But the bastard was still alive somehow. Damn.
“Where is my spear?” Mordred demanded.
I punched the ground angrily as my worst suspicion was confirmed. They had been working together from the start! The how eluded me, but all that really mattered right now was what I was going to do about it.
“Heal me and I’ll tell you!” Loki rasped, kneeling in the embers.
Mordred considered the request for a second and then shook his head. “Too weak to heal yourself, God of Mischief?” He asked snidely.
Loki snarled, climbing to his feet. “I’ve been locked in Niflheim, in that cursed book, for centuries! My full power will take time to return.”
Mordred nodded knowingly. When he’d escaped Hell, he’d stolen the Nine Souls to power up, so he knew full well what Loki was going through. And still, he showed no remorse.
Loki took an aggressive step forward. “Speaking of, where is my book? My prison?”
Mordred waved a hand. “I sold it to a bear for safekeeping in case you tried any of your usual tricks.”
Loki snarled, clenching his fists hard enough that more of his ashen flesh simply crumbled away.
I frowned at Mordred’s answer. A bear? That was random as hell.
“You are six months late, by my estimation,” Mordred said. “My Knight never returned. Explain and I may heal you. I may even expend some effort to retrieve your book.”
Loki cursed and took a threatening step forward.
Mordred grunted, holding up a hand in warning. “That’s far enough. I do still have your son, Fenrir. Do not do anything rash. I’m sure you kept the ribbon and have clever plans to use it on me.”
I blinked in horror. Fenrir wasn’t a puppy for Mordred to just have, as he so casually put it. Without Gleipnir, how in the world was he restraining Fenrir?
Loki shook his head. “My opportunity to escape did not give me time to grab Gleipnir. I’ve never been the sentimental type, and I have no need for the ribbon anyway,” he said with a horrific-looking smirk.
I licked my lips nervously. So it really had been Fenrir’s leash, and it was currently tucked into my pocket.
It was sounding like Mordred really had granted Loki his freedom in exchange for Gungnir. Because Loki had known exactly where to take Gungnir once he acquired it.
And, as added leverage, Mordred had taken Fenrir hostage in case Loki did what Loki was famous for—mischief.
Loki obviously hadn’t known about Mordred’s alarm system. Then again, Mordred had said Loki was six months late, so Mordred must have changed his plans when Loki never showed up.
So, where did that leave me?
I glanced down at the spear in question, wondering if I should run away while I had the chance. But…Mordred was all alone. No Knightmares to contend with.
I noticed smoke in the distance and grimaced. Mordred’s Knightmares attacking the Summer Queen? Were Alex and Talon and Grimm really that close?
I had no way of knowing for certain. Mordred must have taken time out of his busy schedule to come check the alert on his alarm system. A rare opportunity indeed. Once finished here, he would go back to the fight in the distance.
If I could kill him now, Alex could get some of his old Knights back. Hell, maybe the Knights would simply stop fighting in the distance, and I would win the whole war right here, right now.
I remembered how Odin had once said he could sense Gungnir, but he obviously hadn’t been able to do so since it had been stolen. And Loki had dropped a Sensate back in the Armory before we’d fled here.
It must have been masking Gungnir’s location from Odin.
I glanced up at the sky, praying for a fleet of Valkyries to come to my aid, locking onto their boss’s spear like a homing beacon.
They didn’t.
Which meant…Odin was busy.
Probably taking care of his wife. Or helping Freya deliver Ashley’s twins.
Either way, it was looking like I was on my own.
Because if I went back right now, I’d miss an opportunity. Mordred could flee back to his Knightmares any second. I had to keep him here, by myself.
Me staying also meant Gunnar had the excuse to remain with his wife during the most important moment of their lives—the birth of their children. He wouldn’t be in danger. We’d already killed Thor. He was safe. Ashley was safe. Calvin and Makayla would be safe.
I made my decision.
Loki’s sudden shout drew my attention, almost making me cut my finger on the tip of the spear.
