Paladin (Graven Gods 1) (16 page)

Paladin often took protective custody of retired or vacationing gods to keep them out of the hands of the foolish or unwary -- particularly when it came to those gods at the darker end of the spectrum. Not all the assorted dust catchers housed gods, evil or otherwise, but enough of them did that I had no desire to go around picking stuff up.

I was also acutely aware of the need to keep the enchanted bric-a-brac out of the wrong hands. Some folks just don’t need their own private god, of whatever shade. It’d be like giving a thermonuclear bomb to a drunken redneck. The last thing you’d ever hear was, “Hey, y’all, watch this!”

Yeah, no.

There was one particular object, though, that I was deeply interested in.

Mother’s rapier occupied a place of honor on its own eye level shelf, resting on an exquisitely carved three-hundred-year-old sword rack of polished ebony. Tigers peered from among stands of bamboo, their inset emerald eyes glittering from between the leaves, tails sinuous curves. The design was evidently based on the weapon itself.

The rapier’s hilt was shaped like a tiger whose snarling jaws gaped around the blade, emerald eyes glaring. You slid your hand into the basket formed by the long curling tail of the beast, which tightened magically during combat so you couldn’t be disarmed.

The blade itself was engraved with magical sigils -- spells that applied strength and endurance. It dated from the sixteenth century, which was when Eris had gone into the god version of retirement. Only instead of playing bridge like a normal little old lady, she ate people.

Bad people, but still.

I hesitated, staring at the weapon, hypnotized by grief-stricken memories. Mother had seemed invincible, between Eris and Paladin. Maybe she would have been, if it hadn’t been for the necessity of protecting me. As it was, she’d sent her god away, and she’d lost, and she’d died.

And no matter what logic said, something in me insisted it was my fault.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Calliope asked uneasily. “Eris can be nasty.”

“That’s like saying the Antarctic is a little chilly.” Paladin popped in out of nowhere, looking grim. “In all seriousness, don’t do this. It’s not worth it. She could hurt you badly.”

He showed me a vivid memory of what she’d done the last time he’d dared try to draw her. She’d tossed his godly ass across the room and suggested that if he didn’t want to get eaten, he should leave her the hell alone.

“She’s lucky I didn’t decide to see who ate whom,” Paladin growled. “Personally, I think she’d have ended up the entree.” He sighed. “But then I’d have had to think of something to do with all those spirits she protects, and short of moving into the sword myself…” He curled a lip. “Which I was definitely not willing to do.”

“I still need to do this, Paladin.” Mostly because I was fucking terrified. “You know how Mom always insisted we do those things that frightened us most. I need to get back in the habit.”

“She wasn’t referring to things that could actually eat you, Summer.”

I gave him a look. “Oh, don’t try to bullshit me. Her first objective was to make sure she didn’t hand you a coward as a host.”

“Okay, yeah,” he admitted. “But being afraid doesn’t make you a coward. It just means you’re smart enough not to get into a pissing match with the Bitch Blade.”

“Do me a favor -- don’t call her that when I draw her, all right? She really will light me up like a Christmas tree.” I licked dry lips, wondering nervously just how much it would hurt if she decided to stick my ass in a godly Cuisinart.

But Mom was right. You have to do what scares you most, or you’ll never do anything that really matters.

Despite my instinct to handle the rapier as if it were electrified, I forced myself to lift the sheathed weapon from its shelf. My hands didn’t even shake. Much.

I also didn’t get blasted across the room. Go, me.

Calliope didn’t seem much comforted, though. She stared up at me, tail bushed and lashing in anxiety. I managed a smile. “Have a little faith, fuzzy.”

“I have plenty of faith in you, Summer,” she muttered. “It’s the giant butcher knife I don’t trust.”

Neither did I, but I knew I couldn’t wait until I went up against Valak to find out if Eris was going to fry me like a fork in an electrical socket. Swallowing, I slid my hand into the coil of the tiger’s tail and wrapped my fingers around the hilt. Breath held, I drew the blade from the scabbard in a single smooth pull.

The goddess of birth and death fell on me like the Great Wall of China.

It was the same sort of ferocious storm of power and magic I’d felt when Paladin blasted into my brain at the age of twelve.

Old
. Eris was so incredibly old. Centuries and centuries of memories swamped my fly-blink twenty-five years like a tidal wave capsizing a dingy.

