The Banished Gods Box Set: Books 1-3

by L. A. McGinnis

  And leaving Celine as their only source of information.

  “I’ve got to take her computer back to the Tower with me. Go over all of this information, her files, her research. Run some tests.”

  “That’s not going to fly and you know it.”

  “There are over two hundred files just like this one, Fenrir.” Mir’s face grew serious. “I can’t just sit on this and keep my mouth shut. This is serious shit. I’ve got to at least put in a call to Odin.”

  “No way. He’ll kill us both. We need more evidence.”

  “You mean insurance?”

  “Yeah, that too.” Fen leaned over Mir’s shoulder, his eyes skimming down the lines of text, so many of them he wondered how she’d found the time to ever write this much. “He’ll banish both our asses to the darklands and probably kill Celine just for breathing.”

  “Who’s going to kill me?” By the gods, she looked sexy as hell when she woke up, with all that tousled, white hair and sleep-fogged gray eyes above pink, pouty lips. Fen, looking over at Mir, noticed he wasn’t the only one who thought so. Fen bit back the urge to snap the bastard’s head off. Instead, he stepped over to block the view, took her hand, and led her over to the computer.

  “Nobody’s going to kill you. It was just a figure of speech.”

  Celine lifted her eyebrows and slanted him the look that said Oh, you are so full of bullshit that Fen was becoming all too familiar with. “Oh really? Somehow I get the feeling that might be an understatement.”

  Mir’s mouth twitched. “Fenrir’s just worried about you. So… I got your passworded file open. Hope you don’t mind, he called me.” He swept her a deep bow. “Geek Squad at your service. We make house calls now, just so you know. Don’t even charge extra.”

  A smile teased the corners of her mouth. “Wow, you must really be good if you got it open already. That’s awesome, thank you so much.” She glanced over to Mir. “So what seems to be the problem?”

  “This is what we found. About two hundred files, about thirty pages each, going back”—Mir scrolled down—“about ten months or so. All scanned documents, similar to the markings Fen said you wrote down earlier today. Problem is, we can’t read it. Well, I can’t read it. I’m a whiz with languages and all, but parts of it I don’t understand. We were hoping maybe you could…”

  She looked at the screen then glanced away quickly. “What? Tell you that a shadow whispers secrets in my ear, compels me to write it all down until my eyes bleed, and then explain what it means? Sorry, doesn’t seem to work that way.” Celine put her hands up to her head, wincing. “Besides the…obvious…which is, even trying to think about it makes my head split apart, I can’t, I…can’t…read…that…language.” She closed her eyes, trembling. “I don’t think he’d allow me tell you, even…if…I…could. Damn it.” The final words burst out of her with a curse. “Jesus, that hurts like hell.”

  Fen wrapped her up in his arms, and her shaking lessened slightly. “It’s like there’s a wall inside of me that’s keeping me from telling you anything. Once I stop trying, the pain ebbs away. But if I try to decipher what I’ve written, the pain comes back. All I know is that when I wake up, I have to get the symbols written down. Once they’re down, everything goes back to normal.”

  As Mir nodded faintly, Fen tacked on what little he knew. “She had a few seconds when we plunged out of the dream together. Enough time to explain that this thing compels her to secrecy, somehow. She also thought the markings were symbols, some kind of runes. She mentioned the possibility they might be pre-Sumerian. But like you, Celine can’t read them either.” Fen dipped his head. “Dr. Ellis said your specialty is languages, Celine. Which means you would know what you’re talking about.”

  “Languages?” Mir’s ears perked up. “You’re a linguist?” In answer, Celine only shrugged.

  “Well, you have to know something. How long has this been going on?” Mir asked.

  “You know I don’t remember,” Celine snapped, before catching herself. She avoided Mir’s searching, pale blue eyes. “Sorry, I guess you don’t know, do you? I had an…accident. I can’t remember hardly anything about my previous life. Not before three days ago, when I woke up in the hospital. With this.” She pointed to the bandage.

