The Tower

by L. A. McGinnis

Gabriella hung back until Fen depressed the button on the com unit, finishing up his conversation with Celine. The news was encouraging. Vali was staying ahead of the storm, the baby and Celine were resting comfortably, and they would reach the Wisconsin border in a few hours, where the next safe house waited for them.

  But she sensed Fen’s rage and fear as she approached. “It’s going to be okay, Fen. They’re going to make it.” Snow swirled through the headlights of the waiting vehicles in the early morning dim, the air bitter cold.

  “They’d better. The safe house in Wisconsin is little more than a cabin in the woods, a far cry from this place.” His gaze was fixed to the north, but quickly swung his big head to the south, and drew in a deep breath. Even she felt the shift in him as he sensed…something in the distance.

  “They’re coming, aren’t they?” At his shallow nod, she broke into a run, and together, she and Fen jumped into the truck and took off for downtown Oak Park.

  They came in groups of three. It was how wolves hunted, wild dogs and lions, and apparently, these things. Cooperative hunting—her father had called it—and even though it differed from her preferred hunting style, he’d forced her to study their methods until she knew them like the back of her hand. First, they required moving prey. One that acted in a slow, clumsy manner. But not too clumsy, she noted, as Hunter banked low and cut in front of the pack on a four-wheeler, just a few paces ahead of the lead creature—a male, Gabriella noted—lowering her field glasses. Leading them straight into the center of town, like a long, fanged kite tail, they pursued at a full gallop.

  Loki and Balder barricaded the side streets with abandoned cars, not that it mattered, so intent the creatures were on catching Hunter’s scent. She found everyone on point and ready to move to phase two of Plan A. Such that it was.

  “I hope our prey is in position.”

  Odin’s voice crackled in her ear. “If you mean me, yes, I am freezing my royal ass off down here. So, get on with it.”

  Predators imprint on a specific, preferred prey. It was how nature worked. The natural order of things. She bet that the Orobus had created these things to hunt specifically for immortals, and one in particular, with silver hair and a bad attitude. Which meant that’s who was sitting in the gazebo in the center of town.

  Freezing his royal ass off.

  “Excellent. Do we have a count? I have eighteen so far.”

  “Nineteen from up here.”

  “Freyr, you can’t count worth a shit.”

  “Fuck you Mir, I can so count…”

  “Fuck all of you. Give me an accurate count and signal when the last of them funnels in. Then we blow this thing and go home.” Well, some of them would go home, some of them would be moving on.

  “Wait.” Crackling. Pause. “Wait. There are more coming. Something…bigger, I think.”

  “Awesome. Just freaking awesome.”

  “Shut up, Freyr.”

  Gabriella raised the glasses again, focusing on the darkness that was just beginning to glow with dawn’s early light. Balder settled next to her on his elbows. Tense. They were both tense. Both of them knew this was not over, not nearly, and the not knowing produced a myriad of possible disastrous outcomes.

  “What do you see?” she asked, knowing that even without binocs, his sight was ten times better than hers.

  “Bigger, like Freyr said. At least ten more, coming fast. Looks like the horned creatures were just the first wave.”

  The first wave. She’d miscalculated. Badly.

  “So, nineteen of the first kind, and let’s say twenty of these next, bigger ones. Shit, I figured only the one kind. It seems like overkill, don’t you think?”

  “Nothing would surprise me when it comes to the Orobus. He’ll be pissed, since we took out his weapon depots. His men. This is payback. Big time payback,” Balder commented, every word pointed. Calm. Steady. A soldier in the face of battle, like he’d done this a million times before.

  Perhaps he had.

  Okay. She marshalled herself. Maybe not a total loss. Hunter was still roaring along, the first wave of dog-like creatures hot on her tail. The bigger, more cat-like looking things now coming into view were truly terrifying to look at. Scaled and sinuous with glowing yellow eyes. “All right. We stick with the plan. Let’s see how these things do when they get corralled in together.”

