The Heart of a Hero (27 page)

She dug a peppermint out of her pocket and popped it in her mouth, grabbed what appeared to be a short lance, and headed into the softly glowing tunnel—once again following Sol. Only she hadn’t gone more than a few hundred yards when the tunnel forked off in
three
separate directions. “Lovely,” she muttered around her candy, staring into each tunnel. She looked down at Sol looking up at her. “Any suggestions?”

The cat sat down, lifted a paw, and started washing himself.

“Hey,” she said, nudging him with her leg—which made him stop in mid-lick. “You want to be a hero like Nicholas, man up and pick a tunnel.”

Sol gave a bored yawn, flopped down, and rolled onto his back, stretching out to expose his big white belly as he gave another yawn.

“Fine, I’ll pick one,” she snapped, heading down the center tunnel. “I know they’re supposed to be secret, but is there a reason they’re not marked?” she muttered, glancing over her shoulder and not seeing Sol. “Dammit, where’d you go?” she called in a whisper, walking back and reaching the fork just in time to see a big fat hairy tail disappear around a curve in the right-hand tunnel.

She ran to catch up, then once more fell in step behind Sol, walking ten or fifteen minutes before the tunnel forked
again
. Julia unzipped her jacket when she realized she was starting to sweat. “Okay, I choose left,” she said, taking several steps down the left-hand tunnel before looking back to see Sol had disappeared down the right one. She gave a growl of frustration and raced after him.

Not ten minutes later, however, Julia realized they were descending instead of walking uphill, and half an hour—and four friggin’ intersections—after that, she decided it was time to backtrack. But she didn’t feel the first twinge of alarm until she arrived at an intersection she hadn’t been to before—having started leaving peppermint candies to mark the tunnels she’d come up.

An hour later Julia finally had to admit she was lost. Honest to God, none of the tunnels seemed to lead anywhere. She should have stumbled onto something by now; a door, an opening in the side of a cliff—something.

Julia stopped at a four-way intersection and sat down right in the center of it. Solomon, the useless big lug, flopped down beside her and started washing himself. “Some hero you turned out to be,” she said with a sigh, laying her lance across her folded legs. “Yeah, well, you’re just as lost as I am. And Nicholas is going to panic when we don’t show up by suppertime, and he’s going to save whoever wants him dead the trouble when he kills himself coming after—” Julia stilled when she felt the faint stirring of a breeze coming from the tunnel to her left, the air slightly cooler and . . . salty. “Oh, God,” she said, scrambling to her feet. “We’re all the way down by the fiord.”

At least they were
somewhere
. “Come on,” she said, heading down the tunnel at a run. “Even a snowstorm beats wandering around in here until we starve.”

The air grew cooler and more salty as the breeze became an actual wind, until Julia was forced to stop and zip up her jacket and put on her gloves. She continued on, finally noticing flashes of light intermittently overshadowing the glowing walls, and started running when she spotted snow blowing into the tunnel—only to slide to a stop when she realized that instead of a tree outside the opening, that tall dark blob was the outline of a man.

She started running again when she recognized Titus’s white hair sticking out of the wide-brimmed hat. “Oh, thank God. You’re not going to believe this, but I was looking for—Oh, crap,” Julia muttered, sliding to a stop again when he turned.

Nope, not Titus—unless he’d grown a foot-long beard in the last four days and recently poked out an eye. Oh, and unless the one eye he did have—which was widened in surprise—had suddenly turned a vivid Nordic blue.

* * * 

Nicholas woke up to a dark house just as lightning flashed through all the windows, revealing the blinding snowstorm raging outside. He straightened the back of his recliner and turned on the floor lamp beside the chair, stilling in surprise when he didn’t see Julia on the couch. Bastet was sitting there instead, flanked by everyone but Solomon, the five of them blinking their eyes to adjust to the light.

He looked around the silent home, then back at the cats. “Where are Julia and Sol? Julia,” he called out, closing the footrest to stand—only to catch the book sliding off his lap. He finished standing and opened the book to the page marked by a piece of yellow paper, then turned toward the light as he unfolded the note and started reading.

