A Veiled & Hallowed Eve

by Hailey Turner

  The veil hadn’t closed behind the pair, allowing Baba Yaga and Peklabog to step into Union Square. Baba Yaga rapped her mortar against the bone pestle she rode, cackling loudly. Bits of stringy flesh hung from her lips, caught between her teeth.

  “Such an end you seek, cousin. Best hurry. Is new beginning clawing at roots of your world tree in this city,” Baba Yaga said.

  Fenrir growled wordlessly, the sound muffled by the explosion of a mageglobe against Nadine’s shield. Fenrir seemed unperturbed by the chaos surrounding them, even if it raised Jono’s hackles. Patrick’s hand fisted in his fur, the soulbond humming between them. Jono shifted closer until he was pressed against the other man.

  “Sir, we’re going, with or without you,” Patrick said, looking Reed in the eye.

  Through Fenrir’s power, Jono could see the flicker of Reed’s hidden true form around his human shape. The flash image lasted only a second, but the size and age of the dragon meddling with human affairs was startling to witness.

  “Then go and take who you must,” Reed said, bowing to Fate.

  Patrick nodded, attention shifting from the general to Hermes. “What’s the plan?”

  Hermes only smiled as Heimdallr put the Gjallarhorn to his lips and blew a long, resounding note that rang through the air like a thousand bells. Jono swore his brain rattled in his skull, and he wasn’t the only one affected. Many people around them clamped their hands over their ears and looked around for the source of the sound.

  A lull settled over the battlefield for a couple of seconds as everyone tried to figure out what was happening. The sound fell away, only to return again when Heimdallr blew a different note. The ground trembled in response, and something exploded in the horizon behind them. In the veiled twilight of Manhattan, what came streaking through the sky was a shimmer of colors that stretched from horizon to horizon.

  The Bifröst burned in the air above where they stood, a rainbow bridge of passage for their use.

  At least you lot are good for something, Jono mused.

  Now they just had to get up on the bloody thing with the rest of their pack and allies who could be spared from the fight in Union Square.

  “Do we really have to run fifty blocks?” Patrick asked no one in particular.

  Heimdallr clipped the Gjallarhorn to his belt and withdrew the sword from a sheath on his back. “Bring who you need. The Bifröst will carry you to the edge of the world.”

  Patrick winced. “The Battery better still be standing.”

  Call your pack, Fenrir said.

  Jono threw back his head and howled, pouring Fenrir’s power into the call, using it to draw who they needed to their current position. Werecreatures weren’t the only ones who answered. Jono could see the shift in the battle lines around them as vampires and fae heeded the call as well.

  In the distance, Wade flapped his wings and launched himself into the sky, gliding over to them. People scrambled to get out of his way before he landed, even though he was careful of where he put his feet. He shrugged off a couple of spells aimed his way, human magic not bothering him.

  “Head downtown when we do,” Patrick shouted at Wade.

  Wade huffed smoke in their direction before nodding his wedge head. Fenrir tipped their head back and eyed the distance between them and the Bifröst. Before Jono could protest, Fenrir leaped for it, preternatural strength aiding his godly abilities to land them on the rainbow bridge.

  The shimmering light was hard beneath his paws, the colors every conceivable shade that existed in this world and others. Jono didn’t have much time to appreciate it before Wade picked Patrick up with one claw and unceremoniously dropped him on the Bifröst.

  “A little warning would be nice!” Patrick yelled, scrambling to his feet on the rainbow bridge.

  Brynhildr and some of her valkyries dived at fast speeds to the battle raging on the ground. They unfurled golden nets and ensnared those who couldn’t make it up to the Bifröst on their own, Nadine and Spencer among them. Jono saw a couple of Hellraisers in the mix as well, along with Gerard. Werecreatures and vampires managed to fling themselves upward on their own, dodging spells and bullets to do so.

  Ashanti was the first god after Fenrir to join them on the Bifröst but not the last. Hermes vaulted up with an ease that had him landing lightly on his toes. Fae beholden to Medb tried to climb onto the Bifröst but were summarily driven off by those already standing on it. The sound of assault rifles going off was a drone in Jono’s ears.

