by Gwen Rivers
“She’s on the way to rehab,” the giantess says and then makes the decision for me. “Two double bacon cheeseburgers, three fries, and three chocolate shakes.”
She forks over a wad of cash, ignoring my cry of protest.
“I can’t,” I spit when the girl slides the window shut.
“You might not have a choice,” the giantess says. “Cravings mean the baby needs something. I tucked entire Nordic villages away when I was knocked up with Fenrir.”
The food is passed through the window in a brown sack and a cupholder for the shakes. Chloe passes the bag back to me like grease-stained contraband.
“I’ve never eaten meat.” It’s almost a whimper.
“And I never eat sailors named Sven, but somehow I managed while expecting Jormangonder. It’s not for you, it’s for your child who is destined to save the world. What badass baby wants, badass baby gets.” Angrboda holds out a hand. “Quit being such a flipping princess and pass me a burger.”
I reach into the bag and remove a paper-wrapped sandwich and pass it up to her.
Chloe stares at me as I ignore the burger and start in on the fries. Though they are salty and greasy, the meat smell is stronger and is distracting the hell out of me. I pull the burger out and unwrap it. Hold it up to my mouth.
Chloe’s scent has changed to burnt toast, a sure sign of the Norn’s displeasure.
“Stop staring,” I snap at her. “You’re making me even more uncomfortable.”
“Sorry.” She turns around in her seat, not sounding the least bit contrite.
Again, I bring the thing up into biting position. I think about the fragile little lub dub of my baby’s heartbeat. She needs this, like medicine.
I sink my teeth in and rip off a monstrous bite.
“Good?” The giantess asks me.
I can’t answer. I’m too busy tearing into the thing with all my might. Best. Medicine. Ever.
“Oh, Nic,” Chloe grimaces.
“Don’t judge me!” I shriek around a mouthful.
Angrboda’s shoulders shake with silent mirth.
I lick the last drips of grease off my fingers and let out an indelicate burp. No shame. It’s Aiden’s baby who will be at least part werewolf. I’m almost sorry I didn’t try the FBI’s meatloaf.
The lighthearted bubble bursts. Almost.
The landscape continues to grow wilder with signs of civilization fewer and farther in between. There are warning signs about large distances between gas stops. Angrboda, the evil witch, stops at one and when she goes in to pay she brings back a sack full of beef jerky.
“I hate your face,” I say around a mouthful of the stuff.
“Wait until you get a steak. You’ll want to have my babies.”
We drive on, crossing through salt marshes and then the inland waterway.
“What’s in the Outer Banks?” I ask when I see a sign.
Instead of answering, Chloe turns to look at Angrboda. “Are we through?”
“Through what?” I ask. We’re crossing another massive bridge. “Is there a tunnel or something?”
“Just another minute,” the giantess clenches her hands on the steering wheel.
A ripple of something washes over the car. It feels like transitioning from our world to go beyond the Veil when crossing into Underhill. “Did we just pass beyond the Veil?”
“Not exactly.” Chloe turns around in her seat. “It’s a pocket realm. Not a full world like Underhill. It’s tucked within a fold of the Veil and can’t be breached except with the help of a giant.”
“In the Outer Banks?” I raise a brow. “Pretty sure people know about this place.”
“Think of it as a parallel dimension,” Chloe says. “The laws of physics apply here just as they do in our world. But even if Agent Hanson picks up our trail, she won’t be able to cross. It’s a mirror to our own world. Same landmasses, same rules of nature, no annoying mortals.”
“Pocket realm.” I nod slowly. “So what, we’re just going to camp out on the beach until the heat dies down? Little cold for that, Chloe.”
She turns back around. “We have somewhere to go. Someone we’re staying with.”
My lips part to ask another question, but then I think better of it. She’ll tell me when she wants me to know.
Full of meat and exhausted, I lean back against the headrest. “Wake me when we get…wherever it is we’re going.”