It’s you! We didn’t see it because it was hiding in plain sight.
Salohcin
is
Nicholas
spelled backward. (I could point out that gods always have only one name, but let’s save that little talk for when we’re ninety, okay?) Anyway, I don’t know if Titus knew who you really were when he gave you that name or if he merely suspected, or even if the brooch was made
after
the fact. But I do think the obscure reference in this book about a rumored affair between the Norse god Odin and some starry-eyed
Roman
goddess might really be true. I assume the legend was discounted because two separate mythologies shouldn’t actually be able to . . . intersect, so the resulting child—um, that would be you—shouldn’t actually exist.

But you do, for which I am very glad.

Anyway, knowing you have a bad habit of charging headlong into a problem, and knowing you might forget you can barely stand much less fight this freaky storm I’m afraid might be coming for you, I tried calling Rowan. But the energy flashing through the air must be interfering with the phone signals, so I decided to go find Titus myself and let him know who we think is trying to kill you. Don’t worry; I’m just going to very sweetly ask that he deal with this particular problem
personally
, since it’s mostly his fault for not telling you what I believe he’s suspected since you washed up on his island.

I promise I won’t take any foolish chances, and I’ll come right back after. And if you still want to marry a woman who apparently is no more afraid of the magic than you are, we can pledge our troth on New Year’s Day.

I love you. Unconditionally. (In case you forgot what that means, I don’t care who or what you are, big guy, just so long as you’re mine.)

Try not to worry, okay? I’m not going out in the storm, but instead using the tunnel shortcut in your basement—that I guess you
forgot
to tell me about. I’m taking Sol with me (okay, he’s pretty much insisting on going), and we’ll be back by suppertime. No climbing the stairs and stay away from the garage, and if you’re good, I’ll give you a really nice surprise when I get back.

Love, Julia

Hey, will I not have a last name, either?

Nicholas lifted his gaze and released a heavy sigh, staring at the snow slapping against the windows. That should teach him to want a lovely
intelligent
lady to spend the rest of his natural life with—although
natural
might be a relative term if Julia’s conclusions were correct. He lifted the book he was still holding, quickly scanned the pages she’d marked with her letter, then closed the book to read its title—snorting at the realization they’d completely discounted Roman mythology.

He looked back out at the snow now being illuminated by more frequent flashes. Yes, Titus had definitely known who the babe was that Leviathan had deposited on that Atlantis beach thirty-eight years ago, and had decided the best way to control a potential threat was to channel the unusually strong and astute child’s energy into serving mankind—as well as the old theurgist’s
personal
agenda.

But then, anyone else would have simply killed the babe.

Nicholas tossed the book and letter on his chair and scrubbed his face with another heavy sigh, then dropped his hands with a grin. He wasn’t afraid Titus would do anything worrisome to Julia, but he did wonder if she’d taken her tote.

Yes, he definitely should consider bringing her to one of their war games, if for no other reason than to let her work off six years of frustration trying to prove to everyone she was
not
the town slut. For the life of him, he didn’t know how Julia had managed not to explode all over some poor unsuspecting schmuck before now—either sexually or with a big stick. Sweet Prometheus, the woman was practically a virgin; if not physically, then at the very least emotionally.

Yet she’d certainly sounded sure of herself this morning when she’d said she loved him—even declaring it again in her letter
after
discovering who his father was.

Nicholas walked to the hearth and flipped the switches to illuminate the floor and outside deck floodlights, then sat down when he felt his legs threatening to buckle. He looked toward the hall, not only
not
surprised Julia had found his secret entrance to the basement, but that she’d also realized it was the one way she could bypass Mac’s selectively locking doors. He just hoped she didn’t get lost in the labyrinth of private tunnels, although knowing Solomon was with her was reassuring.

He looked back out at the snow blowing past the floodlights, not happy but also not worried that Julia had left the house. As long as she stayed in the tunnels or on the resort grounds, who or whatever the storm was bringing in couldn’t touch her, thanks to the powerful magic Mac had securing Nova Mare.

