“Odin’s picked today to be a hero,” Ava said, her gaze fixed on the circle. “Pretty sure it has something to do with me, and I already told him he was an asshole.”
Tyr pretended he didn’t see the shimmer of tears in her eyes. “That won’t stop him, trust me. Even though he’s holding his own, he’s about to get his ass kicked. The issue is getting him out of there alive. And frankly, I’m not sure how to do that without getting the rest of us killed.”
“Except he won’t allow himself to be rescued. He’s willing to give himself over to that thing. To stop this war.” The wave of smothering gloom was growing taller by the second, a behemoth overflowing the stones.
“Ava… I don’t think I heard you right.” Tyr took a good, hard look at Ava, thinking she might be falling apart. But she seemed solid, given the circumstances.
“Odin doesn’t have any intention of surviving this. He’s already seen what happens. To us, to the world. This is his end game.” The way Ava spoke, so calmly, Tyr knew it was true. Aside from her tear-streaked face, she wasn’t hysterical at all. Just…resigned.
“It may be his end game, but it could also be ours.” Hunter spoke slowly, as the rest of them turned to listen. “So…some interesting developments. Hel is my mother, which means I’m immortal. Or, at least, partly immortal. If that’s even a thing. And the darkness I gave back to the Orobus? Well, there were some strings attached.”
“Like what?”
“That power belongs to me. And now that I know I’m immortal, and can handle it, I’m willing to reclaim it.”
Tyr considered her. Then turned to Ava. “You’re sure about Odin and this mission of his?”
“As sure as I’ve ever been about anything,” she said, gazing at the stones where the booming sounds came less frequently. The black, cresting wave loomed higher, and the whips of white seemed to have disappeared.
Tyr counted heads. “There’s only five of us. But it will take too long to get the others down here, pull anything together.” He looked to the circle. “Too long to save Odin.”
“What if Sydney opened one of the doors? We could possibly push him through, like we talked about at first. Get him off the planet?” Hunter asked, peering over the barrier they hid behind while she surveyed the scene.
Mir nodded in agreement, adding, “Let’s choose Niflheim. It’s cold and empty, and the lack of life force in that realm might weaken him.”
“This is crazy,” Loki mumbled. “What makes you think this will work? It’s just us, and we have no plan, we’re just winging it.”
“Because this time, I’m going in there after him. And this time, the Orobus will heel,” Ava muttered doggedly, her eyes still fixed on the stones. Without another word, she stalked toward the circle, dodging the gauntlet of debris and chunks of marble.
“I’m going, too,” Hunter told Tyr, offering him a hand. “And taking back what he stole from me.” She grinned. “You always promised to save the world for me. Care to watch me burn it down?”
In answer, Tyr kissed her, fast and hard, then together they jogged after Ava, with Mir and the rest right behind. “If Ava can distract him long enough, will you be able to…” Hunter turned to Sydney, right on her heels.
“I’ll open the right door. If there’s the slightest opportunity, I’ll use my magic to shove him through.” Sydney’s hair lifted, as a faint shimmer of her power thrummed through the air around them.
They’d almost reached the edge of the basin, tendrils of the Orobus’s dark, creeping power slithering toward them, as Ava disappeared down over the edge.
Hunter followed her down, Tyr right behind her, his hand over her shoulder, a steadying presence. Hitting the bottom, they ran for cover, already feeling the pull of the Orobus’s energy. His presence fouled the air, but the shadows also hid her, while Hunter began to draw from his power, recalling the tiny kernel of herself back.
And devouring darkness came.
Nestled inside of her, she savored the raw energy of it, the million horsepower surge she got as the dark magic roared its way through her. From behind her, Tyr yelled, “Ava. What are you doing?”
For Ava was walking straight into the storm. As if two immortal beings were not waging a holy war, right overhead. One hand outstretched, hair blown back, she leaned into the wind, eyes squeezed shut, and disappeared.
