Gods and Mortals: Fourteen Free Urban Fantasy & Paranormal Novels Featuring Thor, Loki, Greek Gods, Native American Spirits, Vampires, Werewolves, & More (72 page)

“Well, I do,” Luke said firmly, in a tone that allowed no argument. “You are an — unexpected person, Christa Simms. I went into this thinking I knew all the answers, and I have discovered that I know nothing at all.”

Into what?
I wanted to ask, but somehow I knew I shouldn’t interrupt him, that I should just let him continue in this rare confessional mood.

“You’ve spoken to God,” he remarked, and I thought I saw that little glint come and go in his eyes. “A rare gift, and not one that should be taken lightly, as you may well imagine. I hope, however, that you understand this is not something to be spoken of to anyone else.”

“Who would believe me?” I asked logically, and he smiled.

“True. These days those who have actually had communication with God tend to be treated as madmen instead of visionaries.” Luke’s expression darkened, and he looked away from me, up into the dappled sky. At that moment another cloud passed across the sun, and he frowned. “And since I have spoken with Him as well, I know He has given me permission to speak frankly with you. In fact, He insisted on it. Pulled up the usual quotes…‘the truth shall set you free,’ and so on.”

“Did it?” I asked, so softly I wasn’t sure he could hear me.

But apparently he did, because he said, “That remains to be seen. You see, I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

My heart seemed to miss a beat. “What do you mean?”

“During our first meal, you accused me of having an ulterior motive for seeking you out, and I believe I brushed off that comment. In fact, you were speaking the truth.”

Here it comes
, I thought.
So what is it, really? My immortal soul? Playing Mary for his unholy son…although this one certainly wouldn’t be a virgin birth.
I swallowed, and somewhere in the back of my mind I finally heard God’s voice.

Believe
.…

“So what is the truth?” I asked, and Luke smiled grimly.

“Another man asked that same question more than two thousand years ago. But he would not stay to hear the answer.” The blue eyes caught mine, and held. I felt as if I couldn’t have looked away, even if I’d wanted to. “I’d grown weary of Hell, Christa. Weary of the charge God had given me so many years ago. I asked for release, and He made a bargain with me.”

I said nothing, but merely waited for him to go on.

“If I could love someone, and have them love me, then I would be free. I could live a mortal life, and pass into Heaven when my span of days on this earth was ended. That someone was you, of course.”

At first I couldn’t quite wrap my brain around the concept. How could the Devil not be the Devil anymore? Weren’t there rules about that sort of thing? I realized then that of course God made the rules, and if He wanted to shatter them irrevocably, I supposed that was His prerogative. Still, I couldn’t manage much more than a gasp of, “Me?”

Luke smiled. “You, Christa. God chose you, for reasons He of course kept to himself. Someone who on the surface seemed quite ordinary.”

At first I felt a little offended — after all, who likes being called “ordinary”? — but then I realized he had said “on the surface.” So I bit my lip and waited to see what he would say next.

“But God, being who He is, of course understood that you were far from ordinary, that you were in fact the one woman who could allow me to understand human love.”

If the garden had seemed quiet before, now it sounded positively hushed. Even the birds had stopped their chatter in the trees. It was as if Luke and I were the only two beings in the entire world. Maybe for those few seconds we were.

He seemed not to notice the unnatural stillness, but continued, “The pain I experienced after you left the restaurant that night was unlike anything I had ever felt. At first I thought it was simply because I had seen my hopes of attaining Heaven dashed, and I was angry — angry that you, a mortal, had thwarted me so neatly. I went to confront God, to tell Him He had made a mistake and that love was an impossibility. To which He replied that of course it was, and that was what made it so perfect. I didn’t want to listen to Him…and it took quite some time for me to understand what He’d been trying to tell me.”

“Which was?” I asked.

“That I wasn’t in pain because you’d taken away my dream of returning to Heaven,” he replied. “I was in pain because I had lost
you
. Love is sometimes difficult to recognize when you have no frame of reference.”

I waited, holding myself as still as the quiet garden that surrounded us. I was afraid to say or do anything to break the fragile thread his words had somehow woven between us two.

“What I want to say, Christa, is this…I love you.”

The faint tingle that had passed through me after God touched my forehead was nothing to the wave of warmth that washed over me after I heard him say those words. I had hoped — I had dreamed — but I hadn’t been sure. Not until now.

Believe
, God had told me. Well, I certainly believed now.

I looked up at him, at the man I had come to love. If God had made a bargain with the Devil, then it was time I sealed it.

“I love you,” I replied.

A tremor shook the ground beneath our feet. Luke reached out and drew me close against him, and I could hear his heart pounding beneath my ear. Several crows, possibly unnerved by the faint earthquake, exploded out of the trees above our heads, scolding and cackling at each other. The breeze picked up again, bringing with it the smell of the ocean and rain, even though the day was still dappled dark and light.

“What happened?” I asked at last.

“I’m free,” Luke said in wondering tones. “I can feel it — I’m as mortal as you are.”

“You don’t seem any different,” I replied, and he didn’t. It was the same Luke who held me, whose heart beat against my cheek. The same man I had fallen in love with.

