Archenemy

1. Xavier

The first rays of dawn touch the forest outside my hut. Gentle breezes shake the oaks, setting off a chorus of rustling leaves. The scent of all things green and fresh fills the air. Inside my home, mice skitter around the straw pile that serves as my bed. Months ago, those little creatures might have snapped me out of a deep sleep.

But I’m already awake. Why? I’ve avoided any slumber for the last six weeks. It’s not easy, yet I have no choice.

Because when I dream, I see her.

herThe woman in red.

The woman in red.Lying on my back, I lace my fingers behind my head and wonder who’s behind these unwanted night visions. All the while, I don’t think about the woman in red. I don’t picture her ruby-colored hair and matching dress. Or how her wide eyes gleam with intelligence while her full mouth appears ripe for a kiss. And I definitely ignore the way she exudes feline grace with every movement. The very core of my being craves her. Again.

don’tAnd I’m not even dreaming. This is bad.

I’m a warrior angel. Since the dawn of time, I’ve only focused on battle. Women are to be protected, not desired. And especially not a quasi-demonic lady who sports a dragon scale tail… like the one in my dream.

Crunch! Crunch!

Crunch! Crunch!Uneven footsteps sound on the dried-out leaves outside my hut. I know that particular stride. It’s Mortimer, High Druid of Stonehenge. Normally, I dread the fellow coming around. Now, I welcome any distraction.

The footsteps stop. Mortimer starts chanting something about the coming of summer and visiting the great god, Cernunnos. This kind of thing can go on for hours if I don’t break it up early.

“Come in!” I call.

Mortimer stops chanting. He slides away the panel of thatched branches that serves as my door.

Mortimer’s a lanky fellow in loose black robes. His long face holds a pinched nose and a full beard. Like always, he carries a staff topped by a round stone. After stepping inside my hut, he bows in my direction.

“I greet thee, Oh God of the Wild, Cernunnos.”

When I first moved here from the desert realm, I tried explaining how I’m an angel from Heaven. It didn’t go well. Humans don’t handle strange things easily. Eventually, the druids decided that I am actually Cernunnos, their forest god. One day, humans may know angels so well, I’ll be forced to hide my identity. For now, I consider the ‘Cernunnos mistake’ to be a step in the right direction.

I sit up on my straw bed. “And greetings to you, Mortimer the Druid.”

“You live in filth.” Sadly, Mortimer knows I’m not the smiting sort of deity. He sasses off all the time.

“You’re not wrong.” My hut is filled with spell ingredients. Herbs hang in bunches from the ceiling. Other magical supplies—everything from new seeds to old dragon scales—lie in wooden bowls on the floor. Packets of pre-made spells sit everywhere. “I should clean up.”

“It’s not your dwelling I refer to, but you, oh Cernunnos.”

“You’re not wrong there, either.”

Dust covers my dark skin. My hair is matted, as is my uneven beard. What were once pristine robes are now rags. And my white wings are speckled with dirt.

I’m a total mess. And it’s all because of her.

I’m a total mess. And it’s all because of her.“Ah, that.” I purse my lips and debate what I should tell Mortimer. The short answer is, not much. Sadly, my sleepy mind has other ideas.

not much“I’m having dreams again,” I admit. “Fantastical stuff.”

“Oh!” Mortimer rubs his palms together. “In these night visions, do you live in a golden palace and consult with the king and queen of the desert realm?”

Mortimer is talking about my friend, the god Osiris, and his wife, the goddess Isis. I lived with them for years before Osiris died. It’s not something I discuss. Ever.

“I told you about that?”

“Yes, at the half moon.”

“Guess I’m sleepier than I thought.” I rub my eyes. “My adventures in the desert realm are not a fantasy. That was my life before I came here.”

“Ah.” Mortimer runs his bony fingers through his long brown beard. “Perhaps you’ve been dreaming how the god Osiris taught you the secrets of spell casting?”

I lift my brows in surprise. “I told you about that, too?”

“At the quarter moon.”

“I’m far sleepier than I thought.” I bob my head, trying to find the words to explain everything to Mortimer. “Although my time with Osiris may sound like a fantasy, it actually happened. And Osiris is the God of Reincarnation.”

farMortimer wags his finger at me. “Do not say such things. You are Cernunnos. Other deities do not exist. Your blasphemy will bring down wrath on our people.”