“Damn it.” Clasping Tyr’s hand, Hunter went in after her. The mixture of energy tore at her face, the small pebbles cut her cheeks, dust got in her eyes, and soon she couldn’t see a thing, only movement, while her hand reached out and found nothing at all. But finally, they reached the center. Ava and Odin stood together, bloodied and dirty, arms wrapped around each other, Ava sobbing as she struggled to support the pale, silver god. As Odin went to his knees, Tyr lunged forward and caught him around the waist.
Above them, the peak of the Orobus’s magic loomed. An apex of power, shimmering with dark rippling energy, poised to crush them all. Then Ava stepped forward and raised a pale hand.
Unbelievably, the thing obeyed.
Like some sort of otherworldly, mystical cobra, the creature swayed back and forth in front of Ava’s thin form, transfixed. And in that moment, Hunter saw it. The absolute recognition, the connection. The bond.
While Hunter reclaimed a piece of his power…
The creature had chosen Ava for himself.
Beside them, Odin moaned, “No, no, get her away from him. Don’t let him have her.” With a grunt, Odin slid out of Tyr’s grasp and crawled toward Ava, hands and knees scuttling in the dirt.
Threatened, the Orobus struck, a dark lash of power that cut straight across Odin. Deep stripes formed across his back, crimson blood welled before spilling down. At Tyr’s angered curse, the thing turned to Hunter and Tyr, and when the creature struck for them, his dark whip snapping down, she instinctively threw up a hand in defense. Brilliance bloomed before them, while the creature’s strike rebounded harmlessly off the barrier she erected.
On the other side of the shimmering wall of magic, Hunter and Tyr watched Odin collapse as Ava ran to him, her thin, white arms encircling him.
“We have to get in there, pull Odin out. Get Ava away.” Tyr growled.
“I agree, but how?” Hunter gasped, the task of keeping the internal power controlled, and the protective barrier intact, was stretching her to the limit.
“Lower it and I’ll go in. It’ll only take me a few seconds.” Hunter hesitated. She’d already lost him once, and she was loath to give the creature another shot. Behind them gravel crunched, and Mir and Sydney appeared. “Hunter, lower the shield, do it now,” Tyr ordered.
This time, when the force of the Orobus’s power struck her shield, it trembled. As the ripple of power went through her, she gritted her teeth. “If I lower this, he’ll kill us all. Sydney, any chance your magic works through mine?”
“Is that a theory you seriously want to test right now?”
Hunter shook her head, the next strike of the creature’s power sending her to her knees.
“We either figure something out quick, or ghost out.” Tyr snarled. “No way can she withstand another hit like that.”
He looked to Mir. “Hunter, give me your hand, right now. We take them both out of here and then you and me return. I’ll draw the Orobus’s attention, while you rescue Odin and Ava. It’s our only chance.” Tyr’s face held that rigid, tenacious look Hunter knew so well. He’d save them both. Or die trying. “Everybody’s going home today.”
Hunter couldn’t breathe. There was no way she’d allow it. No way she’d let Tyr do this; it was suicide. She was ready to argue, ready to fight him over this when everything happened so quickly.
Another sweep of power from overhead crushed the breath out of her, sent Mir and Sydney scattering. Tyr threw himself on top of her, and momentarily she couldn’t see a thing.
And then she could.
As the last of her magic faded away, Mir and Sydney rolled from beneath the next crush
ing wave of power, and she heard Tyr’s grunt of pain. Vaguely, she heard Mir’s shouting, telling Sydney to open a door. Any door, to anywhere. Pushing to her knees, Hunter watched helplessly as Odin lurched up from the ground, crossed the space, hitting the Orobus full force, sending them both away from Ava, through the newly expanding doorway, the light-filled portal swirling like a mirage after their passage, swallowing them up.
With a shout, Mir screamed for Sydney to seal it, seal it up.
Her face bloody, with a wave of her hand, she did.
And then the lot of them stood silent, listening to Ava sob.
51
Hunter wasn’t sure what to feel.
