“Hello?” I shouted. “It's Vervain! I just want to talk. We need to make sure that Ty's okay.”
Nothing.
“Aw, fudge this.” Trevor gathered himself to bash the door down.
Odin reached between us and turned the handle. The door opened.
Torrent snickered as Trevor straightened and settled his shoulders.
“Hello?” I called through the open doorway. “We're coming in. Don't attack us.”
I went into an airy foyer; the white plaster walls surged up into an open, peaked, wood ceiling of crossed beams. Scanning the area, we walked down a corridor, past a living room done in white. White walls, white furniture, and white curtains. Pops of color came from woven baskets perched atop wooden tables, tribal masks on the walls, and woven blankets thrown over chairs. At the end of the corridor, we turned left to search several rooms, all with a similar style. It looked as if someone hadn't had the time to get creative.
“This feels like a setup.” Odin took a mask off the wall and inspected it. “They're not here, but they knew we'd come.”
“They want us to believe they're an African god.” I shook my head. “It's becoming such a theme that I'm wondering if it's true.” I looked at Torrent. “Are there any African gods who are both a woman and a man?”
Torrent's gaze went distant, and then his eyes moved as if he were reading a book. At last, he blinked and refocused on me with shock. “Their name is Agwu.”
“What?” Trevor growled. “They really are an African god?”
I held up a hand. “We don't know it for certain yet.”
“Uh.” Torrent made a wincing face. “Maybe you should hear about this god first, V. Their sex is unknown. When they are in goddess form, their name is Agwusi. They are the Igbo God or Goddess of Giddiness, Rascality, Confusion, and Forgetfulness.”
Odin groaned. “Forgetfulness. They wiped our memories.”
“And confused us,” Viper added.
“They're said to be a guiding god/goddess who wants to advance the human race,” Torrent said. “They are into science, philosophy, and mysticism. They're a god of diviners and healers who guides them.”
“They want to advance the human race?” I made a huffing sound. “Seriously? That's what they're known for? How did we miss them?”
Torrent shrugged. “There's so much information out there. You kind of have to know what you're looking for to find it.”
“Well, we found it,” Re said. “If they're a god of diviners, it also explains how they can see the future.”
“And know that we'd come here,” Trevor added.
“All right, this is great. We know who they are now. Let's finish searching the house, just to be thorough.” Odin looked out the window. “And then we can walk through Naraka.”
“Aw,” I whined. “Do we have to?”
Trevor glared at me.
“Okay, fine.” I strode off to search the house.
Chapter Eleven
Hell wasn't so bad. I'd forgotten that after the battle in Naraka, the souls had burst free from the poisoned pit Katila had dumped them in and vanished. I assumed they had gone to the Void as souls were originally meant to. The only ones exempt from this exodus had been the childless souls mourning their empty cradles in the first level of Naraka. They were still there, but they were the only ones.
When Katila had ruled Naraka, he clapped his hands to transport us between the levels. Katila was dead, and Naraka's current god was gone, so we had to walk the length of each level. Or we would have, if there hadn't been that mountain.
The second level of Naraka was a mountain—an enormous mountain with two sides carved into deep waves. The entire thing was like a water slide gone wrong. Climbing it would take too long. So, those of us with wings, or who could summon wings, flew over it while the others stayed behind. That meant—Odin, and me. Odin could shapeshift into anything, and I had a weredragon form with wings. Re could have traveled over the mountain with sunbeams, but he wouldn’t be able to fly beside us, so he stayed behind.
Odin sprouted a pair of leathery wings while I half shifted—golden scales covered my skin, wings sprouted from my back, a tail slithered behind me, and horns crowned my head. Iremoved my clothes before I shifted. In this form, I wouldn't fit them and didn't need them. The scales covered all my private bits.
“Be careful,” Trevor said.
