Chapter Thirty-Two

Several minutes later, we had finished our coffee, and Amisk had finished his list. Ty was getting antsy. I knew he was nervous about Hermes finding the trickster before we did, but I didn't think he would. Coyote was willy. Oh. Yeah, that was unintended. But I guess that's how they came up with the cartoon character.

“Would you like your trunk now?” Amisk asked.

“Yes, please,” I said.

He got up and left the room. It didn't take him long to retrieve the trunk. It was more of a banded box. You hear the word trunk and you think of steamer trunks. This was long, granted—longer than I was tall, but it was also narrow, only about ten inches deep.

Amisk set it down on the table, and then handed me an envelope. “He left this for you as well.”

“He's always male?” Ty asked.

Amisk frowned at the question. “Wisagatcak? Yes. Why would you ask that?”

I paused. “You've never seen him shapeshift into a woman?”

Amisk snorted. “No. He's very male and very proud of his masculinity.” He grimaced. “A little arrogant about it, if truth be told. ”

A shiver ran over me, and I tore into the envelope. A folded paper was inside. Right on the top flap, it read, “Guess again!”

“Son of a witch!” I muttered. “We were wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Torrent asked. “Coyote is the only one left.”

“Maybe I was wrong about the trickster being psychic.” I opened the letter and read it aloud, “Dear Vervain. First, I'd like to congratulate you! You found me! But you didn't guess my name. To be fair, I didn't leave you a lot of clues about my identity. Here's a secret: I don't want you to know. I'm shy. And I'm not Coyote. Not any of them. I'm not a Native American god at all. Close but no peace pipe. I do want peace, though. I've only ever wanted the best for you and your family. I admire you. Speaking of which, please give my love to Ty. I hope he isn't too upset. Tell him that I didn't plan on falling in love, but I did. My heart is broken too. I know we can't be together now. It's impossible. He doesn't even know who I really am, and that's no way to start a relationship. But here's some good news. Although you didn't guess who I was, you did find me. I consider that a win. And since you won, you get the prize. Inside this box is a tool that I have created with the magical items I've stolen. With it, you can draw Azrael's soul past the barrier of Wild Magic that holds him hostage. Then he will rapidly heal himself and reclaim his body. I have it on the greatest authority. After you use this tool on Azrael, you may dismantle it and return the stolen items. Or keep them. Your choice. It is your prize, after all. All you have to do to get your prize is open the box. But to open the box, you must pass a test. Prove your worth. Godhunter, you must . . .” I trailed off, the horror of the next words too much to speak aloud.

“What?” Trevor demanded. “What do we have to do?”

“Not you,” I whispered. “Me.”

“What do you have to do, Vervain?” Odin asked .

I stared at the page. It didn't make any sense. The trickster wanted me to kill Amisk. Kill the beaver, he said. His blood would open the lock. But how could I kill a man I had just befriended? I had made peace with him. I had promised to help him. We drank coffee together. Now, to save Azrael, I had to kill him. I always said I would do anything to save someone I loved. Anything.

My dragon started to rise. I'd do it. For Az. Anything for Azrael. I'd kill a thousand gods, even innocent gods. Burn the whole fucking world down. As long as it saved Azrael, I didn't care. My star shuddered in my chest, and, suddenly, I felt that darkness again. The Dark Star. This act would change me. It would save Azrael and doom me. So be it.

My nails started to extend into claws. I'd make it fast. A slice and a twist. Amisk's head would pop right off. His eyes would blink one last time before his brain realized he was dead. It would be that fast. Painless. I could do this. I would do anything for someone I loved. And I loved Azrael more than life. More than my soul. Take it. Turn it dark again. Let the Dark Star rise. Bring it on. Let's conquer the world. Do it right this time. My Faerie God and me. We'd be unstoppable.

Scales shimmered over my arms.

“Vervain?” Odin whispered, a note of horror creeping into his voice. Did he know what was rising? Did he sense the evil growing inside me? Lurking under the scales was a goddess who the world had barely survived. I had told Torrent that we all struggled with our bad sides and I meant it. My bad side just happened to be very, very bad. Apocalypse bad.

