At eight, all the trees in the neighborhood grew ten feet in a single year.
At nine, spring followed fall because winter never came.
At ten, her father put his foot down, said, “Enough” and began her lessons. Within the year, the seasons had aligned. Trees grew at their natural rate. The family had a new garage. And the red-haired Allen girl was declared the most gifted witch the coven had seen in one hundred years. And for six years, all was right in the young witchling’s world.
Until puberty hit.
Sexual energy opened up Sydney like a sparkler, causing two straight years of intense thunderstorms, unseen snowfalls, and record heat waves, during which an incandescent Sydney sizzled, leaving a stream of dazed and wondering boys in her wake.
Then came the night of the fight with her father. It was a terrible fight. Full of things that could never be unsaid and feelings that may have taken weeks to be unhurt.
Not that she would ever know.
Her anger had brewed up a storm. So brutal and strong, it blew in just as her eyes glowed green with an unholy light and her hair crackled with energy, and she screamed something terrible and regretful at him. Her father opened his mouth to say something equally regrettable, when lightening, perhaps by accident, perhaps drawn by Sydney’s own unique brand of magic, hit the house.
Her father was killed instantly.
The coven determined it an accident.
In her final act of teenage defiance, Sydney begged the coven’s High Priest to cast a spell that bound her magic so she’d never hurt anyone ever again. It was done. But binding spells must always have a means of unbinding, so Syd had chosen the one person who couldn’t ever unbind her.
Her father.
Groaning at the memory, she rolled over in the grass. Grass was good. Nice. Green. Ripping out a handful of it, she sniffed its newly crushed scent. It even smelled good. Slowly opening her eyes, she looked into an azure blue sky. Good. Sky is good too.
Cautiously, she looked left then right. More grass. More sky. Relief swamped her.
Okay, so at least she hadn’t leapt into Niflheim, Muspelheim, or the Underworld, any of which would have been a complete disaster. It was too much to hope for that she was still somewhere on Earth, and according to Mir, Asgard didn’t exist anymore.
But she’d gotten the creature off Earth, and away from Mir, which had been her goal.
Problem was, she really hadn’t thought things through further than that.
When the shadow fell across her face, her heart sank, and she closed her hand, felt the pain of the cut across her palm. She prayed she’d have enough time, enough strength to make a stand.
The Orobus looked down at her and smiled. His smile, however, was a parody, as was the string of monotone sounds that passed for words echoing through her head. “I searched your memories and thought you would find this form more comfortable.”
Her heart began to race, and her lungs refused to pump air.
Mir’s perfect face and perfect body housed a perfect monster.
She rose shakily, acclimating to this new, terrible reality. Surrounded by paradise, but face to face with chaos. Her breath shuddered out of her in a long, horrible stream.
“Chaos? Is that how you think of me? The absence of order? Confusion?” The sound that came out of the thing’s face wasn’t human. It made a dark, echoing sound, causing Sydney to think of deep wells and graveyards. “That which predated the universe, however, that is accurate.” Again, its laugh crawled over her. “I am endless. Eternal. Enduring. But I have much to learn if I am to punish those who stole from me.”
“I’ve never taken a thing from you.” Again, that empty, vacant smile twisted Mir’s beautiful face, and she suppressed a shudder while her gaze drifted to the pale shimmer of the portal beyond him. Still open, still faintly visible.
“No, not you.” The thing’s face focused on her, eyes empty and staring. “Although you exist because of me.”
“I exist because I was born. I don’t owe my existence to you.”
“Oh, but you do.”
Sydney felt a creeping in her mind, a lifting, as if little by little, everything about her was being peeled away. “Every living thing belongs to me. Every heartbeat, every birth, and every death. All of them, stolen from me. While I was locked away.”
“Locked away? Where?” Despite herself, curiosity prickled. Just what was this thing that was creating such havoc in her world?
“Inside a prison made of magic and starlight.”
