The Banished Gods Box Set: Books 1-3

by L. A. McGinnis

  The music coming from the stones… It was familiar, somehow. Sydney tilted her head, hesitated, then opened herself up wide. The music roared in, a cacophony of notes and melody tangling together, each formation sounding slightly different, each of them competing for her attention. She let out a bit of her magic, a faint pulse that rippled through the stones, and the music instantly re-arranged itself properly, the notes, the melody, merging together to form a wholly familiar, somewhat haunting…

  Sydney put her hand against the stone, pressing it to the bloodstain she’d left a week ago. An echo of the music rang through her, as if she were a tuning fork, the vibrations so deeply felt her entire body began to sing along with the stone. As if she were part of the circle, itself. The melody danced down her spine, along the tattoo, the rough stone disappearing beneath her hand. She was the music. She became the melody. She became stone and magic and blood. And around her, the world disappeared.

  One door led to ice.

  Another fire.

  Darkness and horrors and giants lay behind the other.

  One was an Eden that repelled her because of the horrors that lay behind it.

  And the last one…

  An abyss lay behind that door. A prison without escape, to which she held the only lock and key.

  And Sydney finally knew why the Orobus wanted her magic. To prevent himself from ever being locked away again. To use her. To be his gatekeeper. For this world and for all others. Something settled within her. A steady resolution, as if knowing her fate brought about a surety she was finally comfortable with.

  Next to her, Ava’s shadows stopped searching. They pulsed, waiting at the entrance to the giant dolmen, a swirling vortex growing taller until it rose above the small, slender woman who conjured it.

  Somewhere outside the circle, the roar of engines, then the slamming of doors. Feet pounded toward them as the shouting of big, pissed off immortals signaled their time here was finished.

  “I will not do it,” Sydney whispered, her hand finding Ava’s and clasping it tightly, knowing she might be the only other person who understood.

  “And neither will I.” Ava promised her in return.

  Chapter 39

  The strange sensation of the stones humming beneath her hands stayed with Sydney long after they returned to the Tower. Mir left her in the War Room without a word, and she sat silently overlooking the enormous table, scarred and covered in maps, weapons, and half-eaten sandwiches.

  Whether he wasn’t talking because he was angry, or because he didn’t know what to say, she wasn’t sure. But the cold, appraising look he’d given her when he’d stood at the top of the rise had terrified her. He was the one person she could trust. The one person who had her back. No matter what, no questions asked.

  She wasn’t meaning to keep secrets from him. She simply wasn’t sure how to verbalize what was happening to her. The stones. This power thrumming in her. The way the circle made her feel… She was part of them. How did any of that make sense? How could any sane person accept and understand that?

  Whatever sense of hope she’d felt when the coven had ripped the binding spell from her vanished when she remembered how she’d felt at the circle. The utter smallness of how she’d felt, facing the magnitude of what lay behind that final doorway. The utter folly of what they were all trying to accomplish, measured against all that the Orobus was.

  The door swung open behind her, and she knew without turning Mir stood there. Her magic filled in so many gaps she’d forgotten about, as if it were a sixth sense, and a better one than the other five combined.

  “I didn’t think,” she offered, by way of an apology, before Mir had a chance to speak. “I didn’t think and I just left, and it was wrong of me.”

  When Mir laid his hands on her shoulders and squeezed, the breath went out of her. Relief so strong it brought tears to her eyes flowed through her. “I’m going to kick Ava’s ass. I know she talked you into going down there without any of us to protect you. It was foolish, Syd.”

  She didn’t disagree. But would they have discovered what they had, if the place had been crawling with the other gods? Somehow, she didn’t think so.

  She put her hand over his while continuing to stare out over the debris-filled table. “The largest dolmen leads to his prison. My magic works with the circle. Seamlessly. As if it were designed to do so.” She knew everything that implied and didn’t like it one bit.

  “The others…” She felt the words drifting away from her, as if borne on the wind. She tried again. “The other doors are going to… I’m going to...” She turned her head to Mir, her brow crinkling as his face swam in and out, blurring then clearing. A flash of blue eyes, and then…nothing at all.

