Gamble of the Gods: Idol Maker, #2

By Sonja Dewing

"This novel is brilliantly written, with compelling characters and a dynamic, action-filled plot. " - Susan Sewell, Reader's Favorite

AJ Bluehorse, a software developer who's inherited powers from an Inca god, never counted on having to solve a murder on the Navajo reservation. If she doesn't find the malevolent skinwalker soon, she might be the next victim and the old gods will have to find someone else to save the world. 

AJ must face many things that she's not ready for, her family she left behind when she moved to New York, controlling her powers of fire without burning down the world, and learning to be a woman sleuth as well as a hero.

Gamble of the Gods is the story of one woman's exploration of mystical powers with plenty of action, thrills, and adorable dogs.

"Gamble of the Gods is a fun and sexy adventure that had me turning pages and wishing for more. Fans of Mercedes Lackey's Diana Tregarde series will find themselves just as enchanted by this worthy sequel to the Toy of the Gods." –Elisabeth Loya, Author

Book 2 of the Idol Maker series - yet stands on its own with a strong female character and page turning story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Plot Duckies
• Release date: Sep 30, 2019
• ISBN: 9781733596459

Book preview

1

PREVIOUSLY ON..

You know when you watch the next episode of a series and they say, Previously, on such and such? This chapter is just like that.

Let’s say you bought this book first for whatever reason and haven’t yet read the first book in the series. It’s near impossible to add in all the details without bogging down this book with flashbacks and background.

So, if you want all the backstory in a tight little chapter, or maybe want a refresher before you continue on, I hope you like this! (If not, skipping this chapter is totally acceptable.)

Book 1: Toy of the Gods - Leslie Kicklighter agrees to go on a simple expedition, a tour of the Amazon on a luxurious, prototype hovercraft boat that promises to revolutionize travel. The only problem is an Inca god wants to use the passengers for his own agenda: finding someone to take over the mantle of his powers.

Captain John Holbrook is having nothing but trouble because someone keeps sabotaging him. He doesn’t trust Leslie and he definitely doesn’t trust the local entrepreneur, Simon Leverence.

The Inca god, Viracocha, takes over the body of a man named Sun CAstel, one of the tour guides, in order to get to know the passengers. When he can’t figure out who is worthy of his powers, he strikes down the ship and strands everyone in the jungle, forcing them all to make their way through the jungle on foot.

At the end of Toy of the Gods, Viracocha finally chooses AJ Bluehorse to receive his Inca god powers. She heads home not sure what’s happened to her.

FYI: When I wrote Toy of the Gods, I had no idea it was going to lead to a sequel. The Inca god character was the one that chose AJ. So, I couldn’t leave the book there, I had to see how it all turned out.

And now, the thrilling mystery, Book 2: Gamble of the Gods…

Books 3: Castoffs of the Gods, and Book 4: Relics of the Gods are available now!

2

YEE NAALLOOSHII

Bonnie trudged through the moonlit New Mexico desert, sending up bits of sand with every step of her faded Nikes. She moved steadily in the direction of the casino, even though all she saw in front of her were rolling hills with dots of cactus and bushes. The dark desert sky, bright stars, and partial moon made it feel spooky. Glancing back, she could see only more hills. Thank goodness that man wasn't following her. She was pretty sure he hadn't seen her when she slipped out of his cabin.

Feeling safe enough for some light, she pulled out her phone and checked for cell coverage. Damn, still no connection. Her friend, Pam, would never let her hear the end of this. Bonnie's instincts had kept her alive while hitchhiking around the states, so far.

When Bonnie met him at the casino playing a one-armed bandit, he had seemed like a decent local guy with the promise of a free meal. He told her to call him Ma'ii and shared a story about growing up on the rez. He promised lamb stew and maybe even some elk meat. She had never talked with a Navajo before. She figured he had more interesting stories he might share with her and she loved hearing about other cultures.

