Death's Daughter

by L. A. McGinnis

  With a grunt, Hunter flipped Ava over and away from him, and that was when he finally noticed the light. A faint, white glow emanated from Hunter. It had a gentle, silvery tint, like the dawn. Amazed, he watched it intensify, long moments passing until the luminosity overtook them both, eating away at the black shadows, revealing nothing but a limp, still woman in Hunter’s arms.

  With one, last, final lurch, the building rocked back into place, Hunter rolled off Ava, who slumped onto her side, unconscious. In two strides, Tyr was on his knees beside Hunter, grasped her shoulder, finding her warm and breathing, before reaching over and rolling Ava onto her back. The gentle rise and fall of her chest was all he needed to see. At least she was still alive.

  Odin stumbled his way over to the couch, fell back into it, dropping his head into his hands.

  Tyr cradled Hunter’s face in his hands. “C’mon, wake up, open your eyes.” When her eyes fluttered open, Tyr could have praised the gods. “That’s it, that’s my angel. How do you feel, anything hurt?” He ran gentle, cautious hands over her, feeling for broken bones, anything out of place.

  Hunter shook her head as if in a daze. “No. I don’t think so. I just feel really, really…warm. Like I was on fire.”

  Pushing to her elbows, she stared around. “What happened? Where’s Ava?” she mumbled, clumsy and dazed as she tried to sit. He put a firm hand against her shoulder and held her steady.

  “Not so fast there, baby. Let me see your eyes first. Look at me. Hunter, right here.” As her eyes shifted and met his, he let out a long breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. They were Hunter’s golden-amber eyes. Not black, no hint of whatever possessed Ava. “There you are.” He leaned in and kissed her, their chaste kiss turning into something else as he realized how close he’d been to losing her. Again.

  The soft cough had them scrambling apart.

  “Do you two need to get a room or something?” Ava’s voice was rough, as if she’d been screaming for hours.

  Tyr shuddered, remembering the sounds she’d uttered only moments ago.

  “Shit.” Ava brushed dust and debris off of herself. “Shit.” Now her voice held a note of panic, and her eyes darted all over the place, taking in the scene, the wrecked room, the long cracks spanning the windows, and Hunter’s disheveled appearance. “What the hell happened?”

  Tyr opened his mouth to explain, but Odin beat him to it. “It was me, Ava. I pushed you too hard. My head’s all messed up, and I was an asshole.”

  Her face paled, but she didn’t add anything while Odin explained to Tyr, “They came to confirm the truth about Hunter. But I couldn’t leave it at that. I should have. But I couldn’t.” He still hadn’t budged from the couch, hair hanging in front of his face like a curtain.

  “What do you mean…the truth about Hunter?”

  But before he got an answer out of his king, Hunter’s hand closed around his arm. “Suffice it to say, you and I will have a lot of ground to cover tonight, but for now, let’s get Ava upstairs. That’s the best solution. For now.” Hunter shot a long, meaningful look at Odin.

  Tyr nodded and watched Hunter’s other hand close over Ava’s as she explained in a calming voice, “You lost control. You tried to fight it, but it took you over. The power inside you was so strong, it took both of us to contain it. But we did.”

  Confusion knit Ava’s brow. “What do you mean, both of us? How the hell can you help me with what’s inside of me?”

  Hunter glanced over to Tyr. “I’m not sure, but somehow I was helping hold all of that power inside of you. It wanted to escape, but couldn’t get past me.”

  “You were glowing.” Both pairs of eyes turned to him, and Tyr cleared his throat. “You were glowing all over, and then it was like the radiance of your light burned away all of the shadows encasing Ava.” He shook his head vehemently. “Don’t know any other way to describe it.”

  “That’s what if felt like, even though I had my eyes closed most of the time.” Hunter rolled her neck, then her shoulder. “God, I ache all over.”

  “Me too.” Ava’s voice seemed small, vulnerable.

  Tyr’s heart softened a little, just looking at her. Not seeing the monster she’d been moments ago, but the lost, vulnerable girl she was right now. Someone who was fighting every day to remain as human as she could, trying to keep what was left of her sanity while the world burned around her.