“Rot in hell, the both of you,” he snarled, and I managed to lean out fast enough to catch a glimpse of him disappearing in a crackling, multi-colored flash. And that’s when I recalled Pandora’s absent comment back in the Armory—her thinking that Cowan had been in the hot tub.
The healing pool. Damn it. He’d regained enough of his power to run away. But I was still impressed he’d had the physical endurance to pull it off, especially burned half to death as he was. Then again, he was a god, and Mordred wasn’t a godkiller.
Mordred had stiffened at Loki’s parting words. “The both of you,” he mused, gritting his teeth. I quickly ducked back, taking a moment to stare down at Gungnir’s blade—a Devourer. As usual, vapor steamed off the gem in the center of the blade. If Mordred had risked this much—freeing Loki—to get it, I was going to do everything in my power to stop him. I set Gungnir down and whispered a word.
The grass rapidly grew over it, concealing it from view. I left my satchel propped up against the boulder and stood up, checking to make sure Gungnir wasn’t noticeable.
“Which one of my good friends is it?” Mordred demanded, his voice booming out, loud enough to echo off the boulders. “Alex or Nate?”
I took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the boulder, gripping my rainbow staff in one hand.
“Hey, Mordred,” I said, with not a hint of friendliness on my face. “I’ve missed you,” I lied, thumping my rainbow staff into the ground.
Chapter 45
Mordred glared at me and then my staff. “Where is it?” he demanded.
“Don’t tell me you actually believed him,” I gasped. “Loki is long-gone with Gungnir by now. Remember, he’s the master of illusions. How else do you think he held onto it for the past six months right under Odin’s nose? Hell, he was probably holding it the entire time you were just talking to him.” I scratched at my chin. “In fact, what if he wasn’t even really burned by your fire?” I asked, chuckling.
I locked eyes with him, moving in a slow, methodical, circular walk, forcing him to turn in order to keep me in his line of sight. He looked furious and…wary of my questions. They had struck a nerve. I kept walking, loudly thumping my staff into the ground with each step, making sure I didn’t do anything that would make him instantly react with direct force.
Because I was trying to get into his head.
Halfway through my walk of the perimeter, I slowed, furrowing my eyebrows. Then I slowly turned to look at him, cocking my head quizzically. Mordred now had his back to the boulder I had first been hiding behind. Perfect.
I kept the strain from my face as I called upon my Fae magic again—in hopes that he wouldn’t have the ability to sense this particular flavor of power. I knew Mordred had mastery over at least several different forms of magic. He’d even eaten one of the Nine Souls, so he was no slouch in power. Hell, he might even border on demigod status.
I had no idea.
But he hadn’t been born in Fae like me. He might know some Fae magic, but there was no way he knew it like I did.
“What if…we are Loki?” I whispered in an overly creepy tone.
I snapped my fingers, and there were suddenly twelve Nate Temple’s for Mordred to contend with, all of us standing in a row. We didn’t rush around trying to trade places. We just stood there smiling at him. He kept his eyes focused on me, ignoring the others, because I’d made no move to disguise that I was the first.
I gave him a sl
ow, evil smile, and shrugged my shoulders. “Am I me?” I asked, and then I let out a harsh laugh. The other versions did the same a half-second later. Then I sort of let them start doing their own thing. Some began twirling their staff. Some began stretching. One was grinning, another was angry, another looked terrified. I began tossing my staff from one hand to the other as I watched him.
It was chaos.
Mordred paled, his eyes darting from face-to-face, analyzing and second-guessing himself. He would lock onto the original me most often, but I watched as the self-doubt crept in.
Maybe the first one was an illusion the whole time…
Because when emotions took over, the rational mind kept stubbornly trying to exert its influence. And none of the other illusions had made any attempt to switch places or anything, so…
It was so easy to point me out as the original that…it felt too easy.
Watching Mordred slowly taste insanity was a delicious moment for me, but I had to be careful not to push him so far that he ran away.
Which was why a thirteenth replica of me had been slowly creeping up behind Mordred this entire time.