She had gladly climbed into his beat up truck, but the second they turned off the highway toward the remote buildings, she started to worry. When they walked into his cabin, the smell was overwhelming. The stench made her nose wrinkle in disgust.

Don't worry about the smell, Ma'ii said. I dry a lot of herbs and grasses. They tend to smell skunky.

The place looked normal enough. A new TV sitting in the corner, but it looked out of place with the old wood furniture. The couch was covered in blankets, old and beat up under those layers. And there was that door. Closed so she couldn't see behind it. The dark wood-paneled door looked solid and it had a heavy-duty padlock. She did a double take at a dark red blotch on the door handle. Rust, certainly, but that's not where her mind went.

Now she was trying to put as many miles as possible between her and Ma'ii's cabin. In the distance, a coyote bawled, the sound echoing through the hills. She couldn't tell if it was one or twenty.

She had heard plenty of coyotes before, growing up in California and they had all sounded mournful but this one sounded excited. It made her skin crawl. Weird, she thought. Not that coyotes were anything to be afraid of. Her dad had once rescued their dog from a coyote about to pounce, and it had rushed off at the sight of a human.

But if there was a pack, maybe she should worry.

She wrapped her blue scarf a little tighter to keep out the cool night air. She tried pulling her jean jacket tighter but it was missing too many buttons to be of use. She didn't think Ma'ii would come looking for her. If she could make it to the top of the next hill, maybe she would have cell service and could call for an Uber, if they had them out here on the outskirts of Gallup.

The coyote called out again, closer this time. Her feet crunched on something. She looked down into the blank stare of a rabbit's skull. Stepping over it, she spotted more blank stares. She turned on the flashlight on her phone and panned the light around. The dry arroyo was filled with tiny skeletons and decaying flesh. The stench of methane and rot assailed her, and she covered her nose with her scarf. It was even worse than when she worked in a restaurant and had to throw trash into the garbage bin in the alley. She swallowed hard and let the light from her cell phone fall back to her feet. As her eyes adjusted back to the moonlight, the white bones shone bright.

It didn't make sense. So many bones. She had heard of animals going somewhere to die, but rabbits, and whatever the other animals were, that couldn't be normal.

Some of the carcasses were still decomposing. She could make out the remnants of skin and hair on some of the bones.

Suddenly, there was movement in the distance. A coyote was weaving its way between bushes and cactus down the hill.

Coyotes didn't attack people though. Right? They were too small and scrawny to take down even her. Unless it was rabid. Maybe she should move faster.

She took a step to climb out of the sandy creek bed when she accidentally kicked another skull. It rolled onto the top of her foot -- and a human skull stared up at the night sky.

She gasped and stepped back. I gotta get out of here, she thought. The coyote called again.

She scrambled up the side of the arroyo, but her right foot slipped in the sand. She grabbed a scrub bush to keep from sliding more and glanced behind her. She could see the coyote. It was standing on the other hill, silhouetted by the moonlight. Her breath caught in her throat. It was the biggest coyote she had ever seen.

Its eyes reflecting the moonlight as it looked at her. It smiled, showing its fanged teeth and that one eyebrow lifted. It was moving toward her.

She struggled up the hillside, but the sand was giving her no purchase. She had to calm herself, walk to a different hill. The coyote wasn't going to attack a human. She glanced back at the carcasses and skeletons. Unless it was responsible for all this?

Then the coyote was rushing across the arroyo. She heard it breathing next to her.

She turned to look at the fierce stare from the coyote. She gasped as its golden-brown eyes shifted to solid brown, human eyes. Then back to coyote.

What the hell. She should have stayed at the casino.

The coyote's lips curled and exposed fangs. She screamed as it leaped, its jaws aimed at her throat.

She grabbed at sand and threw it into its eyes while she jumped back into the middle of the arroyo, among the bones, but not before it had nipped at her arm.

There was no time to look, but she could feel pain and blood seeping down her arm.