  And then...

  She whipped the glasses back up to her face. “What in the name of all that is holy are those?”

  Balder said, too calmly, “Not sure, but they’re big as hell.”

  Someone dropped in between them, elbowing her way up so they were in a row. “Oooo, they’re beautiful, aren’t they? Look—they’re kind of glittery.”

  Gabriella turned to Hel. “Unbelievable. Let’s see how beautiful you think they are when they’re eating our faces off.”

  “Oh, don’t be so overly dramatic, Gabbie. I doubt they’ll start at your face. Anyways, you have a plan. Work it.” The grin she threw Gabriella’s way was total and complete anticipation of whatever was to come. Carnage. Bloodshed. Revenge. Take your pick.

  “Well, we don’t really have another one, so…”

  As she watched the things come into view, she realized today would be a disaster. The Orobus had sent in ten times as many creatures as needed, and she’d made a huge mistake. Three waves of indescribably powerful creatures, each more deadly than the next, lumbered down Main Street, USA. Hunter roared by, giving a jaunty wave. Gabriella had to stop herself from waving back. “Another thirty seconds, then we should have them inside the target area. Let’s hope they’re all vulnerable to fire and pressure.”

  “Will I have to wait until I see the whites of their eyes?” Odin sounded bored.

  Hel grabbed the com out of Gabriella’s ear. “Nope. Just the whites of their fangs, old man.” She giggled as Gabriella snatched it back and fit it into her ear.

  “What?” Odin snarled. “Please tell me that was not who I think it was?”

  “Okay, then I won’t.” She turned to Hel and pointed a finger into the goddess’s face. “Do not do that again. Do you hear me?”

  “They’re almost all the way in, Gabriella.” Balder prodded. “Don’t get distracted.”

  “Everyone be ready to move. Loki, hit the switch.”

  “Done.” Loki’s voice crackled out, cold and tinny. “You now have thirty seconds.”

  “Let’s go.” Grabbing the back of Hel’s coat, Gabriella heaved her to her feet, and they took off running across the snow-covered roof to the fire escape. She hoped everyone else was following suit. Two blocks back from the street should be the safe zone.

  They all had thirty seconds to run two blocks and get behind the line of buildings before the charges went off and the gas lines blew. Balder was right on her heels, and Gabriella watched Hel’s dark head descend and she turned and followed, foot on the rungs of the fire escape, catching a glimpse of Balder as he paused at the top of the ladder, hesitating.

  She’d reached the ground when he turned his back on her, then disappeared.

  30

  It was the smallest movement that caught his eye. But it was enough.

  Gabriella and Hel were away, running down the alley for the next block when he approached, sizing up the thing waiting for him halfway across the roof.

  Out of all the beasts the Orobus created, this was his apex predator. To Balder’s eye, there wasn’t a single weakness to be found, from the armored belly, to the tough, knobbed hide, to the horned snout, and the cool, intelligent eyes now fixed on him. Talons and teeth protected the only soft tissue, and he supposed that it was a freaking miracle it had waited until seconds before the blast to climb its way up here.

  Which was nigh.

  As if in answer, the whole street below heaved up, belching smoke and fire—oily, black soot enveloping him and the creature.

  The sound of claws across asphalt was warning enough, but it didn’t help overmuch as the entire surface rolled benea
th his feet, dumping him down into the hellfire and smoke below, the beast’s teeth finding their way into his flesh, both of them tumbling and twisting while they fell together.

  “Fucking hell.” He landed flat on his back with the thing to his left. Not a good position, when he was right-handed. It was on him before he could pull his gun, taking him to ground in a single move. He allowed it, the creature’s momentum causing its bulk to sail over and above him, even as its claws ripped through his abdomen. Gripping his stomach, he climbed to his feet. Time slowed. Stretched out to an impossible length as more fire billowed in, blinded him, and the thing hit him again. And again. And a final time.

  While the world blew apart in a rain of hellfire and smoke.

