Chapter 16
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
Rolf winced as he stepped after Syl. His little minx. Surely, she realized he’d decided to keep her for a while? All that posturing, her flirting with the dark elf to make him jealous. How could he not love a woman so devious?
And every time the elf pissed her off, she unconsciously flexed, her muscular arms causing Rolf massive discomfort. He didn’t think he’d ever been so turned-on from the sight of strong female arms before.
Once through the portal into Hades’ underworld, Rolf followed Syl’s gaze to the grand arena they’d stepped into. Set under a reddish black sky lit by a bright white ball of light, the site of The Games was legendary.
The amphitheater was made of white marble inlaid with gold and could seat upwards of fifty thousand spectators.
Modeled after the original home of Kolossos, a giant friend of Hades, this gaming institution was the foundation of championships made and lost for the gods and those they considered worthy to battle.
Unlike the fun gladiator games of old, contestants here—not counting the dead who occasionally engaged in battle—fought to the death only when requested.
Normally, they fought to entertain. Hades was the ultimate authority, but the joy was in the battle, and of course, in a glorious, bloody conquest.
If every opponent in The Games died, the underworld would be overrun with whiny bastards never ceasing their complaining, or so Hades had explained once when asked why death wasn’t always a tiebreaker.
Rolf and Syl walked through the archways leading into a grand perimeter around the inner courtyard, where the battles took place. Several fighters sparred lightly while a few armorers and weapons masters handed out weapons.
He saw Syl’s interest, her eyes lighting up as she spied a tall woman with thick limbs and feathery wings hefting around a mace as long as Rolf’s torso.
“They let a harpy fight?”
“Ah, so that’s why the breasts are exposed. I thought she was going for a fashion statement.”
Syl glared at him. “Real nice.”
“What? Yours are better.”
She flushed and turned away. He loved that he could make her cheeks pink. She seemed unaware of her appeal, and he didn’t understand why. From what he’d gathered, she knew her worth as a warrior. But not so as a woman? Yet she’d been confident and insistent when taking him in her arms before.
He leaned close and whispered, “When will you let me lick you again?”
She elbowed him in the gut, hard enough to crack a rib, and moved quickly away before stopping. “Well? Catch up. We’re on a time crunch, draugr.”
He wished she’d use his name again. He loved the way she rolled the R of Rolf off her sultry lips. A glance at her showed a woman who would be at ease in the arena. In fact, he wouldn’t mind watching her fight the harpy. He’d bet on Syl to win.
“Quit calling me Syl.”
He blinked. “Are you reading my mind?”
“What? No. But you keep saying it. My name is Sylvara.”
“No, no. That’s way too formal. We’re practically engaged.”
She sighed. “Let’s find Jormy and get the hell out of here.”
“As you wish, my storm of love.”
She grumbled under her breath and stalked past the many fighters into the inner perimeter, where several hawkers pitched food, drink, and…tee-shirts?
Rolf sidled up to one being sold by a satyr. “Who’s most popular?”
The guy grinned. “That would have to be Gregor the Golem. Forty beheadings, two spine crushers, fifty-two maulings.”
“I thought Hades was all about being no-kill.”
“Well, he was. Something made him angry though, and a few months ago, it was all death-and-more-death for the win.”
“Ah.” Rolf looked over and purchased a shirt sporting fangs on the front.
“A vampire fan? Good for you, friend. They’re vicious bastards but can always be counted on to destroy.”
“Right?” Rolf smiled, keeping his fangs in check. A few steps from him, Sylvara stood with her hands on her hips, tapping her foot impatiently. “Oh, and give me a harpy pennant for my girl.”
The satyr handed it over and pocketed the coin. “You’re in luck today. We’ve got a few animal and monster battles too.”
“Oh?”
The satyr leaned in, his horns sharp, his fur brushed to shine. Even his hooves gleamed. An upscale seller for sure. “Rumor has it one of Loki’s children might put in an appearance.” The satyr waved at the thickening crowd gathered to purchase wares. “See? Everyone wants to see the giants fight.”
