As the Crow Flies (Book 19 in the Godhunter Series) Page 3

  “They're crows,” a woman said from somewhere nearby.

  I gave a start and looked towards the voice. She was old and hunched, bent even further as she washed a black jacket in the river which rushed past her. We were standing on a flat plain. The grass of the open field looked dead, almost completely brown in spots, despite the wealth of water which ran through it. The sky overhead was cold, a winter sky without clouds, and the river banks were encrusted with ice.

  The old woman seemed immune to the cold and continued to swish the fabric through the water and then pull it out to slap against a flat stone beside her. Splash, splash, thwack. Splash, splash, thwack. She didn't even spare me a glance. Her stringy white hair fell forward around her face, concealing it from me.

  “What did you say?” I asked her.

  “Crows,” she muttered, angry at having to repeat herself. “They're carrion crows. Stupid girl,” she made tsking sounds to herself and muttered about the idiocy of godhunters.

  I looked again at the field, peering closer at the grass, and saw that it wasn't dying at all. It was simply covered in death. The brown patches were dried blood and when I lifted my gaze to the horizon, I saw the outline of a pile of corpses. Some of the crows were perched upon the bodies, feasting.

  “Where are we?” I whispered as a shiver raced up my back.

  “Nowhere,” the old woman said conversationally, satisfied that I was finally paying attention. “This is nowhere but it is still somewhere important.”

  “What happened here?”

  “Battle, girl!” she snapped. “What do you think happened? People will die. Not yet, no, not quite yet, but soon. Oh yes,” splash, splash, thwack. “Soon,” she lifted the cloth to her face and inspected the torn fabric. “Almost out. Almost clean. Almost gone for good.”

  “I know that coat,” I walked towards her slowly, my eyes fastened on the material. “That's my husband's jacket.”

  “Is it now?” she cackled.

  “What are you doing with it?” I demanded.

  “Washing out the blood,” she shook her head at the coat and stuck it back in the water. “That's what I do. I wash and I warn. I warn and I wash but no one ever listens.” She lowered her voice to a mutter again, “Why don't they ever listen?”

  “I'm listening,” I insisted. “Why does my husband's coat have blood on it?”

  “Because he's going to die,” she turned to me and cackled.

  Her eyes were a sightless gray but I knew she could see me. This woman could see more than most. She continued to laugh as the birds swooped out of the sky and surged around me.

  “When?!” I screeched. “How? Tell me! Give me your warning!”

  “As the crow flies, my dear! As the crow flies!”

  I jerked out of the vision, my heart racing as I found myself staring into Brevyn's eyes again. My skin was freezing even though Arach was leaning in against me, one arm around me as he tried to surround me while still holding Rian. Brevyn looked calm for just a moment and then he opened his mouth to take a deep breath. He exhaled a scream of such terror that the whole room went quiet and stared at us in horror. Rian woke up and began screaming too, which then sent Morgan to screaming.

  “My apologies,” Arach stood and helped me to my feet. “Please continue without us, I'm so sorry for the disturbance. Babies,” he gave them a smile and a shrug.

  His cavalier expression changed immediately to concern as he led me along the pew and then out of the room. Lorna scooped up the wailing Morgan from the High Queen's lap and followed after us. Darius followed after them.

  “In here,” Lorna rushed in front of us and opened a door off the hallway. She ushered us into a sitting room. “Shh now,” she bounced Morgan, who had already started to calm.

  Arach and I had a harder time with our twins but, after a few minutes, we were able to get the boys quiet again and they soon fell back into exhausted slumbers. Screaming like you're being chased by zombies takes a lot out of you.

  “What did you see?” Arach already knew what had transpired, he'd seen Brevyn share his visions with me often enough to recognize the signs.

  “See?” Darius asked.

  “Brevyn has been showing me visions,” I explained but it was hard to speak around the lump of fear lodged in my throat.

  “Visions?” Lorna asked softly and gave her son a fake smile. “Visions,” she repeated in a happy voice, widening her already massive blue eyes at him until he giggled.

  “Of the future,” I whispered and sat heavily on a plush pink couch. “Sometimes of the past.”

