Rites & Desires Read online

  Rites & Desires

  by Amanda Cherry

  Cover Art by Lee Moyer

  Copyright 2018 Amanda Cherry

  Amazon Edition

  thegingervillain.com

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  DEDICATION

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  EPILOGUE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ABOUT THE ARTIST

  DEDICATION

  To every kid who ever wrote a fanfic

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  There are so many people to thank for the existence of this book; I guess I should start at the beginning. I have to start by thanking my late mom, Polly, for always having a book in her hand, and for leaving out all that typing paper (that’s what we called printer paper back then) and a green Pilot Precise pen while wrapping Christmas presents when I was six--otherwise my very first book might never have been written. And my dad, Tommy, for having that little kindergarten masterpiece printed and bound.

  To Mrs. Bonifay, who loved my love for books in first grade, and to Mrs. Fillingim, who taught me to diagram a sentence. To Matthew, my first writing partner: we’re almost due to pull that old story out and give it another go. To my high school friends who passed around my notebooks full of fiction, and who clamored for the next chapter when it was ready. To Tara, who has always loved a good book and who grew up to share that love with the next generation.

  To Sharon, the wind beneath my wings, who supported me in everything I ever did. You were gone far too soon. I miss you every day.

  To Chuck, Kace, Kevin, Cherie, Fran, Barbara, and co. for adopting me into the author tribe and keeping me believing in myself. To my Tosche Station family, the Drowning in Moonlight team, and my whole Star Wars circle; your love, acceptance, and support have been invaluable.

  A giant shout out to Dawn Vogel and Jeremy Zimmerman, for not thinking I was silly when I said I wanted to join them in Cobalt City, and for walking me through every step of this crazy process. You two are excellent writers and amazing friends, and I wouldn’t have wanted to go through this madness with anyone else. To Nathan Crowder, for creating the Universe and for being so welcoming to a newbie who said she wanted in. To the whole Cobalt City club, for just being awesome, with extra love to Erik Scott de Bie, who had no problems with my treatment of Stardust in this book (I was terrified you’d be mad!).

  And finally: to my amazing husband, Andrew, and my silly son, Mac. Thanks for the patience and the understanding. Thanks for the space and the time for the writing, editing, plotting, planning, and all the other things that make a book happen. Thanks for being my sounding board and my cheerleaders. I love you forever.

  PROLOGUE

  The initial impression most people got of Ruby Killingsworth was that of a wicked queen from a fairytale film reimagined as a mid-century pinup. She wore tailored dresses, fascinators, seamed stockings, and had a collection of coats so extraordinary it was rumored in some circles she’d had them looted from the tombs of long-dead royals. Fair skinned with long ginger hair, Ruby was a buxom woman--petite but curvy. Her bearing and mannerisms were those of someone much taller, giving her an imposing air her genuine size could not account for. People feared Ruby Killingsworth, even when given no immediate impetus to; that was Ruby’s favorite thing about humanity.

  Gods, on the other hand--

  Gods could be troublesome, the one she’d come seeking today particularly so. He certainly had no fear of her. He feared no human she was aware of, even those with powers as incredible as Ruby’s. She had been equipped from childhood with a measure of innate magic that made her uniquely formidable among mortals. She could have had any segment of humanity at her feet at any moment she chose. But those from beyond the mortal realm were, lamentably, immune to her particular abilities. Whatever the nature of her power, the origins of which she’d never managed to determine, it had no effect on those with supernatural qualities of their own. More than one of Cobalt City’s resident superheroes had inadvertently outed themselves to her by virtue of their resistance to her thrall. And she’d yet to meet a god of any tradition who wasn’t similarly immune. Any dealings with immortals had to be done without the aid of her own magic.

  Not that her power was working for her at all at the moment. It was indeed that very difficulty that had brought her through the Coil in search of assistance today. The place wasn’t easily reached by a mortal, but Ruby had been here before. She knew the way. And even without her own innate power to aid her, ritual magic behaved as it should throughout the Coil--as long as the ritual was performed correctly. Never in her life had Ruby Killingsworth failed to perform a ritual correctly.

  The longhouse stood in tall grass at the end of a well-worn path coming up from a rocky coastline. Ruby clutched her sable wrap tighter around her shoulders to ward off the chill of the wind. Gusts off the water continuously whipped the feather in her hair sharply against the side of her face, causing her no small discomfort as she started toward the longhouse. The weather here was never pleasant, and she cursed under her breath as she trod carefully up the path, trying with some success to keep the patent heels of her stilettos from sinking into the soft ground and gravel.

  As she reached the front of the longhouse, the door swung open slowly, revealing its occupant: the Immortal whose assistance she’d come to implore.

  A tall man with ginger hair to rival Ruby’s own stood in the doorway, wearing a full suit of crimson velvet and a smirk that said he’d known she was coming.

  "Loki, darling," she greeted him, "that is quite the dashing cape you’re wearing." Years of experience had taught her that opening with flattery was never a bad tact when dealing with this particular Immortal, and she did find his silk-lined cape quite lovely. Loki had always been a dandy--and he was more than a little bit nice to look at.