“Any titans coming?”
“Probably.” The satyr sneered. “Those bastards are always around. Gods too.”
“Bummer.”
“Totally.”
Rolf left him to join Syl, whose eyes were so bright they hurt to look into them. “Ahem.” He pointed to his own eyes. “Tone it down a little unless you want to jump in the arena too.” Around them, people were frowning and glaring at her.
She lowered the brightness and flipped off the closest complainers. “Eat me, lamia.”
The pair of lamias watching hissed then slithered away on snaky torsos. A shame really. Rolf could handle the pretty upper halves. The lower scales and tail? Not so much.
“Now where will we find Jormungandr?”
They entered the arena proper and looked at rows upon rows of stadium seating being filled by the dead and those with a special invitation from the god of the underworld.
Near the main area, Hades’ pavilion, two stories up, watched over the entertainment soon to come.
Under that imposing stage, several boxes containing VIPs filled.
“I see a few gods up there,” Rolf said. “My guess? We’ll find our target near Hades.”
Syl grabbed him and hoisted him into the air, holding him under his armpits without a strain.
“Whoa. A little warning next time.” He stared in awe at the golden wings of energy flickering behind her back, a part of her more ethereal than corporeal. “Have you ever lost your wings?”
“Once, when I was just starting out as a valkyrie. It felt like a death of sorts.”
“But how?” He reached out but she angled him away so he couldn’t touch them.
“Stop it. They’re made of my energy, my magic. They can’t be removed by anyone but my maker.”
“Who’s your maker?”
“Duh. Freyja.”
He scowled. “Well, it could have been Odin.”
“Not that dick, thank the gods.”
“Oh, no love for the big guy. Do tell.” He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, aware of the many eyes upon them from the crowd. Better that the masses learn she belonged to him. Might save them some future trouble. Not that he didn’t welcome strife, but they did need to find Jormy soon.
“Stop it or I’ll drop you.”
He chuckled. “I wouldn’t. That’s a lot farther than the spell will allow.”
“Shit.”
“Ha. This is such fun.”
She quickly lowered them into an empty box next to one holding Aphrodite and Hephaestus, who were arguing as usual.
The goddess of love spotted Rolf and sniffed. “Vampire? Shouldn’t you be preparing to battle? This area is not for one such as yourself, cursed beast.”
“She has your number,” Syl muttered.
“Or you, winged bitch,” Aphrodite added, noting Sylvara’s beauty, Rolf could tell. Especially because her husband, who normally didn’t look beyond his wife, was eyeballing Syl’s lovely frame.
“Now that’s a woman who could wield a hammer if she chose.” The smith of the gods smiled, himself jacked like an Olympian on steroids.
“Hey, Hephaestus. Nice to see you again.” Syl glanced at Aphrodite, who remained full of herself. “Stuck up hag.”
The goddess gasped. Her husband fought a chuckle and covered it by laughing.
“I’ll curse your entire line, whore,” Aphrodite hissed.
“Knock yourself out. Hey, aren’t you supposed to be the goddess of beauty? Might want to check your hair, because wow. That style is so last century.”
Aphrodite started tearing up. “You’re a terrible valkyrie.”
“Fuck off.”
Rolf had to laugh at Sylvara’s default.
“Husband! She’s insulted me.”
“Ugly bitch,” Syl added, making no effort to keep her voice down. Not that she was wrong. Aphrodite, though gorgeous and filled with love—mostly for herself—was the ultimate mean girl.
Rolf respected that, but he respected Syl even more for not caring a whit about offending a goddess.
He pulled Syl with him away from the drama before they attracted too much attention.
They walked up several rows, looking for Jormy, and spotted a group of Norse gods hanging together.
Tyr and Baldr laughed. A few minor heroes sat with them, all of them getting drunk.