  Jono made his way to Patrick, who was huddled with Nadine and Spencer, all three of them staring south at where the Bifröst followed Broadway through Manhattan. Situated above the fray, Jono could see past the brightness of the rainbow bridge the insidious glow of a creeping spellwork crawling over the skyscrapers.

  “Is Samhain over?” Nadine asked.

  Patrick shook his head. “No.”

  “Are you sure? Because that looks like a sacrificial circle to me.”

  Patrick glanced down at Jono, face pale, jaw clenched tight. Jono shifted on his paws to press against the other man in what comfort he could offer.

  “Then you better start running,” Hermes said, already racing forward.

  “I hate when he’s right,” Patrick muttered under his breath.

  “Save your breath. You will need it,” Fenrir said.

  Sod off, Jono grumbled.

  They ran, Jono’s long stride eating up ground, though he never left Patrick’s side. Time flowed differently past the veil, and it seemed to flow differently on the Bifröst itself. The world bent beyond the edges of the rainbow bridge, blurring and folding the distance between where they were and where they needed to be.

  They might have left one ground battle behind them, but the aerial one followed them downtown. The reactionary storm hadn’t let up, and neither had Quetzalcoatl and Tezcatlipoca’s battle in the clouds. Their battle cries followed them like lightning, though Jono took some comfort in the aerial support of Wade, Hinon, and the valkyries.

  The closer they got to the Battery, a heavy sense of foreboding settled in Jono’s gut. The acrid scent of hell hung in the air despite the wind and rain, stinging Jono’s eyes. Something was burning, or maybe it really was a hell come to earth, and they were too late.

  “Do you see that?” Patrick shouted breathlessly, pointing at something in the distance.

  The fog ahead was parting, the colors around them bleeding away to reveal the impossibly large shape of a twisted tree haloed in fiery light. Its highest branches were lost in the fog, but Jono knew from Fenrir’s memories how Yggdrasil looked when it held up the world.

  The living connection that tied the Nine Realms together had its roots in Manhattan, the same way it’d had its roots in Chicago. He didn’t think a spell had called it forth, not with the veil torn all around them. The world tree had slipped through on its own, the same way all the other scattered myths and legends had.

  It grows to carry another world on its branches, Fenrir warned.

  I don’t bloody think so, Jono retorted.

  Yggdrasil became easier to see the closer they got to their destination. Running down the Bifröst meant it should’ve been a clear shot to the southern tip of Manhattan—and it would’ve been if Loki didn’t blow up the rainbow bridge around them.

  The attack hit with a roar, and only Nadine’s war-honed reflexes kept them all from getting riddled with solid-light shrapnel. When the Bifröst broke, it wasn’t like glass shattering, but like being in the center of a lighthouse with the mirror shining right at them. All Jono could see were smears of light as the solid stretch of color they’d been running on exploded beneath their feet and they fell into thin air.

  Jono managed to twist his body so he was close enough for Patrick to grab onto his fur. They were at minimum an entire story off the ground. Jono landed without breaking any bones, Patrick half lying on top of him, cushioned from further harm. Judging by some of the cries around them, others weren’t so lucky. Jon
o’s rapid healing cleared his vision in seconds, and he hoped Nadine wasn’t injured, because her shields were the only thing keeping the horde of zombies they’d fallen into at bay.

  “We got wounded!” Keith cried out.

  “Put them behind our front line,” Gerard shouted back.

  “All our lines are front lines!”

  The walking dead clambered on top of each other, clawing at Nadine’s shield. Jono could pick out the elongated forms of drekavacs mixed in, but what was worse were the nightmarish demons that eyed everyone through the shield like prey. The demons looked as if they’d stepped out of someone’s twisted nightmare, bodies not of this earth.

  “Seems like Andras brought his own army,” Patrick coughed out as he slid off Jono. “Where the fuck is Odin?”

  As if answering his question, a massive lightning bolt ripped free of the clouds and slammed to the ground in front of Yggdrasil. Fenrir used Jono’s mouth to say, “Keeping hell at bay.”

  “Hell or, you know, Hel?” When Fenrir didn’t answer, Jono and Patrick shared a look. “All right, so we’re fucked.”