  And the next time Sydney’s eyes focused on anything at all, it was the moon rising above the stones, a sliver in the blackness, a sickle so narrow it cut the sky in two.

  Chapter 40

  “A strange thing, free will,” Tyr continued, his voice pounding in Mir’s head along with the hum of tires on asphalt. “The only way in which we are the same. Mortals and gods. We can’t control it, not any of us. But that means something else too, Mir.” Tyr’s voice gentled, “Neither can the Orobus. Remember that when we get there.”

  Mir watched the city flash past. Dark monoliths set against a star-filled sky.

  Five minutes. Five minutes and they’d be to the site and then…

  What exactly?

  So he kept quiet, staring at the city flashing by, brain calculating every possible outcome just as quickly. None of them ending well.

  A slide and click as Tyr chambered a round. “I know most of you despise me for how I treat these mortals you’ve been dragging home with you.”

  Mir’s face tightened.

  “It’s not about them, really.” The leather creaked as Tyr shifted his enormous body. “Or rather, it’s all about them. This is war, Mir. And war is no place for delicate, fragile things. Doesn’t the fact that this creature is using all these women bother you?” Mir did, finally, swing his eyes around to meet Mir’s. “It’s strategy. They’re being used to lure us in, one by one, moths to the flame. He’s gathering us together for his final strike. Herding us into a group to make it easy for him to pick us off.”

  “And it’s one thing for us to fight battles against such a creature. After all, it’s what we were sent to this world to do. But it’s a whole other thing for mortal women to be caught in the crossfire. To be used by such a foul thing. To be unwilling victims.” Tyr’s lips thinned out, making the lines on his face seem even deeper. “That’s my problem with them being here. That’s why we don’t fall in love with humans. What binds us makes us more vulnerable. And what makes us vulnerable gives him strength. And after he kills us all, what chance do you think any of them have?”

  For that, Mir had no answer at all.

  Chapter 41

  Idly, Sydney noted the tip of the moon appeared to be balancing on the top of the dolmen, the circle casting long, odd shadows across the gravel-strewn ground. She was bound to this place, waiting. For what, she didn’t know. But her feet wouldn’t move and she had no idea how much time had passed since she’d last seen Mir.

  Not much, considering her hair still smelled faintly of shampoo, and her clothing was clean enough. Still, not the best way to gauge time.

  At her core, her magic flickered, a whisper of warning. A response to an approaching threat. Sydney surged to her feet, staring around wildly, finding nothing but the wind, the sky, and the stretch of moon-kissed stone. Until out of the night a darker, phantom shadow crept, pulsing with that terrible power, the power of Chaos without end, the hunger to end world after world, and the will to make it so.

  Sydney stilled, her magic under tight rein, keeping what little control she managed, clamped down upon it, her boot against a writhing serpent. But her own magic betrayed her, the moment the Orobus’s seductive, creeping presence wrapped around her. It entranced, this dark god’s power, spoke to
her magic in words it understood, craved, even desired.

  Give yourself to me, set your magic free, a cruel, ancient voice whispered in her mind. Do it now, witchling. As if it were beyond her control, she eased off, and a bit of her power escaped as she sighed.

  Much like Ava’s own brand of darkness, Sydney’s magic looked exactly as she remembered. A smoky wisp of fog, touched with a hint of red, a tapestry of ink and fire, of magic and power, of ancient and new.

  Whatever form he took, her magic knew his. Because her magic was bound to his. Woven through it, woven together.

  Because what Ava said was true. They were parts of a whole. Her. Celine. Ava. The Orobus. As the world faded away, Sydney’s magic intertwined with the dark god’s, undulating through the stones, set them singing. The melody soothed her, and she was soon so caught up in this lovely, familiar tune. Lost in the way it wove through her memories, she barely noticed when Hel arrived.

