Page 7 of Taken By the Blood God

I took the two steps down from the porch and headed toward the Adirondack chairs. I liked to start my morning outside if it wasn’t raining. I wanted to wake up with the feeling of grass beneath my feet, the glow of the rising sun on my face, and the scent of a new day.

My eyes were on the ground, watching where I put my feet. My wards and spells kept the lawn free of weeds, but, occasionally, a rock or other object would find its way into the yard. Or a snake would be napping among the blades of grass.

I glanced up and froze.

Talant was sprawled in one the chairs around my firepit. His eyes were closed, and his skin, normally olive, was ashen. He lay completely still, as though he wasn’t even breathing.

The coffee cup slipped from my fingers as I lunged forward. The hot liquid splashed my bare feet, but I didn’t even feel it as I ran across the grass.

“Talant!” I cried, falling onto my knees next to him.

I grasped his arm, shaking it. Goddess, had he died in the night? Could gods die of natural causes?

At my touch, he took a breath, short and sharp, and his body tensed. The color began to return to his skin, but he was still frighteningly pale. And cold.

His arm was chilled, as though he’d taken an ice bath.

“Talant!” I repeated, shaking him.

He groaned, his head lolling toward me.

I gathered my magic, unsure where he was hurt, or if my power would even be effective on him. Still, I would try. I couldn’t sit by and watch him die. Or suffer.

He blinked several times before his eyes finally opened and landed on my face. He squinted at me.

“Minerva?” he asked. “Wha’ you doin’ here?”

I didn’t bother answering his question, instead focusing on what I needed to know to help him. “Are you hurt?”

His gaze was still distant and glassy as he shook his head. If I didn’t know better, I would think he was drunk.

“No’ hurt. Jus’ tired,” he slurred.

“What happened?”

He closed his eyes again and sighed. “Wen’ to talk to my brother.”

I realized what I was seeing. He’d expended too much magic, too fast. I hadn’t realized this could happen to him. He was a blood god, for crying out loud.

“Talant, come with me,” I said, shaking him again.

His eyelids lifted, his hazy amber eyes locking on me again. “We need to go. Need to help my brother.”

“We will,” I agreed, helping him to his feet. “But first, you need to rest and recharge your magic. Otherwise, you’ll end up trapped with your brother.”

“No, we have to go.”

“Tomorrow. You’ve overextended.”

“Tonight, witch. We must go tonight.”

At least his words were no longer as mushy. His gaze was clearing, but his body still trembled.

“I’ll tell you what—if you can stand up without help and without falling down, we’ll go tonight.”

He grunted and shoved himself up. I held on to him as he got to his feet, but he swayed dangerously. I braced my legs and tried to steady him until he stopped teetering.

“Okay, a nap first,” he agreed.

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