  "I’d show you the emblem on the back," he replied wryly, "but I don’t fancy spending the next week mending knife wounds."

  "Oh, you’re not still mad about Bayreuth?" she challenged, frowning at him incredulously. She inclined her head in a gesture that told him she awaited an invitation to enter.

  "Indeed," he drawled, stepping aside and pulling the door with him, gesturing as he did for her to come in.

  "You can’t be serious," she asserted as she swept past where he stood. Ruby surveyed the room for a moment before committing to a location. Where the moss-covered exterior of the longhouse would have fit into any Iron Age Viking settlement, the interior was the height of Georgian opulence. Brocade clad walls met thick velvet carpets in a room filled to brimming with intricately carved furniture and marble busts of the god who called this place home. It was a glamour, she was sure--cast either to impress or to intimidate; he needn’t have bothered, but Ruby appreciated the effort. Though it wasn’t at all her taste, she could appreciate the
aesthetic. And knowing he cared to make an impression gave her a slightly more powerful position from which to strike the bargain she’d come seeking. It was also far more comfortable in here than she figured it was ordinarily. He’d made it cozy in here, warm and pleasant; the smoke from the fireplace mingled with the diffuse scents of amber and bergamot in a familiar amalgam that seemed intrinsic to Loki. She unclasped her wrap from around her neck and spun it over the back of a red leather chair before easing herself to reclining on a silk settee.

  "It was Wagner," Loki replied, still standing in the doorway.

  "It was business," Ruby rebutted, straight-faced as she began working her gloves off her fingers. "And anyway, that’s ancient history."

  "I find it amusing the things you mortals can refer to as ancient," he drawled, crossing the room to sit across from her on a sleek horsehair sofa.

  "Touché," she said, her eyes narrowing as the beginnings of a grin tugged at the corners of her mouth.

  "To this day, I cannot understand how you got one over on me."

  Ruby let her smile come to fruition. This was good. They were having a friendly chat. It was all very civilized and social: exactly what she had been hoping for when she’d thought to come to him for help.

  "You weren’t prepared," she answered with a shrug. "You didn’t see me coming. And you and I both know it couldn’t happen again."

  "Do we, now?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow at his guest as though sizing her up in a whole new way.

  "Loki, darling," she sang, "I am very good at what I do, but I also got very, very lucky. If you’d had so much as an inkling ahead of time ... Well, suffice to say I’m well aware I never should have succeeded in the first place. And if you hadn’t found the humor in the whole thing and let me get away with it, then I surely wouldn’t have succeeded in the long run."

  The god eyed her knowingly. "I must say I am surprised you have such insight into the matter."

  Ruby grinned. "I’m a narcissistic, power-hungry bitch," she admitted, "but I’m no fool, Loki. I know better than to think I could have bested a god in any real way. I got the better of you in the moment, and then you let me win."

  "And I let you live," he reminded her.

  "Because I amuse you."

  "Indeed. And as much as I am enjoying this little walk down memory lane, I am quite certain you have not come all the way out here simply to make a social call. So forgive me for my abruptness in asking, but what do you want, Ruby?"

  "I seem to be having trouble with my powers," she admitted, cutting directly to the chase. She and Loki had a contentious enough history and were enjoying an uneasy enough peace at the moment for her to dare try for obfuscation. "I don’t know if they’ve gotten weaker or if they’re gone altogether. And I don’t know what the hell is causing it, but there’s something gone terribly, horribly wrong."

  "And you think I’m behind it?" he asked.

  Ruby wasn’t sure, but he seemed displeased at the notion of her blaming him for her difficulty. "No," she answered plainly. "As bothersome a fly in my ointment as you’ve been at times, I do not think this is any of your doing. I know when and how it started; a ritual that got interrupted last December. I thought it might be temporary, but here we are months later, and I’m still completely mundane. Although it’s the kind of thing I wouldn’t put past you, I am sure my current predicament is in no way your fault."

  "Then why are you here?"

  "I want your help."

  "Oh, that’s rich. What in the name of all that’s ever been holy makes you think I’d agree to do that?"

  "Because you want to," she answered coolly.

  "Remember: your powers don’t work on me," he chided.

  "I just told you," she snapped, "they don’t work on anyone."

  "What if I like you better this way?" he asked, obviously amused at having the clear upper hand.

  "Aww, darling, you like me?" Her tone was half teasing, half flirting, and had just enough edge to it that she was sure Loki understood the game was about to get serious. "I’d never have guessed by all the ways you’ve tried to have me killed."

  "If I’d have really tried, you’d be dead."

  "Perhaps."

  "I mean it, Ruby," he said. "Why did you come to me for help? Why should I be the one to help you with this?"

  "Because you can," she answered. "And because you will. We’re too much alike, Loki. That’s why we can’t seem to get along for more than an hour at a time. We ache for the same things in life. Controlled chaos: all of the little peasants in chaos, with ourselves in control. You appreciate having me to ride herd over the whims and passions of the proletariat whether you like to admit it to yourself or not."

  "You run a record company, Ruby," he reminded her, his voice oozing with derision.