  The gods parked the Hummers below Lakeshore then skirted Soldier Field and came in from the south end. Each of them carrying enough steel it slowed them down, even though the weaponry would only work against demons and monsters. Tyr had picked this entry point because the wind off the lake would blow their scent away, and they’d have the element of surprise. Fen, Loki, and Balder went left, he and Tyr went right. Fen shifted and disappeared while Odin hung back. With a nod to Thor, the two circled out beneath the highway, disappearing through the shadows.

  Out of habit, Mir checked his gear as he raced across the open ground, dodging trees and overturned cars before slowing as they reached the outermost rim of broken marble from the museum. Air, cool air rushed in and out of his lungs, and his mind was blank as his feet moved, a blur as he neared the circle, his eyes straining to see…

  There. A flash of red.

  Sydney’s crimson hair, lifted on an invisible wind, while the faint shadow of the Orobus swirled protectively around her, the very air pulsating, as if a drumming beat were commanding the winds. Her eyes were closed, so he couldn’t tell if she was in control or the creature, but her face was relaxed, her arms down, no sign of pain, or stress, or…

  “Be done with it, already. I want to get on with what we’re here to do,” Hel snapped, appearing from behind the stones, pacing in a circle within the enclosure. “Have her open them up.” A glance of those obsidian eyes and Mir noted the doorway, the one they’d determined led to Svartheim, had been repositioned. It was turned the proper direction, opening to the north east now, no longer locked tightly against the other formation. No longer closed.

  Open for business.

  “Fuck. Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Tyr slid into position beside him, his gaze riveted to exactly the same thing. “We shoved those together. What the fuck are we going to do if…”

  The wind lifted Syd’s hair higher, and the air around them changed, it danced, as if buoyed by an electric charge or….

  “Get the fuck down,” Mir hissed, hand on the back of Tyr’s neck as he shoved, shoved him down behind the stones. A blast ripped through the air above them, sending a shower of stones pelting them, leaving their ears hollowed out and Tyr rubbing his jaw as he lifted himself up. Across the way, Balder lolled on the ground, stunned, as Loki darted out from behind a wall and dragged him back to safety.

  “What in the holy fuck was that?” Tyr sniffed, the smell of an electrical charge lingering in the wind.

  “Magic. Sydney’s magic. Just a taste of it.”

  Below them, even Hel seemed slightly stunned, blinking, pushing tumbled hair behind her ear. She shot Sydney the side eye as the darkness wrapped closer, trailing inky fingers through the stones. But staying clear of the largest one, Mir noted, as the murky shadow created a corridor leading from two of the dolmens, straight into the city beyond.

  “We can’t let them open those doors,” Mir warned the God of War, his gaze assessing the scene, Grim skittering in from all directions, Hel now shouting something about hurrying up the process as she strode toward Syd, a hand outstretched.

  Mir could hardly hear anything above the pounding in his chest as he watched Hel shove Sydney toward the circle while the dark shadows of the Orobus swirled in thickly, obscuring both figures from his view. A light began to flicker in the center of the dolmen, the one leading straight to Svartlheim, growing steadily brighter and brighter.

  Tyr was right.

  Mortals had no business in these kinds of wars.

  Sydney cracked open her eyes.

  There was a woman’s voice. A pushy, demanding, annoying voice. While inside, she burned. A fire edged with pain. As if her very blood were boiling. The effort it took to turn her head, to look at the woman was almost too much. The place stank…reeked of magic, so strong it made her gag. And everything was muffled, as if she were underwater. But she did turn her head. And she did look.

  Hel, Goddess of the Dead.

  Yes, Sydney remembered her. She shuddered as agony raced through her, fresh and bright, a lancing pain furrowing through her bone marrow. Stealing her magic. The Orobus was mining the magic out of her, from her blood. From her flesh. From her very being. Meeting Hel’s cunning eyes, Sydney blinked and focused.

  Her father had taught her many things.

  Spells. Control. Discipline. Secret, ancient ways to defend herself against people in her life who would use her. Steal from her. Hurt her.