The creeping inside her mind became almost unbearable, claws on the inside of her skull, scraping away.
“Magic like yours.” The sensation in her head intensified, pain flashing past her eyes. “Mortal magic.”
“What…are you?” she managed to ask.
“The energy of the universe, harnessed and controlled. All of the nine worlds. The life that inhabits them. The force that drives them. They stole my energy. And left me in what your kind might call…” Again, Syd felt that peeling sensation in her head, intense pain rolling through her in wave after terrible wave. “…despair.”
She managed a single word, “Who…?”
“Gods who do not exist anymore.”
“Then leave us alone.” Sydney panted, already on her knees, flashing in and out of consciousness. “Stop,” Sydney mumbled. “Please. Stop.” Like a switch, the pain ended and cool relief swept through her. Her body trembled. She’d been a fool to think she could fight this creature.
The door. She had to make it back to the door. She squeezed her hand. The blood, there was still fresh blood on her hand. She could do this. She might make it past him to the door. Tumble back into her world. But she was tired, so tired now.
“I forget how delicate you mortals are. Your bodies are fragile. Your minds even more so. They break so easily. A lighter touch is required.”
“So why use us, then? If you are so great and powerful, then why do you even need us?”
“Because in order to break the immortals, I must first learn how to break you.” Another slow, inhuman tilt of the head. “Break you but not kill you.”
“Why are you so interested in them?”
“Because their ancestors were the gods who enslaved me.”
“I understand,” she murmured. She felt that probing sensation again, but it was different, there was a sensitivity to it now as if the Orobus was learning to be gentle. “They imprisoned you. And that made you angry.”
“Angry? Is that what this is?” A featherlight touch before she felt its anger. Which became the lash of heat against her mind and she cowered, arms braced over her head, her head splitting open, barely able to open her eyes to glimpse the Orobus rumbling before her.
“Please, you’re going to kill me if you continue.” The hot coil of pain receded, leaving her panting. The Orobus watched her curiously, an inhuman tilt to its head, eyes as empty as the night as she begged, that thing worming, worming into the center of her mind, even as it stripped her bare. “Please, just leave us alone. None of us are responsible for what happened to you, you have to believe me.”
“Everything, every cell of your being belongs to me.” The peeling began anew, this time with no pretense of delicacy, as Sydney fell to the ground, curled into a ball and screamed.
The rumbling that was a voice echoed inside of her head. “I claimed you long ago, my child, when you were but a dust mote. You were mine, and mine you will remain. I twisted you in ways so subtle, your fellow mortals would never notice. So not even the gods would know you are different.”
Was he talking about the magic? Was this was where the magic came from? The horrible, terrible secret that warped her childhood, her entire life? Changed the course of everything. And led her right here, right now, face to face with a monster.
But not helpless. Not entirely.
A whisper of her power still thrummed through her, the barest tingle to remind her now it still existed. That she hadn’t used it all up. Not
entirely.
Forcing her feet under her and pushing to her knees, Sydney gritted out, “Then like any parent, you’d better expect a little defiance from your offspring.”
“This is defiance? It feels like the struggle of butterfly wings.”
She rose. “I will never let you change me. Never, do you hear me? Even if it kills me.” Her legs wobbled as she took a step forward, stumbled toward that door, that shimmering hole in the air. Her hand throbbed, the cut not yet sealed, the faint scent of copper lingering around her.
She could still do this. She’d seal this dark god into this abandoned world with her. At least she might keep her world safe. Keep Mir safe. And then she could die. This thing would kill her, but it would never get free.
The clawing began anew inside her head as she fought.
“There is no escaping. You shall give me everything I need to destroy your world. As well as the gods.”
Dropping to her knees, mere feet from the door, Sydney watched it disappear, the otherworldly shimmer vanishing, right before her eyes. Trapped, she was trapped. But if she couldn’t get out, then neither could the Orobus.
