The Banished Gods Box Set: Books 1-3

by L. A. McGinnis

  At the end of the hall, someone cleared his throat. Odin lounged in the shadows, a lean pillar of gray. With a sigh, Ava started toward him, and Mir followed, waiting to see what the All Father wanted. Mir wanted to search the streets for Sydney, but Fen was already out there and would pick up her scent soon enough. Within the hour, he’d locate her and then they’d wait for her to regain control again. Or for the Orobus to release her. While they made their way down the hallway, he mulled both of these possibilities over.

  In truth, had the Orobus ever released her? Maybe that was the ten million dollar question.

  “Did you tell him yet?” As usual, Odin’s curt, clipped tone grated.

  “I told him what I knew.” Ava’s voice turned every bit as cold as Odin’s. “And now we know even more.” She glanced over to Mir. “I’m going to leave you to it. I just don’t have the patience.” She shot Odin a hateful glance and stormed off.

  “And that was…?”

  “That was for me giving her shit for doing something so supremely stupid she should be dead now,” Odin interrupted. “She’s still a little pissed off about it.”

  “She stepped through the opening, claims she knew it led to Niflheim. Said she felt the icy coldness, the darkness?” Odin nodded solemnly as Mir spoke. “And you believe her?”

  “You didn’t see it, I did,” Odin offered flatly. “Whatever the Orobus planted inside Ava is getting bigger, and it was out in full force today.”

  Mir decided not to push for more details, judging by the look on Odin’s face.

  “When she stepped into that fucking doorway, it practically killed her. Would have, if I hadn’t tackled her out of there.” His silvery eyes grew shrewd. “Wait. What did she mean—and now we know even more?”

  Coward, Mir silently thought to Ava’s retreating footsteps as they faded away. “Had a nice little chat just now with the Orobus.”

  Odin froze in place then rubbed the back of his neck. “Where?”

  “Here. Down in the garage.”

  “Ah. I wondered. I felt something. Made me feel… It made my magic writhe, as if it were being strangled. Which is why I’m waiting for you. You should have called me, Mir,” Odin reproached, eyes steely, his voice turning angrier. “It was in Sydney, wasn’t it? And you let it inside our walls.”

  “I did. I thought we’d have more time, but I was wrong.” Could have heard a pin drop with that comment. “She was half frozen, starving, and exhausted. I had to bring her back to heal her, check her out. And I’d do it again.” His voice was quiet.

  “No, you won’t.”

  Ignoring him, Mir went on, “A couple new developments. The biggest dolmen leads to The Void. I know, I know, they say it’s a myth, but I think it’s a real place. It’s the prison that held this thing for a million years. The fact that Ava’s darkness was repelled by that particular doorway means I’m right. As does the fact that Sydney, or the Orobus, told us what’s behind door number one. The other thing is…” Mir hesitated, on the verge of mentioning the thing’s seeming interest in Ava, then changed his mind.

  “It likes an audience.”

  “And that’s supposed to help us how?”

  “Anything we can exploit, any weaknesses, give us a slight edge. And if it wants an audience, then it means it’s not going to wipe us out in one fell swoop. It will take its time.”

  “And what aren’t you telling me?”

  Mir kept his voice perfectly level. “Nothing, that’s it. Oh, the thing wants the world to burn, but we already knew that. Just look around you.”

  Odin’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, but he didn’t press any further, seemingly satisfied. For now. He pushed off the wall, his gaze drilling into Mir. “The more secrets you keep, the more this will be on you if it goes wrong.”

  “Sydney’ll come through this, I know her, and she’ll find a way back. I know it,” Mir said stubbornly.

  “She might,” Odin said, a rare offer of hope. “The wolf is tracking her, I presume?”

  “He is, he’ll check in when he locates her, and we’ll keep her in our sights.” A pause and then, “She’s growing weaker, Odin, which means she’ll be easier for him to control. Which is his plan. He’s going to use her to open up the other doorways, unleash all of the armies on the city. And don’t even think what you’re thinking.”