  Mir sat back in his chair, as if he were sizing her up. After a moment he said, “I could help you, if you wish. There might be downfalls, since residual memories are especially tricky.” He narrowed his eyes. “Memories are the creation of self, and self is the sum of life experience. Which makes this a sort of catch twenty-two situation. But I could help you remember, everything from before this accident. But…” His eyes strayed over to Fen’s face, where they remained for a second. “There could be good reasons you forgot your past, Celine. It might be your mind protecting you from something too painful to remember. What are you hoping to find out?”

  Celine didn’t hesitate. “The truth. I want to know what happened. What’s happening to me? I think that’s been driving me crazy, for longer than just these past few days. And I need to know that this is all real.” She waited a moment before she went on. “Someone took my life away from me.”

  She raised a small, pale hand to Fen’s face. “And it wasn’t you. Even if you think it was, I’ll never believe it.”

  After a moment’s consideration, Mir spoke so kindly, Celine could barely stand it. “You’re going to have to be strong, Celine. Possibly stronger than you’ve ever been before.”

  She was strong, she thought irritably.

  “If I’m successful, your memories will rush back. They’ll be a flood and if they’re bad, it could be too much.” Fen slid a hand around her waist, bracing her up. Mir pursed his lips, looking at them both.

  “Give me and Fenrir a moment, will you?”

  She rocked back on her heels and shook her head emphatically. “No. I need to hear what you’re planning. This is my brain you’re going to mess with, right? I have every right to know what you’re planning to do with me.” She gave Mir the talk to the hand gesture. “Bad or good, I have a right to know. Don’t try to sugarcoat my chances either, just tell me exactly like it is. Truth is truth, right?” She shot them each a small half-smile, one that quavered before changing into a look of pure determination.

  “Celine. We don’t know what happened to you in that alley. It could have been bad. It was probably bad.”

  “It probably was.” She nodded in agreement. She’d thought about it for days now, every ugly possibility of what might have gone down. “But I don’t know what came before it, either. And I have to know. I’ve got to figure a way out of this mess, and I can’t do it with nothing to draw from.” Celine met their eyes, one by one. “Give me this, at least. If you can give me anything, give me a past.”

  Fenrir met Mir’s eyes, holding the stare for a full minute before nodding his support of the plan. “So how does this work?” When he pulled Celine to him, she came, notching herself tightly against him, feeling his delicious heat.

  “I put her to sleep and go in and find her memories. I pull them out and put them back where they belong. Simple.” Mir’s attention slid between them, finally settling on Celine.

  “It doesn’t sound simple.” Fen growled, his voice rough. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

  Celine looked up at him, her gaze softening at the protective tone in his voice. “I want Fen to stay. Just in case there are some really ugly things in there.”

  Fen scanned her apartment and the corners of his mouth turned upwards. “What, like the compulsion to line everything up in your life in neat little rows? It’ll be okay, Celine. I’ll be here, Mir’ll be here. Neither of us is going to leave you.”

  When he ran his fingers through her hair, the touch of his fingertips against her scalp sent delicious little shivers through her. She swore he sighed before he turned her over to let Mir do his magic.

  “Be gentle with her, okay? Real gentle, big guy.”

  Mir offered a solemn
nod.

  “I’ll be right beside you the whole time Celine. Nothing to worry about.” Fen whispered in her ear just as her eyes began to close. Cradled in his big, solid arms, she watched Mir’s crystal blue eyes narrow down to slits, and then close completely as he concentrated. One big hand clasped on either side of her head, his eyes moving rapid-fire behind his lids, mouth clenched tight as the muscles in his jaw moved.

  And then the room slipped away as she drifted off, placing her mind, and her trust, in a complete stranger.

  Chapter 14

  Mir went in blind.

  He always did, although what he usually found wasn’t much of a surprise. Human compulsions, after all, were pretty much the same. Sex, desire, power, anger, jealousy, rage. Ho hum. Same old, same old. Humans were, and always had been, a predictable lot. From the time they’d crawled up out of the mud, they’d been after the same things, and for the most part, hadn’t gotten any of them.

  Which meant they were still looking.