Though I shut my eyes I can’t sleep. Images of Astrid’s lifeless face haunt me. Had Hanson found her body? I hope not. Astrid deserved a little peace. I wondered if she realized that I’d killed the man who’d shot her. If she’d take him back to her lab and cut him open to study how my poison worked.
I slip into a light doze and see…her. My mother.
Underhill strides through the underground palace, her smart heels clicking on the polished moonstone floor. She surveys the empty halls with a small smile.
It was as it had been, before the gods and the fey. Back when this land of magic had been pure and lush, ripe with possibilities.
Before the Fates, those retched hags, had interfered.
“My lady.” Rodrick, the ingratiating worm, strides to intercept her. He looks nervous, unsure of how he should address she who rules them all. She isn’t a queen, the way he is accustomed.
No, she is something more.
“Walk with me,” she commands the idiot. “Don’t waste any more of my time standing around. There’s work to be done.”
“It’s about the dead, my lady.” He begins after taking up a pace to match hers.
“What of them?” The Draugar are her army, the bodies of the fey, the ultimate weapon against the living vermin she is working tirelessly to extinguish.
“They seem…. restless.”
“They are fine.” The easiest army in the world to maintain. They can’t die of starvation or exposure and the more they decompose, the more frightening her army is for the living.
Fear is a powerful motivator.
“Tell me about the city.” She commands the fey lord.
He clears his throat in that annoyingly self-important way he has. “Queen Gretchen says there is no shield of air. We’re closing in.”
The city in question was the last stronghold of the fey, protected by the newly crowned Lord of the Land and the living members of The Wild Hunt.
Rodrick shifts, clearly uncomfortable.
Underhill shoots him a sidelong look. “That city must fall. No fey will escape this land.”
“Understood, my lady.” He hesitates.
She makes an impatient sound. “Is there something else?”
“I was just wondering...what are your plans for the prisoners?”
The beings who had worked to overthrow her new regime. “The prisoners are my concern. Felling the fey city is yours.”
“Yes, my lady.” He flinches as he sees the Fire Throne ignite at the snap of her fingers.
“Leave me.” Underhill paces the room, waiting for Rodrick to disappear. He isn’t a stupid man and he has a vested interest in keeping her happy.
She moves to stand beside the fire throne. Fire is one of the elements she can wield. In her possession is the heart of the last queen of the Fire Throne. She holds her hand out and touches the burning chair.
So close, she’d been so close to having them all.
“Lady?”
She turns and spies a ghost hovering just out of reach. A demonic-looking thing that is part bird, part human. A Valkyrie, at least it had been when it was alive.
“What is it?”
The shade drifts closer. “I was wondering if you would be releasing us.”
“By us, I assume you mean the souls of the Wild Hunt?”
The creature nods. “Queen Nicneven trapped me into service and I’ve done her bidding, but we wish to rest.”
Underhill considers for a time. “Your rest will be earned.”
“How, lady?”
“You can cross the Veil. I ne
ed someone to monitor my daughter. Tell me what she’s doing, what she’s planning. And most importantly, if she is in contact with any fey. Or that wolf. I need them all.”
Unlike Rodrick, this creature doesn’t ask pointless questions. “As you say, Lady.”
I jolt upright. Nightweaver, that treacherous slag. She’d been spying on me the entire time.
If the Valkyrie wasn’t already dead at my hand, I’d kill her.
If the dream was real. Could it be? Harmony Goldfeather, the seer, said I might not be able to see the future the way she could, that my talents might manifest in different ways.
Like spying on my mother. The shrew.
The car bumps along a dirt road and I realize it wasn’t just the dream that woke me.
“Where are we?” I ask as we drive up to a rickety costal-style home. It has three decks facing the sound side of the sandbar. The giantess parks in the open space next to a rusted out pick up.
“The pocket realm,” Angrboda dips her head to the side until her neck cracks.
“There are houses here?”