  Surveying the scene, Odin, and his fucked-up appearance, Tyr made an executive decision.

  “Enough of this brooding, martyr shit. Ava, you’re coming to live on the community floor. We’ll set you up in a room, a proper room, not the damned attic, and you’re going to start eating with us.” He decided to temper his edict down a bit, seeing the look of horror on her face.

  “Not every meal,” he amended, looking to Hunter for reinforcement. “But you have to start eating with us, working with us, socializing. You can’t keep to yourself all the time, it’s not healthy.” He paused. “Fair enough?”

  “I’ll try,” Ava said in a small voice.

  “That’s all I ask. We haven’t been trying hard enough, none of us have. We can do better.” Tyr offered a hand to Hunter, pulled her to her feet, and then his other hand to Ava, lifting her up as if she weighed nothing. “Let’s get you out of here.”

  It turned out Ava’s attic room was an even bigger disaster. As she folded up her few, meager belongings, the sound of breaking glass tinkled through the room followed by a blast of chill air. Tyr shook his head. “This floor isn’t even habitable anymore. Don’t worry, we’ll find you something better. We’ve got to have some extra rooms in this place, right?”

  “Take mine,” Odin offered.

  Tyr eyed Ava as she muttered, “Don’t be ridiculous. I can’t take your room. That would be…” Ava tapered off, unsure of what that would be, apparently. And the way she was kneading that arm of hers, Tyr thought she might rub right through the sweater.

  “Why not? I’ve been crashing on the closest couch for months. Sometimes in the stairwell. And chances are, you’ll appreciate the luxury more than me at this point.” Odin shrugged. “Unless you come up with a compelling reason, then it’s yours. No sense in a perfectly good room going to waste.”

  Tyr pushed, “He’s actually right about this, Ava. At least until we figure something else out. Mir will have to give the building a once-over to determine structural integrity. In the meantime, take the damn room.”

  Hunter cut in. “Let’s get your stuff downstairs. If you grab that pile, I’ll get this one.”

  An hour later, Tyr and Hunter walked in on an argument. One would think facing the end of the world would leave the gods nothing to fight over, but apparently, who sat on Odin’s golden throne was worth trading punches over. Thor skidded across the floor and hit a marble column with an echoing boom just as Tyr swung the tall doors open. The silence was deafening as they entered, and Tyr cleared his throat, feeling an announcement of sorts was in order.

  “Ava’s moving down to the main floor with the rest of us, and Hunter’s moving in with me. Anyone’s got any objections to either, I’ll kick their fucking ass. Starting tomorrow, we go after the God of Chaos with everything we’ve got. Any questions?”

  Freyr lifted his hands and his slow, rhythmic clapping echoed against the marble. “It’s about fucking time.”

  “Yup. Now let’s go assess the damage to the building, see what we can salvage, and get some fucking sleep. It’s been a hell of a day.”

  42

  “So yeah, that’s pretty much all of it.”

  Hunter huddled into a ball, gazing out the cracked window, trying to ignore the steady breeze that blew through the openings. Clad only in Tyr’s t-shirt, the wind chilled her to the bone. Somehow, they’d have to patch these up or they’d all freeze. And all of a sudden, this once-delightful view only served to remind her how tenuous their current situation was. Big hands slid over her shoulders, and she resisted the urge to relax into them.

>   “I can’t believe I’m the child of a monster,” she whispered.

  She stiffened as Tyr chuckled. “You, my love, are the daughter of a Highland chieftain. A rather arrogant one, if I remember rightly.” He stroked gentle fingers through her hair. “And that is the only thing that matters.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Oh, I don’t? After all this time, if there’s anyone on earth who understands you, it’s me, woman. So don’t be telling me what I do and don’t understand. Because I understand just fine.” He tweaked her nose as he sat next to her. “I always knew there was something a bit devilish about you. Just wasn’t sure until now what it was.”

  How could he possibly joke about such a thing? Words failed her as she stared helplessly over at him. She was different from who she thought she was. She was mortal, or near-mortal. Half death-goddess, or something like it. Chewing her lip, Hunter realized, in fact, she had no idea what she was anymore.