I saw it all again. The armies standing before me. Opposing me. Their ranks stretched out to either side as far as I could see. My dragon warriors faced them without an ounce of fear, each of them ready to die for the Dark Star. Viper stood beside me, resolute, going dark out of love for me. And there, with the opposing army, were the men I loved. Would Viper stand beside me again? Or would he switch sides now that he'd been with the real me? Would I save Az only to lose him to the Dark Star?

My heart stuttered. The Trinity Star shrieked—a sharp, strident sound that vibrated through me. An audio bitch slap. Snap out of it, Vervain!

The scales withdrew, but my dragon remained. Not to kill but to give me more control. She helped me push down the evil urges. I had known it was still inside me, but I didn't realize it could rise so easily, with just a single terrible act. I thought I had better control of it. I thought it was caged. It was, but it wasn't dead. Merely waiting. Biding its time until I weakened enough for it to rise and consume me along with everything I held dear. My husbands. My children. My world. Gone in a sweep of black starlight.

Nope. Not gonna happen. Like Meatloaf (the singer, not the food), I would do anything for love. But not this. I couldn't do this. Not even for Az. I wanted to save him, but this would simultaneously destroy him. And that was insanity. If Azrael were there, he'd beg me not to do it. I had to honor that and be true to myself.

I crumpled the paper, and it caught on fire in my hand.

“Oh, fuck,” Finn said.

He would never know how close to being fucked we'd been.

“I can't do it,” I said, glancing at Amisk. I wouldn't tell him. I didn't want him to blame Wisagatcak, since the trickster wasn't him. They had merely put on a Coyote mask.

“Vervain,” Odin growled. “Azrael needs whatever is in that box. ”

“And I'd like my triton back,” Donnie said.

“We'll find another way to open it.” I stood up. “I've opened magically sealed boxes before.”

“Vervain!” Trevor shouted.

“No!” I roared back. “I will not kill one man to wake another. Azrael is alive. As long as he's alive, there's hope. We can find another way to wake him. Or find another way to open the box. But I will not commit murder for this trickster. What if I open the box and it's empty? This could all be another trick, and then I would have killed an innocent man for nothing.”

“A murderer?” Odin asked. “Who does he want you to kill, Vervain?”

“Someone I don't love.” I grimaced. “The choice should be easy. I've vowed to do anything to save one of you. And I would. I would kill this person in a heartbeat if I knew with absolute certainty that it was either him or Az. But I don't. And I don't know why the trickster wants him dead. I do know that if I commit this evil act, I will unleash the Dark Star. So, I can't do it. I won't do it!”

I slammed my hand down on the box. Something popped up when I did. It was sharp and cut me. I cried out and drew my hand back. A smear of blood remained on the box. As I scowled at it, the box absorbed my blood and the lock clicked.

I gaped at it.

“What the fuck?” Morph said.

“But . . .” I shook my head. “He said Amisk's blood was the key to opening the lock.”

“My blood?” Amisk asked.

Damn my filterless mouth. There went not telling Amisk. I grimaced. “Yeah. Sorry. He wanted me to kill you. But the man who gave you this box wasn't Wisagatcak. He's a trickster who shapeshifts into other gods and impersonates them.”

Amisk's dark eyes went wide. “Why would he want me dead?”

“I don't know.”

Amisk stared at me. “You need what's in that box to save your husband. And still, you refused to hurt me. Why?”

“Because, as far as I know, you're an innocent man. And we had just made peace. You gave me coffee.” I smiled wanly at him. “I don't kill my friends. As I said, it would have been an evil act.”

“Friends.” Amisk swallowed roughly. “Yes, Godhunter. You have made a friend today. A true friend for life.” He held out his hand, and I shook it.

“Thank you, Amisk.”

“That was the test, Vervain,” Odin said. “And you passed.”

“How would the trickster know that Vervain would slam her hand on the box like that?” Que asked.

“They couldn't have. Unless they truly are psychic. Or maybe the box is keyed to Vervain. As soon as she refused to commit an evil act, the magic was primed and when she touched it, the spell released, pricking her skin. Her blood was the key, not Amisk's. If she had killed him, the box would have never opened. But she didn't do it, and it reassured the trickster that she's good now. Even the greatest temptation—that of saving her husband—wouldn't sway her. I'm so proud of you, my love.” Odin grinned at me. “Open the box.”

I opened the box.