The Banished Gods Box Set: Books 1-3

by L. A. McGinnis

Faces she’d given up on ever seeing again. First, they blurred as if she were still looking through the shadowy veil, then they cleared as warm, salty tears slid down her face, and she wondered if her heart might stop as she saw they were all unhurt. Unscathed. Safe.

  Ava, far away across the room, falling to her knees, her face so white she looked like she might pass out. Mir, standing beside her along with two other gods, one blonde, the other dark, all of them gleaming in the golden light, as if they were surrounded by halos. Fen, in his huge and monstrous wolf form, bristling and growling and snapping.

  And Loki, looking as if he wasn’t breathing at all.

  She was alive. Not dead. Not stuck in the endless dark with a monster made of shadow, hungering for this world. She was alive in the light with friends. Tears dripped in a steady trickle off her chin.

  “How, why am I alive? What’s… What did you do? What happened?” Her jumbled, incoherent words brought Loki running from across the chamber. He dropped to his knees, touched a shaking hand to her face, his face blazing with joy.

  Then she was crushed against him. She felt him to her bones, felt the lifeline between them, felt his heartbeat against hers. “I’ll tell you later, Morgane. When you’re home, safe and warm and cleaned up.” Remembering, she touched a hand to her head, pressed against the matted, hardened mess. He pulled her hand away, while scooping her high in the air. “Later, when you and I are together, I will tell you everything. But not here.”

  His gaze skimmed across a mass on the floor, and her eyes followed, catching on the mangled heap of black. “What is that, Loki?”

  “That’s Hel. I think I might have meant to kill her. But it appears today was not the day.”

  Fingers tangled with hers, and she found Ava’s eyes, wide and staring. “All of us are going home and everything is going to be okay,” her sister whispered, pressing together her trembling lips, her eyes darker and more shadowed than Morgane had ever seen them before. She managed a weak squeeze in return.

  “You all came for me. All of you. Thank you.” The warm press of Loki’s lips on her forehead was a benediction. Safe. She was safe. They all were. And they were going home.

  “There’s one more matter to deal with before we leave,” Loki said, casually. “I don’t have any plans on ever returning to this shithole, so let’s get this done now.” His arms tightened while he positioned her until she was practically sitting, taking in the whole of the room.

  It’s up to you, Morgane. Your decision. What should we do with her?” With a moan, Hel sat up.

  What was it Hel had said? She wanted to be a queen? For an eternity? Then an eternity was what she would get.

  “Forever. I think she should stay down here for an eternity.”

  Loki’s snarl of approval was echoed by Fen, then Mir. Tyr and Ava merely nodded, their faces equally cold and pitiless.

  A low, keening wail issued from the charred heap at their feet.

  And as Loki carried her past the dripping, black walls and the wavering iron torches, Morgane hoped with all her heart she would never, ever see this place again, either.

  44

  Loki rubbed his forehead, feeling the strain.

  “I don’t care that you think you got away with it. The Morrigan and the Dagda are going to be a problem, and you know it. And there’s the matter of your sworn oath, Fen. We’ve got to figure out how we’re going to handle this, so it doesn’t blow up in our faces.”

  Loki, Fen, and Mir were holed up in the War Room, the scarred, round table in front of them covered in maps, knives, and half full coffee cups. Morgane was tucked into bed, and as Loki looked at their red-rimmed, tired eyes, he knew that’s where they all should be. But there were loose ends to be handled before any of them were going to get any sleep.

  “I fail to see the problem, Father.” Fen slung his booted feet up over the edge of the table and dangerously close to Mir’s coffee. “How will they ever know, anyway? It’s not like he or the Morrigan ever come to this realm. No way they’ll start now.” The table they sat at was over two thousand years old. It was made from the trunk of a single, ancient oak from what was now Sweden, and had followed them from one home to another, until finally, they’d lugged it here to Chicago. This very room had been built around it. Loki shuddered when he imagined moving the behemoth again.

  “And I highly doubt either the Dagda or the Morrigan will let you off on a technicality. The fact remains, the girls’ name is MacAskill. Whether or not the name Rigan factors into this, remains to be seen.” Fen met Loki’s gaze evenly, as if daring him to disagree.

