Edie closed her eyes. She hoped he was okay.
“Actually, Satara’s gonna want to talk to you before the nurses do. I’ll go get her.”
Edie wanted to ask him to stay, but she didn’t stop him. She just nodded and let her head loll to the side as he left. Mercy looked so peaceful, even with how beat-up she was. The fact that she was alive ... and that it was because of Edie....
“I guess you owe me one,” she teased in a whisper, reaching out. Mercy probably couldn’t hear her, let alone reach out and hold her hand. She dropped it.
A few minutes later, Satara and Cal came back. Cal leaned against the wall across from Edie while Satara sat in the chair next to the bed. She was wearing cotton leggings and a loose T-shirt, and Edie smiled at the sight. It was good to see her relaxing and out of her armor. Hell, it was good to see her alive.
“We’ll have to tell the doctor you’re awake soon,” the shieldmaiden began, avoiding eye contact. She fiddled with the edge of the hospital blanket and smoothed it out.
Edie nodded. “Yeah. But Cal said you had stuff to tell me.”
“It’s about the Wounded.”
Edie straightened up in bed and nodded, raising the water bottle to her lips again.
“Astrid and I have been working to try and figure out who he is or where he came from, but it’s ... difficult. There’s no mention of him anywhere, but it makes no sense that someone unknown could have soldiers already at their command.”
“Maybe he’s working for someone else,” Edie suggested quietly.
Satara grimaced. “Perhaps. Several international leaders of the Gloaming died last night.”
Edie’s thoughts turned grim. What had he called it? “ ‘The culling of the weak.’ ”
“Whoever Sárr is, his influence has great reach. And it seems like the remaining Gloaming Lords and their followers are either surrendering to him or really buying in to this idea of a New Gloaming.” Satara knit her brows.
Edie ran a hand through her hair, which was unpleasantly greasy and smelled like hospital. “Did you figure out why he wants me so badly? Anything about his markings … or those wolves?”
Satara gnawed on the inside of her cheek. “Helleruna are very powerful. If war with the Aurora is what he wants, he surely thinks you’d turn the tides in his favor. We aren’t sure about the scars. Astrid is still looking into it.” She looked away again. Edie could tell she was leaving something out.
“And...? The wolves?”
There was a pause. “Yes. I think I know who they are.” The shieldmaiden heaved a big sigh and looked down at her palms. They were still scratched from the battle, and Edie could tell she had been picking at the scabs. “Have you ever heard of Hati and Sköll?”
Edie shook her head.
“They are two of Fenrir’s sons. Hati, He-Who-Hates, is a wolf of fire. He chases the moon, trying to eat it. Sköll, He-Who-Mocks, is a wolf of icy moonlight who chases the sun. The prophecies of the gods’ fates say the two will succeed and devour Máni and Sól at the end of the world.”
“Ragnarök,” Cal said, biting on an unlit cigarette, “which I always thought would be a decent nickname for my—”
“You’re saying that Sárr has two … what? Gods, demigods? At his disposal, following his orders? And me and Cal beat them?” Edie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She didn’t even know if she could muster a panic attack, she was so exhausted. “I guess he really is as important as he says he is.”
“Yes. Which is why it’s strange that we can’t find any information about him.” Satara peered at her. “You’re pale as a fish.”
“Thanks.” Edie relaxed back on her pillow and looked at Mercy. And speaking of fish, they’d have to figure out something better for Fisk, long-term. He couldn’t live in her bathtub for however long he stayed in the city. She hoped Marius was okay, too, even though he was technically supposed to be out for her blood. Whatever he had done to hurt Sárr bad enough to scare him away was sure to have taken a lot out of him.
But she had a feeling she’d see him soon enough.
“One last thing before I let you rest,” Satara said. “Indriði must have heard that we were looking for her at the party. She left a calling card at your apartment.”
Edie opened her eyes again and looked at Satara skeptically. “I thought she hated Astrid.”
“She does. But she didn’t ask for Astrid. She asked for you alone.”
She laid her head back down on the pillow and closed her eyes again. “Great.” She had to admit it was an unsettling thought, that a Norn wanted a private meeting with her. But after all they had gone through to find Indriði, Edie was glad it hadn’t been for nothing.
Right now, though, she was too tired to give a damn about who wanted to see her or what they wanted to talk about.
