Gods and Mortals: Fourteen Free Urban Fantasy & Paranormal Novels Featuring Thor, Loki, Greek Gods, Native American Spirits, Vampires, Werewolves, & More (155 page)

Cordus answered it with a long string of sound that must’ve been its name, and the two began to converse.

I studied the thing. What the hell was a green man, anyway? I couldn’t imagine how I’d ever looked at the small, stooped, naked figure in my picture and seen a human being. The creature in front of me was more reptilian than human. It had no nose and a long, skinny neck with a pronounced kink. Its arms were strangely long and bumpy. And how had I missed all those claws? Each was more than an inch long and shaped like a talon.

I shuddered, remembering what they could do to flesh.

The thing sitting across from me shifted, and its skin twitched, flashing green light in my eyes. I realized what I was seeing: feathers. They were mostly tiny, no bigger than a ladybug. The bumpiness on the arms came from an edging of larger ones.

The green man glanced at me. I realized I’d been staring and looked down, abruptly scared. Kara had warned me not to stare. Idiot.

“My Lord, why does it accompany you if it is not yet trained?”

“My apologies, Ambassador. She will be disciplined.”

Cordus spoke in a cool, offhanded tone, as though my future punishment was almost too obvious and uninteresting to mention. I felt goose bumps run up my arms.

Cordus and the green man returned to a discussion of events in “the Float of Charms,” whatever that was. I kept my eyes trained firmly on my hands, which I’d locked together in my lap so they wouldn’t shake. I tried not to think about how Cordus might “discipline” me.

After about twenty more minutes, during which the green man moved on and several other Seconds came over to pay their respects, an expectant pause swept over the room. I looked up and saw Limu coming toward us. Several individuals I hadn’t seen before trailed behind him — his honor guard, maybe.

Cordus and the woman he was speaking to rose, so I did as well. Limu stopped a few feet from the furniture grouping and greeted Cordus by name. He sounded distracted and annoyed. I thought he left out one of the names, actually. Nevertheless, Cordus nodded cordially and greeted Limu by what had to be his full name. I swear it had twenty words.

By the end of it, Limu was practically jigging with impatience. I wondered if Cordus had added some titles, under cover of good manners, just to tick him off.

The woman who’d been sitting with us excused herself. As Limu sat down in her place, my initial impulse was to scramble back: surely the couch would ignite. Of course, it didn’t — he’d been walking across the carpet a moment before, hadn’t he? It wasn’t like that’d gone up in flames.

He looked different than he had when I’d seen him before — less rocky, more metallic. His surface was a glowing orange-red, crusted here and there with craggy, blackened material and ash. In the center of his torso, the color shaded toward blazing yellow. When his mouth opened, I saw white fire inside.

His eyes burned with that fire. They were far too bright to look at directly, but I could tell they were focused on me. He was staring at me even more intensely than Innin had. It was deeply disconcerting. Innin had looked acquisitive. Limu looked vengeful. There was no doubt that he recognized me.

I felt a sudden surge of resentment at Williams and Kara. They’d walked me right into making an enemy of this terrifying creature.

No, to be fair, they hadn’t asked me to look through the strait. They’d asked me to look into it. The rest I’d done myself, damn it.

Limu accepted a glass of wine from Hank and leaned back, slowly twirling the stem between his molten fingers. He sipped, then set down his glass, as though dissatisfied with the wine.

“You have something of mine. I have come for it.”

“Do I?” Cordus said. “I was not aware. What is the item?”

“One of my people.”

Cordus waited. Obviously that wasn’t much of a description. Instead of elaborating, Limu let out a rumbling growl, flexing his hands as though they were cramping.

“Do not play with me. Give her to me.”

Cordus shrugged. “So far as I am aware, those standing behind you are the only members of your household in my lands at this time.”

“Fool! Always the same with you — games and playthings. Give her to me. The one calling herself Justine Jenson Ryder. Now.”

Cordus leaned back, crossed his legs, and began slowly bouncing his foot.

“If Mrs. Ryder is the person you mean, then we have nothing to discuss, My Lord. She has been living in my lands for at least twenty years. I have no reason to believe she belongs to you.” He glanced up at Limu. “Unless she bears your stricture, of course.”

