My Soul to Take (18 page)

She considered this and then agreed.

So simple really. I should have known that I could reason with her. I'd done it before. Her intellect surpassed that of any animal. And I should have remembered that I knew her better than anyone. She was me and I was her. All I had to do was remind her of it. My dragon sank back into the shadows to wait for the moment when I'd need her and my lioness grudgingly gave the dragon her victory. Then the cat went back to sleep.

I sighed and sat up. “It's all good,” I waved back my worried men. “I handled it.”

“Handled what?” Trevor growled. “What in all the hells was that?”

“An avenging dragon,” I shook my head. “Remember I told you guys I had some trouble with my beasts? Well, my lioness and wolf ganged up my dragon and it looks like the dragon has been plotting revenge all this time. She went after the lioness.”

“I felt her pain,” Kirill rubbed at his chest absently. “But she's okay now.”

“So you conquered your dragon?” Azrael asked.

“I think we've come to an understanding,” I shrugged. “Dragons don't take well to being conquered.”

“No, I suppose they wouldn't,” Odin chuckled and I heard a note of relief in it.

“But are
you
okay now?” Kirill helped me to my feet.

“I'm good,” I nodded.

“Good enough to celebrate?” Trevor smirked.

“What; with all of you?” I lifted my brows.

“I even wore something special,” Trevor undid his jeans and pushed them down, revealing a pair of boxer shorts printed with the face of a wolf. The wolf's snout was extended with Trevor's... extension. We all gaped at him as he posed proudly.

“Vhy didn't you get me a lion pair?” Kirill huffed and I started to giggle.

“Are you gonna huff and puff with that thing?” I teased him.

“You're damn straight I am,” he started to stalk me and the rest of them closed in with him.

“Oh, what the hell,” I turned and let myself fall backwards, completely trusting them to catch me... and undress me. Though I wished I'd worn my Little Red Riding Hood panties.

I headed over to the Greek Underworld after I recovered from our celebration. I didn't want to put off telling Morpheus about his brother for any longer. He had a right to know. Azrael went with me. As the Angel of Death, one of his duties was to comfort the grieving so I figured it might be good to have a professional along.

I used to only know of two tracing points in the Greek Underworld; one at Hades' palace and the other on the banks of the River Styx. Now, thankfully, I knew about the tracing point within the Cave of the Oneiroi (the Greek dream gods) and so I wouldn't have to make the long trek from the river to the Land of Dreams. I really hated that journey. The last time I'd gone, I'd run into harpies. No one liked harpies, not even other harpies.

So Az and I traced directly into Morpheus' home, without even having to traverse the dangerous path through the Cave of Dreams, which should actually be called the Cave of Nightmares. We used the chant Morph had given us to get past his new wards and reformed right in the hallway of his private home. Private
cave
home. Still, it was pretty nice for a cave. Most of the walls were covered with paneling to mask the cave-ness. But the dragon in me liked the stone walls and felt that if you were going to live in a cave, you should just embrace it.

“Morpheus!” I called out as we walked down the hallway. “Morph, it's Vervain and Azrael. If you have company of the naked variety please say something before we get any closer!”

“Carus,” Azrael shook his head and chuckled.

“Well, I don't want to walk in on him in flambe delicious,” I huffed.

“You mean
in flagrante delicto
,” Az laughed.

“My way sounds better,” I waggled my brows at him.

“Vervain?” Morpheus was in his living room, which was an open space off the hallway. He stood up when he saw us. “What are you two doing here? Is it the Vodou souls? You could have just texted.”

“No, it's not the souls,” I went forward, losing all my humor. Even I knew this wasn't a time to be joking around. “Um, do you mind if we sit down?”

“No, of course not,” he waved to the collection of sofas. “Wherever you like. Would you like some refreshments? Wow, it's been awhile since I've had anyone else in here and the last time it was you but you weren't exactly a guest. This feels weird.”

“How are you adjusting to living alone?” Azrael asked gently.

“I'm good,” Morph nodded. “I like the quiet and now that I don't have to invade people's dreams anymore, I have lots of time to read,” he held up the book he'd been reading;
Fairy-Struck
by Amy Sumida. “Faeries are my favorite.”

“I like them too,” I gave him a grin but it quickly disappeared. “Morpheus... I've had some bad news.”