“It is one thing to lose your home. It is another thing to stand by and watch the ones you…love?” At his feet, Sydney curled into a tight ball. “Love. Yes, that is the word. The gods shall watch the humans they love die. And I shall make you suffer. And when they cannot watch your suffering any longer, only then shall I end theirs.”
His dark chuckle did, finally, sound human. “I thank you for teaching me how to cause such lovely pain.” Sydney blinked the tears from her eyes, her vision clearing slightly, only to find the monster towering over her.
By the time he was finished with her, the sun was beneath the trees, and Sydney’s blank, vacant eyes didn’t notice the sunset that stained the sky red, nor the smell of the grass, nor the Orobus looming like a shadow behind her.
“I’m a part of you.” He touched her forehead, a wispy finger of darkness. “Forever.”
“And now, it’s time for you to do what you were meant to do.”
Chapter 27
Mir and Tyr regrouped, so to speak, behind a pile of rubble less than a hundred feet from the dolmens.
The others limped back to the Tower for food, ammo, and sleep. Except for Fen, who’d volunteered to track his sister through the city. Hel was on the loose, a small horde of demons and Dark Elves in tow. Odin’s plan was to see where she was headed, in the hopes of ferreting her future plans.
Mir wasn’t leaving, not until he got the door open, or the door opened on its own, or he tore the whole fucking circle down with his bare hands and clawed his way through to wherever Sydney had gone.
“All viable options,” Tyr murmured drily. “My money’s on you, ripping your way into an alternate dimension using only your fingernails. Might even stay to watch the show.”
“Stay the fuck out of my head, asshole.”
“Kind of hard to do when you’re practically thinking out loud.” Tyr’s huge hand landed hard on Mir’s shoulder, raising a cloud of dust. “Where do you think that door led?”
Mir had it narrowed down to two possibilities, but his money was on… “Vanaheim. At least, I’m praying it’s Vanaheim because if not…”
“Well, it’s not Jotunheim because that’s where the fucking Frost Giants came from, Svartlheim just belched out a shit ton of Dark Elves, and the other door looked evil as fuck right before it opened.” Tyr groaned as he shifted position slightly. “So yeah, let’s hope you’re right.”
Tyr’s gaze rested on the circle, the entire area littered with corpses, blood, and rubble. “Odin’s concealment spell will ward this entire area for a day or two. Good thing too. As fucked up as the city is, the mortals would shit if they came across the bodies of three dead Frost Giants and piles of Dark Elves.” Tyr absently rubbed the gash on his arm. “We need to get Loki down here to burn all these corpses to ash.”
Mir slid downwards until his ass hit the ground. Covered in blood, a gaping wound across his shoulder that he hardly noticed, so focused was he on that dolmen. “I’ve got to figure out a way through that doorway.”
Tyr considered. “Not a lot of options, my brother. But you could ask the Morrigan for passage. If you have a death wish, that is.”
Mir considered the option ever so briefly. “We’ve been asking quite a few favors from them of late.” And asking the Tuatha Queen for favors came with way too many strings, and he simply didn’t have the time. Not to mention any way into the Fae world, given she’d most likely locked that realm down tight the second the Orobus had burst out of his prison. The Tuatha De Danann took security breaches very seriously.
“We have.” Tyr’s handsome face grew grave before he pointed out the obvious. “None of which will matter if this god succeeds in destroying our world. Favors and promises can’t be kept by the dead.”
A smile quirked Mir’s face. “Oh trust me, if the Morrigan thought she could call in a favor from one of us, dead or alive, she’d do it.” The smile faded. “But you’re right. None of that matters, not one bit.”
They both went for their guns as Fenrir emerged from the darkness, limping, dried blood streaking down his mostly naked torso. Still, he looked better than half of the immortals who’d been carried back to the Tower.
“Any luck with your dear sister?” Tyr asked, his face grim.
