Vulcan's Kittens (Children of Myth Book 1) (7 page)

Linn staggered and felt her vision graying out again. “Not again!” she cried as her knees went out from under her. This time, she was glad to hear, it was her own voice. Bes caught her. She couldn’t move, but could still see and hear as he carried her to the couch with surprising ease considering that he was shorter than she was by a full inch.

She could hear them talking as they stood over her. Lambent was on the table. Linn was aware of where the sword was, like it was part of her body. She lost track of reality for a minute, and stood in a swirling, misty grayness. Fog, damp on her skin. Lambent was in her hand, and a softly-furred skull was pressed into the palm of the other hand. She raised Lambent, glowing like a torch, and screamed hoarsely as the kitten... Blackie, she realized... roared his defiance with her. Then she lay on the couch in Grampa’s living room, gasping for breath and crying out.

Grampa Heff held her. “Shhh... it’s all right. You’re OK. Relax. Let it go.”

Linn shuddered, leaning back on the couch. She still couldn’t move. Bes lifted her legs onto the arm like Grampa had done before. She felt the blood coming back to her brain.

“You feeling better?” Grampa asked. She nodded, afraid to speak again. “All right. Just rest a bit.”

Both of them went onto the porch, apparently leaving the door open so they could check on her. Her head was swimming, and after one attempt to sit up she let that go until later. She heard them talking, although they were trying to keep their voices down.

“Same thing as happened with the first Sight?”

“Yes, she fainted then, too.”

“She’s developing fast. Sight, now Foresight.”

Grampa Heff huffed out a short breath. “It worries me more that with each manifestation, she does this. It makes her vulnerable.”

“I have her back, Heff. You have to go.”

“You have her back? You are her Protector!” her grandfather protested.

“Lower your voice, Heff.” Linn heard a touch of humor in Bes’s voice. “Yes, her back. I let few know how much of the Second Sight I have. You know where I come from.”

“You’re one of the oldest.”

“So I am. Which may explain my madness.”

Heff laughed.

Bes continued, his voice deep and quiet. Linn felt it ripple through her like a pebble thrown in a pond. “Linnaea, go to sleep, child.”

Linn felt her mind’s eyes close, and she sighed as sleep took her. She felt a slight sense of indignation that he’d put her to sleep, thus unable to eavesdrop.

She awakened in the night, vaguely aware that her grandfather was leaning over her. She opened her eyes, and he smiled at her and kissed her forehead. Then her eyes were so heavy and she closed them again.

She came fully awake as Bes shook her shoulder. He grinned down at her. “Going to sleep all day?”

“Um...” Linn rubbed her eyes. They felt like glue had been poured into them. “Grampa?”

“Has gone. It’s time for you to start training.”

“What? He left?” She felt all muzzy. “Training?”

“Seems you have a sword to learn how to use. Can’t chop off your own toes,” he commented dryly.

She sat up. It was, by the sun in the window, a couple hours later than before. She glared at him. “What did you do to me?”

“You took a little nap.”

“I did not. You put me to sleep.” Linn was furious.

“Well, and if I did...” He grinned again. “I can do it again when you’re being annoying.”

Chapter 9

Sekhmet, still in great cat form, sat Sphinx-like watching the scene play out with wry amusement. They had returned to the high path after a restless night and traveled to the court of Quetzalcoatl. Now that rainbow-feathered personage sat on his throne perch and hissed in frustration. Facing him were the Scholar and Peter, a strange pair in that blazoned room of great stone blocks and barbaric grandeur.

“Scholar," he insisted, "you must leave the high Plane and return to Earth. You are unsafe here.”

“I won’t. They ruined my home!” she wailed, her hands fluttering. Abruptly, she realized what she was doing and crossed her arms across her chest, glaring at the Mayan god.

He sighed and rattled his feathers. “You will. You are needed below in the battle against the Olympians.” He still sounded firm, but he had gentled his voice for her.

“What can I offer?” she snapped.

