The Scared God [ManXManXMan]

Prologue

[AN: This is a SEQUEL series to my How To series. Despite the fact that this book's plot is unrelated to the last four books, I am calling it Book 5 because it will be confusing if you start here. If you want to start from the beginning, check out How to Tame a Cat. If you don't and wish to continue reading this story anyway, good luck.]

[WARNING: This story is going to be very dark at times.]

~Prologue~

The hour hand has stopped.

I knew this would happen; I had been waiting for it, actually. The silver pocket watch's minute and second hands continue to happily tick away, oblivious, or perhaps delighted, that they are counting down what little time I have left. I am not sure if I should be terrified of how this is going to turn out or relieved that it will finally be over. At least, until next time.

Who will kill me this time? The Blood Master? One of the unnamed demons? Aldis' boyfriend?

My death is inevitable, unfortunately. The enchanted pocket watch has been counting down the days to my demise for years, as it has done every time I have revived in the past two centuries. It is never wrong. I have never once managed to increase the time on the watch, though I did manage to decrease it a few times while doing reckless things I normally would not in an attempt to change my fate.

However, time never moves back; it only moves forward. Death cannot be undone. I may be revived after each death, even if I would just rather stay dead, but I still die. I still end up in the Underworld for an indefinite amount of time before my magic revives me again.

It's been a while since I last set foot in the realm of the dead. Is my house even still standing?

I set the pocket watch down to check my phone, but there are no new messages. Though I had not really expected any – my adopted parents have always been busy and Jason is in hiding with his vampire boyfriend's coven from the war – it is still disappointing. I sent them all a message earlier to warn them that I will be out of contact for a while, but it seems like none of them have received it yet.

Will I return to them or their gravestones?

Running a hand through my hair in frustration, I set down the phone and furiously rub the back of my free hand over my eyes to get rid of the stinging sensation. It only makes my eyes feel worse, but the anger eases the pathetic emotional response enough that prickling is as far as it gets.

Strong gods don't cry.

When I glance back at the phone, I catch sight of my pale face in the black screen. The dark circles around my bloodshot, brown eyes that were starting to appear the last time I glanced at a mirror look like bruises now. My dark hair, which normally neatly falls to my shoulders, is a mess, and the right side looks a bit singed from a fireball I failed to block in the battle earlier.

Why was Hors there anyway?

My phone is suddenly flying across the room with all the power that my frustration managed to generate, shattering against the wall and leaving a large dent in the plaster. I want to throw something else – a chair, maybe – but then I feel it. Or, rather, them.

There are people just outside the ward.

I glance at the door, wondering if I should free my hostage to give him a chance to flee, but instead decide to just lift the spell keeping the door locked. If the vampire actually tries, he will be able to escape, but I am not going to give him a greater opportunity to stab me in the back by informing him of his new freedom. Besides, I know his son is here – I can feel him at the boundary – so maybe the little witch will be enough of a distraction for the vampire.

My eyes narrow when I feel Hors' magic signature disappear, leaving the witch and a demon outside the fence. I would just teleport away, too, but there is something I noticed a little while ago. It started as an annoyance at the edge of my senses, but it is now actively blocking me from leaving via magical means. It is unlike any ward I have ever seen, but that does not change the fact that it is a ward, one made specifically for me. I know this because, every time I activate my magic, it makes me feel sick.

Just as suddenly as the ward appeared, it falls.

However, before I can take the opportunity, it is back up, wavering but strong. However, it is far weaker than before and I can feel it. All I have to do is...

No...no! NO!

Even as my expression morphs into an angry scowl, dread settles in my chest the moment I sense someone else appear just outside my fence. I should have expected it, as Hors is almost never without his other half, but that does not make me feel any better about it. He found me.

I don't want to die.

[AN: So, I was a little (a lot) obsessed with Marvel!Loki when I came up with the idea for this story. There are a lot of holes in Slavic lore because most of the information was lost in translation or disappeared over time, so I came up with some ideas loosely based off of Norse mythology. I'll try to stick to Slavic lore, but it won't always be completely accurate.]