  So when he went into Celine’s mind, he’d been expecting more of the same. Fights with the parents, teenage rebellion, a boyfriend or two scattered throughout, pettiness and jealousy sprinkled through everything like a fine spice. So not what he found. This girl, for all of her ethereal beauty, had been born into an evil world. A world filled with tests of faith and strength he wasn’t sure he would have passed.

  What happened in that alley was simply a footnote to twenty-two dark, tragic years. Mir was having some trouble processing it all, feeling an overwhelmingly protective urge to edit it, filter it, clean it up before pouring it all back into her. Except.

  “Truth is truth, right?”

  Normally, he would have agreed with Celine, but this? Mir’s stomach clenched as he paged backwards through her memories, every dark, abominable thing that happened to her, every horrible thing she’d had to do in order to survive. This was the stuff that nightmares were made of.

  Mir was especially gentle when he placed her memories back, beginning when she was very, very small and ending with what had happened in that alley. He took special note of the shooter’s face and the direction he’d gone off in when he’d left. Gave her an extra shot of magic along with them, something he prayed might give her a bit of courage when she most needed it. When he returned to consciousness, he left her fast asleep on the couch and meant to leave her that way, at least until daybreak. He ran careful fingers across her face as soon as he came out of the trance, wishing he could have done better, wishing the memories he’d had to work with had been different.

  Sent a pulse of blue, healing magic into the ugly head wound, watching as the velvety skin knitted itself back together, the bruising faded, the scar narrowed down to a thin, pale line.

  When he finally lifted his eyes to Fenrir’s, the darkness in his own extinguished any trace of hope in Fen’s.

  After carefully searching his face, Fen managed to husk out a plea of, “Tell me.”

  “All right then. Put her in bed and come outside. We talk out there.”

  It was bitter cold outside, which was fitting. It might be spring, but the wind that blew off the lake cut to the bone. Fenrir didn’t feel any of it. He listened to Mir’s words, terrible words. Words that couldn’t have anything to do with the princess lying in her bed, smelling of clean winter cedars and fresh winds off the mountains. And he began to truly hate mortals. The humans who did these things to her, who’d hurt her, neglected her, he despised them.

  Finally, Mir let his words trail off.

  “The mother has issues, and that’s putting it mildly, Fenrir. Drugs, alcohol, you name it, she’s either been busted for it, been through rehab for it, or has tried it. Half the time, she couldn’t hold a job down long enough to even get an apartment. Has gone through a string of men… Well, it’s a long list, let’s just leave it at that.”

  “Where did she…” His throat closed up. As if his brain wouldn’t even work, Fen tried again. “Where did Celine live, then, if the mother couldn’t? If she didn’t have a home?”

  “Grandparents and foster care, some of the time. But the girl’s spent plenty of time on the streets. Stolen food so she wouldn’t go hungry. Money, sometimes, to buy necessities. Slept in cars and on park benches, for gods’ sake.” Mir spit the words out like they were a foul stain.

  “Father?”

  “Hazy memories.” Mir’s gaze drifted off into the darkness.

  “Father?” Fenrir asked, more forcefully. He knew, like the rest of them, that even Mir’s skills had limits, but the human mind was a tensile, elastic thing. A child’s mind, especially. The memories were there, somewhere, and they’d be sharp, if a bit confusing. They wouldn’t be hazy.

  “Leave it. You don’t want to know, and if she wants to tell you, then that’ll be her business.” He’d barely gotten the words out before he was slammed into the brick wall, a forearm the thickness of a log up against his throat and his world going very, very black.

  “You will tell me about the father, Mimir, and you will tell me now.”

  When Mir’s feet hit the ground, Fen saw the god’s eyes slide sideways, the momentary hesitation. “Don’t you dare ghost out of here, Mir. You need to answer my question.” A pleading note underlined his words. “Tell me what you saw.”

  “Damn it, Fen, it’s just going to piss you off. And do nobody any good. Hate’s a poison that’ll eat at you until there’s nothing left.”

  Still, Fen’s eyes bore into his.

  “I get what you need, or what you think you need tonight. But all your hate and anger isn’t going to help that girl lying in there.”

  Fen wasn’t about to back down. Steam came from his nose, white billows of heat hit the cold, turning into ghosts.