  “What did you see, Vervain?” Arach laid Rian on the couch beside me and then knelt before me.

  “A washer woman,” I swallowed hard and looked into his dragon eyes. Funny that such vicious eyes had the power to soothe me.

  “What?” he frowned. “You mean a bean-nighe?”

  “No, she wasn't a faerie,” I took a deep breath, trying to hold it together. Don't scream, don't scream, nothing's happened yet. It was only a warning, remember? It can be stopped. Can't it? “She was... I don't know; a goddess perhaps?”

  “I don't know of any goddess washers,” Arach frowned. “But if she was a washer woman, it can mean only one thing.”

  “Whomever's clothes she was washing will die,” Lorna concluded and Morgan started to whine. “It's okay,” she said brightly. “It was just a vision, yes it was,” she cooed at him.

  “Vervain,” Arach took my hands and flinched when he felt how cold they were.

  He slid Brevyn from my arms and laid our son beside his brother before returning to me. Then he put my palms between his and focused his fire into me. I took a relieved breath as my temperature surged back up. Why hadn't I thought to do that?

  “She's in shock,” Darius came into view, his turquoise eyes going dark with concern. “Tima focus, tell us what happened. Whose clothes was the woman washing?”

  “Kirill's,” I burst into tears.

  Chapter Two

  “I have to warn him,” I said after taking a steadying breath.

  “I know,” Arach nodded. “Go.”

  “What; now? In the middle of the wedding?” Lorna asked with wide eyes. Well; wider eyes. Her eyes were normally quite large.

  “She'll use her ring,” Arach explained.

  “Is that a Ring of Remembrance?” Lorna gaped at the gold band on my hand. The oval cabochon gleamed at me as if it knew I was ready to leave.

  “Yes,” Arach answered Lorna but kept his stare on me. He leaned in and kissed me gently. “Be careful, A Thaisce. Remember you're a mother now. Please don't take any unnecessary risks.”

  “I know,” I laid my palm to his cheek briefly. “And I won't. I promise.”

  Then I asked my ring to return me to the God Realm, where I'd left my four other husbands sleeping; three in their own beds and one in mine. They were all still asleep when I reappeared in our shared bedroom. The ring not only took me through realms with the ease of stepping through a door but it also took me back to whatever time I wished. Which I suppose was more of its intended purpose.

  The Ring of Remembrance had been made to allow the long-lived Fey to go back in time and relive moments of their life which they may have forgotten. However, I'd found a loop hole. Because I used it to also jump between realms, I traveled to a place and time where I hadn't already lived. So I was able to move freely and experience the time, instead of just reliving something I'd already done.

  I took a cleansing breath, letting the solace of home seep into my body and strengthen me. I had built this castle for the Intare, my lion-shifters whom I was responsible for as their goddess, but it had become my sanctuary as well. The whole top floor belonged to me and my husbands, with two towers bracketing the balcony at the front of the castle, providing private rooms for my men; two per tower. But I rarely slept alone and one of my husbands was currently taking up as much space as he possibly could in my ridiculously large bed.

  I had reformed within the little k
itchenette on the left side of the room and had to walk past three doors to reach the bed; my dressing room door, the bedroom's entrance, and the entrance to the butterfly garden. Then I was standing before the dais which supported my bed. I liked to change the décor every now and then, and I'd recently altered the bed a little (I used the transmutation magic of my territory so it wasn't like it was a big deal). I'd transformed the dais into a massive slab of quartz crystal, with steps carved up it on three sides. The fourth side was the head of the bed and was set back against the glass wall of the butterfly garden. So it had a beautiful backdrop of lush plants and flowers. I'd also added crystal posters at each corner with sheer snowy silk draped over and between them.

  It made Kirill look like a Greek god instead of the Russian werelion he was.

  I hadn't realized how panicked I'd been until I saw him there and every muscle in my body seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. I climbed the little steps and slipped into the bed beside him. His long limbs were all akimbo and he was face down on the mattress. I'd been beneath him, with him snuggled into my side, before I had slipped from bed and used my ring to travel to Faerie. As I left the bed, Kirill had given me a sleepy kiss and then flopped back down, into the exact position he was in now.