She wasn’t sure she could feel, she was so numb.
Dimly, she heard Ava crying. Dimly, she felt Tyr checking her over, his hands tracing her body, her arms, before cradling her face. Inside her, the darkness crawled, eel-like and oily, a foreign feeling after being absent for days. Forcing it down, she made the power heel, made it submit, forced it to obey.
Much like Ava had done to the Orobus.
Ava, who was half-hysterical in Morgane’s arms.
She felt herself grow curiously light, as if her bones were made of air and her skin transparent. If the wind were to whip through the stones, Hunter thought, it would take her and carry her far, far away. And then, her feet felt the earth underneath, her face the sun, and the wind blew against her cheeks while reality slammed into her.
“Oh Tyr,” Hunter said softly, gazing into Tyr’s face. “I’m so sorry about Odin.”
From the way he dipped his face into her neck, she knew he was emotional and pulled him into the embrace, feeling him shudder against her. Only for a moment though. One quick squeeze and he ordered harshly, “Everyone back. Now.”
And then they were inside the Tower, dirty, bloody, pale, and definitely having seen better days. For some reason, she couldn’t let go of Tyr, keeping his hand clasped tightly in hers, until everyone else had peeled off and it was only the two of them alone in their room.
“I’m sorry,” Hunter told him again. “I couldn’t lower the barrier. I just couldn’t. I didn’t want to lose you,” she explained, sinking to the bed, her legs feeling rubbery and weak.
“None of it’s your fault, Hunter.” Tyr stared down at her, still bloody from where he’d held onto Odin. It could so easily have been any of them. Only the barest shimmer of magic, standing between them and that…monster. Between them and death. Tyr slipped his hand beneath her chin, tilted up her face so she met his steady, sober gaze. “You can’t blame yourself over this. Odin made his choice. From the very beginning, that was on him.”
“I can’t,” she whispered, trembling. “I could have done things differently, I might have…” What? Saved Odin and doomed the rest of them? Lowered the shield and allowed the Orobus to swoop in and wipe them all away? Scrubbing her face, her hands came away wet while Tyr kneeled at her feet.
“Ah love, it’s not like you’ve never lost people before.”
“But not like this. This was different. Today, all I thought about was losing you. You, who’ve always been there for me. I thought you always would be.” The shaking grew stronger. “And today, I realized that I’ve never been alone.” Now she was sobbing. “For the first time, I was afraid. And I froze.”
For once, even Tyr didn’t argue. “I know, angel.” He leaned into her, his breath a weighty sigh. “And I wanted to bring everyone home today. But I didn’t. Trust me, we’ll be living with these regrets for a long time. But while neither of us are perfect…” He slipped his arms around her, tucked her into his chest “We are alive. So after a shitty day, let’s take that as a win, shall we?”
They barely managed to slip out of the bloody clothes and beneath the sheets before Hunter passed out.
52
A week later, and life still seemed surreal.
Yet here Hunter was, curled in bed with the man…god of her dreams, and the world was still spinning. The Orobus hadn’t made an appearance. The city was clear of Grim and Dark Elves. Made one almost believe in luck.
Tyr’s gentle snoring caused Hunter to smile. All those nights in the mountain cave and he’d never snored, not once. But get him into a nice, comfy bed, and it was like sleeping with a chainsaw.
Which was fine.
Except her mind was going a hundred miles a minute. Elbowing him, she whispered, “Roll over on your side.” A grunt and he complied, leaving her to ponder the dark city waiting outside the enormous, cracked windows.
Her mother was somewhere out there, gathering forces, demons, and God knows what else, while mentally, Hunter kicked her own ass for believing she could ever convince the Goddess of Death to switch sides. Still, it had been worth a try. At least, that’s what Tyr told her, time and time again.
He was probably just being nice.
But it did chafe her that Hel turned out to be such a shallow, conniving monster. For Hunter’s entire existence, the concept of her mother had been a hallowed ideal. Maybe because she’d put her on a pedestal and there’d been nothing to knock her off. Except, of course, reality.
