She shrugged. “You can suppose things all you like.”
At the door, he said, “At least tell me this—did you get a read on Damiãno?”
She answered quietly, “He’s a Lorean.”
“Aye, but I doona know what manner of being he is. Intend to find out. Stay here, Lousha. And be prepared to answer some questions when I return. If you ever want to see your bow again.” He patted the case.
All that nervousness about being alone with him, until she was nearly sick with it, and now he was just taking off?
With my bow?
“You’re… leaving?” Had she sounded disappointed?
He grinned, leaning his tall body against the door frame. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes to see to you, beauty. Can you wait that long for it?”
“I don’t… I never…” Inhaling for calm, she said, “Leave my bow, then.”
“No’ a chance,” he said over his shoulder.
Once he’d gone, she paced the stifling cabin, her emotions roiling. Though she could see in the dark, she flipped on the bedside lamp, casting subtle light over the interior. Without the benefit of the sun pouring in, the room seemed smaller—almost cozy.
And he expects to share it with me.
She picked up her phone to call Nïx again and saw another text had arrived from Regin.
RegRad: Gettng tranqued 2nite with the witches. Bet U wish U were here! LOSER!
Lucia did wish she was there—away from MacRieve, away from the temptation he presented. He was the key to her destruction, the closest she’d gotten to ruin in centuries.
But he wouldn’t force her to have sex. She knew that about him. So if she could resist… The thought gave her a feeling of some control.
Yes, I can control this.
Wanting information from Nïx, and needing to vent, Lucia dialed the soothsayer. Surprisingly, Nïx answered.
Lucia wasted no time. “How could you book me as Lucia
MacRieve
?”
In a pedantic tone, Nïx said, “When dealing with humans, you have to provide a last name. I thought you would prefer MacRieve to your real name. Lucia av Cruach.”
Lucia of Cruach.
That had been her identity—as his possession, an extension of him. “How long have you known?” She’d told no one but had always suspected Nïx knew. Still, it’d been a shock to hear her call him Lucia’s
husband
.
“Since the night you jumped to escape him.”
So long ago…
“Nïx, my alias with mortals has always been Lucia Archer. It’s on my credit cards, my driver’s license.”
Sounding confused, Nïx said, “But… but MacRieve is
funnier
.”
“And a paleopathologist? What do I know about pathology, much less the paleo kind?”
“You’ve killed as many beings as some diseases,” Nïx pointed out in a chipper tone. “Shots to the heart, and you’re to blame.”
“I’m going to shoot
you
.”
“That doesn’t sound patient and levelheaded, Lucia.”
“And what about MacRieve? You could have warned me he’d be here.”
“Oh, is he? Would you have missed him if you’d been on time, I wonder? Or maybe you
need
him.”
“More than my archery? And right before I’m to face Cruach?”
“You’ll have to show some restraint.”
“That’s rich, Nïx. One of the most unrestrained Valkyrie preaching this to me. Just tell me what I’m looking for, so—oh, I don’t know—I might know it when I find it!”
For effect, Nïx went quiet for several moments before finally saying, “Have you ever heard the term…
dieumort
?”
“Is that a joke?”
“Good guess, yet actually, I believe it’s a god killer.”
Lucia rolled her eyes. “I am fully aware of what it is!”
“Thunder stolen.” Sigh. “I already told you, didn’t I?”
“Regin and I have been looking for a dieumort for years! I’ve been breaking my neck over the last twelve months to unearth one.” Then Lucia sucked in a breath. “It’s down here,” she murmured, excitement drumming inside her.
“Uh-huh. They’re rare—like Amphitrite’s-tears rare—but a dieumort is in Rio Labyrinto.”
A god killer exists, and Nïx knows where it is!
“Is it an arrow?”
“Dunno what form it’s in,” Nïx said. “But I figured we could off Cruach with it.”
“
Off
Cruach? Like exterminate, forever?” Lucia gripped the phone hard.
“Forever and ever. Alas, the gods, or at least the ones I’m in contact with, are against this plan. They don’t want any knowledge or weapons—or
other
—brought forth. They think they’d rather deal with Cruach. This is a mistake,” Nïx said simply. “In any case, more than the Cult of Death will be coming to stop you. Immortal assassins and mercenaries have likely already been dispatched. And this time, they’ll be emissaries of the gods.”
So to kill one would be punishable by divine power. “How would those gods ‘deal with Cruach’?”
In case I fail.
“They expect you to return to your hubby and appease him for a time, to stall while they come up with a way to destroy him.”
Lucia nearly retched.
Appease him?
She’d die first.
The blood spilling through his teeth, the maggots and carnage…
Nïx continued, “The apocalypse has already begun, you see. Just a
smidgen
of Armageddon so far. Still fixable, but not for long. Ticktock.”
“How could it have started? He’s not free.” If Cruach were already free, then it was already over. He could only be harmed—or killed—within his jail, his lair. Only there did he take corporeal form. “I’d know if he were about to escape.”
I always know.
Her nightmares had proved uncannily accurate harbingers.
“He’s not free yet, but he’s been receiving help from his followers.”
The notorious Cult of Death worshipped him as their deity, the members calling themselves Cromites. They were robed swordsmen, tattooed with Cruach’s mark—a symbol in the shape of his twisting, gnarled horns.
“The cult has grown,” Nïx said, “and they’re performing continual sacrifices in his name to make him stronger so he can rise.”
Cold fear suffused Lucia. Gods derived strength from the amount of worship they received over any given day—Lucia could deal with the cult coming after her, but she couldn’t stop their grisly rituals. “What else, Nïx?”
“Honestly, all I know is that a dieumort is in Rio Labyrinto.”
“How do I find the river?”
