Blood Love (God Wars Book 4) (8 page)

Chapter 5
 

Earth—past

"What the bloody hell?" Charles had gone down the wooden steps first and stared about him. The room he found was much larger than the bedroom overhead, and extended past the perimeter of the house.

"What is it?" Bill's voice floated down.

"What does Vernon do—for a living? Besides what we see on the Internet?" Charles replied with a question of his own.

"Has no visible means of support," Bill answered. "I always thought his fans and supporters on the Internet kept him in business, so to speak."

"I think he was into other things," Charles muffled. He'd been forced to cover his nose as well. "Who do you suppose wants taxidermic werewolves and shapeshifters?"

* * *

"Now that the locals are watching the house, we can come back in the morning and take photographs before clearing out evidence," Bill sighed. A cup of coffee sat in front of him at a local, all-night diner, but it was untouched. All of them still had the stench of rotted meat in their nostrils and they'd only ordered to have an excuse to use the table.

"I get the idea that some of them might not have been completely dead before Vernon started, well, carving," Opal grimaced.

"Agreed. Blood spatter indicates that," Hank said.

"Why else would he need thick shackles and chains?" Jayson muttered. "You don't need to restrain anything that's dead already."

"They were silver, did you notice?" Trajan growled. "Silver won't completely debilitate a wolf, but it'll make him weaker for sure."

"So you think Vernon's into torture? That would fall in line with the stuff we found in the basement of that church," Bill snorted.

"And if somebody's paying for taxidermic wolves and rare shifters," Trajan added.

"That's sick," Opal grumbled, dropping her head in her arms.

"Opal, you okay?" Jayson rubbed her back gently.

"Jayson, if they want rare shifters," Opal lifted her head and blinked dark eyes once at Jayson.

"Yeah. I get it now," he nodded.

"My worry is that Vernon is far away from here," Gavin said.

"That's my worry, too," Bill observed.

* * *

"I want to pursue this," Ross Gideon shoved a folder across James Rome, Sr.'s desk.

"What is it?" James opened the folder to study its contents.

"Information on those websites—the ones claiming Breanne Hayworth was a product of our imagination," Ross growled. "I have a couple of names already; I just need your permission to go ahead with it."

"And a little funding, no doubt," James nodded, lifting the top page to read the second. "You think you can track these guys? Looks like the government can't find 'em."

"I found that sheriff in Pecos, didn't I? The feds had no idea on that one."

"True. Look, find a bodyguard. Hell, find two. I'll fund this. If you can make a book out of it, even better. Just don't end up dead somewhere, all right?"

"Any word on the kid?"

James stood abruptly at Ross's question. "No," he snapped. "I got info from SFPD, saying Jayson was never a suspect in that journalist's murder, they just let the media run with it for a while so they could track the real killer. Kathleen still won't talk to me, and word has it she blames me completely for Jayson's disappearance. I guess it's true, since that reporter screwed him and I fired his ass afterward."

"Any trace on credit cards or bank accounts?" Ross asked. "To see where he went?"

"None. The feds froze his accounts, anyway. I don't know where he is or whether he's still alive." James scrubbed his face with a hand and stared through the massive window of his office. "Those people," James turned to tap the folder Ross had given him, "burned down my son's house. They're probably still looking for him. You know which bodyguards to hire."

"I do."

"Ross, I don't care if this gets messy—for the opposition. Just make sure you come out of it clean."

"I've done it before," Ross rose and stretched. "Hundred thousand to start? Those bodyguards don't come cheap."

"Take a hundred fifty. I'll send more when you need it. Just get our money's worth. Find the kid, too, if you can."

"I will." Ross nodded and walked out of James' office.

* * *

Le-Ath Veronis—present

Lissa's Journal

"Norian." I barely offered him a nod. Why he'd shown up in my study again, I hadn't a clue.

"Lissa, I know I'm not welcome," he held up a hand to stop me from ordering him out of my palace. "But you need to see this." He set a comp-vid on my desk and tapped it.

"What the fuck?" I stared at image after image in dismay. Hundreds of bodies littered a stone floor. "Where the hell did that happen?"

"Frithia. An entire religion committed suicide. No note or any reason for it. Nothing."

"How?" I tapped the button to enlarge and carefully examine images.

"Poison. A slow-acting one, so these weren't easy deaths."

"I can see that." I could. Faces were contorted in pain. They'd died horribly—all of them. "How many?" I asked.

"Three thousand."

"Are you joking?" I stared at photographs of the dead.

"This religion hasn't existed very long. Their premise is that they believe someone will collect them when they die."

"A lot of religions believe that," I pointed out.

"But this one believes that they will be placed in charge when they arrive at their destination."

"Great. Fucking wonderful," I sighed. "What idiot told them that?"

"That's just it—we can't find him."

"Even better. What's his name? What does he look like?"

"Here." Norian touched the comp-vid again, bringing up an image of a blond male. "We don't have a name," he grumped.

"Doesn't look like much," I observed. "Looks like he's seriously undertall and slightly overweight."

"Both true. But he has charisma, according to a few we've spoken with."

"Yeah? Hitler wasn't much to look at, either."

"Hitler?"

"Norian, I'm getting you a history book from Earth for Christmas."

"Not that idiotic holiday again," he sighed. "Sorry," he held up his hands when I glared at him. "It's perfectly harmless. I agree. I have no problem with it, I promise."

"What are you going to do about this?" I tapped his comp-vid. "Mr. Charisma could be on another planet, plotting out the same scenario."

"That's why I came to you. Will you help me, breah-mul? I really need special assistance with this."