“You know more about the Old Ones’ nature than anyone else in either plane. We need that knowledge if we are to foil their plans.” He was practicing patience, but she was trying it.

“Foil their plans? Really, you just said that?” She was a past mistress of sarcasm, too.

Sekhmet suppressed a chuckle. The Scholar never pulled her punches, even with a senior immortal. The feathered serpent directed a fiery green eye in her direction, and she looked back, calmly. She could, of course, just scoop the Scholar up and take her willy-nilly, but it would be better if the irascible demi-god was persuaded to go on her own.

Peter interjected. “Hypatia, dear. You really should consider it. Humans have grown so much in the time you were gone.”

She looked at him, and Sekhmet saw the tears on her cheeks. “I... don’t want to leave you.” The old woman looked at the old man mournfully.

Their love was a strange one, the demi-goddess crippled by the burning of her library and the English soldier who had been left to die in the blistering sun so far from the green hills of home. The gods knew they had seen stranger ones. Now he held out his hand to her. She uncrossed her arms and took it in both of hers.

“I will be here when you get back. It will be a grand adventure, old girl.”

Hypatia sniffled a little. Then she looked back at Sekhmet. “Will I have access to a library?”

“Scholar, have you heard of the Internet?”

The scarred old woman shook her head. Sekhmet broke into a very un-cat like grin. “Oh, this is going to be fun!” she chortled.

“Where are we going?” Hypatia looked interested now, not just combative.

“A very safe place. I think you will like it. There are sandy beaches and palm trees.”

The Scholar snorted at the idea of a vacation spot. “I’ll do fine in a nice room full of books, thank you.”

“You can have your books on the beach,” Sekhmet assured her with a laugh.

Peter and the serpent god watched the women walk out of the room together. The last thing they heard was Sekhmet’s rumbling murmur repeating. “Oh, this is going to b
e
fu
n
...”

The god and the mortal looked at one another. Quetzalcoatl sighed. “Her sense of humor is irrepressible, isn’t it?”

“The most charming thing about her. That, and those long claws protecting my heart from harm.”

The serpent nodded knowingly. It had to be hard on the old soldier to not be able to accompany Hypatia. “What are your plans, Peter?”

He shrugged. “I hadn’t any, really. Waiting... the lot of the Tommy from time immemorial, eh?”

“I rather think we can put that mind of yours to work, old friend.” The Serpent slithered off his throne. “Come with me, please?”

“Gladly, old chap. I rather fancy your idea.”

Chapter 10

Linn wasn’t having fun. In the two days since Grampa had left, Bes had barely let her rest, let alone sleep. He’d been drilling her with Lambie for hours each day, and then running her ragged through the woods. The only good thing was that the kittens were now in the house.

When she had slept last night, it had been in an exhausted heap with them all on the couch. Lambent, sheathed and in the crook of her arm, had glowed when all the kittens curled up with her. Linn had fallen asleep staring at the flickering power dancing above them.

Linn awakened to find Bes standing over her with a ferocious frown on his face and a kitten climbing his leg. He peeled Spot One off and handed him to Linn. “Feeding time, girl. Time for them to learn how to lap from a bowl.” Linn untangled herself awkwardly from the sword and a couple of kittens.

She noticed Blackie as he staggered determinedly across the floor toward the table where the milk pail was. At six weeks old, the kittens could get around well enough, but the smooth floors in the cabin were a change from the hay in the loft. The biggest kitten, Blackie... as big as a full-grown housecat already... kept losing his footing.

Linn set Spot One down on the floor and belted Lambent on before looking for a stable bowl they wouldn’t knock over. She finally dug two flat-bottomed stoneware casseroles out of the cupboard. Bes, sitting in a kitchen chair playing with Spot Two, didn’t say anything, but Linn saw one corner of his mouth quirk up. She ignored him.