The coyote snarled. She was making too much noise on the crunching bones. The coyote was scratching at its eyes, but its nose was pointed toward her the whole time.

She timed her leap with its leap, jumping off to her right. Ahhh! She landed on her ankle wrong and collapsed. She grabbed at the bones lying around her, trying to find something sharp. The laugh coming from the coyote was definitely not normal.

The now open and hooded eyes of the coyote belied its intention to continue attacking.

She grabbed at the first thing she could. She grimaced at the feel of squishy grossness and threw the partially decomposed head of something at the coyote. She choked on the rancid smell. The coyote let it bounce off its coat and sneezed.

It was toying with her, slowly coming at her. She could feel its enjoyment.

This thing was out to kill her. She was going to die with these stupid bones.

If she was going to die though, she would make this bastard pay. Bonnie found a long bone and raised it as the coyote, eyes open, crept toward her with a smile.

3

AJ BLUEHORSE

AJ's heart was pounding with fear. She lay in bed, eyes closed, and went through what she remembered from the nightmare. The coyote had reminded her of the old stories from home about skinwalkers. Men who could put on the skin of animals, whose souls had somehow gone wrong in their search for things they should have left alone. Usually brought on by their greed.

What stood out for her were the beat-up cabin, the crunch of the bones underfoot, the Nikes, and the human eyes of the coyote. She had realized she was dreaming, but she couldn't wake herself until the coyote attacked.

She was comforted by the fact that she was safely in her bed in her apartment in New York City. It had been only a month since she had come home from the Amazon, and she tended to have flashbacks of fighting her way through the jungle with the other travelers from the ship, Toy of the Gods. A dream about the desert, more than likely New Mexico, should have been a welcome change.

With the magical powers unexpectedly given to her from an Inca god during their trip into the Amazon, she was worried that somehow her powers would make her dreams materialize into reality. She knew now that the god Viracocha had been looking for someone to carry on his powers and to use it in a positive way, but she wished he hadn't given them to her. She didn't know how they worked yet, and the last thing she wanted was to find herself transported to the desert, in the middle of nowhere. She had had her fill of hiking already, enough for a lifetime. She was glad the nightmares had stayed where they belonged, in her unconscious.

But this new dream, being hunted by a coyote. That was disturbing.

She ran her hand through her short dark hair and slipped into a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt. As was her morning ritual, she ran her hand over the tattoo on her upper right arm. The image of a gothic butterfly reminded her daily that life was not always rainbows and butterflies and more importantly that not everyone was as fortunate as she had been.

Her other morning ritual, since coming back from the Amazon, was meditation to relax and focus her powers.

Not that the powers had been especially helpful so far. She had been able to call up a flame only to light candles. She could feel an energy move through her sometimes when she felt agitated or when she was excited about a computer program she was working on. It was almost the same energy she felt when she focused on creating the blue flame that could erupt from the tip of a finger or in the palm of her hand. But there was more power she couldn't access yet, or at least it felt that way. Like an itch she couldn't scratch.

Her cell phone played a country western tune. That meant it was her cousin calling, Christine Begay.

Hey, Cous, AJ answered.

"Ya'at'ééh Cousin, I'm glad I caught you. I know how busy you can get. Is dis a good time?"

AJ appreciated the familiar sound of a family member from the rez in their clipped way of talking and the slight accent, but it also reminded her of what she was missing. Sure. It's good to hear from you.

You too, AJ. Now her cousin's voice was coming in a whisper. I have to tell you, the casino is in trouble. We're having some computer issues and dese consultants don't seem to know what dey're doing. We need you.

AJ's heart sped up a beat.

She had never fully supported the idea of a Navajo casino. The gambling god from their origins had taught them that gambling was something that the Navajo should avoid. For years, the Diné people had voted against using gambling as a way to make money, but the idea had been put to a vote yet again and passed this time, and now there were four casinos. However, her cousin, as well as others, had good paying jobs by working there, and profits went to the infrastructure of the reservation. She supposed she could at least offer her services.

