Paladin (Graven Gods Book 1) by Angela Knight

Author:Angela Knight
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2016-05-30T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

“Actually, Paladin’s got a point,” Calliope said, as she flitted along at my heels. “Are you sure this is a good idea? She’s still pretty pissed about Barbara’s death.”

“So am I,” I growled. “She just needs to be pissed off at the right god -- Valak. A bastard I’m damned well going to kill.”

“Unfortunately, Valak’s harder to stomp than a zombie cockroach raised on radioactive Twinkies. We thought Barbara had taken him out, but he somehow survived. If she couldn’t take him…”

“That’s why we need Eris.” I ducked into the kitchen, then descended the claustrophobically narrow flight of stairs that led to the house’s wine cellar.

Great-great-grandfather Paladin-Henry St. Clare, who’d built the house, had been something of a wine connoisseur back in the day. Racks of bottles of Riesling, Pinot Noir, Bordeaux, Champagne, Sauvignon Blanc, Merlot… Basically, if it was a fine wine, it was there, probably old as hell and incredibly expensive.

A flick of the light switch revealed hundreds of dusty bottles tucked into the ancient wooden rack that stood ten feet high against the basement’s stone wall. I hesitated a moment, overwhelmed by the selection. Then I took a deep breath and started counting bottles.

Two down, tug that bottle of Merlot out a few inches, over three, depress that Riesling exactly an inch and a half, skip the next shelf, and push in the fourth bottle of Chardonnay three inches. Count three shelves down and tug out the 1924 Pinot, the 1960 Merlot, and the ‘66 Sauvignon Blanc, an inch, a half-inch, and three inches respectively.

Then I waited to see whether it would work, muscles tensing. God knew it should, considering how many times my mother had made Richard and me practice it. But given the amnesia…

With a creaking grind, the entire shelf began to pivot. Sighing in relief, I skipped backward to avoid the rotating rack, then ducked into the opening revealed as it stopped.

Lights came on as I entered, and I stared around in wonder. It was exactly the same as I remembered it, as if my mother had only just stepped away.

That thought sliced into my heart like a spear thudding home. I thrust it aside impatiently. I didn’t have time to indulge my inner drama queen.

The combination weapons room and library ran the entire length of the house. Shelf after floor-to-ceiling shelf stood crammed with books, swords, daggers, armor, and objets d’art.

Paladin’s diaries alone took up one whole wall, recording the events of his many lives over many thousands of years. So very many years, in fact, that if he didn’t write down what had happened, he’d forget. Especially given how he moved into a new skull every fifty years or so.

I frowned at the opposite wall of shelves, occupied by an extensive collection of gems, weapons, and other magical objects. In my childhood, they’d held the volumes belonging to my father’s god. “What happened to Ulf’s books?”

“The diaries went with him when I found him a host last year. You’ll remember his new Avatar, Mark Andrews.

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