Chapter 13

"How did you do that, Godhunter?"Persephone's voice sounded even more child-like. She had just regressed from teenager to toddler.

I shrugged and stepped forward; everyone else took a step back.

"Would you guys relax?"I held up my hands in the universal symbol of whoa. "All I did was pull some energy from you. Usually, I call it up from the Earth or down from the Moon, but I figured I'd try something new. You guys have lived off our energy for centuries; are you seriously going to give me attitude for taking some of yours? I wasn't sure if I had enough juice to power a spell for such a large area, and your magic helped."

They looked at each other; gazes shifting, but never losing their intensity. I was getting a little nervous. Anger would almost have been better. Almost.

"You don't understand, Vervain. You shouldn't have been able to do that,"Thor finally broke the silence.

"Why not?"I stepped back so that I was closer to the knife.

I had removed my gloves so I could work with the magic easier but I was starting to regret my decision. I shouldn't have let my guard down among gods. Stupid, stupid mistake. I really was acting like an amateur.

"The Earth gives her power freely,"Estsanatlehi said as she stepped toward me with her hands out, palms up which I appreciated. "As gods, we don't share our power. We've learned only to hoard it and gather more whenever possible. There are none of us who could take from another. Such a talent could be deadly. It's astounding that it has manifested in a human. No offense."

"None taken."I smiled a little. "And I think you may have just answered your own question."

"How so?"Horus asked.

Horus had been edging around me, but I'd been following him with my peripheral vision. So, when he reached out to touch me, I automatically moved into a fighting stance. I may have been a little twitchy, okay? It's one of the reasons that I don't carry a gun. I didn't intend to attack Horus, but the mere movement sent a wave of energy shooting out of my hand. He was suddenly on his back; half-shifted and surrounded by a cloud of feathers—the likes of which I hadn't seen since the time my cat decided to surprise me by bringing one of his kitty gifts into the house.

"Holy crap!"I jumped and started over to Horus, but he held a wing up to ward me off.

Yes; a wing. I said he was half-shifted.

Downy feathers drifted down around the largest falcon head I've ever seen; sparkling here and there in the currents of magic that still rode the air. Black, bird eyes darted frantically; blinking out of that oversized head. The silky, golden feathers at his neck smoothed down into perfectly tanned skin. Perfect until it reached his shoulders where the feathers began once again. His arms were now an impressive pair of wings; the span of which matched his height.

The linen shirt Horus had been wearing was ripped beyond repair at both sleeves and neck, but his pants were intact since his legs hadn't changed. He didn't seem capable of standing, though, and continued to flap about furiously; sending me looks that were both terrified and terrifying. He opened his beak, and I half expected his snooty voice to spill out, but all that emerged was an enraged squawk. I guess his vocal chords had been included in the shift. A small miracle, but I was grateful for it.

I looked down at my hands and saw the magic rolling along my skin. Like heat on asphalt, it blurred over my body in a haze. For the first time in my life, I was horrified by my power. Not because it was too much, but because it was alien; an unknown entity I had no idea how to control. I curled my arms around myself and backed away from everyone; my eyes fixed on the monster I'd created. What had I done? What would I do next?

Thor reached out to me.

"Don't!"I shook my head. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Then you won't,"Thor said.

Behind Thor, I could see Horus shifting back into human form. I felt a small amount of the tension in my shoulders release as I realized the damage wasn't permanent.

Thor went on gently, "You only changed Horus because you were startled and reacted to protect yourself. You're still filled with our power. Don't fear it Vervain, use it. It's in you now, which means that you're its master. Control it."

I took a deep breath and nodded. My hands drifted down to my sides as I thought over the implications. I had their power? Did that mean that I could do what they did? How long would it last? I looked at a little potted palm in the corner as an idea struck.

They all watched me steadily as I held my hands out to the plant. I thought of Persephone—the way she felt like springtime—and my hands began to glow. First, my palms began to tingle, then warm waves coasted down my arms and out through my fingers. The plant rustled and started to grow. You shouldn't be able to hear things grow. Trust me when I say that you don't want to. Natural growth takes time. Roots drink in nutrients, plant cells multiply, and it all happens way too slowly for the naked eye to catch . . . or the human ear to hear.

I forced growth into those vulnerable cells, demanded that they separate and multiply at dizzying speeds, and the noise that resulted from that blasphemy became a raw, primitive music. The beginning of life must have sounded similar; a creeping, tearing rustle. A squawk of struggle, of a creature crawling out of the primordial ooze and taking its first gasp of air with its raw, new lungs. It was a nightmarish noise, and it hammered home the truth that although destruction can be explosively loud, creation has its own voice.

In seconds, the palm had burst from its pot and was brushing the ceiling with questing fronds. The roots shook free of dirt like a dog shakes off water and wriggled out to push at my feet. I stumbled back and fell heavily to the floor. The roots kept coming; tendrils waving up before me like snakes, sensing the magic that had freed them, until finally they shivered to a halt and fell limply to the floor. I looked up at the monstrosity I'd made and felt my heart pumping furiously in my chest, my breath sawing through my lungs as if it were trying to escape.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Thor crouch down and start to crawl toward me. "I'm going to touch you, Vervain. I just want to see how much power you've still got stored up."

I looked up at him numbly and suddenly felt very lost. I wanted to be home in my bed where I could pull the blankets over my head and have some time to think. I wanted someone to tell me what the hell was going on; what it all meant. Failing that, I just wanted someone to hold me and make the crazy whirlwind stop for a second. Thor looked like exactly what I needed. I reached carefully to him and nodded.

Thor didn't just touch me or hold me; he wrapped his entire body around mine. A flesh and blood shield between me and reality. I let my head fall to his shoulder; feeling safe for the first time in years. Damn, but safety is such a hard thing to resist. I gave in to the feel of his warm skin against mine and his muscles flexing gently under my cheek. When I took a trembling breath, the clean scent of rain filled my nose and tingles ran over my body. I snuggled closer and felt the air condensing around us, the temperature falling slightly. The sound of thunder rolled through the air. It was soft, though, as if heard through a down pillow.

Just let it be a sudden rainstorm. Let this be a normal man holding me. Please give me a normal life for one blessed minute. I squeezed my eyes tighter and buried my face against his thick neck. I could remain there forever just pretending; imagining a world where gods stayed in their heavens and plants took more than mere seconds to grow. A different reality where I didn't behead Atlanteans so that I could feel safer at night. Where I slept untroubled by nightmares, never having to pay the price for that sleep.

In that brief moment, I realized why I did what I did. There, in the arms of a god, I was finally able to admit why I killed his kind. I'd always told myself it was a noble sacrifice; that I fought them so the human race could be safe. I had this image in my head of me being a comic book hero. Destroying evil in the shadows while mankind walked by, oblivious, but safe from harm. What a joke. I was no hero.

The need to save others did, of course, play a part in my choices, but it wasn't the only reason. It wasn't the driving force behind my obsession. I hunted them so they wouldn't hunt me. It was a preemptive strike. Hours of training with sword, metal claws, and knives so I could stand a chance against beings that outclassed me in every way. Even more time spent in spellwork, meditations, and charging my weapons, not to do what was right, but merely to be able to walk down the street at night knowing I was prepared for whatever may be around the next corner. It was survival instinct, pure and simple. Nothing noble about it. At the heart of every fighter lies a scared child who just wants to feel safe.

How odd that I'd found that safety with a god.