Death's Daughter

by L. A. McGinnis

  39

  Tyr was about out of excuses.

  He’d dodged and evaded and pussyfooted his way around the problem for hours now. Pretty difficult for an immortal who’s usual modis operondi was to lower his head like a bull and charge.

  But going to war meant possible victory.

  And in this case, victory meant defeat.

  Tyr was not about to fucking lose everything. That was not happening. Not to Hunter. Not to him. He’d been stuck in this room, arguing, all night. Watching the battle of wills playing out around the table. To attack or retreat. Use the explosives now or wait. While he hemmed and hawed over every recommendation, he wasn’t blind. Tyr saw the suspicion in everyone’s eyes, saw the knowing looks Freyr shot him every now and again. He did not care.

  He’d searched for Hunter a couple times, not finding her in bed, or the kitchen, or the roof.

  So here he was, stuck in yet another endless, futile meeting.

  “We’ve been picking off the elves, one at a time. Grim too.” Tyr finally cued into Freyr’s latest report. “Gotta piss Hel off, all of her minions disappearing. The Orobus still appears intent on opening up the portals, but no luck so far.”

  “How can you be sure?” Thor actually sounded bored.

  “Because the city’s not flooded with his armies,” Freyr replied drily. “So far, so good. Most recent numbers put the elves and Grim at less than a few hundred, each. By the end of the week, we’ll only have Hel and the dark god to contend with. Manageable odds.” Freyr paused. “More manageable.”

  Tyr managed a responsive grunt. Manageable odds. All of these were merely stopgap actions. None of them, not one single thing they were talking about actually stopped the Orobus. Nor saved the planet, or the other realms, or halted the destruction. Which meant they were still miserably failing.

  Which was good.

  At least, he kept telling himself that.

  “Once we’ve eradicated the last of the elves and Grim, Mir wants to take Sydney back down to the site. See if she can use her magic to create another cylinder.”

  “Because that went so well last time,” Tyr grumbled before he could stop himself as Mir let out a warning growl from across the table, blue eyes flashing.

  “At least she’s trying to do something. We’re all trying to do something. Unlike you, we’re not sitting on our asses, making excuses, and what? Waiting this thing out? Because it’s not clear to me, or anyone else, what your course of action is at this point.” For the first time ever, Freyr actually sounded pissed off. “Unless your master plan includes piling up so many lame excuses, the Orobus can’t climb over them all to kill us.”

  Freyr snorted in disgust. “So how about it? Explain to me why you’re blocking every scenario I suggest. I suppose it’s because none of them are fucking good enough for you.”

  “Or you’re afraid to go after the bastard,” Mir mused with a sideways look at Fenrir.

  “I am.” The second the words came out of Tyr’s mouth, he felt a twinge of guilt. These were his brothers, and he owed them an explanation. They were right, his delaying tactics were going to get them all killed. “But it’s not why you think,” he added quickly. Opening this door and the layers of complications might only make matters worse, but he had to tell them the truth. “It’s because of Hunter.”

  “I told you we shouldn’t have trusted her. Nothing but a fucking walking disaster, just like Mir always said.” Fen’s lip rose in a toothy snarl.

  The hairs on Tyr’s nape rose, but he quickly tamped down the anger. Fen had once risked everything for Celine, while he’d been the one standing in their way. Now, he knew exactly how Fen had felt. “I bargained with the Fates to save Hunter’s life. In exchange, once the God of Chaos is dead”—his gaze met Fen’s steadily—“I have to kill her.” Utter shock filled Fen’s face.

  “Those bitches.” Fen bit out the words.

  “Yeah,” Tyr managed, frustration throbbing in his bones.

  “I don’t get it, why did you agree? There’s a thousand other ways around…”

  “It wasn’t completely their doing, Freyr. It was partially mine, partly Hunter’s.” His voice was layered with sadness. “When Hunter first arrived, she forced me into an agreement. She’d help us defeat the God of Chaos, if I’d undo the spell from all those years ago.” His smile turned bitter. “I didn’t have much of a choice, and trust me, I never thought I’d keep my word. Now I’m trying to figure out a way around this.”

