Transcendent by Lesley Livingston Read Free Book Online Page A

to a demigod and I don’t want to blow my own horn, but what I did—what you asked me to do—is serious magick. It’s not the kind of thing you sort of shrug off.”
    Fennrys heaved his shoulders in what looked, indeed, like a furious shrug and the shadows on the wall behind him rippled out like smoke. The chain rattled and the muscles under Fenn’s T-shirt and jeans—which kept disappearing and reappearing, mirage-like—bunched and stretched taut.
    â€œYou know,” Rafe said. “Like that .”
    â€œHe’s not taking this lying down!” Maddox shouted as Fennrys lunged again, almost tearing the silver chain from the Janus Guard’s hands. “Can’t we hit him on the head or something?”
    â€œWith what?” Rafe snapped, shoving Mason back out of the way as Fennrys lunged for her. “Another werewolf? That’s the only thing that might hurt him, but I don’t think that’s gonna help.”
    â€œCan’t you get in there and do something?” Mason asked frantically. “Aren’t you, like, the alpha of the pack or whatever?”
    â€œYeah—I tried that! All I did was make things worse. Look at him.” Rafe waved his hand at the great golden beast. “It doesn’t get any more alpha than that , and right now? I’m probably his second-least favorite person around.”
    Mason glanced back at the werewolf god, wondering exactly what he’d meant by that. Second -least favorite? Fennrys shifted again and started yelling in his human voice—a litany of swear words that impressed even Toby, from the look on his face—and then, with another shift, the Wolf was back.
    Somebody had to do something . . .
    Mason shouldered past Rafe and knelt on the floor just past the reach of the chained wolf’s snapping jaws. “Fennrys?” she called softly.
    The great, golden-furred wolf’s ears flicked toward her. His nose lifted in her direction, quivering, and he bared his teeth. The marble floor vibrated with the sound of his deep growl.
    â€œMason!” Rafe hissed. “Don’t be stupid. Please—”
    â€œJust tell the pack to back off,” Mason said, keeping her voice low and even. “He can’t hurt me. You know that.”
    Rafe shook his head. “I don’t know that at all .”
    Truthfully, neither did she. But it was worth a shot. Fennrys was either going to tear himself apart, or tear somebody else apart if she didn’t help him. Mason closed her eyes and became very still for a moment. It was hard, now that she was back to being Mason. Hard to reach for the sword sheathed at her hip. But she did, and the blade slid loose from the sheath and morphed into a long, lethal spear. Somewhere, a raven shrieked. There was a cascade of shimmering light, and when Mason looked down, she saw that she was once again clothed in the shining armor of one of Odin’s shield maidens.
    It’s not so very different from suiting up for a fencingcompetition , she told herself.
    She could almost imagine that the silvery chain mail tunic was actually her lamé—the conductive overjacket—she wore in a bout, and the winged helm felt almost like the protective headgear she’d worn almost every day of her life for the past several years.
    She heard Maddox draw a tense breath and tried to smile at him in a way that would make her Valkyrie manifestation less . . . scary. For everyone, herself included. Judging from the uniform facial expressions all around the room, she was utterly unsuccessful in the attempt.
    Less “encouraging smile” and probably more “battle grimace,” she guessed.
    At the sight of her in full Valkyrie raiment, the Wolf that had been Fennrys began snapping and snarling again, teeth bared, ears back. Mason huffed in frustration and clamped down as best as she could on her own feelings of rising, red rage. She leaned the Odin