"I'll think about it," I grumbled. If the victims had all been adults, I might not have considered it. I'd seen multiple images of children in those pictures Norian provided, and their deaths had been awful. Whoever was responsible for this deserved to die.

"Let me know soon, Cheah-mul. Frithia wants an answer for this."

"Yeah, Norian. I get that."

* * *

Breanne's Journal

"Hey." Trajan brushed hair back from my forehead the moment my eyes opened. Disorientation clouded my mind as I desperately searched for where and when I was. At least I recognized Trajan's face as he leaned over me. A smile curved his lips, and I sighed. Trajan was handsome in anybody's book.

"You have a nice mouth," I reached up to touch it gently with my fingers.

"I want this mouth all over you," the smile turned into a grin and Trajan's dark eyes glinted with mischief.

"That sounds really good," I sighed. "Mostly, though, I want your arms around me." I did. Trajan's arms were thick with muscle, as was the rest of him.

"You do?" Trajan chuckled softly. "They're ready anytime, baby. You just say the word."

"How are we feeling?" Kevis materialized behind Trajan.

"I feel okay, just a little disorientation when I woke," I said, studying his face and tossing the idea of reading him. "How about you, since the question was how are
we
feeling?"

"That was the royal we," Kevis said. "If I can get Wonder Wolf out of the way for a minute, I might check on you for a valid medical opinion."

"I'm a superhero?" Trajan mock-frowned at Kevis.

"Since I can't beat you at checkers, even, that answer is yes," Kevis teased.

"Wow, you play checkers?"

"When I was five," Kevis nodded. "In between reading Freud and Descartes."

"Psychology and Philosophy?" I made a face at Kevis, who leaned in to grasp my wrist in his fingers.

"They were in Dad's library on Earth," Kevis said, releasing my wrist. "Grip my fingers," he held both my hands in his. "Ow," he added, pulling his fingers away as if I'd gripped too hard.

"Sorry," I mumbled. I did feel better—stronger. As if I could actually get out of bed on my own.

"Here," Trajan pulled Kevis' hands into his. I watched in fascination as light formed around them.

"I didn't realize you could do that," Kevis stared at his hands in amazement.

"Ashe," Trajan shrugged modestly.

Trajan and I ended up in the kitchen, where Fes waited to set dinner in front of me. It was late and the others had eaten already. I was served noodles in mushroom sauce, with a salad and a protein drink.

"Fes, that was amazing," I sighed after eating as much as I could.

"That's what I wanted to hear," he grinned before leaning in for a kiss.

"Look who's up." Kooper walked into the kitchen, followed by Bill, the reptanoids, Trevor and Stellan.

"I'm up," I smiled at him and his reptanoid groupies. "How's the snake contingent?"

"Snake contingent good," Chazi offered a cheeky grin. "We learn how to shoot. Kooper and Bill teach."

"And you're good at it, I can tell," I said.

"They're really good," Kooper agreed with a nod before leaning down and planting a kiss on my forehead. "Stellan, too. He's never had to handle a gun, but it doesn't hurt to know how."

"It just takes a touch of power to send the shots to the target," Stellan snickered.

"I didn't let him use power after a while, and he still hit the target," Kooper slapped Stellan on the shoulder. "Trevor intends to teach hand fighting next."

"Sounds cool," I said. "Are you recruiting?" I blinked innocently at Kooper.

"Maybe," he grinned and planted a big kiss on my lips this time. I couldn't say whether I appreciated the audience or not—Kooper let me know with his mouth that kissing wasn't all he wanted, and some of my body parts played traitor and wanted him right back.

"Slow down," Kevis arrived to put a damper on any amorous activity. Kooper pulled away with a smile and a wink—he was promising more later, when Kevis gave the go-ahead.

"Come on, short stuff, let's go talk in the solarium," Trajan rose and pulled me off my barstool.

"It's dark out. Doesn't that defeat the purpose?" I asked, stretching.

"Nah—there are lights throughout the groves—it looks like fairyland at night," Trajan grinned.

Dutifully I followed Trajan, while the others fell in and walked behind. Kooper handed me a comp-vid when we arrived in the solarium, and I studied the image on it. "Genley Reith," I sighed. "Sirenali asshole," I added. "Is that what your boss wants to know?" I blinked at Kooper before shaking my head.

"Yes. I told Norian you'd know who sent this message. I also told him he wasn't in your good graces or anything close. He's not in my good graces, either," Kooper frowned as he sent a reply and pocketed the comp-vid.

"I think that's the general consensus," Kevis muttered.

* * *

The General studied Acrimus, making his subordinate squirm beneath the intensity of his gaze. He did it purposely. He didn't want his underlings to guess that he'd been wounded by the Mighty Hand. He suspected that the Mighty Mind had told the Hand where to deliver the blow, and the Hand had complied quickly. It didn't matter; the General was on his way to recovery, and there were other ways to create mischief for them.

The Mighty Heart was dead—he'd seen that for himself. He took a great deal of satisfaction from that act, although he realized that the remaining two could still harm him. That lesson had been learned swiftly. He would have to devise a way to lure them in singularly, as that might be the best (and quickest) way to dispatch them. Once they were eliminated, everything would be his.

"The mass killing on Frithia was a good beginning," the General began. "We will funnel those who are outraged by that event into other, better-established facilities and take them from within."

"Several are already targeted, Liege," Acrimus bowed his head. "We are working to take them now, while they are vulnerable to us and more apt for our purposes."

"Feed them well, then," the General replied. "Hate and prejudice always go down easier than honesty and respect."