And power, searing as a forest fire, merciless as a tornado shredding a single-wide. Unlike Paladin, she made no effort whatsoever to protect me from her own vicious power.
Oh, hell, this is some kind of survival of the fittest shit. If she destroys me, she’ll say I didn’t deserve to live anyway
.

Panic screamed through me. “
Paladin
!”

“
I’m here, Summer
!” He shot up around me, a warm bulwark of power, growling at Eris. “
Back off
!”

“
No, you bastard
,” the goddess hissed, upping the vicious pressure she was exerting against me. “
I’m not going to let you keep me from testing the little twit. I will see what she’s made of, whether you like it or not
!”

I could feel pieces of myself begin to peel off under her battering like shingles peeling off a roof in a tornado, and screamed in terrified rage.
No. Fuck, no! I will not fail, damn it
! I set my jaw and threw myself against the wall of psychic force. My mother’s daughter would not let herself be destroyed by a giant metal toothpick. I owed Mom more than that. She’d died for me, damn it. I would
not
give up. I wouldn’t let Eris rip me apart!

But even as I fought, she went on and on slicing me like the sword she was, cutting and stabbing at my consciousness until I could almost see the scarlet sprays of blood.
This is it, I’m dead, I’m
…

Paladin blasted through the barrier she’d erected to prevent him from protecting me. He blocked the ripping psychic wind, curling around me in a magical shield that let me breathe. I gasped, huddling behind his strength, and concentrated on surviving.
“I’ve got you, Summer
,” he murmured. “
You’re safe
.”

“
And that’s her whole problem,”
Eris snapped. “
You’ve coddled the little wench until she’s got no spine. You’re more interested in fucking her than using her as the weapon she should be. Pervert
.” To me she added coldly, “
Your mother would be so ashamed of you, Summer Caroline
.”

And the worst part of it was, I wondered if she was right.

Panting, I opened my eyes to find the library’s Persian carpet inches from my nose. A drop of scarlet landed in the middle of the intricate yellow pattern.

My nose was bleeding. Awesome.

And Eris wasn’t done yet. “
I’m glad your mother is not alive to see what you’ve become -- nothing more than a mincing little arteest instead of the warrior she raised you to be. Paladin has ruined you, just as I feared he would
.”

“Eris,” I panted, as I sat back on my heels, wiping at my nose with the back of my wrist and eying the smears of crimson left there. Yep, still bleeding. “Fuck… You.”

The sword lay on the floor halfway across the room where I’d apparently thrown it when she’d hit me. The scabbard lay half under the bookshelf that stretched across the opposite wall. Gathering myself, I rose to my feet and limped over to collect the sheath. I’d wrenched my right ankle when I’d fallen, but at least it wasn’t sprained.

“Are you okay, baby?” Calliope peered at me in worry.

“I’m not a baby, Cal,” I growled, and bent to collect the sword. Only to pause, my hand inches from the hilt, wondering whether the bitch would take me apart again if I picked it up.

Thing was, I knew what my mother would say to the idea of leaving any sword -- particularly that one -- lying on the floor.

“I’ll get it,” Paladin told me. “I can assure you, she won’t do a damned thing to
me
. Not unless she wants to spend the next century at the bottom of the nearest river. At the moment, I’m tempted to throw her in anyway.”

“No, I am going to do my damned job,” I growled, despite the aching temptation to let him take over. I picked up the sword and slid it into its scabbard.

And if my hands shook the whole time, too fucking bad.

“
Weakling
,” Eris sneered. “
You’re no more worthy of carrying me into battle than the most cowardly genetic trash. Your mother would weep
.”

“And what would Barbara think of
you
trying to fry her daughter?” Calliope spat, ears back and tail lashing. “She’d melt you down for scrap and sell you to a blacksmith to make into horseshoes.” Which, I gathered, was a deadly insult.

“
You’re as bad as he is. You’ve helped that idiot turn Barbara’s daughter into a bigger pussy than you are. She
…”

Drawing on every last ounce of self-control I’d ever had, I put the sword in its ebony rack, turned, and walked out. I’d have loved to slam the rack behind me, but it refused to produce anything louder than a soft click as it pivoted closed.

So much for that ally.

As the hidden door closed, I squared my shoulders. I had a job to do. I was, by all the Elder Gods, going to prove Eris wrong.

Maybe she’s right
, some small voice whispered in the depths of my mind.