  Clearly, Mir decided a subject change was in order. “What’s Ava told you about her little tête-à-tête with the shadow god? Anything interesting come to light?”

  “She’s not been particularly forthcoming.” And Loki had tried to talk to her. Twice. Both times had been especially painful for both of them. Loki wasn’t sure if she was willfully withholding information, or if it was simply too distressing for her to relive.

  “I’ll bet not. Still, we need to know exactly what happened. You realize, it’s either Ava or Morgane who the legend references. Last name or no.”

  “It hardly matters…” Buying Ava and Morgane time to heal seemed paramount right now. Some dusty old legend hardly seemed to be their priority at the moment.

  Still, Mir pushed. “Everything might matter. The Morrigan seemed convinced end times are upon us, and I’m inclined to agree. Makes me wonder if we shouldn’t be using this time of peace and prosperity to check out a few things ourselves.”

  “Things like what?”

  “The security of the portals onto this realm. We should consider talking to the other organizations, especially the one in New York City since they’re the closest. See if they’ve noticed anything…unusual in their region. We don’t talk to each other, not as much as we should.” Mir paused, searching everyone’s faces. “No need to mention what we already suspect, of course, but we should be vigilant.”

  “We could send Tyr to New York,” Fen offered casually, a hint of mischief sparkling in his eyes.

  “Isn’t Hunter Wallace still stationed there? I doubt he’d be willing to go. I heard they hate each other’s guts.” Suddenly, Loki saw exactly what Fen hoped for. A bit of an immortal dustup always added some excitement to their days. Especially when the God of War was involved.

  Fen went on casually, “And Freyr would be all over going to Los Angeles, especially since its spring. He’d do nothing but spend his time getting laid while he was there.”

  Mir shook his head emphatically. “No, we send Tyr to Los Angeles and Freyr to New York. Better use of manpower and we might actually get something accomplished. Freyr can drive one of the Hummers, I’ll line up plane tickets for Tyr.”

  “He’s afraid of flying, you know.” Loki reminded Mir, while the red-haired god smirked.

  “I know, which is partly why I switched the locations. Give them both something to bitch about besides how bored they are without demons to battle.” The grin faded from Mir’s face as he swung his gaze all the way around the table, meeting every set of exhausted, wary eyes. “Look, the world might be changing, and we need to prepare for whatever’s coming. We all saw that…thing down there, what did Morgane call it?”

  “God of Chaos.”

  Right.” We all felt its power. We’d better be ready.”

  “What about Odin?” Fenrir’s calm, blue eyes rested on Loki, evaluating every twitch of his face, no doubt. Up until now, they’d all been avoiding the elephant in the room. Leave it to Fen to bring it up.

  “I’ll take care of him.” Loki did have a plan figured out. Much of its success depended on Odin’s cooperation. Or lack thereof.

  “You can’t kill him,” Fen reminded him unnecessarily.

  “Well, technically it’s possible, but no, you’re right. If things with this God of Chaos go south, we might need him. His foresight would certainly come in handy. I’m going to tell him how things are goin
g to be from now on. We’ll see how well he can follow rules.” This was going to be a new world. A democracy, not a monarchy.

  A better world.

  Loki just wasn’t sure Odin would see it that way.

  45

  For Morgane, time became a blur.

  Healing was faster and easier with Mir’s magical help.

  It was also incredibly tiring.

  “Sleep, love. You need it,” Loki murmured, his hand stroking her hair, his voice grave and quiet, for what seemed like the thousandth time in her ear as she drifted off. Warm blankets snugged around her, safe and sound and warm and comfortable in a bed smelling of love, in a tower of stone rising above a city of light.

  But memories of Hel snuck in, here and there. The dungeon brought its cold, dripping presence into her dreams, and there were times she jerked awake, cringing from the sound of claws on stone, her legs and arms twisted in the blankets, dreaming they were bound in chains of iron.

  Loki was always there.