Thor was nowhere to be seen. Ah, but there, on the other side of Hades’s box, sat Loki and… Shit.
“Hey. Who’s that with Loki? I feel like I should know him, but I’ve never seen him before. Then again, Loki’s been keeping a tight leash on me lately,” Syl grumbled.
“That, my dear, is the precursor to my entire existence.” He glared at the dark-haired bastard, who spotted him and waved back with cheer.
“Who? Loki?”
“No, the fuckhead with him. Apollo, the guy who cursed my forefather into existence.”
“Oh. He seems like he wants us to visit.”
“Over my dead body.”
Suddenly, Hades appeared in front of them.
Tall, dark, and handsome, wearing a dark beard and mustache and with the bearing of the divine, Hades had the attitude of a guy who no longer gave a shit about what anyone thought.
He would have looked perfectly at home in a toga, royal robes, or holding a scepter of the dead.
Instead, he wore a suit and tie like a multibillionaire CEO. Silver and gold rings bedecked his fingers, chains at his throat, and earrings in each ear.
He grinned at Rolf. “Draugr, they want a word. And hel-lo, beautiful. Why have I never seen you before?” Hades’s brows narrowed as he studied her. “Or have I?”
Rolf didn’t like the way the god looked at Syl, who blushed and said, “No. I’m sorry, we haven’t met. It’s an honor though. I love your work.”
Hades brightened and held out an arm. “Then may I escort you to my booth while your partner speaks with his father?”
Rolf sighed. “He’s not my dad.”
Syl glanced at the distance from Loki and Apollo’s landing to Hades’s. “Ah, well, we can’t be too far apart due to a really inconvenient spell.”
“How intriguing.”
Rolf wished Syl hadn’t confided that. He had a bad feeling about Hades’s sudden interest. “Why aren’t you more concerned about what Hecate’s been warning everyone?”
The god smirked. “She’s been crying about the Darkness that Comes for a thousand years. I tuned her out a while ago.”
“But it’s real. It’s coming,” Syl said.
“I’m sure she thinks so. Come entertain me, darling. Rolf, go talk to them. I’ll make sure you’re…how close?”
“No farther than forty-five feet.” At the god’s look, Rolf said, “Really? Fine. A third of a plethron.”
“When among the Greek…” Hades chuckled. “Get along, boy. We’ll be fine right here.”
Rolf left, conscious of Sylvara watching him anxiously. But Hades, true to his word, pulled the other box closer, so that the distance caused no harm.
Once close enough to jump into their viewing box, Rolf did so.
Syl, he noted with displeasure, immediately turned to Hades with an animated expression he didn’t like one bit.
“Well, son. What’s new?” Loki asked.
Apollo huffed. “Now, now. Let me begin. I never get to see him.”
“For good reason.”
“Yes, but that’s old news.”
“Is it though?” Loki stared from Apollo to Rolf and waited.
“I hate both of you,” Rolf said.
Loki grinned. “There he is. Tell me, my boy. How’s the progress going?”
“Is Jormungandr here?” And why was Loki skulking around The Games when he’d sent Rolf and Syl to find his kid?
“Here? No. If he was here, I’d already have dealt with him. Who told you’d be here?”
“Yet another waste of time.” Rolf turned to watch Hades pawing at his female. Anger built.
“Now, son. Don’t do what you’re thinking,” Apollo cautioned. Tall, with long black hair, a face that mesmerized, and an inner glow that emanated despite a lack of light, the god of the sun had a magical brilliance that blinded.
But Rolf had no time for that. “Don’t call me son,” he said absently.
Hades sat way too close to Syl and put his hand on her knee.
She laughed at something the god said.
Then Hades leaned in, as if going for a kiss.
Rolf saw red.
“Now Rolf, don’t do what you’re planning.” Loki sounded way too amused.
“Uh-oh. This won’t work out well,” Apollo murmured.
Ignoring both of them, Rolf flew out of the box and aimed for Hades’s throat…