“You got it, V!”
I looked around. “Okay, he's not here, but now we know where he lives. We can come back. Let's see if we can follow another of his trails and find out where he is.”
“All right.”
Torr and I headed back to the tracing chamber—a simple log structure, sort of a rustic gazebo. Since Torrent hadn't dropped the Internet tunnel, he took us smoothly into the Aether and then held us there a moment for me to get a good look around.
“That one seems freshest,” I said and pointed at a trail Torr couldn't see. “Go that way.”
We did another walk through the Aether, with Torrent molding his tunnel in whatever direction I indicated. And then we were out again. Back on Earth. At another dam. At first, it seemed peaceful, but that was only because the roar of the water drowned out the sounds of battle.
“Oh, fuck!” I screeched when I saw Azrael and Kirill. I jumped out of the Internet and ran for them.
Karni Mata and Teharon were there as well, but they weren't doing anything. Nothing more than gaping, that is. I mean, I get it. There was a giant beaver bashing into a huge concrete dam. It wasn't something you see every day. Also, the beaver was winning. But that wasn't what they were staring at. It was my husbands.
Kirill and Azrael held hands as they faced the enormous beaver. Kirill's eyes glowed blue, but Azrael didn't have any eyes. He was in his Death guise, stare lost to space. Literally. Within the eye sockets of Death's skull swam stars within a night sky. He wasn't a full skeleton. His flesh was still there, but his bones could be seen through it—a stark white that made his skin seem translucent. Acid tears dripped down Azrael's cheeks, but he wasn't upset. He was focused. Both of the death gods were.
I pulled up short, instinctively knowing that disturbing them was a bad idea.
“Vervain!” Teharon shouted and ran over to Torr and me with Karni hot on his heels.
“Get the others!” I said. “Torrent, take them. We need Odin. Now!”
The three of them vanished.
Then all I could do was stand there and witness the first battle-cast of my death gods. Except there were only two of them, and my star was telling me that was a problem. More than a problem. They needed the third god in their trinity to stabilize them.
Magic has been known to light the night or crackle over skin. God magic especially manifests in fascinating ways. But this was Death Magic. It didn't sparkle or crackle or anything pretty like that. It filled the air with heaviness. It seeped and crept. It dragged its icy fingers over the ground, leaving frost in its wake. Maybe that was Kirill's influence. I didn't know. Nor did I know what they were capable of. Or why they had bothered with the Death Magic. Azrael could have handled one giant beaver god by himself. No problem. So could Kirill, for that matter.
“Damn them,” I muttered. “They wanted to test the magic. This is not the fucking time!”
Death stretched toward the beaver, and it finally occurred to me that they were going to kill it. What the hell? Hadn't Az decided to be lenient with this god? Were they really going to kill him just because he was busting up a dam? I opened my mouth to call out, but quickly snapped it shut. If I distracted them, the magic could backlash and kill one of them instead. It wasn't a common occurrence, but it could happen, and I wasn't going to take that risk.
I felt awful about it and wracked my mind for a way to protect the beaver, but as the ice of Death crept closer, the giant beaver raised its head and roared. Water gushed up around it—a tidal wave that swept over the dam and slammed into my husbands with the force of a wrecking ball. I know the force it had because it hit me too.
I heard Odin shouting as I was washed away. Fear lanced through me. Yes, I was immortal, but I feared drowning. Long story. I nearly drowned in the ocean when I was a little girl and then, shortly after I regained my Fey essence, an angry Kelpie tried to drown me in a lake. No matter what they say, drowning is painful. Water filling your lungs is not fun. Okay, maybe it's not such a long story. Conclusion—I was terrified.
And then there were my husbands. I couldn't see them. I couldn't see anything beyond bubbles and froth. I could barely keep my head above water. The roaring wasn't from a giant beaver anymore but from the wave carrying me along. It joined with the thunder of the overflow from the dam when I got swept over the side. The fall was significant. Akin to falling off a skyscraper.
All right, maybe not that high, but it was at least a hundred feet. I was bashed about, abraded, and smacked by concrete before I slammed into the bottom of the river. The only plus was that most of the stones down there were smooth. But there was that whole not breathing thing. I kicked and floundered my way to the surface only to get yanked under again. I couldn't trace in that condition either. All I could do was hope that the wave took me to shore.
With the water pouring out of the dam, generating all that power that no one actually needed, it was a long time before the current gentled. It still didn't give me enough time to trace, nor could I focus enough to shift. But I started to move toward the shore. Unfortunately, the bank was lined with boulders.
I hit one. Hard. And that's all she wrote.
Chapter Nineteen
I came to and was instantly bombarded with sound. Terrible sound. Crying. Anxious voices. One ear was waterlogged, making part of the noise hollow. Someone was saying my name over and over.
“I'm all right,” I said groggily. “It takes more than a bump on the head to keep me down.”
“Vervain,” Odin said with relief. “You need to get up.Now.”
I blinked. He wanted me up? Right away? That couldn't be good. I sat up and frowned. We were at home. I was in bed. Dry. That wasn't so surprising. Anyone with air or water-based magic could have dried me off in seconds. Even fire would have done the trick. What was odd was the amount of people in my bedroom. Yes, even more than usual. And the wailing hadn't stopped. What was even worse was that it came from my children.
Mother instincts kicked in as soon as I registered their cries. I zeroed in on them, my arms opening. “I'm okay. Come here.”
“Mommy!” my babies cried and rushed me. All of them.