“She does not,” Limu said, seething.

“Then what possible claim can you have upon her, my honored guest?”

“She is my wife.”

I saw Cordus’s eyebrow go up. I know I was shocked. In what state of mind would Justine marry a being made of fire? I was pretty damned scared just being in the same building with him, much less the same bed.

“Is she, indeed? My congratulations. Nevertheless, marriage does not constitute ownership.”

Cordus’s tone suggested boredom.

Apparently Limu didn’t care for it. Enraged, he threw his head back and roared. The sound was an avalanche of rocks and iron crashing down an endless slope. A fountain of yellow and white fire surged out of his mouth and flowed over the ceiling as though it were liquid. Near the living room door, Williams made a quick circular motion, then closed his hand into a fist. As he did, the fire boiled back in on itself and winked out, leaving a large scorched area on the ceiling. A wisp of smoke was left curling in mid-air.

I sat there, stunned. It was like death had come visiting, then been sent packing, all before I had time to react.

I wasn’t the only one who took the threat seriously. Most of Cordus’s other guests backed away, but a few moved forward. Andy and Theo advanced from the corners of the room, taking up positions behind Cordus. Williams stayed in the doorway, the shadows hiding his expression.

“My Lord,” Cordus said coldly, “such behavior is unproductive.”

Limu was leaning forward and staring at Cordus, hands clenched, breathing out waves of heat. Cordus must’ve been shielding us from it. I couldn’t feel it, but I could see the shimmer in the air.

Comically, the air-conditioning kicked in.

After almost a minute, Limu straightened up and sat back. Slowly, he opened his fists.

“She is a thief.”

“Mrs. Ryder stole something of yours?”

I glanced at Cordus. The eyebrow was back up.

“Yes.”

“What did she steal?”

“That is none of your business,” Limu snapped. “It is my right to pursue a thief.”

“Certainly, so long as the thief remains in your lands,” Cordus said. “Once he or she crosses into another power’s territory, it becomes a matter for local law-keepers. And,” he added, “for possible extradition. Sadly, we have no extradition agreement, My Lord, despite my repeated suggestions that we discuss one.”

Limu responded with a rumbling growl.

I got the sense that Cordus was goading him. Why would he do that? It didn’t seem wise. Yeah, Williams had apparently contained that last outburst, but it hadn’t been a directed attack on someone, just vented frustration.

“Even if you could offer evidence supporting your accusation of thievery, which it seems you will not or cannot,” Cordus continued, “given the regrettably lacking state of our treaties, the criminal would remain under my jurisdiction.”

“Law-keeping and treaties!” With a disgusted sound, Limu spat a globule of fire onto the coffee table in front of us. It guttered instantly and went out, leaving a charred spot. “You have spent too long among humans, whelp. As though power comes from rules and symbols. Power does not
come from
. Power
is
.”

Cordus leaned forward, all pretense of indifference gone. His beauty seemed to blaze around him, inhuman, terrifying.

“As you say. So then, take her from me.”

The room went silent. Not a creature in the place breathed.

Limu’s eyes widened. He stared back at Cordus for several seconds. Then, with a howl of fury, he exploded into enveloping fire, boiling and seething just in front of us. I cowered away from it, pointlessly shielding my face with my arm.

The fire seemed to grow ever denser, hotter, and brighter. Malevolence radiated from it. The fire wanted to expand, to consume. But it didn’t. It was being restrained. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cordus, still sitting beside me, staring intently into the flames.

Was he holding Limu back? Yes, he must be.

After a standoff of about thirty seconds, the ball of fire — now so dense it shone like a mini-sun — convulsed and began to dim. Slowly the flames died down, revealing Limu’s shape underneath, now pale yellow all over.

Rage and humiliation were plain on his face. Clearly, he’d been bested, and he hadn’t expected it. He didn’t say anything, just stared at Cordus, shot me a venomous glance, then stalked out.

I think the Seconds arrayed behind us were as surprised as he was. Everyone just stood there. With a sharp crack, the warped steel bars of the flambéed coffee table snapped, and the thing collapsed. Everyone jumped, then started murmuring.