  “It’s an impossible choice,” Tyr pointed out, his dark gaze skimming across the faces at the table. “Either us or Hunter. Neither are a decision I’m ready to make.”

  “No shit.” Mir’s voice was hoarser than usual. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “Because it’s too fucked up for explanations.” If only Hunter could hear him now.

  Now he sounded defeated.

  40

  While Odin was doubtlessly very, very drunk, he was telling the truth.

  Hunter’s finger drilled into Ava’s chest. “He’s right. Why don’t you want me to hear this? What about your little speech about me being strong? Or was that just lies?”

  Hunter whirled back to Odin. “So out with it. Tell me what you know. And tell me straight.” For a second she didn’t think he was going to reveal anything else.

  He seemed as surprised as she when he blurted out, “What do you know about your mother?”

  “Only what little I gleaned from my father’s stories. He loved her very much. And it was hard for him, after she was gone.” Hunter paused, remembering how her father’s face used to light up at the very mention, the thought of his dead wife.

  “Father used to make…claims about her, called her a siren, even a goddess. But the villagers had names for her as well. Sorceress. Demon. Witch. Those were the stories I spent most of my childhood hearing.” Hunter shook her head. “But they were only stories. Stories told by superstitious, frightened, uneducated people.”

  “Did you ever wonder why they were scared?” Odin asked, his voice insinuating. “Or did you never bother to ask?”

  “What are you trying to tell me? And why can’t you just spit it out?”

  “Because this is so much more fun,” Odin said, taking another swig of whiskey before offering Hunter the bottle. “Have some, you’re going to need it.” When she refused, he winked. “Suit yourself, but you’ll wish you’d taken me up on it, trust me.” Ava wrapped her long, pale fingers around his arm, squeezing so tightly his skin turned white.

  “Please,” she pleaded softly. “Not like this.”

  “Oh Ava, don’t you know?” Odin’s smile turned gentle. “None of this matters anymore.”

  Hunter watched him skim a finger up Ava’s face, tenderly, slowly, as if they were both lost in the moment, before Ava yanked away. The room was instantly plunged into freezing, bitter cold, Odin’s icy magic sweeping in around them.

  “Just so you know, your father’s term for your mother was apropos. Goddess. However, the villagers, the whole, superstitious lot of them were also correct. Demon or sorceress also worked.” He allowed himself an empty chuckle before offering her the bottle again. This time she took it from him with a shaking hand.

  “Your mother was not born of this earth. Nor of any other realm. Well, none you’d want to inhabit. Not unless you were dead.”

  It took a minute for what Odin said to register. And as the ramifications began to sink in, her world turned upside down.

  “That…you can’t be right.”

  Hunter took a long draw of whiskey, barely noticing the searing heat as it went down. “No. That’s not right at all.” She had to be missing something, she had to be misunderstanding. Odin was too drunk to know what he was saying.

  She looked to Ava, and the woman was white, the circles dark beneath her eyes. But when they landed on Hunter, when their gaze connected, all she saw in them was regret.

  “Legend has it, Hel once had a daughter. With a Pictish chieftain, t
he only mortal she ever deigned worthy of her divine charms. But in the end, Hel left her child and returned to the Underworld. Someone had to rule, after all.”

  Hunter barely heard Odin as he went on, musing, “I sometimes wonder if she might have stayed, if she’d had a choice. For what it’s worth, your father believed she was happy, for the short time they were together.”

  When Hunter looked at him, he was too slow to hide the flicker of sadness in his eyes.

  “You are the only child of the Goddess of the Dead.” He leaned in, smelling like a distillery. “Do you still think it’s a coincidence the two of them, armies in tow, followed you all the way back to Chicago?”

  “That is enough,” Ava snapped, pulling Hunter back, away from Odin, away from this awful truth that couldn’t possibly be real. “We are done here.”

  “Oh no, we are most certainly not done,” Odin said, taking the bottle back from Hunter. “We are just getting started, and I, for one, am looking forward to putting this bullshit to rest, once and for all.”