Pouring the milk into the two bowls, she sat on the floor with the kittens directly in front of her. They came to her when she called, and she dipped her fingers in the milk and offered it to them. Giggling as they licked her fingers, she coaxed the kittens to put their noses into the milk. Patches inhaled some, and backed up, sneezing. Blackie plunged in and came up spluttering. Seconds later he was in the bowl, front paws and all, slurping noisily. The Spots followed his example and dove into the same bowl. Linn pulled Spot One out and put him by the other bowl, then tried to get Patches back in the game.

By the time they all had full, round little bellies, the floor was covered in milk, as was Linn. She scooped the roaming kittens up and put them on the couch, where they lined up and watched her as she mopped the floor. She put away the mop and went out to find Bes. The kittens crashed on the couch, asleep already.

Bes had left her a note tacked to the barn door. “Chickie,” it read. “Gone to pick up something. Stay in the wards. Enjoy your morning off.”

Linn looked at the driveway. She hadn’t even heard him pull out. How was he able to snooker her when Mars hadn’t been able to do it?

But she knew what she needed to do with this unexpected time. She went back into the house, stopping to pat Blackie’s silky head. Since the dream, vision, whatever it was, she felt a special bond with the biggest kitten. He stretched, slitting open his eyes, and then licked her hand roughly. He was asleep again almost instantly.

Linn pulled an armload of books off the shelves and spread them out on the table. (She couldn’t sit on the couch, as it was full of kittens.) She needed to know more about her enemies. She had read some of the modern retellings of the myths, most of which were ludicrous compared to the original legends. The originals were so dark, she realized, leafing through a very old translation of the ancient Greek tales. Full of blood, pain and death... Linn shivered as she read. She could see that her grandfather had scribbled notes in the margins, but the ink was faded brown with time
.
He probably bought this book new
,
she thought.

This made her reflect again on the age of her grandfather. And Bes, she now thought, must be older even than Vulcan. From the accounts she’d read, Bes was one of the originals that had fallen from the other plane, whatever that was.

Whereve
r
that was, she corrected herself thoughtfully.

Chapter 11

Sekhmet brought the Scholar to earth gently, avoiding cities and humans in general. The immortal’s grasp on reality was tenuous at best, and the great cat wanted to keep her functional. Her last death had been a bad one, and while an immortal couldn’t die permanently, the scarring on her face was a symbol of the scars to her soul. An immortal didn’t need to wear scars, deformities, or wounds. As long as they had the energy, they could heal themselves, and others, as the Scholar had done with Peter.

For now, they paced through a wet forest. The rain fell, unheeded, as the Scholar touched leaves and flowers with delight. Sekhmet switched her tail slowly as they walked, impatient to be on, but unwilling to break the delight the Scholar showed with the verdant beauty around them. Her paws sank into the wet leaves deeply, but the Scholar, she noted with amusement, left no tracks at all. Her power caused the immortal who chose to look like a little old lady to float, never touching the ground.

They came out of the jungle abruptly, to a cliff overhanging the ocean. The Scholar clutched at Sekhmet’s shoulder. “Oh, my...” she gasped. “How beautiful. And it just goes on and on.”

Sekhmet slitted her eyes against the bright sun, which glinted off the brilliant blue ocean, and sniffed at the sea breeze that gently flirted with her fur. No one was near that she could smell upwind. Time to take the Scholar to her library and leave all this pleasantness behind.

She sighed. “Follow me carefully,” she told the old woman. The path was all but invisible from above, merely a jagged crack in the cliff edge. Sekhmet stepped carefully onto it, feeling her claws extend slightly as the sea was directly beneath her, crashing waves breaking on jagged lava flow. The path was well-worn, for all the secrecy. Bare human feet had been treading it for centuries. Behind her, the Scholar followed unhesitatingly.

The path dipped into the cliff wall, through a narrow cleft that brushed both of Sekhmet’s shoulders. Just as she was considering shifting forms to her more slender human shape, it widened until she was standing in an almost perfectly tubular tunnel. Lights hung from the ceiling, lighting the glassy black walls. The Scholar touched the wall and muttered.