War and Famine: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Revelations Book 2) (2 page)

If she had held that against him, she wouldn’t have come at all. But she had come. Something must be keeping her from coming. But what could keep Amy, the personification of war, from doing anything? He wasn’t sure, but he was almost inclined to find out. That’s where his curiosity ended. At almost. Because, truthfully, he really didn’t want to find out it was because she had decided to stop coming on her own. In this case, ignorance was bliss.

Even still, he wasn’t so much of a coward that he wouldn’t have asked about it. So far he hadn’t seen anyone to ask. Then again, what would be the point? It wasn’t like he could walk out of here with her. All they could do was stare at each other through a glass window. It had been about as fun as pulling teeth. She’d tell him she forgave him, and he’d hate her for it. He didn’t want her forgiveness, not really. He wanted his own, and right now, that was a hard commodity to come by. Guilt was much more plentiful.

He stood up and moved toward the door. The guard was farther away now, but his scent hung in the air like rich cream, cinnamon, and coffee. Ian leaned his head against the door, felt the cold kiss of the metal on his skin, and allowed himself one final sniff. God, what he wouldn’t do for a cup of coffee. His mouth watered at the thought. He sniffed one last time. He couldn’t help it.

The scent was different. Metallic and canine. Like a wolf rolling around in a pile of pennies. He furrowed his brows and sniffed again. The smell was coming closer. Fast.

He took a step back as a fist shaped bulge appeared in the door. The sound rang in his ears as he scrambled backward so fast he nearly fell on his butt. Another bulge appeared in the center of the door before it buckled, folding inward on itself. An enormous hand clad in a bronze gauntlet gripped the top of the door and tore it from the frame like it was made of cardboard. The shriek of twisted steel filled the room.

“Hello, Fames. How are you?” asked a behemoth of a man as he stepped into the room, ducking and turning sideways to fit through the entrance. The sides of his head were completely shaven leaving only a thin strip of hair that trailed down his back in a tight braid. His amber eyes sparkled as he rubbed his bearded chin with one hand. “Ah, I’ve startled you, haven’t I?”

“A little. I don’t get much company,” Ian replied, still not quite sure how this guy had torn the door free of its hinges with his bare hands. Ian was strong. Far stronger than a normal person, and he had never even been able to budge it an inch. This guy had torn it off effortlessly. Hopefully he didn’t want to arm wrestle.

“Well, that’s about to change.” He strode forward and held out his hand, offering it to Ian. “I am Vidar, God of the Aesir. I have come to release you from this cage. It is time for you to rejoin the hunt. There are wolves afoot.”

Ian took a second to process that. This guy had just said he was a god, and while a few months ago, he’d have thought that was crazy, he didn’t now. Not since he’d fought the world serpent Jormungand and battled the Norse god Vali. Besides, this guy had nearly punched through a two foot thick steel door. If he said he was a god, Ian was inclined to believe him.

“Why have you come to save me?” Ian asked, shaking the man’s hand. The god’s grip was firm, but not crushing. Evidently, he didn’t feel the need to show off his strength.

“You must stop the wolf before he consumes the sun and the moon.” Vidar released Ian’s hand and took a step backward. His metal boots gouged the concrete floor with a sound like nails on a chalkboard.

“That sounds strangely apocalyptic,” Ian replied, studying the god and trying to discern how much of what he said was true and how much was hyperbole. The god’s expression made him think that maybe there was a wolf who could devour the sun and the moon. How the hell was he to stop something like that?

“Why else would I seek you out?” Vidar asked, a grin breaking out on his face. “You are one of the horsemen, are you not? Your only job is to stop apocalypses.”

“I need to stay here,” Ian replied, sitting back down on his bunk. “I’ve done terrible things. I have not paid for them quite yet.”

“Do not worry about that. When this is all over, I will kill you in honored combat.” Vidar walked forward, patting Ian on the shoulder good-naturedly. “It is why I have sought you out among all the other horsemen.”

“So after I help you, you’re planning to kill me?” Ian asked, grinding his teeth together. He’d known this day would come, known he’d eventually have to pay for his sins. Well, today was as good of a day as any. He didn’t know why, but the idea of dying to pay for his sins at the hands of this god was strangely satisfying.

