“I as well,” Odin added. “He's a big one.”
Only Re and Azrael were left literally in the dark until the snake slithered into the straining light of Austin's bare porch bulb. Odin's assessment was accurate, the snake was a large one. Even bigger than the snake I'd wrestled the other night—about the size of Viper. He stopped just beyond the porch, his scales gleaming in the golden light. He was as black as he was in human form—an oily, true black with no markings to alleviate the darkness.
He rose on his thick body until his head was at the level of mine, then spoke, “Do not interfere further, Godhunter.”
“That's kinda my thing; it's right there in my name,” I countered. “You hunt humans, and I'll hunt you.”
“It won't be for much longer. I'm only asking for a little time.”
“Oh, so I'm supposed to let you keep killing because you're going to stop eventually?” I sneered. “Who are you? And who are the other snakes?”
“We are family,” he hissed. “And you'd do best to remember that you have family too. Do not hurt mine, and I will not hurt yours.”
I went still. Most of my family stood beside me or was safely ensconced in Pride Palace. There was only one man unaccounted for.
“Yes-s-s-s, I have your man,” he confirmed before I could ask.
“I'm going to make you into a pair of boots, motherfucker!” I snarled and started forward.
Odin and Trevor grabbed me by my upper arms and pulled me back.
The snake rose higher and bared his fangs at me—they dripped venom. “My family is with him now. Hurt me and they will kill him.”
“You made the wrong play, asshole.” Oh, yeah, all of my creative curses went bye-bye. “Now, I'm not going to stop until you're dead.”
“Think twice about your threats, Godhunter,” the black snake said smugly. “It will be so easy for my family to kill your man... yoursnake.”
“He's not so easily killed,” Odin snapped.
The black snake laughed—a hissing sound. “Do you know what happens to a snake when you put them in the cold?”
“They hibernate,” I whispered.
“Not exactly.” The snake undulated as if shaking his head. “They go into brumation. It's an extreme dormancy—our metabolism slows down so we can survive because we can't create our own body heat. Put a snake in extreme cold, and it will go to sleep forever.”
“What have you done to him?” I shrieked. I wouldn't say Viper's name. I wouldn't give this bastard anything.
“Don't worry. Your man is a god. He will not die. His body heals itself even as it freezes.”
“You've frozen him?” I roared.
“Put him on ice-e-e,” he hissed with delight.
“You are a dead snake,” I said calmly as I filled my hand with fire. “One plate of barbecued reptile coming up.”
The black snake reared back even as my men snatched at me again.
“We can't kill him,” Trevor whispered. “Think, Vervain! Think about what we talked about.”
Right. I was going to track Viper. But that wouldn't matter if this god managed to contact his family and they killed him first.
“Come after my people again, and I will start cutting pieces off your frozen snake.Shatteringoff pieces. Kill one of my people, and your man dies.”
A shrieking sound came from above and all of us, even the snake, angled our heads upward in shock. Something descended rapidly—a lot of somethings. The shadow of wings crossed the crescent moon, several of them, along with the outline of taloned feet. Feathers and claws. Birds. A flock of birds dive-bombed the enormous snake.
As they got closer, I noted that they were owls. Huge owls with tufts of feathers on their heads like horns and collars made of bone and leather that looked remarkably like armor. They screeched again and extended their legs as if coming in for a landing. But they didn't land. They struck the snake and everywhere they hit bled. Gaping wounds opened on that glossy hide. Black blood dripped onto the hard-packed earth of Austin's driveway.
“Sweet Peppa Pig!” I exclaimed. “It's the freakin' Owls of Ga'Hoole!”