  Balder should have been right behind them.

  “Keep going. Run until you can’t run anymore,” Gabriella urged the goddess, shoving against Hel’s back. She nodded and ran, her dark eyes wide with fear, keeping to the side of the buildings as ash rained down upon them.

  Gabriella turned back around and headed straight toward the fire.

  The building they’d been atop moments ago had collapsed, flames shooting like spears through the roof, smoke billowing around it from all sides. Thick, black, choking smoke, the kind that snuffs out life faster than flames and heat.

  Then she heard the roar. Deeper than the gas pipes exploding, it sounded bestial. She charged into the back of the building, pulling the gun from her waistband, as the dense heat twisted all around her, scorching her cheeks. Balder was a heap on the ground, wet with blood.

  “Get away from him.” She took a step forward, and the thing roared again. Her lungs burned, and she could barely see. Raising the gun, she searched for a weakness. Just one. She only had to find one.

  It blinked an eye, sizing her up, ten heartbeats passing before it stepped away from Balder and toward her. “That’s right, come on, a little closer,” she crooned. “Come on, beautiful, come to me…” And it came, gracefully for something so large, so bulky, so utterly evil. Closer and closer until she smelled its fetid breath, flames licking ever higher.

  Raising the gun slightly, she blinked away the sting of the smoke. And fired six shots deep into its remaining obsidian eye.

  She didn’t wait for it to fall, she ran for Balder, yanked him by his collar, slick with blood. “Come on, get up, you have to get up.” God, there was no way she could carry him, no way.

  “Please, Balder, you have to get up, I’m not strong enough to pick you up.” She couldn’t leave him in here all alone. She just couldn’t. He was still breathing, raspy, rough breaths dragging out of him, slower and slower by the second. She sheltered him as another explosion sounded from the street.

  “I should have told you. I should have told you from the beginning,” she whispered, covering his face as a burst of smoke and glass filled the space. “I shouldn’t have been afraid.”

  And when the fire flamed hotter, yellow-gold flames licking at her hair, she gathered him in her arms as the heat caught her hair and lifted it, while she admitted, “I wanted to spend my whole life with you.”

  Tears were blinding her, when two strong hands gripped the back of Balder’s jacket and dragged him away, out of the building, out of the fire and smoke. She followed, weeping and gasping for air.

  Mir shot her a single look of disbelief before he hefted Balder up into a fireman carry and carted him off toward a vehicle, half the side bashed in.

  Rubbing her burning eyes, she found Odin slumped on the curb, smeared with blood, a huge gash on his forehead. “Well, that was a cluster,” he observed drily. “Remind me never to put you in charge of anything again, Gabriella.”

  31

  All in all, it wasn’t a total loss. They counted fifty-six steaming, barbecued carcasses, of three different species, and on their side, other than Balder, just a few cuts and bruises and a few broken bones.

  “Nothing I can’t fix,” Mir had claimed, looking Gabriella over, inspecting the burns on her face. “Not too bad at all, actually. Despite what Odin said, you didn’t do any worse than some of the shit he’s come up with.” He flicked her nose.

  “Ow,” she said, wincing.

  “Balder will take some time to heal up. Good thing you got to him when you did.” So much else he could have said, so she thanked God he left it at that.

  “It wouldn’t have mattered. I never could have gotten him out of there, myself.” She took a breath, searching for the words. “We would have burned in there, Mir.”

  “But you didn’t. And now he’s safely upstairs, and you’re down here, and all is right in the world.”

  No, not all right. But they were alive. Which was something.

  He smiled faintly. “My advice to you, if I gave advice, that is… Quit fucking around. If there was something you would have said, while that building burned down around you, then just fucking go upstairs and say it. Because you don’t have time for anything else these days, Gabbie.”

  Touching her face, he wiped the tears away. “This is it. You only have now. So, make it count.”

  She drew in a shuddering breath.

  “And stop fucking around.”

  Words were hard. So hard, especially when so much was riding on them.