A semi-familiar voice intruded on the scene. “Did you feel that?”

I lifted my head to see Janice Wilkerson come striding into the garden in her high-heeled boots. She came to a dead stop as she saw me standing there in Luke’s arms.

“Mr. Nicolini?” she asked. The last syllable came out as a sort of undignified squeak. Then again, probably the last thing she had expected to see was me in the arms of the man whose house she was trying to sell.

Somehow he managed to disentangle himself from me and shoot her a slightly apologetic smile. “Hello, Janice. It appears I won’t be selling the house after all.”

“You — what?” She looked from Luke to me and then back again, jaw waggling a bit. Probably she’d seen a lot in her real estate career, but it appeared this was a new twist even for her.

“I’ve decided to hold onto it,” he replied. “I do regret wasting any of your time, though, so perhaps a compensation of half your usual broker’s fee would help remedy the situation?”

On a place like this, that amount was probably double my annual salary. Not bad for about eighteen hours of work, a fact of which Ms. Wilkerson seemed immediately aware. The real estate agent smile snapped back into place, and she said, “Oh, of course, Mr. Nicolini. That’s very generous of you.”

“If I might have the key, then?” he inquired, extending a hand.

“Oh — certainly.” She fished in her briefcase for something, then drew out a plain white envelope. With a nervous little laugh, she said, “I’m just glad I decided to put off the lockbox until last.”

“Very fortunate,” Luke agreed, and opened the envelope and withdrew the brass key it held. “Thank you, Janice, and enjoy the rest of your Saturday.”

The dismissal was clear. She nodded, flashed a confused smile at me, and then fled. Probably she had left the stack of flyers in the kitchen, but they weren’t good for much of anything except recycling at that point anyway.

“Now then,” he said, and bent and kissed me.

This time I knew it was exactly right. I couldn’t imagine feeling anyone else’s lips touching mine ever again. How could I have been so stupid as to think Brad could ever replace Luke?

He pulled away then, and smiled wickedly. “I suppose I must forgive you that small indiscretion…especially since the poor man is feeling rather crushed at the moment.”

“If I were a better person, I suppose I’d feel guilty,” I remarked. “But as they say, karma’s a bitch.”

“Yes, she is,” Luke agreed, and buried my mouth under his again.

We came up for air a few minutes later. All of my nerve endings were on fire, and I began to wonder if we’d be able to make it inside before we started tearing each other’s clothes off. I for one was definitely ready to start making up for lost time. Still, I thought I’d better attempt to act like a rational human being.

“Can you afford that?” I asked, since I didn’t know what else to say.

“Afford what?”

“Janice Wilkerson’s fee.”

He gave me a somewhat indulgent smile. “Of course. Let’s just say that God has given me the ultimate golden handshake. You certainly don’t need to worry about that sort of thing anymore.”

I supposed an eternity of retirement benefits could start to add up, even though it was a little disconcerting to think that money would never be an issue again. “Oh,” I said, since I couldn’t come up with anything better.

“Let’s go in, shall we?” Luke looked up toward the heavens; the blue overhead was being rapidly replaced by gray storm clouds.

I found I didn’t mind — we could go into the house we would now share and spend the afternoon together…and all the days afterward.

Luke’s fingers wrapped around mine. Warm, strong…
human
.

“So what happens next?” I asked.

His eyes were an echo of that last bit of blue sky. He smiled.

“The rest of our lives,” he said.

B
ryn Halbrook had always seen
the glow on the people around her. And she knows all too well what psychiatrists do to people who claim impossible powers. She's always stayed below the radar, but when she discovers the meaning of the beautiful auras, she's not sure why she was cursed with the ability to see the soon-to-be-dead and be unable to do anything about it.

But Bryn is on the brink of the unbelievable truth — she is a creature from myth. Valkyrie — a warrior maiden of the God Odin. And a Collector of Souls.

Aidan Lee just can't do what he's told. Visiting Craven was not supposed to be a time to fall in love. He's just helpless when faced with the beautiful Brynhildr, but there is more to the biker dude that either Bryn or Aidan himself knows.

Can their fledgling love survive the secrets and intrigue, the reality of Odin's realm of Asgard, the pressures of being a warrior of the gods,

But Bryn lucks out when the Trickster god Loki sets his sights on her. Can Bryn hold her own against the charmingly manipulative god long enough to discover what Loki is really planning?

Dead Radiance
is a fantasy filled with passion and intrigue, betrayal and broken hearts, that will keep you turning the page.

E
ach sweep
of her soft-bristled brush spanned a frozen eternity. One tender stroke caressed the tiniest remnants of dust particles clean. To an untrained eye, nothing remained but dead earth and detritus, but to the Professor and her student assistants such infinite care proved both frustrating and mesmerizing.

They worked, untiring, unceasing. Shift after dedicated shift, hour after relentless hour they toiled until at last the skeleton emerged from the arms of the dark earth. Another ancient burial site had relinquished its lone occupant.