Chloe turns to face me. “Think of it as a mirror for the real world. Anything there is here.”
“Except for the pesky mortals.”
“Now you’re getting it.”
“What is this place?” I glance around.
The two exchange glances as Angrboda pops the driver’s side door and chucks her thumb toward the house. “I’ll just go check on Jedda.”
“Whose Jedda?” I face my aunt. For some reason her scent has shifted to nervous lemon-lime soda.
“Jedda is Wardon’s progeny and the new Master of the Waves, thanks to Aiden.”
My heart pounds. “Is Aiden here?”
“No, sweets.” Chloe puts her hand on my arm.
“Oh.” Disappointment fills me but I squish it down. I still haven’t figured out how I am going to break the news to my wolf about being knocked up. Gods, what if he thinks it isn’t his.
No, he wouldn’t.
But then we didn’t exactly…
Ugh, I can’t think about this.
“Whose house is this? I don’t suppose they have many rentals in the pocket realms.”
Chloe turns to face me. “Nic, I’m not sure how to tell you this….”
I huff out a sigh. “Can it wait? I really need to pee.”
She shakes her head, red-gold curls slipping free from her bun. “No, you need to know it now. This place was constructed specifically to protect her.”
“To protect who?” She must be a big deal if the giants and the Fates had banded together to shelter her. Hell, I was the Risen Queen and they hadn’t even gone to such lengths for me.
Chloe takes a deep breath and the words come out in a rush. “Your biological mother.”
Surprise
I stare at her for what feels like an eternity. All the meat I’d consumed forms a giant ball of icy ick in the center of my stomach. “My mother is dead. Aiden told me.”
“Aiden doesn’t know,” Chloe says. “We faked her death using a changeling.”
“Who faked her death?” Had Aiden been lying to me?
“Me, Addy, a giant who owed us a favor.”
I huff out a breath. “When was this?”
“Years ago. After the first time, the fey appeared to her.” She holds my gaze. “The fey Underhill sent to capture her.”
“I don’t understand. Why would Underhill want her?”
“Blood ties are strong,” Chloe says. “The stronger the tie, the stronger the magic one can do on their intended target. She probably wanted to summon you to her and Sophie was the closest genetic match.”
I shake my head. My first mother had tried to have my second mother abducted. I am a pregnant, virgin serial killer.
Do they have shrinks for people with problems like mine?
“You said her name was Sophie,” I say slowly. “Does she know who I am?”
Chloe nods. “I’ve kept in touch with her. Even sent her photos.”
“But she doesn’t know what I do.” A vigilante, a reincarnated fey queen who hijacked her actual biological daughter.
I’d ruined her life.
And now I am going to meet her. I have to look her in the eye and answer her questions. Talk about awkward.
“What if she hates me?” I whisper.
“She doesn’t.” Chloe fidgets. “In fact, the opposite of hate.”
I study her jerky movements. “What else aren’t you telling me?”
She blows out a sigh. “Okay, well, she and your dad, your biological father that is. They’re together. And they have another child.”
My lips part. “Are you screwing with me?”
She shakes her head. “I just thought I’d get it all out there now. I would have told you sooner but it isn’t safe outside the pocket realm.”
My biological parents are together and they had another kid. A better kid, one who isn’t a freaking serial killer.
I shake my head. “I thought my birth parents were German.”
“I know. Addy and I let you think that because it was better that you didn’t go looking for them.”
I stare at my aunt. “They’ll know who I am?”
She nods. “I’ve been sending them your school picture every year. Well, every year except for last year.”
Last year which had passed while I’d been screwing around beyond the Veil. “And where did you tell them that I’ve been?”
“I said you ran away.” She doesn’t try to hide a wince.
“And now you bring me here to meet them and I’m a freaking teenage runaway who also happens to be pregnant? Jeez, Chloe. Way to have me live the troubled teen stereotype.”
Her scent shifts to bitter cranberry. “Look, I didn’t have many options, what with the FBI monitoring all of our properties.”