  “I’m not going to kill her. Far from it, we’ll need her if she does manage to exorcise the monster. She’ll most likely have a tale to tell.”

  “You want to glean information from her, provided she makes it back.”

  “Celine helped us, given what little she remembered,” Odin pointed out. “And as I recall, you had no reservations with that plan.”

  It had been easier then. The Orobus had only been haunting Celine’s dreams, not controlling her body. But still, he’d watched Fen struggle, and Mir knew he’d face the same battles.

  Was facing them now.

  “When she makes it back to me, that’ll be up to her.” Mir turned away, intent on grabbing a jacket and heading out to find Fen, and keep a few hundred yards behind his woman in a city that burned.

  Chapter 34

  “Fight him, Syd…Remember what happened…Remember what you felt…what you said…”

  Fragments of words rippled through Sydney’s shadowed brain, sandwiched between a murky fog. They haunted her while exhaustion throbbed in her bones. Her mind was an endlessly expanding space with no edges, where all of her identity was wiped away.

  Except for these few, stubborn words.

  Spoken in a demanding, husky growl. And the occasional flash of a handsomely carved face, set with light blue eyes that pierced her through and through.

  “Fight, Syd. Fight.”

  Pain raked through her temple, tore into her too-quiet head. Something warm trickled down her face, and flicking out her tongue, she tasted something salty. Blood, she was bleeding.

  Wait. She was bleeding. She felt the blood, tasted it.

  She could feel.

  Sydney blinked. Looked around. Papers blew past her, and she smelled smoke on the air, her nose wrinkling at the acrid scent of it. She stifled a sob. For the first time in longer than she could recall, it was daytime. The sun cut through the clouds, and she realized she was chilled to the bone, but it was light outside and she was aware and she wasn’t even dead.

  For a moment all she did was stare around her. Breathe in the smoke-filled air.

  Appreciate the simple fact she wasn’t possessed by some awful otherworldly being, marching her around the city like a marionette. Touching her hand to her head, she pulled it away, slick, scarlet blood coating her fingertips. Looking up she noted the tilted sign, a fifties monstrosity that probably weighed a thousand pounds, hanging so low she’d walked straight into its sharp, metal corner.

  She would have kept walking, too, straight back to the Tower, which she estimated to be about two miles away, when the huge wolf lumbered into sight. His head swung quizzically her way. Instinctually she froze, as if he couldn’t smell fresh blood, debating whether to run. By the rubbery feel of her legs, she knew she wouldn’t make it far. With a ripple of muscle and fur, the thing trotted effortlessly past as if it didn’t even see her.

  Too shaken to even be relieved, Sydney sank to her haunches. She was bone-tired. Was this the day after Mir had found her? A week later? A month?

  She inspected her wind- raw hands. They were crisscrossed with cuts, her nails broken and torn. No help there. And it was still cold, but with the way the weather was screwed up, she couldn’t tell if it was June or November. Her teeth chattered slightly as feeling flowed back into her, the shivering started, her body aching and hollow feeling, as emptied out as her head had been moments ago.

  A hand landed on her shoulder, the horrific weight of it made her shudder even harder, fear coursing freely through her, sinking into her very core. “Syd, baby, it’s only me.”

  She was too exhausted to sob. Too exhausted to do anything except crouch t
here, feeling the wonderful weight of Mir’s hand, as if it anchored her to the world around her, pulled her away from the yawning pit threatening to swallow her up.

  Part of her wondered if it was true, though.

  Part of her wondered if any of this was real.

  Until Mir pulled her up, wrapping a coat around her. A coat smelling of him. A coat that still held his wonderful warmth, and as it seeped into her skin, she knew it was real. He was real. For a few moments, a few hours, she’d be safe, so long as she was with him.

  Then she did sob, for the longest time.

  Chapter 35

  “I’m back.” Syd breathed into Mir’s chest. “I’m really back.”

  She was leaning heavily against him because her legs could hardly hold her weight, and yet… “I can’t let myself believe it.” And proceeded to crumble once again into a sodden, sobbing mess.