  This melody lilting around her was one her father used to sing over and over again. Until the notes had become graven into her soul, as grooves into vinyl. For such a night as this. Down and down and down, to her very center, to where the foundation of her magic lay. To the untouched core of her magic.

  To the wellspring of her power.

  She still couldn’t move, but she could sink, deeper and deeper within herself, reaching for that source, reaching for the well from which all of this lovely power flowed. Outside of herself she heard a groaning, a whisper of wind, Hel’s incessant babbling, and then the hiss of feet on gravel. So many feet, too many silhouettes as an army marched past her, up and out of the circle, and she knew she’d opened up one of the doorways.

  No, no, no. I promised. I swore I wouldn’t.

  The Orobus was using her power to open doorways, and as his army of Dark Elves poured forth, Sydney burrowed down further, turning herself into a labyrinth, a twisting network of dead ends and wrong turns, hoping to delay him just long enough for her to reach her well first, and find enough power to stop this.

  Pain stopped her, fiery pain. A boundary of some sort. She pushed through it, felt a ripping agony as she shot through it, falling farther downward. Then she slammed into a wall. A hard, impenetrable barrier.

  Beneath the final barrier she sensed the endless surge of her power, the restless energy thrashing, wanting out, out, out. Still the melody danced in her veins, the stones singing their aria, her father’s voice echoing the music, the words in unison to the beats of her heart. Tentatively she pushed, then without another thought, tore straight through it, straight into the heart of her magic.

  She should be exhausted. She probably was, but when the magic surged through her, filling her up, she was renewed, reborn into a cage of flesh and bone riding high on a power not of this earth. Not of this universe.

  Capable of terrible things.

  Against the dimness of her dimmed, murky vision, the silhouettes continued to march past, the stamp of feet, the clash of metal ringing in her ears. As her magic rose, settled and rose again, it wiped the spiderwebs away from her eyes, sharpened her hearing, forging her back together. Better than flesh, better than mortal, something stronger.

  But more than even the magic, the music centered her in a way she’d never been before.

  The words her father had repeated, a litany strung together, became the chain Sydney followed back, until she stood beneath the cold, sickle moon sky, watching the Orobus’s army march past her, from a doorway she’d opened, to decimate her city.

  But it was with her eyes she watched them
.

  And with her lungs she breathed.

  Curling her hand into a fist, she vowed it would be with her magic that would stop them.

  Chapter 42

  They were picking the elves off as fast as they could, but it was an unending stream.

  And by the looks of it, not one that was going to stop anytime soon.

  “It’s been over an hour,” Tyr yelled from where he crouched behind an embankment. “We’ve got to do something.”

  Mir risked a dash across open ground and felt something penetrate his Kevlar, driving straight through his shoulder. The warm gush of blood followed, as did a numbness that told him it’d hit something fairly important. Switching hands, he balanced the Glock in his left, sliding in next to Tyr. “Fen is the only one who’s strong enough to make a difference. But we can’t communicate with him. I’ve lost track of Odin and Thor. We’re pinned down here. I’m open to suggestions.”

  “I can wing her.” Tyr suggested, even as Mir growled ominously. “Just wing her, distract her, enough so we can get close, give you a chance to ghost her away from the circle.”

  Mir noted Hel’s position, a mere few feet from Sydney. The black essence of the Orobus forming a protective shield around the two of them. “Can you take out Hel?”

  “Not a chance. She knows exactly where I am, actually gave me a jaunty little wave about ten minutes ago. And a big fucking smile. But if we get Sydney out of the picture… Look, I’m not going to do anything more than…”

  “No.” Mir shut that idea down quick. The wind changing, Sydney shifting, any number of things going wrong and she might end up dead. “No,” he repeated, “that’s not happening. Not yet.”

  “Then when? After all the fucking gates are open, and we have no chance at all? When exactly do you plan on shutting this down?” Tyr searched Mir’s face carefully. “Because I’m about to. This has gone on long enough. What if he takes her again, Mir, what then?” Tyr didn’t so much as blink. “I’m going to barely wing her, just get her to break her concentration.”