“Is everyone alright?” He leaned forward anxiously.

“No, someone was killed,” I leaned forward and took Morpheus' hand. “It was Phantasus.”

“Phantasus?”

“He kidnapped Eztli and a god named Morvran rescued her,” I explained.

“And this Morvran killed my brother?”

“Yes,” I said softly. “He came up behind Phantasus and beheaded him. It sounds like your brother wouldn't have even known it was coming, much less have felt anything. It was fast, Morpheus. He didn't suffer.”

“Phantasus,” Morpheus bent over and started to cry.

“Oh, Morph,” I jumped up and went to kneel by his chair. “I'm so sorry.”

“He could be cruel and selfish,” Morpheus confessed as he looked up at me. “But he was my brother and I loved him, even when I didn't like him.”

“I know,” I nodded. “I know you love him. That love doesn't disappear with his death.”

“And I'm sure he loved you too,” Azrael had come up behind Morpheus' chair and laid a hand on Morph's shoulder. I saw the briefest flash of pale blue light beneath Azrael's palm and then Morph's tense shoulders relaxed.

“I think he did,” Morph whispered and then looked up at Azrael. “Thanks, Az. That helped.”

“Just try and think about the good memories you have of him,” Azrael offered. “Don't focus on any of the bad. Now's the time to let past trauma fade away. That's one kindness which death offers.”

“Focus on the good,” Morph gave a laughing huff. “That'll take some thought.”

“How about we drink a toast to him?” I suggested.

“Yes, I think he'd like that,” Morpheus smiled. “If nothing else, he'd appreciate the irony of the Godhunter saluting his life.”

“I do as well, believe me,” I sighed as I stood. “Now where do you keep the good stuff?”

Morpheus brought out a bottle of brandy, which Phantasus was fond of, and he gave us each a snifter with an inch of the golden liquid in it.

“To my brother,” Morpheus lifted his glass. “The world is a safer place without him in it but I will miss him nonetheless.”

“I can drink to that,” I clicked my glass to Morph's, as did Azrael, and we drank.

I spent all night comforting Morpheus, drinking brandy, and even singing at one point. I was exhausted when we got home and Azrael ended up half-carrying me to bed. I slept soundly and woke up between a lion and a hard... well anyway, I woke up happy.

Then I went downstairs to find Yemanja waiting for me.

“Vervain,” she put her coffee down and motioned me over to where she was sitting at the dining table. “There will be a wete mo na dlo today and I think we should attend.”

“A whatee whatee?” I blinked at her and swayed under the scent of fresh coffee.

“A wete mo na dlo,” she repeated. “It's a ritual to call a soul back from the waters of Ginen after they've been dead for a year and a day. It will bring the soul to earth to establish a connection with its govi pot. Remember; we talked about this before?”

“Yes, I remember,” I sat beside her. “You said that a soul can do a lot of things that a living human can't. But what exactly can souls do here in the Human Realm?”

“With the right offerings they can manipulate energy in such a way as to bring wealth or knowledge to their family,” Yemanja shrugged. “And they often offer protection in a watchful way, like a guard dog or alarm; they give warnings. If they're strong enough, they can even physically protect their family.”

“And if a bokor is controlling them? Can they be used to physically hurt people?”

“That could be possible through the manipulation of energy or elements,” Yemanja sighed. “But that's not what worries me.”

“Then what? How do you think these bokors will use the souls they've stolen?”

“In Vodou, we lwas often visit our people through means of possession,” she began. “It's called being rode and the serviteur is our horse.”

“Yes, I think you've mentioned that.”

“Souls strengthened by magic could easily do the same thing.”

“What; possess people?” I gaped at her.

She nodded.

“So you think they'll use these souls to possess living bodies?” I frowned and thought back to our original talk. “But this only brings me back to my original question. Why go through all this trouble to steal a pot de tet, murder the person, bring their soul back from Ginen, and then put it into a govi pot just to send the soul into another body, when you could skip all that and just use the pot de tet to control the living person?”

“Because that limits you to a particular person,” Yemanja said grimly. “With a soul who can inhabit any body, your options are limitless. And if the body dies, the soul will just return to Ginen and await the bokor's next summoning.”

“That's horrifyingly evil,” I gaped at her. “An army of body snatchers.”