So the only real question was how to proceed with Julia when she returned. On the one hand he didn’t want to squelch her sense they were a team, but on the other he couldn’t have her running off on her own every time she felt compelled to guard his back. He rested his arms on his knees with a snort. If Julia wished to feel the beating heart of a hero, she need only press a hand to her own chest.

In fact, he knew very few women who would have accepted the magic as readily as she had, and he certainly didn’t know many who were brave enough to waltz into a room and kick out two powerful—and obviously angry—wizards. “I’ll try not to,” she’d said when he’d told her never to do that again.

Yes, it was a good thing he wasn’t having daughters, especially with Julia as their mother, because he really didn’t think he would make it to ninety. As for—

Nicholas straightened when something slammed against the secret panel, then sprang to his feet with a growl of pain when Bastet tore off toward the hall as the panel slammed again.

Nicholas opened the door and staggered back when Sol lunged up at him. “Son of a bitch,” he snarled as he caught the bleeding cat in midair. “What in hell happened? Julia!” he shouted down the glowing stairway. He stepped back and turned on the hall light, then dropped to one knee to hold Sol looking at him. “Where’s Julia?”

Sol twisted free and ran to the outside door with another urgent growl, making Nicholas rise back to his feet. But he hesitated, looking down the stairs again, then finally went to the kitchen. “Come on, you need to take me to her. Is she lost in the tunnels? Is she hurt or did you run into someone?”

The cat paced in a circle in front of the door, blood oozing from a small gash in his side and his tail whipping in agitation as he emitted low rumbling growls.

“No,” Nicholas snapped, turning back to the panel. “The tunnels are quicker.” But he had to stop and brace his hands on the counter when his legs buckled again, taking deep breaths against the screaming pain in his ribs—only to have Sol leap onto the counter beside him.

The cat made a different sound, and Bastet suddenly jumped up, followed by Eos, Snowball, Ajax, and Gilgamesh. The six of them crowded around Nicholas, butting their heads into his arms and neck as they all began softly purring. “Damn. Okay,” he murmured, closing his eyes at the feel of the gentle energy pushing into him. “That’s it, little ones. Give me enough to heal, so I can bring Julia back to you.”

He pictured the gash in his side, his mind’s eye watching it knit back together, then directed the pulsing energy throughout his body, willing his muscles to strengthen and flex with renewed vitality. One by one the weakened cats dropped away until only Sol was left pressing against his shoulder.

“Now you,” Nicholas whispered, straightening to clasp Sol’s huge head and sending some of the healing energy back to the trembling beast. “That’s it, my wise little friend, suck up all you need.”

Sol suddenly nipped at Nicholas’s hand with a snarl, then scrambled off the counter and started circling in front of the outside door again.

“I need to dress,” Nicholas said, tearing off upstairs. He quickly stripped off, took off the bandage from around his ribs, and put on heavy wool pants and a thick wool sweater. He grabbed the brooch off the nightstand and shoved it in his pocket, then went into his closet and got his sword. He ran downstairs and dressed his feet, tossed on his jacket, slipped his sheathed sword onto his back, and stepped outside just as lightning flashed, the silent percussion making him stagger against the house.

“Okay, now I understand,” he said as he followed Sol to the garage. “I can sense she’s down at the fiord.” Which meant aboveground was quicker, as he’d have to take the tunnel up to the summit before he could head down to the fiord.

He opened the garage door to the sound of Phantom kicking his stall in between rearing up and pawing the air. “Easy now,” Nicholas crooned as he grabbed his saddle and two lead lines off the wall when he realized the bridle didn’t have reins, all the while fighting to tamp down his urgency in order to calm the horse. He opened the stall door. “We’re off again,” he told Phantom as he tossed the saddle onto his back, “but we’re staying in this century—I hope.” He tightened the cinch, Phantom not even trying to bloat, then clipped the leads to the horse’s halter.