  Harder still, when she was looking at Balder, burned and scarred, laying in that bed of theirs, half his beautiful hair singed off, his eyes unreadable as they tracked her every step into the room. She was about to do something that went against everything she’d been taught, everything she’d been conditioned to do since birth. She would show him just how vulnerable she was.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Her hands shook while she measured his glacially cold eyes. This was realer than the monsters, the fire, everything that had happened up until right now. Forget this war. She’d take anything the world dished out, as long as Balder forgave her.

  He said nothing.

  “I should have told you. I should have told you from the very beginning who and what I was.”

  But I wanted you to like me.

  “I should have been honest with you,” she continued, her words rebounding off his silence, “but honesty isn’t something I’m very good with.” She paused. “Although I’d like to learn.

  “From the time I was born I was taught to conceal who I was. I thought keeping my past a secret kept me safe. Maybe it did. Over the years, I’ve become used to being whoever I needed to be to keep myself alive.”

  Still, the silence stretched out between them and further excuses died on her tongue. So that was the way of it. Words wouldn’t gain her entry to his heart. Failure became a dull ache as she realized, perhaps, nothing would. She was halfway through the door when he finally spoke.

  “You lied to me.”

  She paused, her heart thundering. “I told you what I was and who I was. I told you everything. More than I’ve ever told anyone else.”

  “No, you told me when there was no keeping it a secret any longer. That’s as good as lying.”

  “But it’s not lying,” she protested feebly.

  “The fact that you’d try to argue that miniscule detail speaks to my point, exactly, Gabriella. You lied. You hoped to continue to lie. You got caught.”

  “I told you the truth.”

  “Only because you were backed into a corner. Not because you wanted to. And never because you trusted me,” Balder told her, heartache in his voice and accusation in his eyes. “And that makes all the difference.”

  32

  He let her leave. Gods help him, he let Gabbie walk out of the room and didn’t do a godsdamned thing to stop her. Didn’t say a word. Just let her go. Balder wondered what in the hell he was doing. He was pissed off, but it wasn’t even that. He was…hurt, damn it. She’d lied to him and then covered up those lies under a bunch of lame-ass excuses. No, he thought, only when she’d been caught, did she confess. Only when her back was against the wall, did she break down and give him just a little… just a fucking hint of who she really was.


  Fuming, he went back over that lame-ass excuse of hers.

  “From the time I was born I was taught to conceal who I was. I thought keeping my past a secret kept me safe. Maybe it did. Over the years, I’ve become used to being whoever I needed to be to keep myself alive.”

  What a crock.

  Still, a part of him squirmed. It felt cruel to dismiss her so quickly, even though her lies pissed him off to no end. Even though he understood, to a certain extent, the why’s of it. Had she really had to live that way? Lied to survive?

  He puzzled over that part of it.

  An assassin, trained since birth to kill. He hated her parents for that, hated them with every fiber of his being. And that part—that part he sympathized with. But then there was the other side of it.

  Paid to kill. This went against every code he had.

  Sure, he’d killed. Lots.

  For the right reasons, on battlefields, in combat, honorably and for the right reasons. Never for money. Never for hire.

  Never as a child.

  Part of him squirmed, his view adjusting to accommodate this new truth.

  A child. A child. Trained to kill. To lie.

  I had to keep myself alive.

  Surviving was all they did these days. At least, it was what they’d done since he’d picked her up that night in Chicago, practically dragged her into the Tower. Before blowing it all to bits after facing a solid army of Grim. No, not much room for trust there. Neither had he taken the time to fully explain their world to her, only expecting her to fit in, to adjust. Monsters. Gods. War. Yes, he could kind of see the problem now.

  He struggled to sit up, the stitches pulling in his abdomen, his skin groaning under the pressure, pain searing where his wounds were still trying to knit together.

  When he heard the sound of an engine start, he made it to the window just in time to see the small pickup truck scream out of the drive and disappear into the white of the oncoming storm.