Cordus sat silently for a moment, pondering the burned remnants of furniture in front of us. Then he turned to me.

“Miss Ryder, if Ambassador Cra of the First Kingdom is still present, I would very much like to speak with him again.”

He must mean the green man
.

Fresh out of words, I nodded, and went to find the repugnant little bird-creature. Funny how much less frightening the prospect of speaking to Cra seemed than it would have an hour earlier.

I
was less
uncomfortable on the ride home than I had been on the way to court. It wasn’t that sitting in a plush limo with Cordus had become routine. I just had bigger things to think about.

Cordus had interrogated Cra about the item Justine supposedly stole from Limu.

I’d been only marginally less surprised than Cra when Cordus included me inside the barrier he set up to keep the conversation private.

Leaning back nonchalantly on the remaining couch and using a cool, bored tone, Cordus had hypothesized that the green men surely wouldn’t have agreed to send one of their hunters on such a risky mission — risky both individually and diplomatically, Cordus pointed out — without understanding something of the stakes.

At first the ambassador had maintained ignorance, but under Cordus’s silent stare, it eventually allowed as how it might’ve heard a few rumors — wholly unsubstantiated, of course. The scuttlebutt was that Limu had been working on a powerful weapon. Justine had wormed her way into his affections and stolen it from him. Then she’d disappeared.

After Cordus had gotten this information out of Cra, he’d spent a while circulating, but guests started dropping away quickly. I got the feeling they all wanted to get home and hit the Second equivalent of Twitter to tell others about Limu’s humiliating defeat.

I sat in the limo, pondering the idea that Justine was some sort of master thief. It was almost beyond belief.

When Cordus spoke, I jumped.

“Miss Ryder, I am remembering something the one you call Ghosteater said to you when describing the scent of Mrs. Ryder.”

“That she was ‘unfinished.’”

“Yes, and ‘fragmentary.’ I ask you again, are you certain those are the terms he used?”

“As certain as I can be, given that it wasn’t something I thought I’d need to remember.” I paused. “I might be able to ask him, if I went back to Dorf. I got the impression he’d been hanging out there. He might still be in the area.”

Cordus didn’t respond to the offer. Instead he leaned back and stretched out his legs, then studied his shoes as he tapped them slowly together.

“I begin to have an idea of what Mrs. Ryder may be.” He looked up at me. “If I am right, we are facing a rather serious situation.”

He focused again on his feet. Tap, tap, tap.

I sat there wondering if there was a way I could avoid getting sucked into his “rather serious situation.” Unfortunately, I didn’t think so.

“You read the document I gave to you.”

I nodded, though it hadn’t really been a question.

“Human species have been producing essence-workers for some millions of years — not only
Homo sapiens
but other members of the genus
Homo
, as well as several other genera. Some humanoid Seconds are, thus, comparatively old, though the reptiles would scoff if they heard any of us lay claim to that adjective.”

I nodded, amazed for about the hundredth time in the last few weeks. So there were Neanderthal Seconds. People who’d been alive for tens of thousands, maybe even hundreds of thousands of years. Like us and yet different. How extraordinary.

“That said, many walk among us to whom the lives of our greatest elders would seem but moments. Some of these are old enough to have passed into legend, so that we cannot be quite sure whether they ever existed. They are, in effect, our gods.”

Gods to the gods.
What a thought.

“One such legend is known as ‘Eye of the Heavens.’ This ancient being is said to be made of the sky itself. As the legend goes, in times of desperation, the sky looks down upon the creatures crawling in the mud beneath it and takes pity on their miserable lives. It shapes a piece of itself into a champion and sends him down to save and protect those in need.”

“You think Justine is this Eye of the Heavens?” I shook my head. “If the sky sent her down here to be our champion, the sky has a pretty sick sense of humor.”

Cordus frowned. I guess it wasn’t a matter for levity.

“Remember that what I have just recounted is legend,” he said. “The legend may be no more than an attempt to concretize and embody vague memories of a being that no one understands, that no one has seen in millennia. Memories, for instance, of an ability to shape-shift so fully that all trace of the original form is lost, memories of a creature whose true matter appears to be a group of sky-blue balls.”

Well I’ll be damned
, I thought. The hair prickled on the back of my neck.