“Sol, come,” he said, patting his chest. He caught Sol in midlunge, unzipped his jacket and settled the cat inside, then led Phantom out of the stall and mounted up. “Four of us return or none of us are coming home,” he growled, spurring the horse into the storm.

No,
five
were returning—including his son.

Chapter Twenty-three

Forget that she’d fallen in love with Spellbound Falls’ most eligible bachelor; if just six weeks ago someone had told Julia that she’d go up against a mythical god with nothing more than an ancient—and obviously puny—lance only to find herself being dragged off to only . . . that god knew where, she’d have called them insane.

But here she was with her hands tied together by a big fat rope, being led down to the fiord through a nearly blinding snowstorm. She assumed she was to be used as bait to lure Nicholas off the resort, because a deity from one mythology couldn’t get past another mythology’s magic, apparently.

Odin wasn’t anything like the romanticized god in all the poems and sagas. In fact, this guy was downright nasty. He would have
killed
Solomon for merely trying to protect her if Julia hadn’t started poking the jerk with her lance—using the blunt end, because she really hadn’t wanted to piss him off.

She hoped that lance didn’t hold any sentimental value for Nicholas, because it was now six very short sticks. And she really hoped a lot of the stuff she’d read in the ancient tomes about Odin were more myth than fact, because she really didn’t want the sins of this particular father to be visited upon his son.

Speaking of which . . . “Why are you trying to kill Nicholas?” she asked, despite knowing most of the ancient gods had a bad habit of killing their offspring. And their siblings. And parents. And anyone else who rubbed them the wrong way, it seemed. “It’s not like he’s threatening your position or anything. He didn’t even know you were his father,” she muttered. “If you had just left him alone, you both could have spent eternity in blissful ignorance.”

Odin stopped walking, making Julia scramble back when she bumped into him. “I’m not trying to kill him, those Roman bastards are. I came here to warn Salohcin that his conniving, thieving, ugly hag of a mother,” he growled, spitting on the ground in disgust—apparently forgetting he’d had sex with the ugly hag—“has sent her brothers to kill him before he discovers his birthright.”

“Which is?”

Odin started walking again, the rope making Julia have to run to keep up. “It’s none of your business. What was that?” he asked, stopping again when she muttered something. “What are you caterwauling about?”

“I said I don’t care if you are trying to help
Nicholas
; you’re a nasty man.”

“You’re still breathing, aren’t you?” he snapped, turning and heading off again. “I’d say that was nice of me.”

“You tried to kill a poor, defenseless cat.”

He snorted, rubbing the three deep scratches on his face. “That cat’s about as defenseless as a dragon. Now are you going to stop talking anytime soon?”

“Do you have a last name?”

He turned to her, his one good eye narrowed menacingly. “Again, that’s none of your business. Or is it?” he said quietly. He clasped her face in one of his big strong hands. “Exactly what are you to Salohcin? Are you his—”

They both turned at the sound of muted hoofbeats racing toward them, and Julia gasped when the giant figment of the imagination came galloping out of the swirling snow, Nicholas riding low on his back like the giant hero he was, and Solomon, bless his giant heart, riding in front of him on the saddle.

Julia drove her knee into Odin’s groin, used her bound hands to punch his one good eye when he doubled over with a grunt of surprise, then tried to scramble out of the way when she realized Nicholas was charging straight toward them.

Only she hadn’t taken two steps before she was plucked off her feet and hauled up against a big broad chest, catching sight of Solomon landing on Odin’s back before she found herself straddling Phantom as the giant beast slid to a halt and Nicholas dismounted before she could even work up a good scream.

“Stand,” Nicholas growled at Phantom. “Stay put,” he then growled at her as he reached up and sliced the rope binding her hands. He turned away, pulling the giant sword out of the sling on his back as he strode toward Odin—who was now trying to pull Solomon’s claws out of his beard as the cat bit his hat.

Okay then; wanting to think she was as smart as a warhorse, Julia stayed put. Besides, Nicholas looked like his big strong self again, and she was really quite eager to see this whole mythical warrior thing in action.