  "Media empire," she corrected.

  "You’re not that important," he declared lazily.

  "But you’re still going to help me."

  The god ran his fingers through his tousled hair and flopped down sideways to lounge gratuitously on the horsehair sofa.

  "What’s in it for me?" he asked.

  "Anything you want," she answered. It was a plausible half-truth. She knew that, as a god, Loki had access to knowledge and power beyond anything she was capable of providing, but his usual haunts when visiting the mortal realm could surely use the kind of upgrade being owed a favor by a billionaire could affect. She was sure he was in want of enough corporeal pleasures that he could find something worth his time and energy, which she’d be able to realize without undue difficulty. Loki raised his eyebrows and leaned toward her.

  "Anything?" His voice dripped with innuendo they both knew was insincere.

  Ruby couldn’t help but to laugh out loud. "Now, now Loki darling, don’t go getting all lascivious on me. You and I both know that what you’re insinuating is not what you’re really going to ask for."

  "You think me above demanding such in exchange for my services?"

  "Stars, no! Not at all! But I do know where your buttons are," she reminded him, letting her gaze settle on his known sensitive spots as she looked him up and down menacingly. "As soon as I have your pants off, you’re putty in my hands. We get into bed together, and you’re at my mercy. That’s not something you’re going to walk in to willingly ever again--no matter how much you stand to enjoy it."

  "Touché," he echoed her earlier sentiment. "Well," he considered for a moment. "The truth is, I could use some new digs. You know I enjoy the occasional visit to your section of the Coil."

  "You do still have an avatar." Ruby had her suspicions in that vein, but that was a card she was playing close to her vest at the moment.

  "Yes," Loki allowed casually, "but he’s become rather indisposed of late."

  "Jail, institution, or mortuary?" Ruby asked then. Teasing and toying with Loki was always fun, and seeing as she had a pretty good idea what had become of Loki’s avatar, she knew this particular line of jokes wouldn’t raise his ire enough to get her kicked out without what she’d come for.

  Loki frowned in a way that told Ruby he was on to her. Was she really going to make him say it?

  "Let’s just say, that he’s out of town for the next ... four to eight years." Never one to give a straight answer, Loki had still told her enough.

  Ruby’s face lit up. "So it is true," she contended, and then mouthed the word, "President," with her eyes wide and her posture expectant.

  Loki shrugged. It was the least regal gesture Ruby had ever seen him make. "I can neither confirm nor deny the veracity of your assertion."

  Ruby covered her mouth as she laughed out loud. "Now, now," she chided lightly, speaking through the remnants of her barely controlled laughter, "watch your language. You’re beginning to sound like a politician yourself. It doesn’t suit you."

  Loki threw his head back and groaned.

  Ruby was glad to know her suspicion had been on point. President Prather was, and had been for some time as best she could tell
, an avatar of Loki. But Loki’s perceived attitude toward the man’s elevation to the title of Leader of the Free World made Ruby wonder if maybe it hadn’t been the god’s idea for him to seek that office. Her mind was spinning with ways to manipulate that relationship for her own benefit. Being on good terms with the fellow who literally owned the President of the United States could not possibly be bad for business. But that was a conversation for another day. Her priority was getting her powers back. She had four to eight years to exploit Prather.

  "You want a deal?" Loki said then, turning the conversation back to the topic at hand.

  It seemed as though he was uncomfortable with this discussion of Prather and the Presidency. She’d keep that little tidbit in her back pocket until she needed it. "I want a deal," she affirmed, the affable smile gone instantly as they resumed talking business.

  "Then I want a place in town. I want a shrine. Fetishes. A place I can center my power and manifest in your fair city without having to trifle with one bothersome avatar or another. And I think I’d like to try someplace a little more, shall we say ... upmarket?"

  Ruby quirked her lip. As much as Loki liked to pretend she was beneath his notice, clearly he’d been keeping up on her activities. He was obviously referring to the newly refurbished Ruby Tower at Starcom Center. Ruby had purchased the building as part of a downtown revitalization project in concert with Jaccob Stevens and a few other billionaires. All of them had at one time tried to pretend they were being altruistic with their investments, but really they were just making excuses to gentrify the struggling neighborhood--filling it full of ivory towers created in their own images from which they could sit and pass judgment on those below. Loki enjoyed sitting in judgment as much as the next god; of course he would want in on that.

  "How does the forty-sixth floor sound?" she asked bluntly. This was her business face. She may have come here full of charm and sass, but deep down, Ruby Killingsworth was as shrewd a businesswoman as ever there had been. Supernatural powers of persuasion notwithstanding, she had the kind of business acumen that left others in awe. And she had come here with something to offer him, or else she wouldn’t have dared to darken his doorstep. She’d suspected he’d ask for this very thing as strongly as she’d suspected the newly inaugurated demagogue in D.C. was indeed Loki’s main connection to the mortal realm. This was the crux of her pitch, and although she was sure he wasn’t thrilled to be getting in to bed with her again--even figuratively--he might stand to gain a little from this exchange. So he was willing to hear her out.