by Nora Ash
I grimaced. “Yeah, no thanks. I’ve seen one of your spawn swimming around the Atlantic. Not interested. Now, do you want out or not?”
His smile hiked up a millimeter. “I suppose I better. Can’t give Odin the satisfaction of mounting my head on a pike, can we.” He reached his hands out between the bars. “Remove the ring.”
I looked at his hand, frowning at the iron band around his index finger. “What is it?”
“A band to suppress my magic,” he said. “Odin favors them. I suspect Saga and Magni have worn one similar to this during their stay in Valhalla.”
Now that he mentioned it, I did have a vague recollection of Magni having a metal band around one index finger.
“And it can just be popped right off? Seems a bit of a design flaw.”
Loki chuckled. “Not so much. You’ll need to put a bit of your magic behind it, my dear.”
Hesitantly I closed my fingers around the ring. It felt… odd. It didn’t hum with magic so much as it felt weirdly dead. Like an absence of sensation, though I could feel its physical presence easily enough.
I gave it an experimental pull and frowned when it seemed to just slip between the pads of my fingers as if coated in oil. I tried again, this time allowing a thread of my magic to weave through my arm and into my hand.
It came off as if it was nothing but a plain band.
“Huh,” I mumbled, turning it between my fingertips to look more thoroughly at it. Small runes were etched along the inside of the metal, but there were no other indicators of what it could do.
“Dwarven magic,” Loki said, rubbing his finger before he reached out his palm for the ring.
“I think I best keep hold of this for now,” I said, arching my eyebrows at him as I shoved it into my pocket.
Loki shot me an offended look. “If you remember, I saved you from becoming dragon food and healed Thor’s golden son. You have no reason not to trust me.”
I stared blankly at him. “None at all, you sweet, innocent lamb, you. Now do you need me for anything else, or can you magic yourself out of here?”
“Your hand, if you please,” he said, reaching out his own again, palm up.
I hesitated only for a moment before I placed mine in his.
Instantly the same dark magic I’d felt when we fought Nidhug entered me. I suppressed a shudder and let the golden light inside me follow his darkness. It pooled into a tight point, contracting inward like a black hole inside of me—until it expanded outward in the blink of an eye.
Bright light flashed in the dungeon, and when I blinked my vision clear again, Loki stood on my side of the bars.
“W-What was that?” I asked, blinking several more times.
“Teleportation,” he said, releasing my hand so he could dust off his clothing. “It’s a shame I can’t stick around any longer—that power source inside of you is quite extraordinary. I could have taught you all manners of delightful tricks. But alas, this is where I must take my leave.”
“Bye, then,” I said, quirking an eyebrow at him. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”
Loki, who’d been on his way toward the door, turned halfway around to me. “Of course you will. No one’s going to suspect a little human omega to have the kind of power it takes to break out of Odin’s prison. I meant what I said—you are the key to my own survival.”
“But fuck the rest of the world, eh?” I may have been a little bitter. “You’re going to run off and leave us to try and stop Ragnarök. You say I have so much power, but you—you’re a god. We couldn’t have defeated Nidhug without you.”
That irritating smirk returned to his face. “You knew I would even before you decided to help me. I don’t know why you’re complaining now. Would you scold a cat for eating a mouse? It is it's nature, after all. And this is mine.
“But…” His voice turned thoughtful and he cocked his head. “I suppose I did promise you that I would help discover who the real traitor is. The being who is determined to bring about the end of the worlds.”
“So you know who it is now?” I asked, some of my irritation drowning in a burst of adrenaline.
“I have my suspicions.” The corner of Loki’s mouth quirked up again. “But I do know how you can unmask them. Seek out Grim. Out of all my sons, he is the most powerful and the cleverest. Go now before your mates awaken, and you will learn the identity of the traitor.”
I blinked. “Grim? Grim knows? Why wouldn’t he tell us?”
“I didn’t say that he did. I said that if you go to him, you will learn the traitor’s identity. But you must make haste, or the opportunity will pass.”
Loki nodded at me. “And now I really must bid you farewell daughter. I suspect it will be some time before we meet again.”
I didn’t know where to even begin to look for Grim. He’d slipped out when I'd woken everyone up mid-orgasm last night, leaving me with little to no clue as to his whereabouts.
I forced my still-sore muscles into a jog as I passed through hallway upon hallway, trying to guess where the hell a grumpy Lokisson would have gone to rest for the night. There was still not a living soul to be found anywhere, but that was bound to change any moment. If Loki were to be believed, speed was of the essence.
“Annabel.”
The sound of my name lilting in a deep, raspy voice nearly made me jump out of my skin. I spun around toward the sound, drawing a breath of relief when I saw Grim poking his head out the opening of a beautifully carved door.
“I’ve been looking for you,” I said, quickly moving back down the hallway to him.
He quirked an eyebrow at me. “I wasn’t interested in seeing you have sex.”
Heat filled my cheeks. Considering how depraved and voyeuristic my sex life had gotten, it was probably a miracle I could still feel shame about it.
But getting that disgusted look from cool, reserved Grim? Yeah, that was shame tightening my belly, all right.
Before I could stutter an apology, he moved back, opening the door farther. “I need to show you something before everyone gets up.”
Adrenaline started pumping through my body again and I hurried through the door, squeezing past him into what looked to be some sort of library. From floor to ceiling, shelves with scrolls, leather bound books, and stone tablets lined the walls, and in the center were a handful of tables with unlit candles and a chair at each.