  Mir gathered her closer, and as soon as he did, something inside of her just snapped. Lightheaded and spinning, her body frail from not eating and gods knew what else, she just…emptied out. Became a hollow shell, wrung out from doing someone else’s bloody agenda.

  She hardly even felt Mir’s hands on her as he inspected her head but saw a flash of blue and a pulse of heat before the pain in her brow faded away. Lifting her eyes to his, she found nothing but devastation in his gaze. The same kind, perhaps, that she herself felt. And the realization kindled some small, hopeful flame inside of her.

  “Let me hold you, Sydney. Just hold you. I need…to feel you. To know that…” His words trailed off, hope dwindling in that blue stare, both of them knowing how much everything had changed. He trailed a tentative finger down her cheek. “I have to hold you, Syd, so I know I haven’t lost you entirely.”

  Sydney shivered. From cold or fear she wasn’t sure, but her fear roared in her blood as she surveyed the grandness of the room around them. Wild eyes darted across the shadows in the corners and then back to him. “How can I know…?”

  “Tell me what it is, Syd? You’re safe here, we’re in the Tower.” His voice sounded strangled as he watched her.

  “How can I know he’s not coming for me? How can I know he’s not inside of me? Right now?” she whispered.

  “Gods,” he whispered back. “You’re you. I can see it in your eyes.” He was pale as death, his skin standing out from the brightness of his hair. “You’re home. Odin just warded this entire building. Hopefully well enough to keep him out. But for now, you seem to be back. And in control.” His arms went around her, caging her inside, pressing her to his chest. Her face smashed against him, so she felt him through his t-shirt, the rise and fall of his chest, the steady thump of his heart.

  “This is all real. Now, this place, the Tower. Me and Fen, we came to get you. You were only gone a couple days this time. Hitting your head pulled you out of it, somehow. If I could have come faster, I would have…” Regret choked off the rest of what he wanted to say.

  “How can I be sure anything is real?” Even within the safety of his arms, she was vulnerable. An attack from the inside every bit as deadly as any from the outside. No one, not even Mir could protect her. And wards or not, she had no faith there was any sort of magic that could keep such a thing as the Orobus out.

  Not if he wanted in.

  “It’s real. All of it.” Mir pressed lips to the top of her head, a firm reminder of his love. “And I’m doing everything I can to keep you safe.”

  “Don’t tell me anything, Mir,” she warned him. “Not a thing. If you’d kept me in the dark before…”

  “I know.” There was misery in his voice. “I know.” He repeated helplessly.

  “It’s all right, you know. I understand.” She lied, her voice low. “Besides, there’s nothing you can do. Not really.”

  The truth. They were all caught in this thing’s web. Flailing around, looking for a way out. Looking for ways around. Maybe there was no way to get out. Maybe there was no way around. Trapped on this world, exactly as the Orobus intended, with no means of escape.

  How exactly did she know that?

  “I don’t remember anything specific from these past few days. If I did, I might be able to help you.” She paused, considering the other, terrible possibility. “Except he might have sent me back here as a spy or to see what you know. He could be listening…watching right now. And I’d never even know it.”

  She paused, searching inside, peering into every darkened crevice of herself for a hint that the monster remained. “He knows everything, Mir, everything about me. About you. About us. He looked so far into me when we were on Vanaheim and…

  “He. Saw. Everything.” Her chest was becoming tight, her breaths too constricted. Mir pressed her to him even harder.

  “Sydney Allen.” His voice was whisper rough, “I love you. I’ve loved you since I saw you with that damn sign.” Holding himself away, he stared deeply into her eyes, a shimmer of tears over his own. “Don’t let that bastard take that away from us. Don’t let it steal something from us that we deserve.” On the final word, his voice broke. “Don’t fucking let him ruin us, Syd.” He ducked his head, but not before she saw his eyes swimming.

  She cupped his face and raised it to hers, searched his eyes before kissing him gently.

  “This is the deal. Food then sleep. We keep you in the dark, and you don’t ask any questions. You look at this place as your fucking haven, and me as your fucking shield.” Mir lifted her up and carried her up the steps, and she prayed they’d have some peace, at least for a little while.

