when all while, I had failed to play Labyrinth—the greatest David Bowie movie of all time—for Viper. Bad Vervain, no biscuit. Or popcorn, rather.

  “I'll tell you later.” I didn't have time for a Goblin King lecture. It would undoubtedly end in a singalong that wasn't appropriate for rescuing my captured lover. David Bowie was already starting to croon in my mind as it was.

  I stared up and around me speculatively as we reached the front of our group. Territory magic is a simple thing. The god who is connected to a territory uses his will to mold the neutral magic of his domain into whatever he wishes it to be. Even in territories hindered by human belief, a god could alter things and revert them later. I had never manipulated my territory to defend it before but Marduk, when he'd been briefly in possession of Pride lands, had. And he'd done so adeptly—and against me—despite being new to the process. I knew all too well what a god can do in the domain he rules.

  Never attack a god in his own territory, Marduk's voice overpowered David Bowie singing “Within You” in my mind.

  But it had been the Fey who had shown the Gods how to build this realm. Faeries who had taught them the magic and the way to use it. And I'm Fey. My blood gave me an advantage in the Dream Realm, perhaps it would give me an advantage here as well. Or...

  “Can't the Trinity Star help?” Viper plucked the words right out of my head.

  “Give me a second, sweetheart,” I murmured and shut my eyes.

  Inside me, the Trinity Star brightened. I could see its nine points; each one representing a piece of my magic. Three trinities bound together; Race, Beasts, and Magic. The point for my dragon glowed slightly brighter than the rest because I was accessing her power. But I could draw on all of them simultaneously and create something stronger than the individu
al pieces. Something all-powerful.

  I called the points together and wished upon my star.

  “Bring him to me,” I whispered. “Bring me Kirill. End this now.”

  The star shone. Silver rays spread through my body. I felt the joy of being whole in a way I could never be without the Trinity Star. I felt gratitude and peace. Then the light faded away and frustration replaced my gratitude.

  I snarled a wordless curse.

  “It's not meant to be,” Odin whispered in shock.

  That was the thing with my star. It has limitless power—I nearly conquered the world with it once—but it's bound by destiny. It would fulfill my wishes so long as they were in line with the greater good and the path of my fate. Which, as Odin had concluded, meant that Kirill being in the hands of a crazy, Russian, thunder god who looked like Thor was for the greater good. Or it was fate.