“Yes,” she sighed. “I should have explained this better in the beginning but like you said; it's horrifying. I wasn't thinking straight. I just wanted to keep my people safe.”

“So why do you think we should go to this ritual?” I asked. “I'm assuming that this is a ritual that's being done properly and the priest was willingly given the pot de tet?”

“Yes but this ritual is complicated and long... and performed outdoors. It would give a bokor ample opportunity to sneak into the empty oumphor and take the unguarded pots left on the altar.”

“The oumphor?”

“The church,” Yemanja reminded me.

“Right,” I nodded. “Okay, so you don't really want me at the ceremony, you want me to guard the oumphor?”

“Precisely,” she smiled. “I will watch over the ceremony but I'll have to leave my body here. Can you make sure it remains undisturbed?”

“Sure but why... oh,” I realized what she was about to do. “You're going on a ride.”

“Yes, one of my serviteurs will be calling me,” she smiled gently. “I'll do my best to help you if anything goes awry but my focus will be on the ritual.”

“Alright,” I chewed at my lips. “I think I want to take Odin with me. He's a death god and he may be able to sense when others who work with death approach. Plus, he's a wily SOB and he's good at outsmarting his opponents.”

“A wise choice,” she nodded. “Alright, take the Oathbreaker but leave the rest of your people here. This needs to be done as quietly as possible, so as to not disturb my people.”

“If anything happens, it'll only be one bokor that we have to deal with, right?”

“I assume so,” she frowned. “They wouldn't want to risk a large group either.”

“Then it shouldn't be a problem,” I said confidently.

Yemanja had to trace Odin and I into the location of the wete mo na dlo and then return to the room she was using in Pride Palace. Even though the room had a lock, I posted Jared as guard outside her door so that she'd feel completely at ease. Trevor and Kirill didn't like staying behind but they agreed that Odin was probably the best suited to accompany me, so they finally relented. Az was off collecting souls so he wasn't an issue at all.

The site was in New York, upstate not the city. It surprised me for a couple of reasons. First; I assumed we'd be going to somewhere in Louisiana. This was evidently an offensive assumption, causing Yemanja to lift a disapproving brow at me when I mentioned it. Vodou is everywhere, she had told me. Second; I didn't know New York was so beautiful. Yes, go ahead and laugh at my ignorance but I'd always thought of the city when someone mentioned New York. I had no idea the state had magnificent countryside, complete with shining lakes and flourishing forests.

I stared around the open field from the cover of the treeline. The oumphor was about five feet to our right, a simple but attractive little house. Ahead of us, on the other side of the clearing, was a much larger house, a mansion really, but most of the people were gathered in the field between the two buildings. They stood beneath the single tree which dominated the clearing like a patriarch. Beside the tree, there was a small, white tent which had an air of importance despite its simplicity. People who walked past the tent did so with respect.

There were a few stragglers still in the oumphor gathering supplies, so Odin and I had to cloak ourselves with invisibility before we crept carefully forward. We passed through the door, which had been conveniently left open while people hurried back and forth with the supplies, and we moved immediately to one side so we could press ourselves against the wall and hopefully stay out of everyone's way. Thankfully, the room cleared pretty quickly and Odin and I were left alone in the church.

The front room had a white tile floor and a large pole in the center of it, running from ceiling to floor. Around the base of the pole was a tiled ledge and on the ledge were candles in tall glass jars, all of them lit. Gaudy tapestries were hung all over the room, their intricate designs adorned with shiny sequins, and jars filled with an assortment of strange things hung from the ceiling on cords. At the far end of the room were two long tables, they took up the entire wall, with the entrance to a hallway separating them. The tables were overflowing with an odd collection of items.

I recognized them immediately as altars but a Vodou altar was a lot different from a witch's. Instead of representations of the elements, there were statues of saints to stand in for the lwas. Along with the religious icons were crosses, candles, bowls full of coins, plates of food, bottles of oil, and several clay pots all set in a row. The pots were covered with lids and adorned with strings of beads. Each one had a symbol painted on its side. I walked forward, dropping my invisibility, and bent to stare at the intricate designs.

“Veves,” Odin came up beside me. “Symbols of the lwas, similar to a heraldic device.”

“Fascinating,” I whispered. “Look at all this stuff.”