Now Odin was probably dead, the Orobus was momentarily out of play, Hel was injured but most likely regrouping. Readying for her next strike, which would be brutal. Fast and decisive and big and flashy.
Reaching over, she stroked Tyr’s ropy arm, savoring the fact they’d had five days, five whole days of relative quiet. When she glanced over, he was watching her with guarded eyes.
“What’s the matter?” he murmured. “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”
“I want to. But there’s just too much rattling around in my brain.”
He rolled over so they faced each other. “I know what you mean. I keep replaying everything that happened, thinking I could change the outcome, somehow.”
“And?”
“Odin… I can’t get the sight of him going through that doorway out of my head. Nor him crawling after Ava like he did. But in the end…” Tyr blew out a tired breath. “In the end, what happened with Odin was predetermined. In truth, he’d already glimpsed his death, and his actions were only his way of making that come about.”
“Even so, this hurts, him being gone.”
“Yeah,” Tyr said, pain evident in every word. “It does. And I never expected it to.”
His eyes grew shadowed and not just because of the darkness in the room. Reaching out, Hunter stroked his face, her thumb tracing over the faint scar. “I expect you’ll feel like this for some time. And I can’t tell you how to process what’s happened, but I can promise you this. I’ll be here, whenever, for whatever you need.”
Hunter pulled him to her, his huge body almost more than she could wrap her arms around. And for a few long moments, she just held onto him. Feeling some semblance of peace flow between them as he settled, his racing heart slowing, his body relaxing into hers. “Oh, Tyr. I waited my entire life for you,” she breathed. “And now that I actually have you, I’m never letting you go.”
“Thank the gods,” he whispered, and she felt that fragile, unfurling of hope again. “Don’t know how long this peace and quiet’s going to last, but welcome to my life.”
“Glad to be here.”
For a second his eyes crinkled, just before he began to laugh. Grabbing her, he rolled them both over, nipping her chin. “I’m glad you’re here, too, angel. Glad for all of it. And while I’m not anxious to repeat some of it, if everything we’ve gone through allowed us to end up here, then I’d do it all over again.”
Leaning down, his lips closed over hers, running his tongue along the seam until she opened with a sigh. His lips were velvet, the tangling contact of his tongue causing a spiraling ache to burn deep inside of her. She could kiss him for hours. Seriously, the man had a magic tongue.
“Sorry it took me forever to get here, Tyr.” Hunter kissed him again, a long, deep kiss they both savored.
“But now that I’ve found you? I’m here to stay.”
Epilogue
Contrary to popular belief, it takes a while for rotting demon carcasses to cease stinking.
Hel was currently ensconced in a swanky mahogany and crystal meeting room on the thirteenth floor of the Merchandise Mart, and she could still smell them. Most of her hair had grown back, and her skin glowed with that lovely pinkish blush of fresh growth, and she was wearing kick-ass Prada with some new Tom Ford heels, and yet… She just couldn’t escape the stench.
Plus, she was lonely.
And a little bored.
Her main man was gone, sucked into another dimension by that asshole Odin, and now she was stuck in a holding pattern, hoping he’d find his way back. Soon. They had a war to get on with, revenge to be had, and time was a’wasting.
A glint of light caught her eye, and turning her attention out the window, she watched as a long line of Tahoes slid past, black paint brilliant in the noonday sun. Interesting. Among the ruthless human scavengers and burned-out buildings, she’d missed the part where shiny SUV’s were de rigueur. Striding along the line of glass, she watched them round the corner, then disappear down Orleans, never breaking formation.
Ten perfectly waxed, detailed, brand-spanking new SUV’s.
In a city ravaged by war and chaos.
Hel smiled.
Anyone who profited in times like these was someone she was dying to know.
Another day of healing, perhaps, and she’d be ready to find out who they were.
And what uses she’d have for them.
Thank you so much for reading!
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I would thank you from the bottom of my heart! -L.A.
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