  Her tether, her anchor. Dragging her back, running his hands across her, chasing the Underworld, the darkness, even the demons away. Pulling her back from the shadows threatening to swallow her up.

  She hadn’t yet told him about the thing locked in the dark with her. The infinite cruelty of it. The sense that something was coming for them, and whatever it was, there were no bargains they could make, no compromises, no postponements. Nor about what Hel had done to her mother. But she would have to, soon enough. Once she was better. Once she threw off this crushing exhaustion.

  Not now.

  Now she needed to sleep. To heal.

  There would be time enough later to talk about shadows.

  The sound of the door woke her, and Loki stepped in, utter joy dancing in those eyes. But then his face went carefully blank as he strode forward, a strange, secret smile on his face. “One of these days, I’m going to come in and find you gone.”

  “Not today. But maybe tomorrow, I might get up if I feel…” Morgane let her words trail off, afraid to put too much hope into that thought. “Anyway, I feel better. Where have you been?” she asked, trying to avoid any subject more taxing.

  The bed dipped below his weight, his blue eyes warming. “I moved your sister to the top floor. Secured her some furniture. And clothes. She was pissing Mir off something terrible, and I was trying to avoid a bloodbath. So she’s finally settled in, as comfortable as I could make her.”

  Morgane pulled back so she could see him. “Thank you,” she said. “I know how difficult she is.”

  “Do you really?”

  “Oh trust me, I do. Which is why…” His hair was so long it curled at the ends, she realized, running her fingers through it, feeling the texture of rich, thick silk. “I think… I think I’m done sleeping. For a while.”

  Winding the ends of his hair between her fingers, she pulled him to her, eyes locked, as the first brush of his lips on hers had her opening, opening for him before she closed down on his bottom lip, snugged it in between her teeth so he couldn’t move. Releasing him, she pulled back and breathed into his mouth, “I love you so damn much.”

  Loki pushed her hand over her head as he rolled onto her. The wonderful weight of him pinning her as she yielded, his tongue working lazy circles inside her mouth, over her teeth, against the top of her mouth. His other hand working its way down her stomach, and then lower, until he paused at the juncture of her thighs.

  He groaned, pressing hard, and she pushed up against his hand, against that deliberate, rhythmic pleasure from his thumb, rotating, slow, so slow, echoed by the deliberate brushes of his tongue against hers. She couldn’t breathe. All of her narrowed down to the feel of his tongue inside of her mouth, his thumb pressing, moving, before he plunged two fingers into her.

  “Jesus, Morgane…” Loki groaned again, finding her wet and liquid and hot. He pressed another finger into her, and dipping his head, closed his mouth over her throat, the hard press of his teeth against her flesh the turn of a key in a lock.

  Release roared through her, stiffening her spine, arching her up from the bed beneath him, her cry echoing around the room. Shuddering, she rode it out, his fingers stroking her the whole time, his mouth working a lazy, tantalizing track back up, capturing her mouth.

  “I’ve been waiting forever for this.” He growled into her ear, as he flipped her over. “And I’ve been thinking about this…” Pulling her up to her knees, hands feather-light on her hips, he spread her wide with his knees before running his hand down her spine, over the scars, pressing a light kiss at the base. In a single stroke, he filled her, inch by glorious inch, until he was fully seated. Then pulled out. Slowly. Pushed back in, a long, deep, wet slide, her moans muffled in the pillow. Wrapping an arm around her chest, Loki pulled her up against him, his question feathering her ear, “What do you want, Morgane?”

  “You. Only you.” She breathed, the words barely audible.

  He pulled out slowly. Thrust in again, harder this time, and she moaned, setting him on fire, so deep he felt it to his core. With each stroke of him, every thrust, the bond between them grew stronger, deeper, twining and echoing, tighter and tighter. Until it seemed they were one as he pounded into her, as she clung to him, as he pressed them closer, never slipping apart. She groaned out his name, pleasure pushing her along a sharp edge, so achingly close, then he roared hers, and she combusted, as they tumbled over the edge together.

  46

  Loki strode into the Throne Room, just in time to watch both ravens spiral away, their hollow cawing fading to a dull echo.