“Yes. I am the god of vengeance. It’s my purpose.” Vidar grinned. “It will be glorious. Provided you stop the wolf.”

“I can taste your power on the air. You taste delicious.” Ian exhaled, and frost licked along the inside of the cell. The temperature plummeted as he took a step forward, ice sheathing his fists. “If this wolf is anything like you, I will happily suck the marrow from his bones.”

A belly laugh exploded from the god. “The wolf of which I speak will make a fine meal for you. I think even you will be satisfied afterward.”

Ian struck, crossing the tiny room in an instant in a flurry of snow and sleet. Ian’s blow struck true. His fist crashed into the big man’s stomach hard enough to shatter the ice wreathing his hand. Vidar grunted, stepping back as his eyes widened ever so slightly. Frost spread out from the epicenter of the blow, rippling upward along his leather tunic.

“Impressive,” Vidar said before backhanding Ian across the face. “But you’re not ready to face me yet. This moon is not in the sky and the signs are all wrong. Killing you now would bring an eon of bad luck.”

Unfortunately, Ian didn’t quite hear all of those words because he was too busy flying backward. His body struck the metal wall behind him with a sound that would have hurt his insides if the whole of his world hadn’t erupted in fiery agony. He slumped forward onto the floor, blood dripping from his mouth as the blurry form of Vidar walked toward him.

“Be free, Famine. Ravage the land. Kiss your woman. Do whatever it is you must do because in three days’ time, you will face the wolf. After that, I will come for you.” Vidar slammed one ironclad foot into the wall behind Ian. It shattered like it was made of glass. Shards of metal burst outward, revealing an unrelenting sun in the sky and a field of endless black sand.

Ian tried to reply, tried to say anything at all, but the god was already gone, vanishing without a trace. His face throbbed, and the taste of blood filled his mouth. Still, his heart was hammering in a way it hadn’t done since they’d faced Jormungand. Even though he had lost, he’d enjoyed the battle, the possibility of a kill. The hunger inside him rose to a crescendo as he stood and stared out at the hellish landscape. He wasn’t quite sure where he was, but he wasn’t staying. He had a wolf to eat.

“I wouldn’t go out there if I were you,” a voice from behind him drawled. Ian turned to see an Asian man about five feet tall wearing a cowboy hat and denim overalls over a black and red checkered shirt. He was chewing on a red plastic straw. “If you do, they’ll be forced to turn on the perimeter defenses, and while I’m not one hundred percent sure on how durable you are, I’m reasonably sure you won’t enjoy having a few thousand rounds of fifty caliber bullets hit you in the next couple minutes.” He pulled the straw out of his mouth and pointed out the hole with it. “Do you see those four towers up there? Each one of those has two Browning M2 machine guns mounted on it. A Browning M2 averages something like five hundred, fifty caliber rounds a minute on a slow day. It’s probably not a slow day.”

“Seems like a lot of fire power for little old me.” Ian stared up at the towers, but couldn’t make out the weapons. Still, he could feel eyes on him. Even if the man was wrong, he’d never actually been shot before and had no pressing desire to find out if he was bulletproof.

The man pocketed his straw. “Sugar, you’re like the least dangerous thing in here,” he said, walking up to Ian and gripping him by the shoulder before steering him back toward the door. The man’s grip was firm, but not hard as he led them into the hallway. Six men who looked like they’d seen everything hell had to offer, killed said things, and weren’t even annoyed at having only gotten the t-shirt, stood on either side of the doorway. They both held a machine gun in each hand. All four were trained on him.

“No offense, but you wouldn’t say that if you knew who I was, sir,” Ian said as they made their way down the hallway. The escort moved with them, guns never wavering.

“Do you know what’s in there?” the man asked, stopping to point at a sealed door. It looked exactly the same as every other door in the place. Solid steel with no name plate and an air tight seal.

“No. How would I? You’re the first person I’ve seen in a while,” Ian responded with a shrug.

“Too true, and if I had it my way, you’d still be locked up.” The man looked at Ian in a way that suggested he didn’t make the rules. “Through that door is a woman known as Ariel.” The man waited a moment but when Ian gave no reaction, he continued. “She’s basically the second most powerful vampire in the world, and while I’ve never had the pleasure of asking her about her age, I’d wager she’s at least a couple millennia old.”

