As the Crow Flies (Book 19 in the Godhunter Series) Page 10

  “I just... I can't even...” I walked into the middle of Cat Heaven and turned in a joyful circle. Rian was giggling behind me and he started slapping my shoulders excitedly. “I know, right?” I said to him. “This is unbelievable!”

  It was actually a lot quieter than you might think. There was a soft background of purrs with the occasional meow mixed in but generally, they were a content bunch who had learned to get along (humans could learn a thing or two from them). They jumped, dove, and crawled over each other with the ease of litter mates; most of the action and sound emanating from the kittens. There were lots of little ones; carried around by their mothers, tumbling over each other, and wrestling with kitty fervor.

  Oh why hadn't I brought my cell phone? This cat video would go viral!

  “Thank you,” Freya said proudly but before she could say more, a massive boar, brimming with bristly black hairs, came pounding through the kitty tide, parting them like Moses with the Red Sea. It came to a screeching halt before Freya, panting and propelling slobber in all directions. “Hildy!” Freya declared with delight and dropped to her knees to hug the ugly thing.

  The boar grunted happily, rubbing its wet nose against Freya's pristine cheek; leaving it not so pristine. To her credit, Freya didn't care one whit about being slimed, just nuzzled closer to the pig. I looked to Odin for an explanation, but he was beaming at the pair fondly. So I went over and slapped his arm to get his attention.

  “Hey, what the hell is that?” I whispered to him as I gestured to the boar.

  “That's Hildisvini,” he said.

  “Ohhhhh Hildisvini. Thank you, that explains everything,” I rolled my eyes.

  “He's her pet boar,” Thor cocked his head at me. “Why is that so strange to you? Don't you have a pet flower? And whatever that thing with six legs is.”

  “Touché, mi amigo,” I nodded. “And Dexter is a nurial.”

  “You just mixed French with Spanish,” Thor gave me a pained expression.

  I ignored him, “I'm just a little shocked that the boar gets along with the cats.”

  “They make due,” Freya said as she stood and scraped the swine slime off her cheek. “Animals have always lived in harmony with each other. It's called Nature.”

  “Ha ha. Yes but not usually in the same den, as it were,” I pointed out.

  “True,” she chuckled. “But this is a magical den.”

  “Mom!” a female voice echoed into the room from a nearby doorway. “Troy has got into the armory again and knocked all the spears over.”

  “That's kind of why we named him Troy,” Freya rolled her eyes towards me. “It's like he's constantly preparing for war.”

  “Then Helen and Paris followed him in and spilled arrows everywhere,” the voice went on.

  “They're inseparable,” Freya nodded to me.

  “Of course they are,” I chuckled. “What about Achilles?”

  “Achilles was no doubt the one who tattled on them,” Freya grinned. “He's their weak link.”

  “What a heel,” I laughed.

  “Exactly,” she laughed with me.

  “It's like a giant game of Pick Up Sticks in there, with cats climbing over the whole dangerous heap,” a young woman walked into the room, still listing her complaints. “Then, while I was cleaning up that potentially fatal feline fiasco, Tabitha figured out how to get past the lock on the fridge and pulled out the ham from last night's dinner. Once she had it out, the whole lot descended and... oh, hello. I didn't know we had guests.”

  “Gersemi, you know Odin and Thor but this is Vervain,” Freya made the introduction. “Vervain, my daughter; Gersemi.”

  Gersemi was nearly as gorgeous as her mother, with the same hair and perfect pale skin, but dark doe eyes instead of blue. She was a lot shorter than Freya and her curves weren't so exaggerated, but she had some impressive muscle tone that made me suspect she didn't just chase cats around all day.

  “Call me Gery,” she smiled as she came forward, hand extended.

  “Nice to meet you,” I shook her hand and then angled myself so she could see Rian. “This is my son Rian and over there is his twin brother, Brevyn,” I pointed to Odin's back.

  “Ooooh babies!” she clapped in delight. “Lemme see, lemme see!”

  I turned around fully so she could play with Rian.

  “Oh wow, what's with the scales?” she asked.

