Wayward Gods (Souls of the Road #5)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

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Happy Reading!

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Lula hit the brakes, sending clouds of New Mexico dust over the top of the truck and through the open windows. It covered me, our dog Lorde sitting on the floorboard, and Abbi, who looked like an eight-year-old girl with white-blonde hair, but was actually the rabbit in the moon.

“What?” I leaned forward, the bench seat creaking under my weight, and scanned the rutted road we’d been following for nearly a hundred years.

“Those are wild asters, Brogan.” Lu pointed at the scrubby purple and yellow wildflowers that bloomed everywhere along Route 66.

“Are they a problem?” I wasn’t sure how a flower could be a problem, but we’d had plenty of strange happenings lately.

We’d battled vampires, fought ancient creatures, and made deals with demons and ghouls—some of whom insisted they were on our side.

The god Ate was hunting us, hunting us and the spell book of the gods we’d hidden in the witch’s box in the back of the truck. She wanted us dead so she could unlock its magic.

It was enough to make a man more than a little twitchy.

Lu huffed a laugh and shook her head. Her red hair was pulled back in a single braid, and freckles stood out against the pale skin of her face and arms.

“Not everything is a problem, Brogan.” She left the door open and strolled out to pick the flowers.

“It could have been a problem,” I muttered.

Lorde lifted her head, sniffing the air. The dog spotted the open door and took it as an invitation. She scrambled over my legs, all black fur and fluffy tail.

That left just me and Abbi in the truck. I stretched, savoring the extra space. The cab was a tight fit for all of us, especially since I was not a small man.

“I think she just likes flowers.” Abbi patted her ruffled skirt, puffing more dust into the air, then waving it away from her face.

“I know she likes flowers. But why those? It’s miles before we hit the end of the Route and try to leave it so we can drive that damned book to Oregon. Plenty more chances to pick flowers along the way.”

“Maybe she’s just happy to see them.” Abbi’s shadow, Hado, who took the form of a little black kitten, jumped from her shoulder to her lap and batted at her fingers. Abbi giggled. “Or maybe she’s just happy.”

I craned to get a better view of my wife.

Had Lula been smiling more the last few days? Since we’d found the spell book of the gods and hidden it in the witch’s box? Had it given her hope?

Hope for a life without angry gods on our tail who wanted us dead—or worse—wanted to use us to access the magic in the book?

Hope for a tomorrow where we didn’t have to look over our shoulders for monsters and demons and betrayal?

Hope for life, just that—life—lived together?

Lu tucked a flower behind her ear and bent to pick more.

Abbi was right. She was smiling.

How had I missed that?

It wasn’t like our troubles were over.

Still, Lula was happy.

And anything that made Lula, my love, happy, was everything I wanted too.

I swore under my breath, slid across the seat and put boots to dust. It was time to pick a few flowers.

And when Lula noticed, oh, the smile she gave me.

With our hands full of asters, we walked back to the truck.

Wildflowers were everywhere now, in Lu’s hair, woven in a chain around her slender wrist, hanging bundled from the rearview mirror.

It was late morning and warm enough, I was trying not to nod off.

“It stinks here.” Abbi wriggled, her elbows digging into my thigh and arm as she propped up on her knees.

I grunted.

She sniffed at the dashboard and the muggy air pushing through the vent. “Do you smell it? The stink?”

I yawned and brushed my fingers across Lula’s bare shoulder, her skin a wonder of silk. I had spent too many years un-bodied as a spirit, unable to touch her, to not want to touch her now I was solid again.

Lu glanced over, a rise of eyebrow.

“I don’t smell anything,” I said. “Just New Mexico in September.”

Abbi shifted, and Hado, currently sleeping across her shoulders, mewled.

Lorde, our black chow chow shepherd, propped her head on my knee.

I scrubbed behind her ear, and she made a happy growly sound.

“It’s not New Mexico,” Abbi said.

“It is,” Lula said.

Route 66 meandered across yellow grassy plains dotted with lava rocks and short, sturdy juniper trees. Sandstone outcroppings scalloped the blue sky uninterrupted by clouds.

“I know where we are but the smell...” She sniffed and wrinkled her nose. “Something I don’t like.”

“Is it a healthy vegetable?” I asked.

Now the wrinkled nose was pointed my way.

“No, it’s...”

A wall of darkness screamed across the horizon, rushing toward us with avalanche force.

“Hell,” I said. “Lu—”

“—God!”

That was all the time we had.