They'd have to pay my consulting fee.

I know dey'll be willing to pay it. We're in a real bind here. Besides, you owe me.

Of course, she'd play that card. AJ sat down and thought carefully about her decision. Her cousin waited patiently on the other end.

I'll email you my contract. Once someone from the casino signs off, I'll be there.

Thank you, AJ. She paused, "It will be good to see you again. Hágoónee'"

"Á'aa, hágoónee,'" AJ responded.

She went into the living room where her four computer monitors were set up next to her collection of family photos; a photo of her on her newest ride, a classic 1972 Benelli Tornado motorcycle; her favorite black and white photo of her mother; a picture of her boyfriend, Frederick, she had taken on the day they had made it out of the Amazon jungle and he had asked her about going on a date; and a clear bowl filled with native soil from New Mexico.

At her computer, she typed in the details to the agreement. She hesitated at the amount. Should she put in a high amount in the hope they would say no? But if they said yes, she'd look like she was in it for the money, not something she'd want her relatives to think.

She put in her standard rate and sent it on to her cousin. More than likely, she was in for a trip into her past, one that would not be easy. Maybe that was why she had had the nightmare? Perhaps she had sensed a trip to New Mexico was in her future.

AJ padded through the apartment enjoying the feel of the old wood on her bare feet. She hit the button for the coffee maker and made her way to the windows overlooking New York City, the green of Central Park attracting her attention.

Then she spread out her yoga mat and sat down, taking deep breaths. The power that had been given to her from an Inca god had made her prone to agitation. Not that she was a perfectly calm person to begin with, but her friend Samantha had suggested she take yoga. Actually, Samantha had suggested she go see some swank yoga instructor in Hollywood, but AJ wasn't into the idea. Instead, some YouTube videos had been fine.

She ran through several poses she had learned. Then she backed away from the windows to make sure she couldn't be seen by anyone below or from any of the windows of the business building that was tall enough to look in.

She called up the fire in her palms, felt a tingle in her hands, and played with it between her fingers. Then she reached down and willed it to spread onto the floor, knowing it wouldn't actually burn. The blue flame licked and spread. There was no sound and no smell. She encouraged it to move around her and felt the soft warmth from the flame, like body heat. Instead of burning or damaging anything, it simply enveloped things.

She sat down in the middle of the flames and appreciated the beauty. Purples and blues flickered around her. She willed it to burn brighter, then higher; the heat was enough to warm up the apartment to a comfortable temperature, for someone who grew up in the desert. Then she focused and brought it all back within, the energy swirling inside her.

The power coursing through her body was unmistakable. If she could give it a color, it would be bright red, not the blue that she saw in the flame.

This time she focused on her potted plant that was almost dying from lack of water. She knew Viracocha, the god who had posed as a man, had had many capabilities before giving them to her. He had pulled a scene from history and spread it before her and her fellow travelers; he had disappeared before their eyes; he had even grown the jungle plants around them. She focused on the leaves and willed her stingy plant to grow.

Nothing happened, and the coffeepot finished brewing. There had to be something she could do with these powers besides an innocuous fire.

She turned her attention to an empty coffee cup sitting on the kitchen counter. She imagined it coming to her. It didn't waver.

The need for a light had been what had made her use the flame in the first place, deep in the darkness of the jungle, where the Inca god had bestowed his gift to her. Maybe she had to be in need to find out what else her powers could do. She really needed a cup of coffee, but it didn't materialize in her hands. She gave up and walked to the kitchen to pour herself a cup of ink, as her friends called it. Good, strong coffee.

At least her boyfriend, Frederick, appreciated her coffee when he was around.

There was a ping from her computer. She checked and saw it was a return email from the casino.

She took another sip of coffee and sat down. The casino manager, Leonard Orlen, had responded. They would indeed take her on at the proposed fee. There was a caveat: She would be paid part of her fee upfront, and the rest