Page 30 of Between Bloode and Death (Between the Shadows #5)
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
Rolf had always sensed that his Night Bloode brothers were much more than the average vampire. Hecate would want the best, but the sneaky witch goddess wouldn’t get the best if she out and out demanded the vampire tribes hand them over.
Thus she convinced Varu’s father to lend him out, getting the strigoi away from possibly taking over his father’s position as patriarch. Which he’d done anyway before leaving all the strigoi behind.
She’d managed to get Duncan, the best intelligence gatherer Rolf had ever seen, fast and lethal and smart, from the revenants overseas.
Orion had the power of gods in his body. Kraft had the power of wolves with a rage that might do Fenrir proud. And Khent…that glorious bastard.
Those wings went beyond reaper power into something death-tastic. Rolf could taste the energy in the air, and it wasn’t from Nergal or the cute little human liar next to him. Just what was Khent, anyway?
“Is he some kind of death god?” he asked Mormo, who seemed beyond annoyed.
Rolf bit back a chuckle, pleased that his Sons of Osiris bro still had it in him to aggravate everyone. But so classy, he did it without trying.
“Why is he fighting himself?” Val asked, her eyes wide as she watched Khent bring the pain. “Is this some kind of existential test of self or something?”
“Or something,” Mormo muttered and waved a hand, knocking back the demons and ghosts drawing closer.
That got Nergal’s attention. As expected, his gaze centered on Val and stayed there.
“Actually, the copies of Khent are galla demons,” Rolf told her, sensing as much. “They typically leave Irkalla to drag hapless humans down here forever. A bunch of major dickheads, you ask me.”
“We didn’t ask you, draugr,” one of the galla said before getting its ass handed to it when Khent punched it so hard it blasted through the lower part of Nergal’s throne.
“Ha, whatever.” Rolf held up his hand then gave himself a high-five.
“Why are you here?” Khent asked.
“Are you our Khent or Nergal’s Khent?” Rolf asked despite knowing to whom he spoke. Only the real Khent got that constipated look on his face when Rolf talked to him.
“Fuck off.”
“Oh, it’s my bro.” Rolf grinned. “We came to rescue you and your big badass wings. Nice. Is this part of your owl form or what? Death by flapping?”
Khent glared. “Grab the staff, Rolf.”
“Oh, I can do that.” He left the others and darted to the staff. Nergal had one of his demons holding it next to him atop the bone dais and that cool-as-fuck throne.
Except when Rolf tried to move away with it, he found he couldn’t.
“Ah, you there.” Uh-oh. Nergal was watching him now. “I know you, don’t I?”
Oy. “Me? Of course. Everyone knows me.” Rolf took a bow, still trying to move the staff. It was stuck to the bone dais like glue. The demon holding it looked down at him with empty eyes.
Rolf thought he looked familiar and gaped. “Is this Gilgamesh? The hero?”
Nergal shook his head. “Really? Gilgamesh was twice the size of Ti-gí. No, this is his cousin a few times removed. Not a bad sort, but not that much fun unless he’s eating.” Nergal smiled. “He likes his meals breathing.”
“Ew. Cannibalism is so not in favor anymore.” Rolf drew a rune over the dude’s chest then flared his fingers, watching as the chest cavity exploded around him.
The demons shrieked, flocked to ascend the mountain of bones, and ate anything they could get their hands on.
Nergal scowled, and Rolf knew he had to move.
He took the staff, now in Ti-gí’s loosened grip, and raced back down to Mormo’s side. Khent had dispatched all his enemies, now wrapped around his human, his wings dwarfing Mormo and Val in a protective curl.
“Sorry, Mormo,” Rolf apologized as he hefted the staff in his hand. “This isn’t the one. It’s powerful but not all-powerful.”
“Shit.” Mormo took it from Rolf, weighed it, then threw it at Nergal’s head.
The god caught it before the tip of the staff pierced his eye. Thanks to Rolf’s keen vision, he knew just how close it had come to making contact.
Hmm. Maybe he shouldn’t antagonize Mormo so much if the magician packed that kind of power.
Far from being angered, Nergal laughed with delight. “Hecate’s minions have some punch, do they not? Especially you, fair one. How long since our last dance, eh? Four hundred years?”
Unfortunately, Nergal’s “fair one” comment was directed at Rolf and not Mormo.
Crap. Now Khent, Val, and Mormo were giving Rolf the eye.
“Um, you want my father. Not me. I think you have me confused, great Lord of the Underworld.”
“Mm-hmm.” Nergal snorted his disbelief and brought his attention back to Val. “I fear you are not going to give me my stone. My treasure.”
“The Bloode Stone isn’t yours,” Mormo said, thoughtful. “Unless that’s not the stone you’re after.”
Nergal winked. “For providing me such entertainment, and since killing you all too soon would deprive me of such future delight, I’ll share a secret with you.”
Mormo crossed his arms over his chest and in a deadpan delivery of pretend joy, said, “Please, great god king. What is your secret? We all must know.”
Nergal tittered, the laugh echoing in the cavern, his giant body straining belief.
“Vladimir is even now attacking the ADR. I wish you all speed, because when, not if, my staff is returned to me, I shall blight half the world as we wait for my cousin’s return.
Give my best to that hag you serve, Mormo. ”
“Fuck off, Nergal.”
Nergal laughed and stood.
And Rolf knew they needed to leave. Like yesterday.
He cast runes to protect them from the forthcoming assault and threw Mormo and Khent, clutching Val, through the doorway that suddenly appeared. He’d almost made it through himself before that Mesopotamian asshole wind-blasted the flesh from his back, laughing.
“See you soon, Rolf. And tell your dad I said hi.”