“Well, whatever kind of exchange they have going with the lwas,” Odin looked around the room, “it seems to be working well for them. This is quite an estate.”

“No kidding,” I laughed. “Maybe I should have tried Vodou back when I was just a witch.”

“You learned exactly what you needed to know to become who you needed to be.”

“Yeah, okay, Obi Wan,” I snickered. “I guess I can thank Faerie and Alaric for that.”

“And me,” Odin teased. “Don't forget that I was the one who chose your mother.”

“You did a good job there,” I conceded. “She's a wonderful mother.”

“I'm the father god of the Vikings,” he smirked. “I know a good mother when I see one.”

The sound of drums filtered in to us and then came singing. The ritual had begun.

“What
is
that?” I whispered as gooseflesh broke out on my arms.

“Magic,” Odin looked to the front of the building. “Death magic.”

The drapes were pulled shut, hiding our view of the proceedings. He went over to a window and eased the curtain back. I joined him, staring out at the spectacle in the middle of the field. I rubbed my arms absently as the magic continued to tingle across my skin.

People were dancing wildly around the tree to the beat of the drums. Some of the dancing was quite suggestive while others danced more modestly. There was no uniformity to it, just an overall exuberance. It actually looked pretty fun.

“Death magic?” I asked. “Are you sure?”

“Magic used with the dead,” he clarified. “A connection is being made through the Aether.”

“They're tracing without physically moving,” I breathed in awe. “A spell which doesn't just go into the Aether, it passes through it and touches the God Realm.”

“And allows a soul to journey back,” Odin inhaled sharply. “Amazing and fascinating. It's like those veins of Inter Realm your faeries have shown us how to connect to our territories for communication. Except instead of phone calls passing through the vein, it's souls.”

“A direct soul-line to Heaven,” I chuckled. “What a wondrous thing.”

“It is, isn't it?” A voice startled us both and we jerked around to see a young man leaning against the center pole. “But I find myself fascinated as well. What are you doing here, Godhunter?”

He was thin but attractive, dressed in loose fitting black pants and a top hat, nothing else. Not even shoes. His pale skin was painted with intricate pitch black designs, similar to the veves we'd seen on the pots. His dark eyes flashed crimson as he pulled an apple out of his pants pocket and bit into it with a crisp click of his teeth.

“How did you get by us?” Odin shot back.

“I'm very sneaky,” he chuckled. “I came in the back door... I love coming in the back door. But now you must answer my question; why are you here and who are
you
?” He cocked his head at Odin. “I feel... a...
something
with you.”

“And I you,” Odin frowned. “You're not human.”

“No, of course not,” he chortled. “This is just my horse,” he waved a hand down the body. “Not bad though, despite the pallid skin. But then, you like yourself a pale horse, don't you, Godhunter?” He sidled up and posed before me. “You wanna give my horse a ride? Or is it just the rider of the pale horse that you like? In which case, we can meet up later.”

“You're a Gede!” I declared in accusation.

“Gede up!” He declared and started galloping around the room like he was riding a horse, slapping himself on the ass as he went. He stopped in front of me and pouted. “I'm all affronted that you didn't recognize me immediately. I know we didn't connect as you and Krim did but I thought we had a moment there. Of course you could make me less affronted by paying a little attention to
my
front.” He held his apple at crotch level, like it was a head, and started to thrust his hips at it. “You know, you got a pretty mouth, Godhunter.”

“Who the hell is this?!” Odin looked at me in shock. His expression was hilarious; a mixture of horror, offense, and fury but he was too stupefied to act on any of it.

“He's one of the Gede,” I said to Odin in my duh tone. “Like I just said.”

“You were having
moments
with the Gede?”

“No, I was having a drink,” I huffed. “Re was with me, remember?”

“Oh this
is
interesting,” the man took another bite of his apple. “A lover's spat? Care to introduce me before things get too heated, Vervain?”

“I would if I knew your name,” I shot back.

“Papa La Croix,” he swept off his hat and bowed. “Now you,” he waved to Odin.

“I am Odin Allfather of the Norse,” Odin nodded to the Gede imperiously.

“Odin the Allfather?” Papa's eyes went wide. “Ah, no wonder I feel your...” he waved a hand in Odin's direction but it was focused around the area of his crotch, “...magic.” Papa laughed boisterously. “Magic strong enough to catch the Godhunter. That must be some big juju. You like us death daddies, don't you, Vervain?”