  Everyone around them was getting to their feet if they could, assessing the situation past Nadine’s shield. As Jono and Patrick moved closer to the front, a handful of spells impacted against the barrier, evidence that Dominion Sect magic users were up ahead somewhere.

  The zombies and demons in front of Nadine’s shield split apart, opening space in the street. It gave Jono a view of the intersection that curved around the edge of the Battery. Jono growled at the pair of gods who stood before them, their godheads shining through their auras.

  Through the shimmer of Nadine’s shield, Jono could see that Ares was decked out for war, while Loki looked the same as he had in Salem. Hunters carrying demons in their souls ranged around the pair. Even though Nadine’s shield blocked the wind, it couldn’t block the overwhelming scent of hell.

  Towering over even the skyscrapers was Yggdrasil, the top of the world tree disappearing into the storm clouds. Jono would rather it not be clinging to the edge of Manhattan at all. Nothing good came of another world’s foundation digging roots into their own.

  Nadine’s shield took another hit, but her barrier stood strong against mortal magic. Ahead of them, Loki lowered Gungnir, Odin’s spear glowing in his hands. Jono remembered what damage the god had done to Nadine’s magic back in Salem, and he knew they couldn’t ask the impossible of her.

  Patrick seemed to agree. “Nadine, if the gods attack, drop your shields. We still need you with us.”

  “Got it,” Nadine said, holding her mageglobe tight in one hand.

  Loki pointed Gungnir at Jono, but his words were for Fenrir. “Child of mine, it is time you were punished for your actions against us.”

  Your father is a fucking wanker, Jono said.

  Fenrir growled, but Jono didn’t get any sense of disagreement from the god.

  Lightning carved a furrow in the ground right in front of Nadine’s shield, charring some of the zombies and demons. Loki and Ares stood their ground as Hinon arrived with the valkyries, Brynhildr leading her shieldmaidens.

  Wade dropped down out of the clouds, spitting fire at the horde of zombies surrounding them. He was careful of Nadine’s shields, but Jono could still see how close the dragon fire burned against her defenses.

  Loki and Ares were lost to sight amidst the fire, along with most of the hunters. Wade dropped down to the street behind them, blocking the damaged Bifröst from view.

  The lightning finally let up as Hinon came to earth, his storm-colored wings spread wide over the street, nearly touching the buildings on either side. Lightning edged his feathers and danced at his fingertips as he folded his wings to his back, coming to rest outside Nadine’s shield.

  As the glare faded from Jono’s vision, he could see that Loki and Ares remained where they were behind a glittering golden shield, surrounded by bodies. Wade roared a warning at the gods, smoke and hints of flame escaping from between his teeth as he glared at them.

  Some of the charred bones moved, sickly magic flickering across blackened bodies. Necromancy called the dead to fight still, no matter the body’s state so long as it wasn’t ash. But even as the corpses rose again, more zombies walked their way, filling the street and the park behind where Loki and Ares stood.

  The golden shield disappeared, its magic sucked back into Gungnir. Loki tipped his head back, smirking up at where Wade’s long neck snaked protectively over Nadine’s domed shield.

  “I can see why Tezcatlipoca wanted to keep you,” Loki said.

  “You don’t get to talk to him,” Patrick snarled.

  Jono bared his teeth in agreement.

  “That weapon does not belong to you, Loki,” Brynhildr called from above.

  The trickster god shrugged carelessly. “It does now.”

  “Where is the Allfather?”

  Loki’s smile was sharp and mocking. “He came to meet his end at a new beginning.”

  “Fuck,” Patrick swore softly.

  “This is not our Ragnarök,” Fenrir said.

  Loki stepped forward, magic dripping from Gungnir’s sharp blade. “Close enough.”

  Behind the trickster god, sliding between the barren trees of the park, came groups of hunters led by Andras in Ilya’s body, holding the Morrígan’s staff. Hades walked beside him, the Greek god of the Underworld carrying no weapon in his hand. Surrounding them were the walking dead, puppets to Andras’ whims, as well as soultakers.

  Past them all, shining against the shape of Yggdrasil, was the sickly glow of magic that smelled of hell. As Andras walked toward them, the intricate lines of the spellwork flared up on the ground with power, lines that Jono had seen on their color-tinted race through downtown, spanning the island.