Satara and Cal had gone quiet. After a few minutes, Edie cracked one eye opened and saw that they’d left.
Beside her, there was a weak moan.
She sat up a little too quickly and tried to ignore how her head spun as she leaned to the side. “Mercy? You awake?”
Mercy shifted where she lay, obviously uncomfortable from all the wires connected to her. But, finally, her eyelids fluttered. “I’m awake....” she croaked. “Edie? Is that you?”
“Yeah.”
Mercy opened her eyes and smiled, and Edie felt her heart soar. She hadn’t been sure she’d ever see her friend smile again.
“How do I look?” Mercy asked.
“Like crap.”
“Hah. You’re just jealous. I’m always gorgeous.” Her face fell a little. “I woke up the day before yesterday. The doctor says she doesn’t know if I’ll ever be able to walk without help again. My pelvis got all fucked up in the fall, and my legs … ugh.”
Edie pursed her lips. “I’ll help you get better. It’s going to be okay.”
Mercy smiled. “No, I’m gonna make you carry me on your back like Yoda.”
Edie tried to smile, but the misery was too heavy. She’d put her friend in danger. She’d been a coward when Mercy had been nothing but brave from start to finish. And now … now Mercy was hurt, maybe forever. Her life would be harder and all she’d done was try to help.
Edie looked away when she felt tears pricking her eyes—tears of anguish, of guilt, of embarrassment.
“What’s wrong?” Mercy’s voice was soft.
With a shudder, she replied, “I was useless. I don’t deserve you.”
“Don’t say that.” With a little effort, Mercy untwisted herself from her IV and reached out a hand. “Don’t say that.”
Edie recoiled, shaking her head and forcing herself to stop crying. She had to take responsibility for this, if nothing else. “I’ve treated all of you like garbage from the start … Cal, Satara, you. And you’re hurt because of me.”
“Edie….” Mercy’s eyes were filling with tears, too, her brows knit. “Friends are supposed to be there for each other. And you were. You saved my life.”
“But after keeping all of this from you for so long, and blowing you off … and after how I acted at the party—”
Mercy withdrew her hands, watching her tearfully.
“I hurt you. I’ve been hurting you.” She wrung her hands. “But I was wrong. And I’m so, so sorry.”
Mercy’s face scrunched up a bit as tears began to fall. “I get it. And you’re not my sidekick, Edie … you’re so much more than that.” She stretched her hand out again, struggling for Edie’s. “Don’t you forget it again.”
Edie would do better. She wouldn’t let Mercy’s support go to waste—or Cal’s, or Satara’s, or anyone else’s. Her heart swelled as she took her friend’s hand and managed a smile.
They were only close enough to hold each other’s fingertips, but it was enough. It had to be, for now.
THE END
Thank you for reading!
If you’d like to find out exactly what happened to Hervey at the vet, the short story “Night Vet of the Livi
ng Dead” is available exclusively to members of my mailing list. It’s over 40 pages of extra necromancer goodness! Grab your copy at BookHip.com/VZJHLG.
And be sure to turn the page for author notes and acknowledgments. You might learn a thing or two about Norse pronunciation as well!
Acknowledgments
Nothing you just read could have happened without the help of everyone who has supported me through the grueling process of finally getting this behemoth written and published. In particular, I want to acknowledge these people:
Tammi Labrecque, who made sure I was fed and housed while I muddled my way through this, who continues to answer every tedious question I have about writing and the industry (of which there are many), and who patiently listened to my every insistence that this book would be garbage and I should just give up.
Audrey, my boyfriend, who has not only lent insight but actual, entire characters to this story, such as Matilda.
My friend, Danny, for helping me figure out my main characters and always encouraging me—Edie would be incomplete without him.
Marina Finlayson, whose stories I have enjoyed immensely not just as a reader but as an editor, who is always ready with words of encouragement or a sharp beta read, and who is, overall, just one of the smartest, sweetest, best people I’ve ever known.
C. N. Crawford, in particular Christine, whose company I always enjoy when we get to hang out in person—whether we’re slumming it in London or climbing extremely steep hills to find hanging trees in Salem, Massachusetts; whose books have always made me cackle (or choke up), and who is always ready to jump in and help others with their careers because she truly, deeply wants other people to be successful and fulfilled.
