Green Tea and Black Death (The Godhunter, Book 5) by Amy Sumida Page A

prince, who literally had to touch me monthly or would die, could leave, then I couldn’t have faith in anyone.
       “ I may not be bonded to you like some,” Kirill was a pretty perceptive guy, “but my ties to you go even deeper. Zere’s no ozer for me, no matter vat you say or do, you can not be replaced. You are my mate and I am yours until death takes me, not because of magic or vows but because your voice brought me from darkness, your eyes saw me for who I really vas, your touch healed, defended, and avenged me, and your kiss showed me vat love can be. I am yours forever.”
       “ Kirill,” I shook my head as I searched for the words.
       “ You don’t have to speak, Tima,” he rolled over me, “just show me.” 
       So I did.
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Fifteen
     
       Black Calvin Klein dress…check. Black Gucci slingbacks…check. Black Prada purse…check. Black oversized Versace sunglasses…check. Black waterproof mascara…check. Black lion escort…check.
       I was as ready as I would ever be for the funeral.
       I looked in the full length mirror in my bedroom and started to shake. Nothing brings home the reality of death like a black dress. Seeing myself standing there, dressed for mourning, made my grandfather's death sink in past the defenses I'd put up. He really was dead and no matter how much magic I had or how many gods I knew, I couldn't bring him back.
       “ Tima,” Kirill put his hand on my shoulder and some of his strength flowed into me. “Come on, I drive.”
       We pulled up outside the stark, two-story church, tucked away on a piece of prime real estate in Kaneohe. I looked around cautiously as I closed the door of my Jag. Memories lurked in the barren cement landscape. Bad memories. But I could do this. I took a step forward and saw myself as a five-year-old child, holding tight to my grandmother’s hand as she led me through the yawning mouth of the doorway.
       I saw the little gathering of wary youngsters again, all of us knowing better than to be excited over the prospect of watching a movie in church. If only my mother had known what grandma was up to, I might have been spared that little horror. I was lucky though, I knew enough then to feel an inkling of wrongness. My magic helped me get over the rest.
       The film had been about the rapture and tribulation, in non-Christian terms the instant deportation of all good Christians to Heaven and the torment and trials of all the baddies on earth. At the age of five, I thought I was a baddie in the eyes of the church. How could I not be, I was a witch. I had nightmares for years about finding myself alone while the water turned to blood and horrible monsters roamed the world.
       I shook myself free of the memories; being dunked under water as people prayed, boys telling me I couldn't like unicorns because they were evil(they're in the damn Bible, thank you very much), adults yelling at me for asking too many questions at Sunday school. Well, you tell me where the dinosaurs fit into the myth of creation? I never got it and they never forgave me for that. I wasn’t even a black sheep. I was a black cat in a room full of white, fluffy sheep. I smiled a little at that thought, as I looked up at my black lion walking beside me. I guess we were well matched.
       My mom came walking up with Grandma and I looked around for the rest of the tribe. Uncle David, his wife Donna, and their children, Sean and Shannon, pulled in to park. Uncle Daniel, my mom’s twin brother, was with them. My aunt and her brood were nowhere to be found.
       “ Where are Aunty Dorris and all of them?” I asked my mom.
       “ They’ll be here,” she cast a sideways look at Grandma, then whispered. “They went to a birthday party at the beach.”
       “ Isn’t Harvey supposed to be doing the service?” I felt myself going very still, like right before I had to kill someone.
       “ Oh, there they are,” my