  “I…I have to think. Nothing you said…none of it can be true. I’d know if that woman was my mother. I’d feel it…I’d feel…” God, Hunter couldn’t even say it. Evil. That was the word she was searching for. She’d feel evil if Hel was her mother, and right now, she didn’t feel anything at all except shock and disbelief.

  “Did you get to the part where she can help us win?” Odin asked Ava, his tone perfectly, reasonably calm. “Please tell me you already covered that?”

  “Fuck you,” Ava spat at him.

  Dimly, Hunter felt Ava’s hands on her. “Come on, Hunter, let’s get upstairs. You’ll need time to sort this whole thing through. Let me take you back to your room, and I’ll find Tyr, and then you two can talk.” Ava gently tugged Hunter to her feet and led her to the door. They were almost through when Odin made his parting shot.

  “Right. You can tell him his archenemy is about to become his mother-in-law. Not sure if that’ll happen before or after she destroys the world, but hey, one big happy family, right?”

  The arrogance tinged with a hint of meanness was what did it.

  Pushed her right over the edge.

  Ava knew the truth about Hunter. Knew everything would all come out, sooner or later.

  But there were ways of revealing the truth. Kinder ways. Gentler ways. Ava brought Hunter here, hoping Odin might help explain in a way Hunter would actually believe. After all, they were the only two people, besides Hunter’s actual mother, who knew her true ancestry. But Odin, the cruel, son of a bitch, and the means by which he’d chosen to reveal her parentage, in a whiskey-fueled rampage, just pissed her off.

  Letting go of Hunter’s arm, Ava turned, with the simple intent of giving Odin a good, verbal slap down. When her whole world went dark. The Orobus’s power was growing. And all of this arguing, all of this hostility was adding fuel to an already volatile fire. The simple fact was, she was a mess since the incident a week ago at the circle.

  She was a mess because the creature had touched her. A tendril of his black, creeping power had coiled around hers for a mere second, before she’d been able to break free. But not before he’d stroked her, with all the tenderness of a lover’s touch.

  Nor before she’d shivered in utter delight.

  That’s when the screaming had started.

  For a few minutes, she thought the sound was coming from someone else, before she’d realized it was her shrieking. But then she’d rubbed her numb, freezing arm and discovered the raised ridges on her flesh. As if he’d marked her.

  As his.

  Refocusing, Ava fumed, striding to Odin, hissing low enough so Hunter couldn’t hear, “You bastard. How dare you spring everything on her like that? Bad enough you drop the nugget about Hel. You want her to fall apart? You want us to fail, is that it? Just because you’re ready to curl up and die, doesn’t mean the rest of us are.”

  His voice every bit as low, Odin leaned in until his words were hot against her face. “Aaaw Ava, and here I thought you cared.”

  “I fucking care as much as you do. Drink until your liver gives out. I do not. Give. A. Shit.” It was difficult to breathe, hard to push air in and out. “But I swear to you, this is the only family I have left, and I will save them. So get out of my way, asshole.”

  Armed with that arrogant smirk, he leaned back, and she had to clench her hand to not reach out and slap it off his face.

  “With pleasure. This was fun, we should do this more often. And Ava?”

  “Hmmmm?” She could barely think through the blood pounding in her ears.

  “You’re leaking.”

  That’s when everything went to shit. A pulse, a ripple of power went through her, and Hunter took a cautious step back through the doorway. Whatever strength held the power at bay was crumbling. She was nearing a meltdown, and here they were, the three of them locked in a tiny space.

  Tossing the bottle, Odin cursed and took a shambling step toward her, reaching out as she fended him off. His magic tangled with hers for a second, the cold of it buffeting her before it faded away.

  “Get out of here, both of you,” she ordered, her hand already masked by shadow, the flesh turning smoky gray, her vision obscured by swirling darkness. “Get Hunter out of here, she’s mortal now, damn it.” If this power exploded from her, there might be nothing left of the Tower. Or any of them.

  Feeling pressure on her arm, the bite of fingers forced her gaze upward. She met Hunter’s steady, golden gaze. “Ava. You need to focus. Take deep, steady breaths.”

