Axegate Walk

AXEGATE WALK
 A Ravenfall Novel
 ––––––––
 Katie MacAlister
 Copyright © 2023 by Katie MacAlister
 All rights reserved. 
 Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.
 This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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 Cover by Croco Designs
 Formatting by Racing Pigeon Productions
 http://katiemacalister.com
 TABLE OF CONTENTS
 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
 EPILOGUE
 PROLOGUE
 
 “Blah blah blah.”
 “Pardon?” Leonid of Corinth blinked at his employer, wondering if the sun hadn’t been too much for him. That thought was followed immediately by the question of whether it was possible for Troy to have too much sun.
 He frowned, and rubbed his ear. Could Old Gods get sunstroke? 
 “I said blah blah blah. Is that all mortals do? Talk?” Troy Ilios held out his phone so Leo could see the offending video. “They’re all talk and no action. How can this woman have seven hundred thousand followers when all she does is talk in a whisper and tap her fingers on things?”
 Leo looked. “She does ASMR. That’s what proponents of that lifestyle do.”
 “Well, it’s ridiculous.” Troy waved a hand at the massive wall of stone behind him. “Mortals deserve more interesting content to look at that someone tapping her fingernails on a piece of paper. What’s the hold up?”
 “We’re waiting for the drone to be repaired. I told you that earlier. Maybe you should get out of the sun?” Leo asked, studying his employer’s face. What did sunstroke look like?
 “Why are you squinting at me in that objectionable manner?” Troy asked, leaning back as if Leo were puffing foul breath at him. 
 “I was wondering what the signs of sunstroke were. You don’t feel odd, do you?”
 “Odd? Me?” Troy drew himself up, squaring his shoulders and looking down his nose at Leo even though the former was seated. He made a noise remarkably like a snort. “The idea is obscene. Why would you even ask that? Have I ever been odd in all the centuries you have served me?”
 Leo knew better than to answer that question truthfully. “I just wondered if spending all day out in the sun mightn’t have been too much for you. It is extremely hot.”
 “Your concern for my well-being is right and proper, but don’t allow our time in the mortal plane to taint your memory. I am not a mortal to be so affected by the sun.” Troy gave an injured sniff, glanced down the steep slope to a flat bit of road where three off-road vehicles sat, and immediately clicked his tongue in annoyance, asking again, “Why is it taking so long? The light will soon shift and my good side will be in shadow if we wait much longer to stem the void.”
 “I’m sure they will fix whatever is wrong with the drone so that it can film every second of you climbing the...er...void,” Leo said, waving at the tall rock structure behind him that he’d heard someone refer to as a chimney.
 “Stemming. I will be stemming the void, not climbing. Really, Leo, how can you not know the terminology by now?” Troy asked, glancing up when Leo’s phone pinged. “What is it? Have I hit three hundred thousand followers? How can that whisper woman have more than double the followers I have when I provide so much more interesting content? Anyone can tap their fingers on things. But only a god can climb the most impossible of structures.”
 “Yes, sir. It does seem unfair. However, I’m afraid it’s not a notice regarding your follower count. It’s a reminder you had me set last week about appointing a new lord to the Seventh Hour.”
 “Bah,” Troy said, standing to stretch. Leo had to admit that Troy appeared every inch the god who the ancient Greeks had worshipped a few millennia ago, what with his dark curly hair, chiseled jaw, and a physique that had many mortal women doing double takes. But his animal magnetism aside, Leo wished his boss had a bit more going on upstairs. “The Hour is fine. We’d hear something if it wasn’t.”
 “Sir, with all due respect, that isn’t necessarily the wisest of attitudes to adopt. If you don’t appoint a replacement soon, the members of the Hour are going to notice that you aren’t there to contain and police them, and at that point, all hell will likely break out. Literally.”
 “You exaggerate,” Troy said, doing a few deep squats to warm up his legs. “It wouldn’t be that bad. Everyone there is, for the most part, well-behaved. Other than a few troublemakers, and they know their place.”
 “They know their place because up until six months ago when you decided that you were going to take Instagram by storm, they had no other option,” Leo pointed out, more than a little exasperated. While he didn’t mind being out and about in the mortal world, he missed his dogs, missed his nice little cottage, and most of all, missed the busty ale wenches at the Flogged Bishop inn. 
 In short, he wanted to go back home.
 Troy paused doing his squats, and looked thoughtful, or as thoughtful as a man obsessed