Fallen Reign (Sins of the Father 1)

“Yeah?”

“I still wouldn’t lend it to you.”

“Very funny,” I grumbled.

She pulled her hand back, shaking it off. “Ugh. You’re all sweaty.”

I chuckled, then flexed my arms. “It’s all this sexy man-labor.”

She tutted, then rolled her eyes, only going quiet when her gaze settled on the ho

rizon. I knew that the weather and the sunshine was under her total control, and it looked like she was going to allow her domicile to transition into sunset. Artemis’s dimension turned into a painting of amber, orange, and purple. I held my breath, marveling at its beauty.

“It’s really starting to come together,” Artemis said, her chest rising and falling as she gave a deep, contented sigh. “It’s starting to look like home.”

Home. I wish I knew what it meant. “It sure is,” I said, smiling despite the fact that she wasn’t looking at me. Artemis was transfixed by a sunset of her own making, and I couldn’t blame her. It was breathtaking.

“Over there.” She pointed at a little plot of land close to the center of the domicile, right smack between the entrance portal and Priscilla’s jungle kitchen. “That seems like a nice spot for a hut.”

I rolled my neck around, my joints popping as I tried to envision how it might look. “I could probably put one up there. Nice little shack.”

“Give it a cute little porch, and a few windows for circulation. Make sure it’s all pretty. And comfy. Something you’d like to live in yourself.”

I thought my heart stopped just then. I fought to keep my voice steady as I turned to her. “Artemis? What are you saying right now?”

She smiled, tilting her head at me. “Mason Albrecht. How would you like to live here?”

37

“Hand me a knife,” Raziel said.

I sighed, summoning a dagger from the Vestments, tossing and catching it in my hand as it made a sharp little somersault in the air. “I really don’t know if this is going to work.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “You mean the knife, or the entire reason we came out here?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Both? Pick one.”

I tossed the dagger again, the sun glinting against the gold of its blade as it danced in a perfect circle. It was a beautiful day out in California, in a county I’d forgotten to ask Raziel about, but somewhere more remote and certainly less urban and populated than Valero. It was an open field of grass. Just grass, as far as the eye could see. I had to squint to even make out the road because Raziel had asked us to hike a full twenty minutes away.

“So nobody sees,” he said. That was his mysterious non-explanation.

And yes, we made up. I summoned him with my own blood again, then brought him to a nice, hip café to buy him a good, proper cup of coffee. Three cups, actually, along with two slices of cake, and a strudel. Raziel said I deserved to pay through the nose for being a jerk. He was right, as he so frequently was.

Florian blinked at Raziel, raising his hands questioningly as he looked around the vast expanse of grass. “So nobody sees what, exactly?”

“What Mason is about to do. Now, again, please hand me the knife.”

I shook my head and passed it over. Raziel took the blade from me, handling it hilt-first, and smiled.

“You’re getting better at this. Florian told me about the suit of armor you made. Was that inspired by me?” Raziel batted his eyelashes. “Do I inspire you, Mason?”

My skin went crimson, and I fumed at him, stammering. “Don’t flatter yourself. Florian gave me the idea. He told me to suit up. I did what I had to do in that situation to protect myself.”

“And indeed you did. No suit of armor you could have borrowed through the Vestments would have given you quite that much strength, Mason. That was all you. The armor might have come from upstairs, but its enchantments? You created them.”

I looked down at my hands, staring at my palms. Creatio ex nihilo. This was a game changer. The pit of my stomach bubbled with tingling excitement.

“So the armor, was that the creatio stuff you were talking about, or the Vestments?”