  “You’re home now.”

  After the food and the sleep, Sydney stood toe to toe with Mir. And she wasn’t budging.

  “I need to talk to her, Mir.”

  She was still herself. For now. She was also fairly certain her time was coming to a close.

  And there were things to be done.

  She was here for a reason. And not just right now, at this moment. The Orobus had used her to lure in Mir from the very beginning. “I’ve loved you since I saw you with that damn sign.” An immortal being, alive for thousands of years, and she’d been dangled in front of Mir like a carrot. Red hair notwithstanding, the analogy made her cringe.

  “Not happening. Ava’s a shitshow and I’m not letting you within fifty feet of her.”

  “I thought she was two floors up?” The corner of Sydney’s mouth quirked. Seriously, he was so overprotective. She took his hand, wove her fingers through his. “I need to figure out what’s happening to me. And I need to figure it out fast. What better way than for me to talk to someone else who’s got him inside her?”

  “You need to sleep…”

  “I don’t think sleep is a safe place for me to be right now.”

  Mir’s feet shifted as he considered.

  “You know I’m right. You just don’t want me to be. I’m not sure I want this either, to be truthful, but let’s face it, we’ve got few options right now.”

  Sydney dropped Mir’s hand and crossed over to the window, feeling she was perched on the clouds. Beneath them, the city lay sleeping, dark and dead, shrouded in fog. “It looks like a city of ruins,” Sydney murmured when he drew closer. “And we’re the only ones left alive.”

  For the longest time, he just stood there, looking at her, to the city beyond. The fires burning, the half empty city. Then, as if he’d made some sort of decision, he walked over to the window and stood beside her, not touching, but somehow united.

  “Sometimes it feels that way,” Mir agreed. “It’s a terrible thing, to realize that might be the reality of what’s coming.”

  “So you’re not going to sugarcoat it for me?”

  “No.” Something terrible weighed down that single word. “There’s no point in it. You already know, don’t you? Because you’ve already seen it.”

  “Maybe,” Sydney murmured. “Maybe. Everything’s blurred, but I think I have, somehow. I feel like I was there…in the future, or at least standing on the edge of it. But there is one thing I re
member clearly. There was a crescent moon. And the next crescent moon is tomorrow night.” Sydney’s tone turned thoughtful.

  “The visions aren’t the worst of it. I think knowing has been the worst. And I’ve always known what was coming for me. The same thing that’s always been coming for me.”

  “Can you tell me what that is?” Mir’s voice was almost inaudible.

  “I was born different. Different even than the others. Different in a way that made them afraid.” Something shifted in her, being this high up, as if she might jump from this window, hurl herself from this precipice and just…fly.

  “I never wanted to be a witch. Humans always seemed to have it easier. Fewer complications, with all the perks. Maybe because my father made me look at magic as something to be mastered. I never saw fireflies and unicorns. I saw piles of spellbooks and hours of homework. So after the fight with my father, when Lordes pulled me away from that house…my house. In those moments, being spellbound seemed like an easy way out of the mess. And he handed it right to me.”

  Sydney’s voice turned thoughtful. “What kid wouldn’t, now that I think about it? There’s always been this pall over me, because in the coven, everyone knows everyone. All their secrets, even the ones they didn’t know themselves. I was nine before I found out how my mother died. And at sixteen, I guess you could say I was still trying to come to terms with it.”

  She raised her eyes to Tyr. “But that’s not what you asked me, is it? I knew from the beginning I was different. It’s why I fought my father’s teachings. The way the magic made me feel. The way I felt when I wielded it.” Her voice began to shake. “The other kids had a harder time with the raw magic. But not me. It was the iron in my blood, I couldn’t help but call it up. Then it only became a matter of how much of it I could control.

  “But there was something else, too. Something I never told my father, or any teacher, and especially not Lordes. My magic wasn’t like anyone else’s. Theirs shone like the stars. I could see it, and it was made of golden light, like sparklers or the warm glow of an ember.