  “And don’t be sitting there looking at me like I’ve sprouted two heads. Sulking around, staring out windows, feeling sorry for yourself won’t solve a thing. I’ve given you twelve hours to mope around, angel. Which is about ten more than I should have.”

  When he went to brush her hair back again, she snatched his hand in horror. “What happened to your arm? My god, Tyr, your skin, it’s…” As realization hit, the words failed her.

  Turning his hand over so his palm lay on her leg, she inspected his hand and forearm. Burns, red and raw, already healing, covered his skin and the back of his hand. Hunter grabbed his other hand, pushed back his sleeve, and found the same thing. “I burned you. I did this?”

  Tyr merely shrugged. “When you saved Ava and the Tower and the rest of us. When I tried to grab you, your glow shielded the two of you. Not so bad, and I’m already healing up. See?” He rotated his wrist, showed her the new, pink skin near his elbow. “Besides,” he added, tipping her face up so she looked him in the eyes, “there’s not going to be any regretting any of this. I won’t allow it. We move forward. Together. We promised, remember?”

  When she didn’t say a word, he gripped her chin firmly. “We will not waste time on regrets. We will not waste time, period. You and I have done enough of that. What do you say, angel?”

  Hunter wanted to scream. She settled for, “You might have to find a better nickname for me, considering.”

  Tyr grinned. “Well, I think it’s perfect.” He nudged her. “Do you happen to remember the discussion we had the day you arrived? About whose blood is bluer?”

  Hunter groaned. “Oh please, don’t bring that up now. This is not the time, Tyr.”

  Leaning in, he tasted her lips, taking his damn time. “Oh, I think this is the perfect time. Half death goddess and half Scottish…” His eyes began to gleam. “By the gods, you really are a princess. All you need is a crown.”

  Hunter felt burning as her throat closed up. None of this, not one bit of it could be true.

  “Don’t… Aw, please don’t… I was kidding, please don’t cry, angel.” Tyr cradled her head in his big hands and laid her back on the bed. “I’m sorry. I was only trying to make you feel better. Please angel…” He skimmed his lips along her jaw, resting on the place just below her ear.

  “I love you. Exactly how you are. No matter where you came from, I’ve been consumed with you ever since the day I first set eyes on you. Nothing will ever change that.” He nibbled his way up to her earlobe, trapped it between his teeth. “And now I’ll just shut up before I screw things up even worse.”

  “Not possible,” she muttered, even as she leaned farther into his touch. “I don’t want anyone else to know, not until I’m ready to tell them myself. How am I supposed to just sit back and accept this, Tyr?”

  “Shutting up, remember?” he murmured, his hands already lifting the shirt over her head, revealing her creamy flesh, goose pimpled in the cold room. Dipping his head, Hunter felt his warm lips skim over her breasts, her abdomen, lower.

  “Yeah,” she said, sensations already rocketing through her, “shutting up is good.”

  “Hmm.” Was all she heard as Tyr hooked one of her knees behind his shoulder, then the other. A swipe of his tongue up through her center brought a moan to her lips, another had her arching back, and her hands tangled in the sheets. A flick, a twist of his tongue, and a ragged sigh escaped her while she pushed herself against his mouth, thoughts of parentage and bloodlines completely forgotten as Tyr teased her until she shuddered, the climax tearing through her like fire.

  Tyr flipped her over, and she raised herself onto her elbows, Tyr positioning himself behind her, his teeth closing on the nape of her neck ever so slightly before tracing a path down her spine. Her head dropped down and Tyr pushed in, stretching her wide, the sensation of him sliding inside making her feel deliciously full. She drove her hips back, and he sank in even deeper, one hand closing around her hip, the other braced on the headboard.

  “This all right?” Tyr asked, lowering his head until his lips pressed close, the words bursts of breath in her ear. “Tell me what you want, angel.”

  “Harder.”

  He thrust, found a fast, pounding rhythm, dropped his head until all she heard was his rough breath in her ear. With the glide of him inside her, the sureness of each stroke, she plummeted, further and further down, the tightening muscles bearing down on him until everything released, the cry echoing from her before she was even aware she made a sound.