“Did you say vampire?” Ian asked, wondering whether the guy was lying to him. He seemed totally serious, so Ian was inclined to believe him even though he’d never considered the existence of vampires before. “Does she sparkle in the sunlight?”

“She does when you set her on fire.” He clapped Ian on the shoulder. “We’re in what I like to call the C wing. Do you know why? No, of course you don’t. A guy like you has probably never gotten a C in his life. C is for average level threats. It’s where we keep things we’ve decided are less dangerous than those in the A and B wings. The average things.”

“So the second most powerful vampire in the world is in the third scariest wing?” Ian swallowed hard, finding it hard to believe, especially since he was also housed in this wing. He was one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse.

“This is where you are supposed to ask me what is in the A wing, but I’m not going to tell you.” He shook his head, his expression changing from cheer to sorrow in the space of a second. “No man should ever see what is on the A wing.”

“Awesome. So why are you telling me all of this, mister?” Ian asked, drawing out the title.

“Mister Governor. But you can just call me
the
Governor. It’s catchier and truer.” He stuck one hand in the pocket of his overalls and pulled out his straw. He fiddled with it for a moment. “I need you to do me a favor,
Famine
.” He stuck the straw back in his mouth as they approached a large doorway encased in what looked like blue ceramic tile.

Somehow Ian wasn’t surprised this guy knew his name, especially since the Governor seemed to be in the business of imprisoning monsters. “What’s that?” Ian asked, suddenly curious. “Wait, are you letting me out?”

“Temporarily.” The Governor pressed his thumb into one of the tiles, and it began to glow with light. A beam of blue energy shot from beneath their feet, and while it wasn’t hot per se, it felt like it was burning him. He fell to his knees as his lungs suddenly failed to deliver any oxygen to his brain. His temples throbbed as his vision went dark. “I need you to go stop the apocalypse.”

Amy 02:01

“How tough could they be if Vidar just walked in and stomped them?” Amy asked. She was sitting across from Ian at a table in a fast food restaurant that while named for its speed, was anything but fast. Still, this wasn’t the first time she’d braved the lunch line for their double meat, double cheese animal style.

Ian shook his head and moaned, not even touching his chocolate shake and French fries. He’d been like that ever since she’d received the call that he was being released. It came as something of a shock since he’d vanished off the entire goddamn planet a few weeks ago. She still remembered going to see him that day and being told he had never existed. Even Sabastin, with all his high-tech gadgetry, had been unable to locate Ian. Then again, since the Sabastin spent almost all his time fussing over his comatose daughter, Amy wasn’t sure he’d actually looked for Ian.

She was still pissed off at him about it. The only reason she hadn’t forced the issue was because something inside her had been absolutely certain he was alive and well. She felt like she’d have known if he died. Knowing that had let her start to put him out of her mind, allowed her to compartmentalize the events of a few weeks ago and go about her summer fretting about what she’d need for her dorm come fall.

So of course, of freaking course, she’d dropped everything when she’d gotten the call to come get him and raced back to the jail. He’d been sitting outside in a wheelchair barely conscious with a burly gorilla of a man looming over him. She wasn’t even quite sure why they’d called her of all people. Shouldn’t they have called Ian’s family? The thought had gnawed at her in a strange way, making her wonder if Ian had asked for her purposely, but she was too afraid to actually ask him.

“You know,” Amy said, dipping her last fry in her vanilla shake before popping it her mouth. “It’s time to talk and eat French fries, and I’m all out of French fries.”

Ian grunted and put his arms protectively around his food. “Mine,” he whispered, and there was a hint of a growl to his words.

“You clearly don’t know how girlfriend rules work around fries,” Amy replied before stopping herself and turning red. Had she seriously just called herself his girlfriend when they were nothing of the sort? Still, when he didn’t immediately call her crazy, she relaxed slightly. Maybe he was okay with the idea? Maybe he wanted her to be his girlfriend? The thought twisted in her guts.

On the one hand, there was definitely something about him that called to her on a nearly subatomic, primordial level. On the other hand, he’d killed her boyfriend and was a criminal. Could she really date someone who was a criminal? Was she really one of those girls? The kind who waited for her man to get out of jail? As she thought about it, she realized, she very well might be. How sad.