  Morgane was fast asleep again, and Odin…

  Odin had pulled a disappearing act. Except Loki knew he wasn’t really gone.

  “Get your ass out here and face me. Man up, you son of a bitch. Don’t make me come and hunt you down.” His words, like the crow’s calls, reverberated then died, the great hall absorbing every syllable until the silence was deafening. Yet, the room wasn’t empty.

  “I’ll burn this place to the ground, melt the girders and even the stone if I have to.” He went on, calmly enough, “Show yourself and let’s get this over with.”

  Odin exploded out of nowhere, a cloud of muscle and fists and steel, the edge of his blade barely missing Loki’s throat. He dodged easily to the side and spun away, throwing a lash of his blue-gold flame at Odin, knocking the knife from his hand, sending it skittering across the floor Odin landed on his feet, set back on his haunches, pulling a short sword out, looking as though he meant to use it. Loki lazily spun an orb of fire in one hand and waited. “You’re out of practice, my friend. Spending too much time sitting on your ass. Things didn’t turn out exactly the way you planned, did they?”

  “Depends on what you mean.”

  A slightly evil smile tugged at Loki’s mouth. “By that I mean you lost. Hel lost. I won. And since I did, I’m going to lay out my terms for you.”

  Dry, scoffing laughter was cut short as Loki flung Odin across the room and held him against the wall with a long, blue crackling flame. “One. Don’t fuck around with Morgane. Or her sister. Two. Don’t fuck with our alliance with the Dagda, it might come in handy down the road.”

  “Sounds simple enough. Anything else?”

  “Three. Stay away from Hel and the Underworld… Shit, stay away from everybody, you sociopathic bastard.” He stopped a minute before adding, for good measure, “Prick.”

  “Why the sister?” Odin’s question seemed genuinely curious.

  “Because I said so.”

  “If that’s not a bullshit answer, I don’t know what is.”

  “Because they’re my family now. Which means they’re moving in here, and you’re going to figure out how to stay out of their way. I find out different?” The flame around Odin’s neck turned white-hot. “You burn.” Loki dropped him to the floor.

  “Duly noted.”

  Loki was nearly to the door when Odin’s parting shot stopped him dead. “There will come a day when that girl will be t
he death of us all.”

  Loki found his bed empty and Morgane upstairs in Ava’s room. Both of them had tears running down their faces. Both of them looking devastated. Speaking in such hushed whispers he almost turned around and left them alone. Almost.

  “Hope I’m not interrupting.” In truth, he wasn’t leaving this room empty handed. He was sick and tired of waiting to spend time with the woman in front of him. Awake and alive, fresh out of the bath and smelling glorious, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

  “We’re done here, anyway.” Ava’s clipped tone clearly told him they weren’t, adding he was, quite possibly an asshole.

  Morgane wiped her face, unfolded her feet from underneath her, and sent him an apologetic smile. “Ava. He’s spent every minute of the past few days taking care of me,” she gently scolded, begging him with her eyes for patience.

  “Good,” he shot back, offering Morgane his hand, “then you won’t mind if I steal her back for a couple of hours?”

  Something glinted in those navy eyes as Ava stared at their joined hands. She did nothing to mask the lazy, wicked smile that curled her lips as she flicked her velvet blue gaze up at him. Did nothing to hide the coiling blackness of pure, raw power in those cobalt depths as her smile grew wider. Even with the purple bruises beneath those eyes, even with her terrible thinness, Loki realized Ava hadn’t been stripped of her power at all.

  And suddenly, Loki knew exactly which sister Odin spoke of.

  47

  His heart in his throat, Loki watched his words take effect.

  “You’re asking me to live here? In the Tower, with you?”

  “Yeah. And Ava too. Both of you. I love you, I want you here with me. Besides, this is the safest place for you and your sister. If you want us to be official first, I’ll marry you whenever you wish. Any kind of service, you just tell me when and where, I’ll be there. But I want you here, with me. I’m not naive enough to expect my daughter to remain quiet for long. Retaliation is in her blood.”