Since age twelve, I’d believed myself a perfectly ordinary person. As an adult, I’d been a shopkeeper and writer. As Eris had sneered, an artist.

But I
wasn’t
an artist. I was a Demi and an avatar of a god, and that made me anything but ordinary. And I would damned well do my duty.

My parents’ murderer was out there somewhere, preying on innocent people. It was Paladin’s job to find Valak and kill him, along with all his thugs, allies and worshipers. It was my job to add my magical power to Paladin’s, to lend him my strength like a worthy addition to my line. Eris or no Eris, I had to step up to the plate and do the job.

“I don’t care what that bitch says, you’re not weak,” Paladin told me. “Not mentally, and not physically. I’ve been training your body and brain in fighting techniques since your mother died. As you proved when you fought Valak’s thugs, you’re every bit as skilled as you would have been otherwise.”

“He’s right. You’re more than capable, no matter what Eris said.” Calliope gave my ankle an affectionate shoulder-butt. Her voice dropped to a mutter. “That one always was a bitch.”

“Yeah. Sure.” I didn’t really want to talk about it anymore. I didn’t even want to think about it. “So what do we do now?” After uncounted thousands of years, Paladin sure as hell knew how to do the job. I’d let him take the lead.

I blinked, and he was standing beside me. “Tonight’s the Demifair. We need to check in with Zanos-James. See what’s going on with Valak and his thugs.”

I brightened at that. “Oh, sure.” When I was a little girl, I used to love the monthly Demifair, a gathering of Graven’s Demimonde held on the god of the city’s property.

James Miles was the prominent owner of a construction firm that had built five schools in upstate South Carolina, a couple of municipal buildings, and three major corporate complexes, plus assorted other projects. He was also the avatar of Zanos, one of the most powerful elder gods on the planet, being even older than Paladin.

It was because of the Miles family that there were so many Demis in Graven to begin with. The Demiclans knew he’d make sure they were safe in his territory.

“They’re certainly supposed to be,” Paladin said grimly. “Unfortunately, Valak isn’t making any of us look very good with these killings. Zanos-James wants him dead almost as badly as I do. Which is yet another reason I need to show up for tonight’s fair. He’s called a mandatory meeting of all Graven’s Demis.” His eyes took on a feral gleam. “Afterward, we’re hunting assholes.”

“Be vewy, vewy quiet.” I muttered in my best Elmer Fudd.

* * *

The sun was just setting when Calliope, Paladin and I arrived at Zanos-James’ sprawling farm just outside Graven. Childhood memories started flooding back before we’d even parked the car, vivid recollections of magical games and chasing lightning bugs in the summer dark.

“God, I loved this place,” I told Cal as I drove into the graveled lot and started hunting a space. Sleek BMWs and Audis stood next to pickups and beaters held together with bondo and duct tape. Most Demis had money, but others had a tougher time of it. “Some of my happiest childhood memories revolved around the Demifair.” Spotting a likely spot, I whipped into it.

Cal and I got out and headed through a copse of oaks, maples and sweetgum trees, their foliage aflame with fall. Just beyond them was a cluster of clearings occupied by tents and a long brick barbecue grill.

Zanos-James presided over the cooking chores, surrounded by a cloud of hickory smoke and the scent of grilling meat rubbed in various spices. A couple of huge coolers stood off to one side, one mounded with ice, steaks, hamburgers and hotdogs waiting for their turn on the grill, the other piled with ice, canned soda, and every brand of beer known to Wal-Mart.

Given the jeans and forest green golf shirt, Zanos-James could almost pass for a typical suburban Southern male. He’d been a central figure of my childhood, one of my father’s best friends. Though he looked about thirty-five, he was probably closer to seventy. Demis are long-lived people; at least when it came to natural causes. As my family had proved,
unnatural
causes are a different story.

Graven’s god had one of those ridiculously handsome Demi faces that somehow contrived to be incredibly masculine at the same time. His nose was so straight it could have been laid out with a laser, a wide, sensual mouth, and bright green eyes under thick brows. His beard was a sexy sable goatee and mustache combo that called attention to that erotic mouth, and his hair was short and curly. He was about three inches taller than Paladin -- or rather, what I’d always thought Paladin’s height to be, which made the avatar 6’2” or so. Those extra inches made his muscular frame look more like a dancer’s than Paladin’s heavyweight boxer build.