“Everything you need will be on that boat.”
“Nïx, you have to tell me more!” Lucia cried. “Why do you always parcel out information?”
“I’m an oracle. It’s what we do,” she answered. “Now, do I really need to fake the static again?”
Click
.
Lucia paced the small cabin once more, stunned by all she’d learned—and
hadn’t
learned. Was this a wild goose chase? Was Nïx even lucid? The soothsayer had been improving mentally over the past few months but still had hellacious lapses. Like the month she spoke in nothing but ancient Babylonian or the weeks when she would only answer if addressed as
P!nk
.
As Lucia gaped at the sat-phone, another text arrived from
RegRad
:
Jst kdding. Ur not loser. I shld B there w/ U. Kinda miss U.
Lucia’s brows knit.
I kinda miss you, too.
Pacing, pacing… A bead of sweat trickled down her forehead. She wiped it away, but another appeared. She felt grimy, and her legs were still sticky from her earlier contact with river water.
Making a snap decision, she grabbed her toiletries from her backpack, then hurried into the bathroom. Hastily stripping, she hopped into the small shower stall. The water pressure was nil, the temperature less than lukewarm, but it was enough for her to rinse off her body and wash her hair.
After she redressed, she sat on the edge of the bed, but just as quickly shot to her feet to pace some more, glancing at her phone clock. MacRieve should’ve been back by now. What was he doing?
She crossed to the little balcony and stared out at the river. The
Contessa
was chugging along at a steady clip and apparently would motor all night.
The water was muddy, like the Mississippi, the air as sultry as summers in New Orleans. Though she’d just taken a cool shower, her skin was already heated. She wound her hair up and rubbed her nape.
What was taking MacRieve so long? Since Lucia was hyperaware of the Scot’s nearness, she was also keenly feeling his absence.
He’d told her he had questions for her. She had some for him as well.
How’d it feel to lose your crown?
She’d known he loved his older brother and was overjoyed at his return, but to go from king of all Lykae back to the Dark Prince had to have affected him.
How’d you keep from attacking me when the moon was full?
She’d feared he’d had other females brought to him on those nights to work off the overwhelming lust he’d had to suffer. So what would keep him from attacking now? In ten days, the moon would be full.
But mainly she wanted to ask,
Over the last year, did you ever consider giving up on me?
Lucia stared down, nearly hypnotized by the swirling eddies.
Staring at the water… memories arising.
All the talk with Nïx about Cruach forced Lucia to remember. How naïve she’d been, how bright her future.
At sixteen she’d had no idea how good she’d had it in the immortal plane of Valhalla. She’d spent much of her time at the exit portal of the plane, longing to leave. She’d found Valhalla
dull
.
Now she knew it’d been a land covered in mists, full of beauty and endless peace.
But the outside world had been so clear, so sharp, so exciting. Lucia had wanted to lie on her back and stare up at the bright stars that she could only scarcely see from her perch. She’d longed for adventure but mainly for
romance
. She’d wanted her own hearth and family—a husband and eventually a dozen children.
Let her half sisters deal with the Valkyrie’s duties—choosing the slain and fighting battles. She’d had no interest in death.
Lucia had wanted
love
….
One night, a stranger had appeared at the other side of the portal. A man—just there, like a dream, as if she’d conjured him. He’d had curling bright hair and blue eyes the color of the cloudless daytime skies she’d glimpsed, but always at a distance. Never had she encountered anything as compelling as the man’s angelic looks.
“What’s your name, fair Valkyrie?” he asked.
“I’m Lucia the Maiden. What is yours?”
“I’m called Crom. I’m the man you’re soon to marry.”
She laughed, delighted. “Are you, sir?”
“I will make you mistress of my castle. And shower you with gifts and adoration.”
“I do like gifts.”
They flirted until she heard Regin calling her for dinner. As young Valkyrie, they still had the need to eat, still were mortal until they were fully grown and had frozen into their immortality. After casting a quick glance over her shoulder, Lucia told him, “I have to go, but will you return to see me once more?”
“I’ll be here tomorrow night, eagerly awaiting you,” he said. “And the night after and after again. Until you agree to wed me…”
That’d been the only promise he’d ever kept.
The cabin door opened.
TWENTY-THREE
Garreth found her on the balcony. At once, her slim shoulders stiffened.
As he crossed to her, he marveled again that she was in his keeping at last. He’d pursued her for so long, he had a hard time believing it.
Tonight, he hadn’t wanted to let her out of his sight, but his Instinct had been screaming that his mate was in danger.
He’d just confirmed how much.
Joining her outside, he leaned his forearms on the rail, gazing out at the nighttime scene. With the dense forest closing in all around them, they might as well be in a canyon—a green-walled canyon. Low storm clouds were back building, only adding to that claustrophobic sense.
How he remembered this place. How he’d hoped to forget it.
Finally she turned to him, with her lovely face wan, her expression strained.
“When was the last time you slept?” he asked. After the previous punishing year, he felt like arse. He couldn’t imagine how she felt or how she pushed herself like this.
“A week ago, I think.” Immortals could easily go a couple of days without sleep, but a week was rough. He knew this well—he’d been up for nearly a dozen days.
She’d showered and washed her hair. Now it smelled faintly sweet, like jasmine. “Showering without me, Valkyrie? Last night
that
will be happening.” And she’d dressed fully again. “Do you think a few extra garments will keep me from my aim?”
“I think I’m not going to be awaiting you in my skimpy lingerie.”
“Maybe no’
yet
.” Before she could protest, he said, “You need to tell me about whatever little mission you’re on. Because you’re being followed. Seems quite a few Loreans doona want you to reach whatever you need to ‘attend to.’ So now it’s time for you to answer my questions.”