I debate about correcting Mortimer, but he’s more skittish than most druids. “Perhaps we’ve visited enough for one day.”

“Come now, tell me what troubles your dreams.” Mortimer sits down beside me on the pile of straw. “Start with these fantasies about Osiris. Perhaps that will help.”

fantasiesMemories appear. It’s two hundred years ago. I wear my desert realm garb of a linen kilt and slippers. My head is shaved and my skin is slick with sweat. Heat beats down on me as I race along the Nile, calling for Osiris. Panic zings through my limbs. Questions ricochet through my mind.

It’s two hundred years ago. I wear my desert realm garb of a linen kilt and slippers. My head is shaved and my skin is slick with sweat. Heat beats down on me as I race along the Nile, calling for Osiris. Panic zings through my limbs. Questions ricochet through my mind.Where is Osiris?

Where is Osiris?How could I allow him to confront his unpredictable brother, Set, alone?

How could I allow him to confront his unpredictable brother, Set, alone?I speed along for what feels like hours, calling for my friend the entire time. Some humans offer to aid in the search. I gently refuse their help. No humans can see Osiris, let alone track him. At last, I discover a body lying in the reeds by the Nile. Rough wounds cover his torso—the kind of slices that can only be made by Set’s massive sword.

I speed along for what feels like hours, calling for my friend the entire time. Some humans offer to aid in the search. I gently refuse their help. No humans can see Osiris, let alone track him. At last, I discover a body lying in the reeds by the Nile. Rough wounds cover his torso—the kind of slices that can only be made by Set’s massive sword.It’s Osiris. He’s dead.

It’s Osiris. He’s dead.For a long moment, it’s all I can do to stare at the corpse. Osiris is gone.

For a long moment, it’s all I can do to stare at the corpse. Osiris is gone.“Xavier, did you hear me?”

I blink hard, pushing the recollection away. “Yes, Mortimer?”

“You were about to share the tale of Osiris.” Mortimer sets his hand on my shoulder. “I came here to check on you. Allow me to do that. Talk to me.”

Guilt weighs on my shoulders. I should never have let Osiris face Set alone. Now, my adopted brother rules the Duat underworld where he exists as an undead thing. I’ll never see him again. It’s why I came to the Northlands in the first place—I must forget Osiris. Perhaps moving here was a mistake. I thought life in a different culture would help me. Instead, I dream about a woman in red.

Life here isn’t working. Time to move on.

Time to move on.Rising, I begin collecting all my spell packets into a single leather satchel. “Actually, it’s beyond time for me to leave. I’ve always wanted to live somewhere with more snow than rain. I’m sure you understand.”

“You’re going now?” Mortimer stands as well. “That isn’t a good idea.”

Snap!

Snap!Suddenly, the packed earth cracks around Mortimer’s feet. Lines of red mist rise up from the ground. The tendrils of smoke twist into the shape of ghostly faces. All of them are screaming. None make a sound.

A chill runs down my back. Mortimer’s eyes take on a frantic expression. His mouth stretches into an unnaturally large smile. The tendrils of red smoke keep twisting around his body.

This isn’t Mortimer anymore. Someone else has possessed my friend.

“Who are you and what have you done with Mortimer?”

It’s Mortimer who speaks, but another, deeper voice comes from his mouth. “Your druid friend is in this body, but he is no longer the ruler of his own flesh. You now speak with the maker of your dreams. I’m the one who created the woman in red.”

Only one entity tells you he’s magically invading your night visions. My skin prickles over in shock.

“I know who you are. Set, the God of Chaos.”

“Correct.”

The word hits me with such force, I have trouble pulling air into my lungs. After all, I came to the Northlands to escape memories of Osiris’ death. Now, the deity responsible for killing my friend is tormenting me with dreams of the perfect woman.

More red smoke rises and twists around Mortimer’s body. When the haze clears, the druid is gone. Instead, an eight-foot-tall humanoid looms before me. The man has dark skin that glistens as if he were just dipped in blood. He wears the garb of a pharaoh. And there’s no missing his donkey ears and aardvark snout.

That’s Set, all right.

That’s Set, all right.