“Kind of,” I shrugged. “But keep it in your pants, Papa. I'm not interested in adding any more men to my dance card.”

“Oh, what's one more?” He yanked his waistband down and pulled out his hardening member. “I'm sure you can fit this in someplace.”

“Whoa,” I turned away. “Yep, there it is.”

“Put that thing away or I'll cut it off,” Odin snapped.

“Oh it's just a cock,” Papa huffed and shoved it back into his pants. “What's the big deal? It's not even
my
cock,” he leaned forward and whispered dramatically to me. “My cock is far more impressive.”

“What are you doing here, Papa?” I shook my head as I laughed despite myself.

“I asked you first,” he pointed out.

“We were invited,” I shrugged.

“To just sit in the oumphor and watch?” He lifted a brow. “Who invited you?”

“Yemanja,” I said simply.

“La Sirene?” He gaped at me. “La Sirene is here?” He asked more anxiously, rushing to the window to pull open the curtains. “Oh... there she is; the Beauty of the Seas. Look at her, her dancing will make you weep with wanting.”

I peered out the window but of course I didn't see her. Yemanja wasn't physically there, she was riding one of her serviteurs. And I had no idea which one.

“Where?” I asked.

“There,” he pointed to a young girl with hazelnut skin and long, silky hair the color of sunset. “The one with the blue scarf around her waist. That's the Queen of the Waters. Her dancing is unmistakable. Such grace. Se bon.”

“We are here because someone has been stealing pot de tets,” I decided to just tell Papa what was up and see what his reaction was.

He went still and then dropped the curtain. “What did you say? Ou ka replete souple.” He turned and looked steadily at me, all humor gone. “Repeat that please.”

“The pots,” I waved back at the altar. “Someone has been taking them and then killing the people connected to the pots.”

“
Killing
them?” Papa's eyes narrowed. “Then what?”

“Then they bring the soul back,” Odin took over. “Except not properly, like this,” he waved to the window. “They bring them back early, bind them to a govi pot, and take control of the soul.”

“Bokors,” Papa hissed. “Evil deeds. They will be punished!”

“So you don't know anything about it?” I asked carefully.

“Me?” He looked genuinely startled. “Why would I know-” his face cleared with revelation. “You think we Gede are involved? That's why Re brought you to our party?”

“The Baron hasn't lost any followers has he?” I asked instead of answering.

“No,” Papa frowned. “No but... Sam would never... why would he? We don't need to force souls to do our bidding. What do we care what a soul does? We're Gede, we do what we want.”

“Then you wouldn't mind waiting here with us until the ritual is over?” Odin asked shrewdly. “Once the altar is protected again, we can all leave.”

“You mean once I leave this body and the mambo resets her wards on the oumphor,” he narrowed his eyes on Odin. “You really
do
suspect us.”

“It looks suspicious that your people have been spared,” I said reasonably.

“Yes, suspicious indeed,” his hands clenched. “Can't be only our souls that are safe. Or someone is setting us up.”

“You think you're being framed?” I asked casually. “By whom?”

“I don't know but I intend to find out,” he growled and the man suddenly dropped to the floor.

He began to moan and I looked at Odin urgently. He nodded and we both went invisible. Just in time too. The man looked up, his face utterly confused, and then glanced around the room. He stood on wobbly legs and stumbled out the door. I went to the window and watched him cross the field, heading towards the gathering.

“Do you think he's innocent?” Odin asked as he reappeared beside me.

“Maybe,” I mused as I dropped my invisibility too. “But that doesn't mean Baron Samedi is.”

“Perhaps he's working behind the backs of the Gede,” Odin mused. “That would make sense.”

“Well, he's about to be notified that we're on to him,” I sighed. “Maybe I shouldn't have told Papa.”

“No,” he took my hand. “I think you did the right thing. It gave us a little insight and it may even turn the Gede against Samedi.”

“I don't know if that's a good thing,” I scowled.

“It is if he's guilty.”

“And if he's not?”

“Then I hope we find who really is guilty, soon,” Odin looked out the window at the celebrating group. A woman had come out of the white tent carrying a pot. People gathered around her as she headed to the oumphor... to us. “Time to go.”

“Gede up,” I grimaced as we traced away.