That much is true. My aunts have multiple investments around the globe but we had to get out of the states and away from the FBI’s reach to use them.
She pushes on. “Normally, we would have crossed the Veil. However, that would negate Addy’s… sacrifice.”
Sadness coats her words. Addy broke the cardinal rule, the only rule for Norns. They can’t interfere with fate. By crossing the Veil, pretending to be Aiden and securing my freedom, Addy essentially signed her own death warrant.
“It doesn’t have to be death, does it?” I ask.
Chloe rests her head back against the window. “She knows what she’s about, kid. There’s no coming back from interfering with Fate.”
“You don’t mean that.” Even though my nerves are completely shot, I know Chloe loves her big sister. “There’s time, we can find a way to get her back. Her and Nahini and all the rest of them.”
Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. She doesn’t believe.
I swallow hard. “Okay, pregnant teen runaway, take one. Let’s go meet the folks.”
Garrett Yates is a burly man in his early forties with a thick head of curly brown hair graying at the temples and a well-trimmed brown goatee. I see nothing of myself in his mammoth form that blocks the entrance to their home more effectively than the door.
“Is it her?” a female voice calls from behind the beast. “Nic?”
“Yeah, it’s…uh me.” I say stupidly.
She moves out from behind the giant and I get my first look at my mother. She looks like a Sophie, with her big blue eyes and bright smile. Looking at her is like looking in a funhouse reflection of myself. She’s older than me by about eighteen years and her hair is pale blond, though she wears it cut short.
“Nic?” she asks again as though making sure.
“Hi.” I wave.
“It’s so good to finally see you in person.” Tears overflow her eyes.
I don’t speak. Chloe nudges me in the ribs.
“Ow. Oh, yeah. Thanks. Uh, that is you too. Thank you for having us.” Miss Manners, I am not.
A small boy, about six years old, comes running out of the back of the
house, heading straight for Chloe. My brother.
“Oh, my goodness, you’re getting bigger with every breath.” The Norn swings him up into her arms. “How are you, Tate?”
He pops a finger into his mouth and gawks at me.
“Tate, this is Nic.” Sophie puts an arm around my shoulders, shocking the shit out of me.
Tate looks like a mini Garret with large dark eyes and unruly brown curls.
She smiles. “He’s shy.”
“And he was born... here?” Chloe didn’t specify how much Sophie and Garret know about the pocket realm.
Sophie nods. “He’ll warm-up. We hardly ever get visitors so this is new for him.”
He knew Chloe well enough. She must have come here often.
I shiver as a cold burst of sea air blows up the back of my dress.
“Oh, you poor thing.” Sophie has a soft Southern accent. It’s like honey for the ears. “Where are my manners? Come on in out of the cold. I think we’re going to get snow if you can believe that. Garret, quit blocking the doorway. Stand aside and let the poor girl in before she freezes to death.”
She smacks him on the chest lightly and he grunts and takes a step back without uttering a word.
Chloe looks at the three of us and then sets the boy down. “Come on, tough guy. Snag your outerwear. How about you and I go out and build a sand monster.”
Tate stares from his father to Chloe to me then back as though unsure.
“It’s okay, pal.” Garret crouches down and lays one beefy hand on the boy’s shoulder. “They’re staying for a little while.”
At this Tate flashes a grin and reaches for his jacket.
Chloe winks and tightens her scarf. “You guys have a nice chat.”
“Oh, okay.” I feel oddly abandoned and somewhat shell-shocked. She’s just leaving me here at the mercy of the strangers who gave me life.
Classic Chloe, out frolicking when times turn tough.
“Would you like something to eat or drink, maybe?” Sophie heads into her small, pokey kitchen that’s done up in—what else—nautical décor. “We have coffee, tea, and hot cocoa.”
My biological mother wants to make me cocoa. My throat closes up a bit. “Don’t go to any trouble.”