And Number Thirteen held Gungnir.
“I command you to stop!” Mordred snapped. “If you don’t cease these games this instant, I will kill Fenrir. If I die, Fenrir dies. Mark my words, Loki,” he warned ominously. I forced myself not to cackle with glee upon seeing that I had fooled him.
Number Thirteen was finally close enough to stab Mordred in the back with Gungnir, and Mordred had no idea he was there.
“Do you promise?” Number Thirteen hissed.
Mordred jolted in surprise, but his reflexes were good. He spun while leaning to the side and hurling a fireball.
I, the overly obvious original, had closed the distance in silence, already halfway through my staff thrust at Mordred’s spine. He realized his mistake when his fireball sailed through his opponent and splashed into the grass.
Still, he managed to move enough to save his life. Instead of severing his spine, my staff tore through his side, cracking a couple ribs on the way out of his abdomen.
He tried to swing a fist at me, but I ducked and gave him two powerful punches straight to the cracked ribs, hoping to break them off entirely so that they might pierce an internal organ when he tried moving again. He gasped in surprised agony, swinging wildly, but I had already moved ahead of him to grab the tip of my staff and yank it the rest of the way through his body.
He wheezed, clutching at his side, but I could tell he was already recovering—healing somehow. I saw his hand begin to glow as he used it to apply heat to the wound, cauterizing it.
Holy crap. Was that some power from him eating one of the Nine Souls?
He gritted his teeth, staring at me. “Hello, Nate.”
I bowed, brandishing a pretend cap. “Clever, right?”
He grimaced. “Unfortunately, yes.”
“Now, hear me out before you start shooting lightning out of your eyes.” I cleared my throat. “Loki knows illusion like no one I’ve ever seen before, and trust me, the Fae know illusion. Loki was under Odin’s and Freya’s noses, walking around without a care in the world—and they never had any idea. Their own son. Not only that, but he was impersonating a werewolf—even shifting when necessary—and none of the other werewolves knew. There were also two Seers who didn’t see a thing.”
I let that sink in, watching his anger fade somewhat. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because he just left. And if Loki leaves your sight, it’s only so he can get closer to you—by becoming someone you trust. One of your Knights, perhaps.”
I took a step back and thumped my staff into the ground, waiting a few moments for him to process that. Because I wanted him to doubt his own men. Maybe not even doubt, but to feel paranoid. That had actually been the main reason for my little illusion charade. If I’d been able to kill him, all the better.
But I hadn’t relied on that.
I’d wanted him to see—and fall for—illusion magic up close, and then for him to hear the person who’d just fooled him talk openly about how much better Loki was.
Because it was actually true, and it was another lever point I could manipulate to keep Mordred apart from his Knightmares.
To be honest, the thought had crossed my mind that maybe Loki had used his illusion magic to stage the argument with Mordred for my benefit—that the man in front of me right now might not actually be Mordred at all.
But that it might be Loki playing a long con on me.
I kept this thought to myself, but I was ready for it to become a reality—and at the worst possible moment.
“Shall we finish this?”
I smiled. “We shall.”
Chapter 46
Focusing on my Fae magic, I reached behind me and grabbed onto my shadow. I whipped it over my head and cracked it at Mordred, encasing him in a bubble of darkness. He struggled blindly, trying to ignite a ball of flame so he could see, but I was already aiming my staff at him and unleashing a bolt of lightning.
It ripped through the shadow and struck Mordred in the chest, slamming him against a boulder.
I ran towards him, dodging two blasts of air before his third hit me like a baseball bat in the thigh, sending me tumbling. I slapped the ground with both palms, freezing it solid before I hobbled away, trying to shake some feeling into my leg. Mordred tried to pursue but ended up slipping and sliding all over the place.
The sky abruptly turned to night, and I grinned as I heard Mordred crash to the ice with a curse. Fae didn’t have sunrises and sunsets. One moment it would be day, the next it would be night.