  Shoulders slumping, Mir gave in. “The father was around until the girl was eight or nine, Fen. She hasn’t seen him since, and I don’t have a face to give you. Or a name. Just a…series of impressions. Drunk, loud, mean.” Mir’s voice wavered. “And yeah, it’s every bit as bad as what you’re imagining. But she needs to tell you what he did to her, Fen, not me. You understand that, right? If you expect this girl to trust you, she has to tell you what he did. Not me. I cannot just go barging into someone’s memories and turn them upside down and then reveal every ugly truth of theirs to you.

  “Trust me, I can see—I’ve seen—every horror there is to see through the Ages and…” Mir’s voice trailed off.

  “You really want to help her?”

  Fen went so still, almost turned half beast already, just at the thought of someone hurting that girl.

  “Be here for her when she wakes up. She’s going to need you. And don’t let her send you away, because believe me, she’s going to try.” He started toward downtown. “I’ll cover for you with Odin. I’ll tell him something, don’t know what, but I’ll buy you a day or two, at least.” The look Mir threw back over his shoulder, if Fenrir had seen it, almost looked like pity.

  “And don’t even think about leaving her alone, do you hear me? Even if you could.”

  Fenrir waited outside until the sun was up before he went inside. There was frost on him when he climbed the steps to her apartment, but he welcomed the bite of cold. Usually the night made him feel cleansed, as if the vastness of the sky was no match for anything that happened down on this planet and made all their problems so inconsequential. But the heaviness weighing on his heart was a stone meant to drown him. He’d fought worse odds, he reasoned, droves of demons, giants, monsters beyond description on worlds vast and awful and horrifying.

  But he’d never felt like this. This wasn’t something he could slay or kill. This was not something he could defeat or even engage. Instead, he felt helpless.

  Celine stirred as soon as he shut the door. He could hear her and sense her coming out of the deep sleep Mir had placed her in, long enough for her body to heal, even if her mind would be bruised and battered when she finally woke.

  “Celine, I’m right here,” he called softly, loud enough s
o she could hear but not so loud she’d be scared. He thought he heard a soft sound of assent and crept to her door as if the room was full of demons.

  She was sitting up in bed, face cupped in her hands, knees drawn up to her chest. “Celine, baby…” She turned her bloodless face toward him. “Oh God, Celine.”

  And then she broke apart. She cried like a storm over the water, waves and waves of anguish, of rain driving in gouts of dark. Pounding sheets, cutting through any trace of light, obscuring the sun, killing the light, and churning the sea until the sand on the bottom was nothing but twisting blackness. Fen rocked and rocked her, nestled her into his body like a small, broken thing. She was all arms and legs and emotion, so full of heartbreak he thought she’d never stop. Until she did. Then like a storm, her misery simply faded away. And what was left behind was even worse.

  Devastation. Destruction. Emptiness.

  He laid her back down and covered her back up, curled around her, felt her shaking and shaking and shaking for so long. He couldn’t understand how a person could hold this much grief inside.

  Finally, he grew worried. The shaking continued, almost as if she couldn’t stop herself. “Baby? Celine?” She didn’t or couldn’t answer. When he ran a hand over her, she was freezing cold again. “I need to get you warmed up.”

  Afraid she might be going into shock, he left her for only a moment while he filled her tub with steaming hot water and piled clean towels next to it. He took a very deep breath and scooped her up. “I’m going to put you in the tub, baby. I ran a hot bath, we’ve got to get your body temperature up. Then I’m going to feed you. I’m not going anywhere. I won’t leave you. And I won’t ask anything of you. But can you let me take care of you?”

  She nodded slightly, like she was stuck in a dream. Or a nightmare. He pulled her shirt off and her shorts, her bra and underwear, carried her over and set her in the tub then let the water run. Brushed the hair away from her face, running his fingers over her temple where Mir had healed her, over her jaw where it trembled, over her eyes, which she would not open. Fen wondered how full of shadows they were now that she had every memory back. A curse, he thought, the past was always a curse. Better if you could drink from the well of forgetting and then go on with a light heart and a blank mind.