  “He's a dragon-sidhe,” I smiled at her over my shoulder. Just as I was about to caution her over his recent tendency to hiccup flame balls, Rian shifted into his dragon form. Unable to contain himself any longer, he launched himself out of the baby backpack like a reptilian rocket. “Rian!”

  He shot up to the ceiling, his brilliant emerald scales catching the shafts of sunlight streaming in from numerous kitty-lined windows. Cats fled for their lives, yowling, meowing, and screeching in terror as the miniature dragon did delighted somersaults in the air. Freya rushed out among the cats, hands extended with glowing halos of magic around them, trying to calm the masses. I ran beneath Rian like a crazy woman, waving my arms and screaming at him to come down here this instant. But he was too excited and my mommy voice wasn't working.

  It was complete chaos.

  “Prince Rian of the House of Fire, you will land and shift back immediately or you will suffer the consequences!” Odin's voice rumbled through the room; freezing felines and striking terror into the heart of one little dragon prince.

  Rian immediately circled down in a sulky spiral and landed before us on a Persian rug. He scrambled behind my legs, wings tight to his back, and then angled his head around my calf to peer at Odin with wide, glowing chartreuse eyes. I turned and pointed in his face with a furious finger.

  “Shift now!” I snapped.

  Around me, the cats were calming and going back about their feline business of making their own kind of mischief. Rian shifted and within seconds there was a naked baby sitting on the floor before me, instead of a miniature dragon. He giggled, grabbing his feet as he rocked onto his back to stare up at me like he was too cute to be punished.

  That's what he thought.

  I sat down on the carpet before him, picked him up, laid him across one knee, and smacked him three times on his cute, fat, faerie bottom. He let out a surprised screech that had poor Freya's kitties freezing in horror again. Then he began to cry. I turned him around and he reached his pudgy arms out for me, having no concept of how ironic it was for him to seek solace with the person who just caused his injury. I smiled and hugged him, patting his back soothingly.

  “Don't do that again,” I chided him. “This isn't our home. It's rude to fly all over the place and scare the residents. I'm not going to bring you along next time if this is how you behave.”

  He hiccuped and a tiny flame ball popped out of his mouth. I snatched it with my hand and absorbed the energy before it could singe something. Rian sniffed, rubbing at his eyes with little fists before pulling back to stare petulantly at me. I gave him a stern look and he dropped his face back to my chest to hide and cry some more. I patted his back again and gave everyone else in the room a look of apology. Brevyn, bless his little angelic heart, was staring at his brother like he couldn't understand what had happened.

  “I'm so sorry,” I said to Freya. “Are all your cats okay?”

  “They're fine,” she waved it off. “They probably loved the drama; you know cats.”

  “I do,” I chuckled, “but I haven't dealt with them in such numbers before.”

  “They're challenging,” Gery rolled her eyes. “But they're worth every roasted ham we lose.”

  “It's kind of amusing that you would serve ham in this hall,” I looked pointedly to the boar, who had stood calmly by his mistress, watching the madness like it was the finest entertainment.

  “He doesn't know,” Freya whispered dramatically.

  “Oh,” I chuckled and looked down at the suddenly silent Rian. He was passed out asleep. “Excuse me one moment.”

  I
laid him down on the rug and took off my baby-pack. There was a pocket below the harness where I'd stowed all the things a mother has to carry with her whenever she goes out with her child. I fished out a faerie diaper and unrolled it carefully so the moss lining wouldn't spill out. Then I pinned it on Rian and strapped him back in his backpack.

  “Let me take him,” Odin said as I stood. “Just in case you need freedom of movement.”

  “Good idea,” I agreed, handing the sleeping baby over. “I'll be able to keep an eye on him easier too.”

  “Exactly,” Odin settled Rian on his back.

  It was pretty damn cute actually, the two enormous Viking gods wearing my tiny babies on their backs.

  “Okay, all set,” I said to Freya.

  “Excellent,” she turned to Gery. “I'm taking them over into Alfheim. Hold down the hall a little longer for me.”

  “Fine,” Gery huffed, “but you're doing the evening feeding.”

  “Okay,” Freya smiled indulgently and kissed her daughter on the cheek.