Well, that is until that warrior suddenly stopped in midstride just as Odin dropped his hands and stiffened and Sol also went perfectly still on Odin’s shoulders.

“Julia,” Nicholas said quietly, not looking at her.

“Y-yeah?”

“No matter what you see or hear, don’t get off that horse.”

“I’ll—”

“Do
not
say you’ll try.”

“I’ll stay on Phantom,” she agreed, definitely as smart as the horse—that was also standing perfectly still, its ears perked toward the fiord.

“Well, son, I hope you’re better with that sword than you are at picking women,” the old Norse said, his one bright blue eye also trained on the fiord as he slowly lifted Solomon off his shoulder. “Because it appears you’re about to meet some of your
maternal
relatives.”

But when she looked at where they were looking, it took Julia several pounding heartbeats to realize that wasn’t a shoreline of snow-covered boulders being illuminated by constant flashes of lightning, but a
legion
of Roman warriors in full battle gear.

She immediately changed her mind about wanting to see Nicholas in action.

“Um, Nicholas?”

“Not now Julia.”

“You do know they can’t enter the tunnels, don’t you?”

“Neither can he,” Nicholas said, still facing down an entire friggin’ army as he nodded toward Odin walking over to stand beside him.

“You couldn’t have found yourself a less talkative woman?” the Norse drawled, pulling an even bigger sword out from under his thick fur cloak.

Nicholas shrugged. “She’s an acquired taste.”

Where in Hades were the Oceanuses? This was their turf; they should damn well be guarding it. Julia looked around for something to use as a weapon, because she really didn’t think she’d be able to
stay put
while an entire legion of Roman warriors was trying to kill the man she loved. But the best she could come up with was the rope that had been tied around her hands, which was now draped over Phantom’s neck. Then again, maybe
he
would make a good weapon. Weren’t warhorses trained to attack the enemy?

“Salohcin!” someone called from the shoreline, making Julia grab the rope and lift her head to see three dark figures break away from the line. “Your mother has been searching for you since she lost her infant son overboard in a terrible storm.”

Julia silently snorted; more like the ugly hag had
tossed
him overboard before anyone could discover she’d given birth to a rival mythology’s child.

“We’ve already sent word that we may have finally found you,” the middle of the three men continued, lowering his voice as he drew closer—only to reach his arms out to stop the other two when he obviously recognized the unmistakable one-eyed Odin standing beside Nicholas. She saw the man whisper something to his cohorts before taking another step forward, still holding his hands away from his sides. “She’s very excited to finally meet you, Salohcin, as she’s never given up hope of finding you.” The guy briefly slid his gaze to Julia, then gestured toward her. “Is that your wife? You’re welcome to bring her along if you wish, so she can meet her mother-in-law.”

Like that’s going to happen,
Julia thought with another snort.

“Maybe another time,” Nicholas drawled, his tone provoking. “For me as well, I’m afraid,” he added with a loud sigh, “as I have obligations here at the moment.”

“Speaking of which, where in Niflheim is that old son-stealing bastard, anyway?” Julia heard Odin softly mutter—recognizing the Norse equivalent of Hades.

“I’m right here.”

Julia snapped her gaze to the outcropping of ledge behind Nicholas and Odin to see Titus and Mac standing— Holy Hades, talk about being larger than life! They had to be over ten feet tall!

She dropped the rope back on Phantom’s neck with a sigh of relief. No battles of mythical proportions taking place here today, as Titus wasn’t going to— Hey, wait. She was seeing
three
distinct mythologies in the same place all at the same time!

Well, three and a half counting Nicholas, as he was a completely new . . . hybrid.

“I suggest you go back to your sister,” Titus said, his quiet voice reaching the three Roman bastards as the one who’d stepped ahead of his buddies slowly backed up to them. “Tell her you were mistaken, and that Titus Oceanus told you the infant she threw overboard did indeed drown.” He gestured toward Nicholas, who, Julia noticed, was standing utterly motionless, still looking at the fiord—as was Odin. “This mere mortal is powerless but for what energies I give him,” the wizard continued, “and is the illegitimate son of a down-on-his-luck traveling minstrel and a naive island girl.”