“Is this about the betrayer?” I whispered. “Have you discovered his identity?”
Grim frowned. “The betrayer? No. It’s about Mimir. I found him.”
“Oh! That’s even better!” I took a half-step toward him to give him a hug, but stopped in my tracks when he leveled me with an icy stare. “Uh… well done. We should tell the others.”
“No,” he said, walking deeper into the library.
I followed. “No?”
He sighed and looked at me over his shoulder. A lock of black hair hid his amber eye from me, allowing only his blue one to meet mine. “Mimir is on another plane. The only way we can get there is through magic—powerful, ancient magic. Not the kind my brothers or the others possess. To bring them there…
“You and I have the kind of magic needed to travel across the planes. They would only hinder us.”
“Oh.” I frowned. “Are you sure? My magic is much stronger when I’m with them.”
“I am certain. This is the only way we’ll get to Mimir, but we have to go now. Whoever the betrayer is, if he discovers that we’ve located Mimir, he’ll try to stop us.”
“Okay.” I’d really, really hoped for a few days' rest before we continued our mission to stop Ragnarök, but Grim was right—the less of a chance the betrayer had to learn of our plans the better. “I will wake the others and tell them.”
Grim shook his head. “There is no time for that. They will argue endlessly to keep you here, wasting what head start we’ve got. We will only be gone for a few hours and will return before they realize you’re gone. Please, Annabel. This is the o
nly way.”
The earnest plea from the man I was pretty sure was half ice block was impossible to ignore. I winced internally at the thought of shifting planes of existence without my mates—it didn’t sound like it’d be any less painful than jumping between worlds.
But if Grim was right, if this was our best shot at finally getting to Mimir…
“Okay. How do we…?”
Grim stepped away from me and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he reached out both arms and drew a shimmering silver circle in the air between us, big enough to fit a person through.
Apparently Loki had been wrong. Odin hadn’t made his other captives wear the magic-suppressing ring.
“This will take us there,” he said, holding out a hand toward me. It disappeared into nothingness when it entered the circle. “Come, Annabel.”
I drew in a deep breath, and bracing for the expected pain from my bonds, I stepped through the circle.
Thirty-Nine
Annabel
It took several moments before I could breathe again. The agony behind my ribs was blinding, and I lost track of time as I shuddered, hands pressed to where it felt like I was being torn asunder.
But slowly the pain eased to a dull, aching throb. That familiar agony I’d carried while I’d been parted from Saga and Magni for the past three weeks set in, only instead of two tears in the fabric of my mind, it was four.
“Sonuvabitch,” I gasped once I could speak. “Mother of god.”
“You will find sons of bitches and their mothers aplenty here, omega. And even gods,” a dry voice sounded from beyond my misery. “But I suspect that is not why you have sought me out.”
Slowly I raised my head to take in my surroundings, forcing my body to straighten from the fetal position I’d curled into the moment I stepped through Grim’s magic circle.
I blinked, trying to clear my vision, but no matter how much I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again, everything around me was rendered in stark black and white. There was not an ounce of color anywhere.
I was in a forest, I realized—or rather, in a clearing in a forest. It took me a moment to make out, the lack of color confusing to my ability to orient myself. Straight ahead of me, on a tree stump, sat a head.
When I only stared mutely at it, it arched its bushy eyebrows at me.
“Oh, what the fuck?” I croaked. “Grim? Grim, what the hell is this place?”
Movement made me look up. Grim stopped by my left side, his face inscrutable as he stared at the severed head.
“Mimir,” he said, his voice low and devoid of emotion.
The head—Mimir?—flicked his eyes up to look at Grim. He looked at him for a long moment, then returned his gaze to me.
“Well, you are almost correct, omega. Your companion has brought you to Hel.”
“You are Mimir?” I asked, pushing myself fully up on my knees. “We have come to ask for your help. I am… you prophesized a, uh, prophecy about… about me. Us.”
“You are the omega who could have stopped Ragnarök,” Mimir said. “The one whose fate was woven with five young godlings.”
I frowned. “Uh…? ’Could have?’”
“You are a mortal in the land of the dead,” Mimir said solemnly. “Whatever you could have been and however your life thread was woven matters little now. You were lost the moment you stepped foot in this realm.”
“W-What?” A horrible sucking sensation pulled at my gut. I heard the words, but no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t make sense of them. “I don’t... I don’t understand…”
“No mortal who crosses into Hel can ever leave again,” Grim said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. He looked down at me then, and in his eyes I saw the horrible, inconceivable truth. “You will remain here until the end of time. The prophecy is broken, and you, Annabel… You are dead.”
It finally came together then, my mind sharpening to a pinpoint as sick despair clawed at my aching, constricting chest.
He had tricked me here. He had planned this.
Grim had betrayed us.
Betraying Destiny
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Also by Nora Ash
THE OMEGA PROPHECY
Ragnarök Rising
Weaving Fate
Betraying Destiny*
DEMON’S MARK SERIES
Branded
Demon’s Mark
Prince of Demons*
FERAL SERIES
Obsession
Despair
Torment
ALPHA SERIES
Taken
Masquerade
Mated
ANCIENT BLOOD SERIES
Origin
Wicked Soul
Debt of Bones*
DARKNESS SERIES
Into the Darkness
Hidden in Darkness
Shades of Darkness
Fires in the Darkness
MADE & BROKEN SERIES
Dangerous
Monster
Trouble
