106. Levi
LEVI
Azrael and Violette passed out within moments of laying atop the bed.
They hadn’t even bothered to take off their fighting leathers, but I pulled off their boots and received a mumbled and drowsy ‘thank you’ from the both of them.
As exhausted as I am, my mind is still whirring with the myriad of potentialities that could take place.
A persistent thread of simmering anxiety has made my muscles increasingly tense.
It makes me miss my team—Gideon, Beau, Riggs, and Mal. The latter two are still active duty and I feel like shit that I haven’t seen them in nearly two years.
If I had the team here with me, I would be a lot more confident we could pull this wild shit off. Not that I would actually even consider bringing anyone other than Gideon here because everyone else is still human.
Fuck, where is Azrael’s shadow?
We’re going to need his help.
Based on what little Violette has told me about her father, I don’t want to risk letting her come face-to-face with him.
I resign myself to the fact that I won’t be able to sleep and make my way into the bathroom.
It looks... medieval, but in a cozy tavern way.
I step in front of the mirror to examine my new appearance. I haven’t had much time to do so. And although the sight of my matte black horns and the dark tail hovering behind me is still mildly shocking to see, the feel of them is strangely natural.
Piece by piece, I practice willing away individual articles of clothing until I’m standing nude in front of the mirror, before reversing and repeating the process.
I twist to look at the bathtub and will the faucet on.
Hmmmm.
Willing the top half of my borrowed fighting leathers to hand, I sniff one of the arm pits.
Yikes.
It’s more than a little ripe after trekking through the mountains for four days.
Using some intention and a little imagination, I attempt to will it clean.
When my nose is met with only the scent of leather and something uniquely Azrael that makes my heart squeeze–and not my own sweaty stench–a petite grin of victory curls one corner of my mouth.
The tiny sprig of joy wilts as reality settles back in because I can’t ignore the sensation that we are in way over our fucking heads.
I’ve learned from personal experience that the only way to survive being outnumbered and even out-gunned or out-powered is to work as a cohesive unit.
I need to find that fucking phantom...
I don’t know any other gods?—
My thoughts screech to a halt.
Somnus.
I’m way too worked up to fall asleep, but maybe with some scalding hot water and breathwork... My eyes slide to the large copper bathtub already filled nearly to the brim and billowing with steam.
I let out a groan of relief as I climb in and sink beneath the water. It’s hot enough to make goosebumps rise; for the heat to penetrate my bones; to soothe my soul.
It feels like I’m dissolving the last 38 years of stress and trauma.
Only a few minutes pass before the soft amber orb casting the room in a gentle glow coaxes my eyelids shut; for my steady breaths with long exhales to make every muscle in my body languid.
Intuitively, I reach out with my mind. To where, I have no fucking clue, but I hold the image of the god of dreams and the subconscious in my mind.
Until finally, I drift off...
Somnus.
Some indistinguishable period of time passes in a soothing, womb of darkness until the presence of another stirs me.
My eyes open to find Somnus leaning on the edge of the sink, ankles crossed, hands shoved into his pockets as he watches me, wearing a placid look.
My relief is immediate. My mouth has just formed the words to thank him for coming when he speaks.
“What an unexpected turn of events.”
Silence is my reply at the pin-prick of unease his words inspire.
Somnus draws in a deep breath, gaze wandering to some distant point on the wall before eventually returning to mine. “I need to utilize your expertise.”
My expertise?
I’d been so desperate to ask for his help, it takes a second for my mind to catch up.
“To do what?”
Somnus’ relaxed expression turns grim. “You’re going to find Violette’s father, correct?”
My wariness grows. Again, I remain silent, and he continues.
“I can help you get into his palace—into Sinsól.”
... So this is why he so ‘benevolently’ revealed Azrael and Violette to me.
I swear, every time I even begin to think someone might be acting selflessly, they always manage to prove me wrong.
“In exchange for my expertise..."
His grin is tinged with bitterness. “There is a female in Violette’s father’s harem—Soriya Adonir-Hope. I need you to find her and take her with you when you leave.”
“... And if I say no?”
“I’ll erase your memories of Violette and Azrael, and send you back home as if none of this happened?—”
Rage is swift to boil in my veins.
“Theirs, too. They won’t remember you, or each other.”
Hatred simmers in my chest, but my expression remains one of stone.
Until the most glorious window of opportunity appears in my mind, but for now, I remain wordless; give him the opportunity to reveal whatever else it is that I might use as leverage for my end of the bargain.
Somnus’ gaze holds mine. Confident. Determined. “You would do the same for Violette.”
Oh, shit...
“She’s your soulbound..."
He gives me a grim nod.
“Why can’t you rescue her yourself?”
A scowl teases the corners of his mouth. “I am confined to my domain.”
“Which is where?”
“The subconscious.”
“As in... ?”
“As in I am stuck in an incorporeal realm.”
My eyes scan the room.
Fuck, I’m dreaming.
I hadn’t even realized I was still asleep.
“Is that how it has always been?”
His scowl deepens. “Of course not.”
Intuition tickles the back of my mind.
“Does that have something to do with Violette’s father?”
He gives a sardonic huff, as if even he is loath to admit it. “Entirely.”
Jesus.
At least the guilt in his eyes is palpable. “I care deeply for Violette.”
That’s yet to be seen.
“And your mind powers?—”
“Useless against him. He’s obtained a way to shield himself against me.”
I rub my eyes with thumb and forefinger. “What am I supposed to tell Violette when I try to save another female?”
Somnus shrugs. “The truth? She vowed to try and save her, too, but considering the emotional impact of killing her father, I imagine she might not be up to the task.”
What the fuck?
“Vowed to who? You?”
A corner of Somnus’ mouth quirks.
“Not me, but that’s a discussion you’ll have to have with her, I’m afraid.”
I shake my head, reeling. “How are we even going to get into his palace?”
Somnus gives me a look that says, I thought you’d never ask, as he wills a gilded scroll into one hand and passes it to me.
I attempt to maintain a mask of neutrality—as though gilded scrolls are commonplace—even as my insides bubble with nerd-like glee when I unroll it to reveal beige-colored parchment decorated in an inky, elegant script only an actual quill could have produced.
And thanks to Violette’s potion, I can actually read it.
By Decree of the Sovereign State of Sinsól,
He Who Commands the Seas, All Within, open herself up to her god-gifts—but even if she came in contact with palladium, you have Azrael with you. His power is even greater than my own. Greater than the power of any god that walks this realm. Killing Abyrion—her father—would hardly require much effort?—”
“Which is why, in order for us to accomplish this suicidally insane task, I would need you to persuade the externalized half of Azrael’s subconscious to return to us.”
The expression on Somnus’s face is, momentarily, one of confusion until his eyes grow distant and begin to glow faintly. His jaw slackens a moment later, eyes snapping to mine as grim frustration thins his lips. “Fuck.”
“Indeed.”
With an exasperated groan, Somnus scrubs a hand down his face as he begins to pace the short length of the bathroom.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK.” Abruptly, he turns on his heel to face me.
“You have no idea what a disaster this is. Not to mention, that asshole will probably have me bargain away my soul before agreeing to cooperate.”
A corner of my mouth twitches. His eyes narrow.
“Gods-be-damned. Fine. Just... wait here. Don’t leave the inn—don’t go anywhere until he arrives.”