  “Oh and Dad came by this morning,” Gery added and Freya froze.

  “What did he want?” Freya sneered.

  “He left you another poem,” Gery shrugged. “I put it on the pile with the others in your office. Say hi to Uncle Freyr for me.” She looked to me, “It was nice to meet you,” then transferred her gaze to Odin and Thor, “and nice to see you both again.”

  “You too, Gery,” Odin nodded and Thor gave her his gorgeous Thunder God smile.

  “It was a pleasure,” I said to her but as she left, I turned to Odin with a questioning look.

  “Don't ask about the father,” he whispered urgently.

  “The father,” Freya growled (damn god hearing), “is a no good lunatic who thinks he's an artist. This evidently gives him permission to take off and go looking for himself whenever he pleases... whatever that means. Look for himself,” she huffed. “I was the one looking for him every time he left. Well no more!” She slashed her hand down. “Odr can kiss my ass.”

  “His name is Odor?” I lifted my brows. “That's unfortunate.”

  “Odr, without the second O,” Odin corrected. “It's Old Norse for frenzy.”

  “And poetry,” Freya rolled her eyes. “The man thinks he's a damn bard, when he's just a crazy has-been, searching the Human Realm for fans like a washed up rock star.”

  Odin and Thor both nodded to me in verification.

  “He must be nuts to leave you,” I huffed. “Is he blind?”

  Freya stopped, her mouth dropping open, and stared at me a second before she strode over, took me by the upper arms, and laid a kiss on me. Right on the lips. I blinked at her with wide eyes when she pulled away.

  “Thank you,” she said. “That's the sweetest thing a woman not of my relation has ever said to me.”

  “You're welcome,” I cleared my throat as Odin chortled. Then I made a face at him over my shoulder and hissed, “Shut up, you ass.”

  “Freya,” Odin held up an inquiring hand as she walked away. “Would it be too much to ask to have you kiss my wife again? I didn't have my camera ready.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Freya's little mountain hike was closer to climbing than hiking. There were a few moments when I severely regretted bringing the babies along. The sight of them hovering over chasms of jagged rocks as Thor and Odin edged along narrow ledges was enough to give me nightmares. It was like Rian's first flight all over again.

  But we made it around to the other side safely, emerging onto a spacious rock shelf. Below us, the forests of Alfheim stretched out to the Norse Sea, normally a stunning sight. Today it made the rest of my group gasp in dismay. It looked like something that should have been in a horror movie, not a god realm. A haunted wood meant to surround moldering graveyards or the lair of a hideous vampire. A place of death not life. I was prepared for the sight, and had warned the others what to expect. But I suppose seeing the wasteland spread out before you was a lot different than hearing about it.

  We scurried down the mountainside, much faster than we'd climbed the other side, and power walked up to the withering woods. Dead branches littered the dry ground like the spears of a vanquished army, and the leaves left clinging to the trees were curled in upon themselves in fear. A skeleton forest, echoing with the creaks of its dry bones.

  “No,” Freya whispered as we walked into the crippled outskirts. “This can't be. What's happening here?”

  “I told you,” I sighed. “Alfheim is dying.”

  “But why?” Freya turned her horrified gaze to me.

  “I don't know for sure, but I have a feeling it involves your brother,” I said as gently as I could.

  “Freyr can be a dickhead, but he's a good king,” she defended him. “He would never destroy his own land.”

  “I'm sure he wouldn't, at least not on purpose,” I looked sadly at the limp, jaundiced grass beneath my feet. “But Alfheim was meant to be ruled by a faerie, perhaps it simply doesn't want him.” I froze as the words left my mouth, a shiver of premonition coasting over my arms. “A faerie,” I whispered, my eyes shifted to Rian.

  “Rian cannot rule here,” Odin laid a hand on my arm. “He must be heir to Fire, remember?”

  “Yes, you're right,” I shook my head. “I don't know what I was thinking.”

  “My brother rules here,” Freya narrowed her eyes on us. “I agreed to get you into Alfheim, but I never agreed to help you overthrow Freyr.”