I managed to climb to my feet with the aid of my staff, using my other hand to massage the muscle in my leg. I suddenly realized that Mordred was not making any noises, so I glanced up sharply, scanning my surroundings.
I heard a faint whisper before I cursed and grabbed my thigh at a flash of pain. Then another on my bicep and cheek. I hissed, Shadow Walking a dozen paces away and throwing up a shield in front of me—but using my magic was suddenly much harder, as if those cuts had zapped my reserves. While I was looking ahead, an incredible blow hit me in the kidney. I dropped my shield, swinging my staff at my unseen opponent. It connected with something I couldn’t see in a flash of sparks that destroyed my night vision. I winced, realizing my staff felt much lighter.
I lifted it, frowning, only to realize that it was half as long as it should have been, ending in a jagged break that glowed like molten metal. I tried touching it with my Fae magic to flatten it out and recoiled as if shocked.
“I’m going to kill you, Mordred!” I hissed, trying to locate him.
“Do you promise?” he whispered my earlier taunt, also from directly behind me, and I grunted as my side suddenly screamed with fiery pain. I tried spinning to catch him but caught only air and lost my balance.
I hit the ground hard, and I felt a foreign object tear the wound in my side even wider. I reached down to check it and screamed as I grasped liquid fire. I bit my teeth, panting as I stared down and saw the other half of my rainbow staff sticking out of the side of my abdomen where Mordred had stabbed me.
Mordred shimmered into existence above me, stomping his heel on the hand holding my half of the staff. I heard a few of my fingers break, but I was too busy screaming to count.
Mordred had apparently been practicing his combat skills since Fight Club. Or maybe he’d been sparring with his Knightmares.
I tried throwing some magic at him, but I was in too much pain for it to be anything more than a weak slap, which Mordred batted aside.
He held a black blade, seemingly made of rippling liquid, in his fist. The blade he had used to cut me earlier, but I had no idea what it was made of. I tried calling out to it with my Fae magic, and I was firmly denied. Was it Fae or something else?
Mordred glanced down at me and then calmly lifted the black blade over his head. He’d already learned his lesson about granting me a
ny last words. My unicorn had hit him like a dump truck last time—
My unicorn hit him like a dump truck this time, too.
It happened so rapidly that I flinched and let out a partial scream.
The two of them disappeared from view almost the moment that I recognized the familiar flash of red on black feathers.
I wheezed, trying to roll over to see them. Grimm was here!
Even though he was supposed to be helping Alex and Talon, I was grateful for his assistance, because I had severely misjudged Mordred.
I heard screams, curses, and heavy thuds of impact, but I couldn’t make out anything in the darkness. Mordred wasn’t using any kind of illumination in his attacks, so it just sounded horrifyingly violent.
I heard a loud cracking sound followed by a weary snort. Had Grimm wounded him? That wasn’t enough. Not with Mordred.
I tried to raise my voice loud enough for my unicorn to hear me across the clearing. “Kill him—
A loud thud and grunt cut me off as something landed nearby. It skidded close enough to make me cough at a sudden cloud of dirt and debris. I could hear heavy breathing, but it was too dark to see what was happening. The edge of the rainbow staff sticking out of my stomach still had a faint glow, so I gritted my teeth as I rotated to get a better look.
And my heart stopped.
Grimm stared back at me. He was on his side, panting into the dirt. His horn had been snapped off at the base, and his chest was a bloody ruin.
I began to hyperventilate, shaking my head angrily, furiously, feeling a surge of hatred rise up from deep within me, momentarily dulling my pain. It wasn’t much, but it was straight from the depths of my heart.
I grabbed the edge of the broken rainbow staff sticking out of my abdomen and hissed through the pain as is burned at my hand. I yanked it out in one harsh pull, almost passing out in the process.
I used my feet to scoot me closer to Grimm. I heard Mordred steadily approaching, but I ignored him. I kicked my feet again, getting close enough to actually feel Grimm’s labored breathing on my neck, and I realized I was sobbing.
Knightmare: Nate Temple Series Book 12 Page 27