  “Tima?” he whispered groggily and shifted so I could slide back beneath him.

  I did, tugging the yards of fabric which made up my skirts with me. Kirill felt the movement and blinked his eyes open. He frowned, his deep lapis stare roaming my faerie dress before returning to my face.

  “Vhat happened?” he sat up, the silk sheet falling to the bed to frame the muscled curves of his body. His hip-length, raven hair was braided for sleep or it would have done a much better job of outlining his beautiful physique.

  “Just one second,” I wrapped myself around him and placed my cheek to his chest, listening for the reassuring sound of his heartbeat. His scent, that delicious combination of lion musk and man, enveloped me and reassured me that my husband was alright.

  “Vervain,” his strong hand went to my head and gently stroked back the intricate braids of the elaborate hairstyle I'd worn to the wedding. “Tell me,” his tone was velvet soft, nearly a purr.

  “I saw something,” I whispered into his chest.

  “A vision?”

  I nodded.

  “From Brevyn?”

  “There was a washer woman,” I took another breath of him and then pulled back to face him. “She was washing your jacket.”

  “Someone vas vashing my jacket?” he lifted a dark brow and the corner of his mouth at the same time.

  “Kirill,” I sat up. “She was a washer, like a bean-nighe but different. Her washing your clothes means that you're...” I swallowed hard.

  “You're going to die,” Trevor finished from the bottom of the tower stairs on the left side of the room.

  “Trevor?” I blinked at him in surprise.

  “She was a Washer at the Ford,” Trevor came to the bed looking grim. “I just dreamed of her too.”

  “Vasher at Ford?” Kirill frowned. “I don't know zis name.”

  “The Fey have a version of her but this wasn't a bean-nighe,” Trevor sat on the foot of the bed, angling one leg up on the mattress and twisting towards us.

  “You saw her too?” Dread gathered in my belly.

  “Yes and I know who she is,” Trevor glanced at Kirill and then back to me. “It was the Morrigan.”

  “What?” I growled, my fear replaced instantly by flaming fury.

  “Did you see crows in your vision?” Trevor asked me.

  “Yes,” I growled. “A sky full.”

  “So did I,” he nodded. “It was Badb, one of the Morrigan's three personas. She's the seer, the Washer at the Ford who would foretell the death of warriors before battle.”

  “Badb?” I scowled. “What kind of stupid name is Badb? I think I'll just call her Bitch.”

  “It's Celtic and this is serious,” he laid a hand on Kirill's knee. “I'm sorry, man, but you aren't leaving our territory until we figure this out.”

  “Vhat?” Kirill scowled. “I'm-”

  “Ha!” I pointed at him. “Doesn't feel so good when someone tells you, you can't go anywhere, does it?”

  “Are you going to yell; In your face! now?” Trevor gave me a bland expression.

  “Shut up, Trevor,” I snapped. “Let me have my moment. I don't know how many times you guys have given me the same restriction.”

  “Do you know how many times you've consented to it?” Kirill smirked.

  “Every. Single. Time,” I said each word carefully.

  “Maybe for little vhile,” Kirill made a face.

  “It doesn't matter,” I slashed a hand through the air and stood up. “You aren't going anywhere, lion. Consider yourself caged!”

  “What's all the shouting about?” Odin stumbled into the room from the right tower stairwell, rubbing groggily at his eyes. “What time is it?”

  “It's time for us to call the God Squad,” I folded my arms over my chest.

  “Oh fuck me,” Odin huffed. “What happened now?”

  “First of all; language!” I pointed at Odin. “Second; I will- later. And third,” I turned to Trevor, “you tell him.”

  “I can't be expected to be civilized when awakened by my wife's bean-sidhe-like shrieking,” Odin cracked his neck as he headed for the coffee pot. “If I wasn't such a gentleman, I'd add some more cuss words to that first one, Vervain.”

  “Alright, fine, that's valid,” I deflated and fell back on the mattress.

  Odin stopped dead in his tracks and turned back to us with a look of horror on his face. “What's happened? Our wife never gives up verbal sparring that easily.”