  Patrick rested his left hand on Jono’s back. “That’s where Hannah is.”

  And wherever Patrick’s twin was, they’d find Ethan.

  “If we walk into the heart of that spell, it’ll kill us,” Nadine said with a sureness that Jono couldn’t ignore.

  Patrick’s grip tightened in Jono’s fur, and Jono didn’t need a soulbond to know what he was thinking.

  I’m not letting him do this alone, so find us a bloody way through that mess, Jono snarled at Fenrir.

  Fenrir opened Jono’s mouth, and what came out wasn’t a howl but Ginnungagap, and all the primordial void’s limitless possibilities.

  This time, it didn’t bring forth an angel, only a chance. The yawning abyss sank into the ground and flooded the spellwork, following the far-flung lines of magic through the iron bones of Manhattan and the altar they all now stood on.

  Ethan’s spell didn’t break, only became frozen in time, as every Fate in existence held their breath at the end of the world.

  27

  Ginnungagap was a void in the gloam surrounding them, swallowing up the spellwork Ethan’s side had cast. Under any other circumstance, Patrick knew Ginnungagap would be able to undo the magic, but this was a new god’s beginning. This was what the yawning abyss existed for—creation.

  This was a story that had to be told.

  “It cannot hold back the inevitable forever,” Fenrir said, eyes burning white in Jono’s wolf body.

  Ashanti appeared on the other side of Fenrir, a hunger on her face as she looked at Andras in Ilya’s body. “Nothing in all the worlds is inevitable.”

  “The Fates say otherwise,” Patrick said.

  “I taught you better than to believe in their idea of absolutes.”

  The crash of magic against Nadine’s shield was like grenades going off. The attack spells were aimed from Dominion Sect magic users, but the electric bite to the air spoke of something stronger being prepped for an attack. Nadine couldn’t shield them against gods, and he’d never ask her to do that.

  “Adjust your main shield for a charge, then drop it when we meet the enemy, Mulroney,” Patrick said.

  Nadine nodded silently, staring straight ahead. Down the line,
Gerard spun the Gáe Bulg in both hands, angled for an attack as vampires flung themselves forward to fill in gaps between werecreatures. Sage shouldered her way toward them to plant herself on Patrick’s other side.

  Outside of the shield, Hinon took the sky to join the valkyries, his flight guarded by Wade, who burned to nothing a couple of spells aimed at the god. Patrick looked up at Wade through the glitter of Nadine’s magic.

  “Stick to the outer edges of the fight. Don’t spit fire on any friendlies,” Patrick yelled at him.

  Wade huffed out a puff of smoke in acknowledgment. This was as close quarters as things got, and they all had to be aware of that.

  Gerard caught Patrick’s eye. “Ready?”

  Patrick looked down the line on either side of him, letting his attention linger on Spencer, who was wedged protectively between his vampire guards. “Ready, Dead Boy?”

  Spencer raised his hands, mageglobes flaring to life against his palms. “I got nothing better to do, Razzle Dazzle.”

  “Then it’s go time.”

  Nadine’s shield shrank down and folded outward, shoving back the zombies and demons that had already surged past Loki and Ares. Everyone on their side followed the push of her magic. Patrick tightened his grip on his dagger and let go of Jono, racing forward with his pack by his side and the gods at his back. Spencer peeled away, Fatima racing ahead, the green of his magic already dancing over zombies as he broke souls free to put the dead to rest.

  Nadine’s shield was more malleable for a charge, keeping bullets out long enough for both sides to come together in a clash of bodies and magic and not a few blades. Patrick was eye to eye with a demon when Nadine’s shield abruptly disappeared, and everything went to hell.

  Patrick had his dagger at the ready and slammed it into the demon’s chest. Claws sliced against his personal shield as the demon screeched in agony. Heavenly fired danced across the matte-black blade of his dagger, burning the demon to ash. Patrick yanked it out and flipped it around for a different grip, making it easier for him to stab a zombie in the head. Something glinted out of the corner of his eye, and Patrick ducked, missing getting his head taken off by a machete-wielding hunter by millimeters.