  It was all she could do to catch a single breath. “Listen princess, you don’t understand. He touched me, at the circle. The Orobus marked me. And now I’m his. Get out of here…now…” A scream tore from her mouth, the sound tinged with madness, as a burst of power ripped up through her body like the forked spear of a lightning strike, the sensation unlike anything she’d ever experienced.

  Ava had the vaguest sensation of Hunter wrapping herself around her, cocooning her with her body, while the whole world went black. Light disappeared as her bones went rigid, another scream ripping from her mouth as power—limitless, endless power—engulfed them both.

  41

  “What was that?” Thor swung his feet down off the table and moved to the door, throwing a hand out to catch the doorjamb while the building rocked. The rest of them pushed chairs out, rose, began checking weapons.

  “Felt like the whole damned building moved. Explosion?”

  Fenrir sniffed the air, shooting to his feet. “No trace of accelerant in the air. Could this be an earthquake?”

  Now they were all on the move, making for the door as a group, even as the floor shifted wildly beneath their feet, throwing them to their knees.

  “Fucking earthquake, I’m telling you.” Fen growled. “I’ve got to get Celine out.” In the hall, they split up, each heading for their own quarters, only to be met by Celine, Sydney, and Morgane, staggering toward them as debris fell from overhead.

  “Where’s Hunter?” Tyr yelled, as dust and fragments of plaster fell to the floor. “Has anyone fucking seen Hunter?” Mir, his hand wrapped around Sydney’s wrist, shook his head as they barreled past, heading for Odin’s Great Hall. Mir threw an arm across Fen’s chest as he ran for the stairs, dragging Celine behind him. “No. Not the stairs, if the building goes, you don’t want to be caught in the stairwell. Follow us to the Great Hall, the ceiling and floor are reinforced, it’s our best chance.”

  Fen quested the air, then pointed down the steps. “Well, Hunter went that way. Odin’s down on the second floor, old library. Start there.”

  Cursing, Tyr hit the door to the stairwell and descended, yelling her name every ten steps. When he hit the bottom of the second-floor stairs, he swore he heard muted, faint shouting. “I cannot believe you came down here. Stubborn, stubborn woman.” Hitting the door like a battering ram, he stumbled into the lower corridor, the narrow space filled with plaster, beams, and swirling dust. He rico
cheted off the walls, tossed like a ping-pong ball as the building swayed back and forth. Following the screaming, he finally burst through the door and froze, eyes bulging out of their sockets.

  Ava, or what he assumed had once been Ava, was wrapped tightly in Hunter’s arms, a writhing, monstrous thing, wrapped in shadows, with a dark, contorted face that was the personification of madness. Hunter held on, eyes squeezed firmly shut, as if blocking out everything except the effort it took her to hold on to the bucking woman. Ava’s black eyes shifted back and forth through the room, searching for any and all escapes, her mouth gaped open, a cacophony of sound emanating from it. He’d never heard the like of it, not on any of the Nine Worlds.

  Odin watched the entire thing, numb, shock written all over his face.

  Shuddering, Tyr forced his feet to slide across the floor toward them. Whatever language was coming out of Ava’s mouth, the mere sound of it was tearing him apart. And Hunter was right beside it. As if she heard his thoughts, Hunter’s pinched, white face turned to him, and she managed a small shake of her head, warning him off.

  Odin stumbled over, gripped Tyr’s shoulder, hanging on for dear life. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean it,” he said, his eyes wild, face pale as he watched Ava and Hunter writhe on the ground. He shook his head wildly from side to side. “I was… I never wanted this. Never.”

  “We have to get them apart. Ava will kill her if we don’t separate them. And the building’s about to come down,” Tyr told the former king, scanning the rapidly disintegrating room.

  Tearing himself away from Odin’s grasp, Tyr stretched his fingers to grab Hunter, but they hit something. A field, a force, an invisible surface repelling him. He couldn’t reach her. He bellowed for her to take his damn hand, but at the sound, the Ava-monster’s head snapped around and a gaping, saw-toothed grin came over her face.