  “We've had a vision,” Trevor sighed and rubbed at his face wearily. “Both Vervain and I. It's a warning of Kirill's death.”

  “What?!” Odin's face shifted into battle mode, his peacock colored eyes glinting through all their shades; blue, green, then purple. “Who's threatening him?”

  “We don't know,” Trevor's jaw clenched.

  “What do you mean, we don't know?” I gaped at him. “It's the Morrigan, it has to be.”

  “Why would she warn us and then kill Kirill?” Trevor asked.

  “I don't think she did, Trevor,” I shook my head as Odin came to stand before us. “Just because she was in the vision, it doesn't mean it came from her. I think it was simply a vision. She's probably completely unaware that we've been warned.”

  Trevor made a growling sound of agreement. “You may be right.”

  “But we don't know it's her for certain,” Odin put his fists to his hips, making him look like a wrestler about to enter the ring. “So we watch Morrigan while we continue to look for another possibility. But you,” he pointed at Kirill, “will remain in Pride Palace.”

  “Ha!” I said again as I pointed at Kirill.

  “Has motherhood actually made you less mature?” Trevor frowned at me.

  “Da, vhat he said,” Kirill huffed and climbed out of the bed.

  “Whoa,” Odin turned his face away and held his hand up to block the sight of Kirill's glorious nudity. “Not first thing in the morning, please. I haven't even had my coffee.”

  “Okay, I vait till later to expose myself to you,” Kirill gave Odin a wink and then headed into the bathroom.

  “And you say that I'm the immature one,” I grimaced at Trevor.

  “That was funny,” Trevor smirked. “You're just being childish while Kirill is clearly a comedic genius.”

  “I'll go call the Squad,” I rolled my eyes. “After I change out of this dress.”

  “I'll make the coffee,” Odin sighed.

  “I'll go join Kirill in the shower,” Trevor got up.

  Odin and I both stopped in our tracks and turned to stare at Trevor.

  “Got you,” Trevor chuckled. “You should see your faces. Kirill's not the only comedic genius in the palace,” he hooted as he headed to the door which led out of
the bedroom and into the hallway. “I'm going down to talk to the Intare and give them a heads up on our sitch.”

  He walked out.

  I turned to Odin, “Did he just say sitch?”

  “He's your husband,” Odin rolled his eyes.

  Chapter Three

  “Two months,” Horus whined. “We only made it two months before your drama popped up to bite us in the ass again.”

  “Two blissful months,” Hades sighed.

  “Shut up,” Persephone hit her husband in the chest. “Kirill's life is in danger. If it was you, he'd do everything he could to help you and so would Vervain.”

  “Yes, quite right,” Hades looked instantly contrite. He gave Kirill an apologetic smile. “I will speak to the Greeks and see if anyone has heard of plots concerning you.”

  “Zank you,” Kirill nodded.

  “Thanks, Sephy,” I added and she gave me a wink.

  “Morrigan was watching my clubs,” Eztli, Blue's new wife, said with a frown. “Now this? It's so strange.”

  “She was also at your wedding,” I pointed out.

  “Yes, I recall,” Eztli nodded. “It was what prompted me to join your group.”

  “Morrigan was?” I lifted a brow. “Really?”

  “She had a look about her,” Eztli shook her head. “Honestly, I wasn't sure if she were going to come after me or you, Vervain.”

  “And you didn't want to be left out in the cold if it were you?” I smirked.

  “I have my own people,” she shrugged.

  “But it helps when your people are gods instead of just vampires,” Odin said dryly.

  “Yes, well,” Eztli gave her husband a glance and then stopped to stare at his amused expression. “I've always been pragmatic.”

  “Yes, love,” Blue chuckled, “you have. But, Vervain,” Blue turned his jade green stare on me. “The only thing we could discover about Morrigan was that she was friends with Morvran.”

  Morpheus inhaled sharply.

  Morvran had killed Morpheus' brother; Phantasus. Then Morpheus had killed Morvran in the same manner. Which happened to be a cold, dishonorable, take-'em-by-surprise manner. Morpheus had cut off Morvran's head while he was distracted with smack talking to me.