  “Even if it means Alfheim's death?” A man came wearily out of the web of shadows and stood before us.

  He was tall and slim, as all light elves were. I normally described them as willowy, but this svelte sapling was as withered as the woods around him. His hair flowed down his back in a drape of deep umber, lank and lackluster. Eyes, the green of fresh pears, looked weary, staring at us somberly from a pale, lined face. To either side of his head, the tips of his pointed ears lifted gracefully. The only thing about him that remained pert.

  “Eamon,” Freya stepped up to him. “What do you mean by that?”

  “And how did you know we'd be here?” I added.

  I remembered this guy from my first visit to Alfheim. The Light Elves kind of became a blur for me, there were so many of them. But this guy had been at the forefront of their group when I was being healed by them... right after my beasts had nearly torn me apart. I remembered his face well.

  “Look around you, Lady,” Eamon said to Freya. “Our land is starving. Our king can't provide for it. The Trinity Star is correct; Alfheim needs to be ruled and fed by a faerie. It was made with fey magic and can't exist without a link to the Source.”

  “Does Yngvi know?” Freya asked.

  Yngvi. Right, that was Freyr's real name. It was weird sounding so I, like most people, generally didn't use it.

  “The Lord knows,” Eamon bowed his head gracefully.

  “And what has he done about it?” Freya demanded.

  “The only thing he could have done is call for help,” Eamon shrugged. “But he has chosen to live in denial, and pretend Alfheim is not dying.”

  “And you along with it,” I eased forward.

  He nodded, “It's a relief to see you, Trinity Star. Our prayers have been answered.”

  “I'm not the Trinity Star at the moment,” I confessed and his eyes widened. “My star has been broken. In fact, I was hoping that I might find a way to repair it here.”

  “The star is broken,” he whispered, “all while our land dies. It is connected of course.”

  “My broken star caused this?” I gaped at him.

  “No,” he waved his hand. “It's connected in the way that destiny binds things. Alfheim lay dying, and so you were brought back to us.”

  “But why is it dying? I left my mother's essence here so that Alfheim would have a faerie to sustain it.”

  “And that essence has preserved us for as long as it could without perishing itself,” Eamon nodded. “A faerie essence is a powerful thing, an elementa
l seed. But without a physical body to spread its roots into, it cannot grow. It cannot connect to its Source to siphon more magic into our land, like roots pull nourishment from the soil.”

  “It's finite,” I whispered.

  “But you are not,” he smiled sadly. “We need you, Trinity Star. As we have always needed you. This was meant to be your kingdom.”

  “Do you know how she can heal her star?” Odin asked him, steering us around the dangerous conversation.

  “I'm not certain,” he frowned. “But I think if you try to heal Alfheim, it will try to heal you.”

  “Alright,” I agreed immediately. I was down with both of those things, and I saw no reason to waste any more time. “Take me to the Heart Stone, Eamon.”

  “Yes, Trinity Star,” Eamon bowed, turned, and led us deeper into the dying forest.

  I missed the glow of the trees. Alfheim's trees, with their pale, smooth bark, always had a subtle glow to them. It wasn't noticeable until you stood beneath their canopy, and realized that it was nearly as bright beneath the leaves as it was in unimpeded daylight.

  Not anymore.

  The trees were nearly barren, the trunks pale in a sickly way, with a tinge of nauseous yellow. The plants surrounding the trees were limp and brown, the grass laying flat against the ground in surrender. No birds sang nor animals roamed the web of barren bushes. It was an abandoned place, a forsaken forest taking its last breaths. And it smelled of rot.

  But everything brightened as we reached the Heart Stone. In contradiction to my vision, the heart of Alfheim was still alive, still holding on to its last reserves of magic. Within the embrace of this expansive meadow, the grass still grew green, the plants still flourished, and the animals gathered together like they'd been herded into the sanctuary.

  They all stared at me somberly, as Eamon had. Magical creatures, just like those in my lion territory. These animals were a part of the land itself, little pieces of its power. And they knew they were dying. They huddled together, and stared at me like I was Obi-Wan Kenobi and they were all desperate, cinnamon bun-haired princesses pleading for my help.