Fen shook his head in disgust, his blue eyes flashing as he lowered himself until he was on the ground next to Mir, back flat to the stone. “Lost her around the river.” He tilted his head back, clearly exhausted. “She ghosted out and I’ve lost too much blood to shift into my wolf form and follow. So I headed back in.” He turned his head to Mir. “What’s the status here?”
Disgust coated every word that came out of Mir’s mouth. “Thinking of asking the Morrigan for another favor.”
Fen’s eyes flickered open slightly. “Such as?”
“Passage to Vanaheim.”
Fen managed a shallow nod. “Makes sense. Both the favor and the fact that’s where the first door led.”
“Why are you so sure?” Tyr asked, his voice curious.
Fen answered slowly, his voice groggy. “Because there was absolutely nothing waiting behind it when Sydney went through. And remember, I was in Vanaheim a month ago, and the whole place was a ghost town. Every other door had a surprise waiting—giants, elves, whatever was lurking behind that last door.”
Tyr let out a snort of agreement.
“Still hard to believe Sydney managed to pull that thing through with her.” Fen managed a faint shake of his head. “When she pulled him through… I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.”
Fen’s voice was drowsy as he continued, “There’s going to be a little problem though, if you call in the Morrigan. I swore an oath to her if you remember. One that involves Morgane? And Ava?”
Mir cursed.
“Fuck,” Tyr cursed. “I forgot all about that. Do you think she’d figure it out?”
“Well, if she does…” Fen’s voice tapered off before Tyr kicked his boot to wake him back up. “If she does, I’ll work a way around it. I usually do.”
Mir considered the wolf, bloodied and exhausted as he was. “A few weeks ago, you brought Celine out of the Otherworld. Could you take me through the Otherworld into Vanaheim? Could we use it as a pass-through?”
Fen opened his eyes until they were barely slits. “Maybe. If I wasn’t half beaten to death.”
Mir sat back and pretended every muscle in his own body wasn’t screaming for mercy. Perhaps he didn’t have to figure out how to open that portal after all, he just needed the wolf. “Looks like you and I are taking a little trip, Fen.”
Tyr helped him heave Fen’s enormous body up, Fen’s feet dragging on the ground, even the both of them barely managing to hold up his weight.
“There’s one Hummer left on-site. Not sure if it runs since it got hit by a chunk of marble the size of an elephant, but I’ll see if I can get
it going.” Twenty minutes later, Mir leaned out the driver’s side window and clasped hands with Tyr while the engine sputtered.
“Thanks for staying, my brother, I’ll radio you when we’re back home. Let me know if anything changes down here.”
Chapter 28
Tyr settled himself down with practiced patience. This was, most likely, going to be a long, futile wait. But someone had to stay, and who knew? He might get lucky. Hel might return and he could reduce the Orobus’s army by one general. Odin’s glamour shimmered over the stones, a blanket of magic that concealed everything, with the exception of the museum itself, blown to bits over most of the museum campus.
By the time he shifted position, Fen and Mir had been gone for hours, dew was dripping down his leather jacket, taking some of the blood along with it. And when dawn broke over the lake, it cast long purple shadows across the field of broken marble, the strange and otherworldly circle of stones, as mist settled deep into the recessed pit.
If he didn’t know he was in Chicago, Tyr would have picked another world, another time, another dawn blooming bright over a battlefield from a lifetime ago.
Because none of this felt like the present.
He thought his eyes were deceiving him when the tall redhead stepped out from between the stones, the doorway behind her snapping shut with an audible pop the second she passed through, her hair floating around her as if buoyed by an invisible wind.
And on the back of his neck, Tyr’s hair lifted.
Unbidden, his hand drifted to his knife, his palm resting on the pommel. As if she knew exactly where to look, her gaze went directly to him, fixed on his face. She smiled, her face splitting wide, inhuman black eyes dancing with an unholy light.
Five thousand years on battlefields. Three thousand years on this earth, alone. And nothing had ever made his stomach quail as that smile did.
The Banished Gods Box Set: Books 1-3 Page 66