The archaeologists stepped back against the strutted walls of the grave, stretching cramped muscles, while at their heads onlookers gasped and shuffled closer to the grave. So far, only students, site directors and representatives from the Stockholm Museum and Preservation Society had gathered at the site. They scrambled for space at the edges of the large tent, which protected the open pit against the elements.

The cracked plastic of the tent shuddered in a rude blast of wind. Geoffrey Halbrook clutched his fedora with one hand, afraid he would lose it to the grasping gust. He craned his balding head, a weak attempt to peer over the shoulders of the people in front of him. They appeared to line up just to keep him out.

“Dr. Halbrook?” A woman’s voice wafted from the pit, gritty with irritation and impatience. “Has anyone seen Dr. Halbrook?”

“I am here, Professor Wayne!” Halbrook yelled from behind the wall of shoulders as he pushed his glasses back up his sweat-drenched nose, still gripping his hat. “I would get to you if I were allowed through!”

The wall parted, and Halbrook, annoyed they had kept him out in the first place, shouldered past. He stepped on toes to keep from falling into the pit, and made his way to the rickety wooden stairs at the head of the open gravesite, cramming his metal case and crumpled fedora against his chest.

A rumble of complaints rose from the crowd, surly and vulgar. Halbrook did not care. He had one thing on his mind. Take his samples.

And then get the hell out.

But he stopped dead on the last step, his eyes fixed on the desiccated remains, which lay in the bottom of the grave.

“Remember to breathe,” said Professor Wayne, an indulgent grin on her lips.

Halbrook took no offense. He performed what should have been an automatic bodily function.

He breathed.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” asked the Professor.

Her smile widened as she welcomed him down, all teeth, auburn curls, and sun-toasted skin. Hardly an attractive face, but at least a welcome one.

Halbrook restrained the urge to look up at the unhappy group behind him. The heat of their words aggravated the heat of the day as he squatted alongside the skeleton and set his case beside him with overt care.

His hands trembled as he scanned the corpse from the skull, intact and immaculate, to the lifeless strands of her rich red hair, to each individual tarsal and meta-tarsal grazing the foot of the grave.

The bones themselves were ordinary enough, merely remains of a person from a life and a time long past. Wayne, Halbrook and the spectators were suitably in awe of them, but it was the bed upon which they lay that would be burned into their memories forever.

Tall, graceful and elegant, the remains lay against the haunting and eerie remnants of a pair of wings too large to belong to a bird. Each feather so real, so well preserved it still glimmered where the light hit it just so. Many of the feathers were so long they reached at least a third of the height of the skeleton itself.

Halbrook’s thigh muscles cramped as he crouched over the dried-out husk of what had once been a living, breathing human, so entranced he barely gave his discomfort the slightest attention.

“So? What do you think?” Wayne asked. An expectant smile revealed her perfect teeth.

Halbrook shrugged. “Some sort of headdress?” He spoke the lie effortlessly. He would rather not look the fool. He would be risking his name and his reputation if he admitted aloud what his instinct screamed this creature looked like to him.

A thing of myth and fable. A creature so remarkable that thousands of years after the myths had died people still half-believed the stories. A Valkyrie or an angel. Judging by the location of this dig, only one option made sense.

A Valkyrie.

Halbrook glanced at Professor Wayne. Her narrowed eyes silently called him a coward. “I’d say this is a Valkyrie, Dr. Halbrook,” she said. “Now take your samples and prove me wrong.”

The mob sniggered and Halbrook’s cheeks reddened. He turned to the remains, not deigning to justify her challenge with an answer. Not deigning to provide the vultures above with more fodder for their jeers. His job was paramount, not bets with some hard-nosed feminist archaeologist with her head in the past and her fingernails filled with dirt.

He reached for his case, snapped the locks and withdrew a scalpel and a syringe. He concentrated, searching for viable flesh, for bone still intact, which could possibly contain living DNA.

Minutes then hours ticked by and soon the sun sank into the hills somewhere in the west. He did not register the flashes of the cameras, the buzz of the media when they arrived and swooped around the tent on the scent of a hot story. Neither was he aware of the dispersion of the unsavory crowd, as the light fled from the graying sky. At last, all his samples taken, labeled and stored within his temperature-controlled case, Dr. Halbrook stood and straightened his trousers and jacket.

Only Wayne had remained behind, still supervising her find. If he didn’t know her, it would have been easy to assume she didn’t trust him.

“How long?” Professor Wayne possessed the most disconcerting way of examining Halbrook with her honey gaze, as if she could see right through him into his soul. And she needed a timeframe. How long until she could confirm the true identity of the remains as a Valkyrie?

“The actual test procedure will take a few weeks, Professor Wayne. These things take time, as you well know.” He raised his voice just the tiniest fragment as she opened her mouth to protest. “You do want accurate results, do you not?”

She nodded, arms crossed, skewering him with her heated stare.

He smashed his hat onto his skull, grabbed his case and marched out of the pit, as well as a man could march up a flight of rickety stairs.

His mind whirled, already planning the details of his experiments and tests before he cleared the last step. Instinct told him what his eyes confirmed. And if his hunch proved true and the skeleton belonged to a Valkyrie, then Halbrook had plans for the precious DNA he carried.

Special plans.