Then why in Hades didn’t you name him Elroy or Bob or Sue or something,
Julia wanted to shout,
instead of
Salohcin
spelled friggin’ backward?

“I started the rumor of an infant washing up on our beach,” Titus continued as if he’d read her mind, his eyes flaring brightly with anger, “so that your sister would spend the rest of her days fearing the child she murdered would come looking for her. Our oceans are not a dumping ground for life’s problems, and mankind and deities alike must learn that what goes into them will someday return with a vengeance.”

Bummer. She wasn’t pledging her troth to a real live deity on New Year’s Day.

Wait—could mythical gods
lie
?

Was that a slight grin she saw on Nicholas’s face?

Now what in Hades was he so happy about? Titus had set him up as a friggin’
target
, wanting the ugly murdering hag to worry that her son would rise up from the dead and come gunning for her.

So she’d sent her brothers to murder him—again.

Julia eyed the Romans eyeing Titus as they appeared to be trying to decide whether or not to believe him.

“Do you gentlemen need help getting home?” Mac added when they didn’t move.

The lightning revealed the middle Roman’s hand going to the sword on his side, his narrow-eyed gaze on Nicholas—who made a
tsk
ing sound and shook his head.

“What did you expect?” Odin drawled. “They’re Romans.”

Julia hoped she did live to ninety years old, just so she could tell her great-grandchildren about the epic mythical event she had witnessed today. Because no sooner had the three Romans drawn their swords than a collective shout rose up behind them, and they spun around in time to see their legion of warriors disappear when the shoreline they were standing on sank into the frigid waters of the fiord. The massive landslide continued moving inland—eventually overtaking the three men scrambling to reach firm ground, until they also found themselves swimming—only to halt just a few feet short of Nicholas and Odin.

But Julia immediately stopped being excited about what she was seeing when a long series of flashes revealed the unmistakable dorsal fins of what seemed like hundreds of sharks moving in on the floundering army of men. She pulled her hood up over her head and bent forward to hide her face in Phantom’s thick mane, fighting not to scream right along with those caught in the feeding frenzy.

Oh yeah, all the bone-chilling accounts she’d read about the Oceanuses were vividly, memorably true, and she was
never
kicking them out of anywhere ever again.

Julia flinched when Nicholas suddenly vaulted onto Phantom behind her and lifted her to sit crosswise in front of him, then turned her so she could bury her face in his sweater as he folded the edges of his jacket around her. She did peek through her fingers, however, when she felt him reach into his pants pocket, and saw him hand the brooch to Odin, now standing beside Phantom.

“You ever come back here again,” Nicholas said quietly, “I will kill you.”

Julia saw Odin’s single eye narrow just before he grinned, gave a curt nod, and turned away.

“Meanwhile,” Nicholas added, making Odin stop and look back, “you might want to be more careful about the company you keep, especially wolves,” he finished. Julia remembered that Loki’s son, a wolf named Fenrir, would eventually eat the mortal Odin in the battle of Ragnarok—which signaled the end of the world.

Nicholas tightened his arms around her and spurred Phantom into an easy lope through the trees straight up the mountain, giving Titus and Mac a slight nod as they passed the two once again normal-size wizards. Only he brought the horse to a halt once they were well out of earshot of the horrific bloodbath taking place in the fiord. “Come, Sol,” he said, patting his knee.

The big cat made a running leap up Phantom’s side, then burrowed inside Nicholas’s jacket on Julia’s lap, giving a warning growl when Nicholas tried to pull Odin’s mangled hat out of his mouth.

Not really sure of Nicholas’s mood, since he didn’t seem to be paying any attention to her except to make sure she didn’t fall off, and not really eager to discuss how she’d ended up in the middle of a mythical battle, anyway, Julia decided a really smart woman would probably keep her mouth shut.