  Tyr pounded into her, stilled, and then shuddered, the tremors rocking through his body until he fell atop her, the haze of her orgasm a blissful stupor as he trailed his fingers down along her arm.

  Ava stared up at the cantilevered ceiling. “Why in the hell did I ever agree to this?” she huffed, beyond resentful for where she was right now.

  She felt exposed. She felt vulnerable.

  But damn it, she felt relieved.

  The worst had happened, and she’d survived. They’d all survived. Mostly due to Hunter, but still, things had all worked out. The disaster she’d feared, from the moment she’d been rescued from that hellhole nine months ago, had come true. And yet here she was, in a cushy, comfortable Sun King bed, living to tell about it. And as an added bonus, it was Odin’s bed. She snuggled deeper into the thousand count sheets under cashmere comforters and sighed.

  The man sure knew how to live.

  “So what am I doing here?”

  Because it was confusing, how she’d gone from walking down a city street with her mother and sister, carefree under the city lights, to being cast into the Underworld condemned to unending misery, to being rescued by her sister, to sitting alone in solitude, endlessly rehashing said events until they played like a catch-twenty-two loop in her brain. Light. Dark. Light. Dark. Light.

  The whiplash alone made her neck hurt.

  Ava shifted her legs under the sheets until they were in a cool place. The bed still smelled like Odin. Not that she knew what he smelled like or anything. But the sheets, this entire room smelled of wintertime and frost. Idly, she surveyed the space, the way her little piles of clothing disappeared amongst the grandness of the tall, gilded mirrors, the elegance of the hand-carved furniture. And a flash of anger went through her. How dare he give up? How dare he walk away, when they needed him the most?

  When she needed him.

  He was an asshole, sure, but he was the asshole who held this place together.

  She threw back the covers and walked to the windows, tracing her fingers across the duct tape holding together the spiderwebbed cracks that she’d caused earlier with her little…outburst.

  “Jesus. Thank God, Hunter was there.”

  Because even though Odin took the blame, Ava knew she’d been on the verge of an explosion for a while. Weeks, since the Orobus touched her, she realized, rubbing her arm absently.

  Odin had to stop drinking. She didn’t care if he couldn’t see the future. He was strong in other ways. She needed him around, head clear, like old times.
In some weird way, he grounded her, and without him poking and needling at her all the time, she felt untethered.

  And for her, untethered meant dangerous.

  Because when the limitless energy first spiraled out of her, she’d welcomed it. For a second. Just for one, traitorous, weak blink, she’d caved, and that had been the opening the shadowy power had needed. But then?

  Ava shuddered, staring out at the bleak city. The sheer force of that power had taken all of a second to consume her, and then she’d been helpless against its deadly might. Helpless against him. Rubbing her arm, she stared at the raised ridges there.

  The marks the Orobus had left on her flesh.

  The idea of these marks frightened her more than anything else. The knowledge he’d marked her. Perhaps even claimed her, somehow. And that his power and her power had, for a second, danced together. Still, she’d have to tell the others. They needed to know.

  Because when he’d touched her, she’d seen things.

  But there was something else, something she could not tell anyone. Something that filled her with such intense shame she could hardly bear to face it.

  She had not fought him.

  Not one bit.

  She hadn’t even tried.

  43

  Tyr liked things simple. And simple, for him, meant war.

  “Listen up. It’s time to get back to doing what we do best.”

  The band was all here. Everyone, the gods, the girls, everyone who had a stake in their survival. Everyone except Odin, who was still on his never-ending bender.

  “Everyone’s going to have a job, and everyone will do their job. Freyr—you, Mir, and me will work on strategy. Thor and Fen, you’re defense. Loki, Balder, counter strategy, see what weaknesses the God of Chaos might find when he does come after us. Consider every single contingency, hear me? I want to be prepared when that bastard hits us.

  Hunter, scout the streets, look for any sign Hel has slithered into the city. I suspect she’ll be looking for opportunities, now that this fight has escalated.”