He preceded them through the door.
Khent urged Val behind him. “Stay close to me.”
She frowned. “I can handle myself.”
He looked down at her, the familiar arrogance on his handsome face. But instead of the perpetual condescension hewore when studying her, she saw something hard to name. Not affection exactly, but a softness.
“Fine,” she said absently, trying to figure out why she felt like blushing under his scrutiny.
The bastard smiled again, putting her brain on pause. He grabbed her hand and tugged her with him through the door.
Khent tightenedhis grip on Valentine, shocked that Morpheus hadn’t warned him to beware Irkalla. The last time he’d been in this terrible place had been during a fight with Hanbi, when the evil god had dragged them in during their quest to free his kin from a terrible sacrifice.
Ah, fun times.
He wouldn’t mind a similar fight now, except he’d be horribly outclassed. It had been an exciting battle working alongside Varu and Kraft at the time. Now he had only a useless dream god and a sexy human. One who distracted him with her warmth and soft curves.
A glance at her body reminded him of all the places he had yet to kiss.
“Please. Keep it in your pants, Death Boy.” Morpheus sneered. “Useless? I’ll show you useless.”
“Where are we?” Valentine held onto Khent tightly though she didn’t otherwise appear scared. And she should.
“Irkalla,” Khent said. “The Underworld, where Nergal rules.”
“Nergal. Great. Vladimir’s buddy.”
“Ha. Vladimir wishes.” Morpheus motioned for them to follow him in the dark, smoky corridor. All the color had been leached from life, leaving nothing but an emptiness even grief couldn’t touch. Sounds were muted, the scents of decay and hellfire dull as well.
“This isn’t right.” Val sounded angry. “Death is a good place.”
“Ah, but this is not death.” A being so large he had to be part of some nightmare appeared before them. A good twenty times Khent’s size with the body of a man and the head of a bull. Yet not a minotaur.
He almost looked like Apis, the sacred bull god once worshipped in Memphis, who granted the power of kings. A source of fertility needed in Egyptian lands.
And a drunken asshole who still owed Khent’s sire a truckload of gold for a herd he’d once stolen off Sons of Osiris lands.
“No, not Apis. He’s fun. Nergal isn’t,” Morpheus muttered, reading Khent’s mind without permission.
Distracted by the sight before him, Khent didn’t chastise him for it, though he made a note to later.
The underworld god left a giant throne of bones and stepped toward them, shrinking in size with each step until he stood a head taller than Khent. The bull’s head changed so that his features resembled those of a man, his skin and long hair the color of rain clouds, his features beautiful in their androgyny.
“Ah, so this is the one.” Nergal walked around Valentine. The way he watched her, with avarice, made Khent uncomfortable—but not worried.
He prepared to fight. To keep what belonged to him.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Morpheus nod.
In a smooth, beautifully pitched voice, Nergal asked, “Why do you bring them here, God of Dreams?”
“I thought it past time you all met. Besides, your boy, Spectre—and what a stupid name—is boring. Vladimir dreams of nothing but conquest. Who cares about besting your enemies if you don’t enjoy winning? What about the spoils? What do you do in a world without boundaries? Nothing, that’s what. Because everything is gone.”
“Chaos is all.” Nergal leaned closer to Valentine, who glared back at him.
“Back off, buddy.”
Khent wanted to scoop her up and kiss her for being so darn cute. But he knew that would upset her, so he didn’t. Still, calling a god of war and death “buddy.” He fought not to smile. Rolf would call this commentclassic.Khent would make sure to tell the draugr all about it when they returned.