My therapist, Larry, for giving me that look he gives me when I am, yet again, saying stupid shit.
Finally, the one person I wish I could thank but can’t: Blaze.
A year and a half ago, a long-time friend and ex-boyfriend of mine passed away suddenly in a car crash. I am a very young adult and so had never had a good friend pass away before. It was the most utterly shocking thing I had ever experienced, more so because it was him. People say, whenever someone dies, “They had such good energy. They were a light wherever they went, everyone loved them, it couldn’t have happened to a nicer person.”
Blaze was one of the few cases where this was 100% irrevocably, indisputably true. He was a dork and could occasionally be a total idiot, but I’m convinced that he was some kind of angel on earth, and he really did touch the lives of every single person he ever encountered. He talked me out of and down from some really stupid shit as a teenager; we were each others’ only friends for a very long period of time. He had such a strange, magical, immense love for everyone and everything. He was one of the few people I've met that I would call truly beautiful right down to the core of his soul.
In June, I had already started Rune Awakening, but it was not going well. Frankly, it was shit.
Then he died. I took a few weeks, and even though he and I had fallen out of touch, I could not stop thinking about how young he had been. I couldn’t stop thinking about all the things that he would never experience. I started thinking about my own life—what could I do to honor him? What could I do to make it so that he lived on in this world, in some little way? How could I just sit around and not do anything with my life when I still had a chance and he didn’t?
I started writing down my feelings about what had happened. Then I started to look at Rune Awakening again, and all of a sudden, I had a much deeper understanding of what needed to happen.
A lot of the words I wrote in that session, where I wrote down all my feelings about what had happened, can still be found in the book somewhere. There’s a lot of Blaze in Mercy, too. But in the end, he didn’t inspire one particular character or scene in the book—he brought it all to life. It’s because of him that I said, okay, I need to make up my mind; I have no choice but to do this, and here’s how it needs to happen.
I wish you were here. Let’s get this bread, buddy.
Glossary
I use a lot of crazy words in this book that you might not know how to pronounce, so here’s a small list of all of the Norse words in Rune Awakening and how to pronounce them:
Ván – vahn
Ljósálfr – lyos-ahl-fur
Døkkálfr – deuhk-ahl-fur
Hellerune – hella-roona
Hellerunan – hella-roonin
Marius –maah-rius
Eirik – ey-rick
Sørensen – suh-ren-sin
Jörmundgandr – yur-mundt-gaahn-dur
Valkyrie – val-keer-ee
Valkyir – val-kyeer
Sól – sol
Máni – mah-nee
Fenrir – fen-reer
Valhalla – vahll-hahlla
Sessrúmnir – sess-room-neer
“Nøkkviðr minn sár, rjóða minn knífr” – Neuhk-vi-dthur min saar, r’yo-dtha min nee-fur. Rough translation: “Naked my wound, red my knife.”
Seiðkona – saydth-con-ah
Seidr (or Seiðr) – say-dur (or say-dthur)
Fólkvangr – fuhlk-van-gur
Freyja – frey-ya
Aesir – ey-seer
Vanir – van-eer
Vættr – vaa-tur
Sjóvættr – syo-vaa-tur
Fiskbein – fisk-bane
Njord – n’yord
Sandgerði – sant-gur-they
Wyrd – weird
Indriði – in-dri-dthee
Urðr – oor-dthur
Tréfolken – trey-vol-ken
Jötunn – yuh-tunn
Tyr – teer
Sárr – sah-rur
“Váði vitnis” – vaah-dthi vit-niss. Translation: “Foe of the wolf,” a kenning for Odin.
Hati – hah-tee
Sköll – skuhl or skohl
Ragnarök – rag-nuh-ruhk
About the Author
Genevra Black is an author, a video game and movie nerd, horror buff, and lover of all things odd. She lives in Maine with her partner and her pitbull. She has always been enamored with mythology, folklore, and the paranormal. Her favorite pastimes include playing Dungeons & Dragons; gaming; watching slasher films; and designing and creating costumes/cosplay. She loves spending time in epic, exciting worlds, and each and every one of her stories is a personal invitation for readers to join her!
Find her at:
genevrablack.com
fb.me/GenevraBlack
twitter.com/GenevraBlack
[email protected]
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