The Tower

by L. A. McGinnis

  “Tyr, do me a huge favor and get everyone back in here? Run it through for them. And come up with a list of viable weaponry. I expect it will be a short list.” Whatever energy she’d started off with was gone now. She had to use the nearest chair to pull herself upright.

  “Sure.” Tyr’s brow furrowed as he watched her struggle to rise. “But I’m getting Balder to help you.” She narrowed her eyes and he chuckled. “Oh, I should just let you try to walk out of here. You wouldn’t make it five steps. Hunter, keep an eye on her while I fetch Balder. He’ll be happy to know she needs him for something.”

  Gabriella huffed at his retreating back. She could walk, she could. But instead, her legs gave out, and she slumped back into the chair, glaring at Tyr, who shot her a patronizing smile as he vanished through the door.

  “Gabriella, don’t you dare try to stand up. Wait for Balder.” Hunter laid a staying hand on her arm while nodded at Tyr’s retreating back. “As for my mate, don’t let him get to you, he’s prickly, but it doesn’t mean he’s wrong. It’s his way of showing he cares.”

  And when Balder came and lifted her in his arms, she didn’t object, only leaned her head against his chest and let him carry her away.

  After he set her down, and she swayed on her feet, Balder knew something was wrong. Even though Gabriella was right in front of him, he felt, inexplicably, she was beyond his reach. “I’ll get you something to eat.” She shook her head, her face drawn.

  But her gaze drifted longingly to the bed and he laid her down, pushing a pillow beneath her head, snugging the blankets around her. It was freezing, not cold enough to see breath, but it was cold and would get colder. Blowing up all the gas lines in the middle of winter would do that.

  “What is it, then?”

  “We figured out how to get us all onto the island.”

  “Good.” He settled himself beside her. “I knew getting around the wards would be the hard part.”

  Her eyes drifted shut before she opened them again, fixed a stare on his that he was afraid to break. “You have to understand what the cost will be if you go. There’s only one way to ensure we don’t set off the wards.”

  Her words tapered off and he smoothed her hair back. “I can’t expect you… I don’t expect you to endure it again, not after what you’ve been through already.”

  “What are you talking about, of course I’m going.”

  “The wards will encompass the entire island, and there’s no way around them, except through. So that’s what we’ll do—go straight through.” Her expression was unreadable, even though he scrutinized her. “It’s the only way. Hel agreed.”

  The room was as quiet as death around them. “Tell me how you plan to do that, Gabbie.”

  “We’re all going to die.” Her smile was so sad he wanted to howl, even before she added, “I tried… I really tried to find another way, but this was the logical conclusion. He chose an island because he can surround it with his magic. And I can’t come up with a better plan than this.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll do,” he told her firmly. “We’ll handle this your way.”

  Moments later, she dropped off, her eyes shuttering closed, and he watched her sleep for hours. He’d survived the Underworld twice now. He could survive it a third time.

  Finally, he drifted off, too, until he felt a light touch on his arm.

  When he woke in the darkness, he knew she was awake and waiting to tell him the rest.

  “There’s a reason I’m going to France. It’s not that I actually believe in destiny or anything, but lately… Lately, it seems like I can’t outrun it, either. And Odin seems so sure I was put in your path for a purpose… Ava mentioned it too. But just because I’m doing this, doesn’t mean you have to…”

  “You’re not leaving me behind.” In his mind, he was already there, with his knife buried in Domenic’s heart.

  “You do realize, this is pretty much a suicide mission.” His arms tightened around her with those words. “It’s hardly fair we both go, given the odds,” she murmured before she settled into him, her body softening. “You should stay. Go north and pick up Celine and the others. If you keep moving, you can stay ahead of them, I can tell you how.”

  She laughed, the sound vibrating against his chest. “Who am I kidding, you’ve been alive forever, you probably know it all, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know everything. For instance, I don’t know what your favorite flower is. Or if you like sunsets or sunrises better?”

  She went so perfectly still in his arms, that for a moment, a shudder of fear went through him. And then she brushed his chin with her lips, nibbling, tasting, feeling her way along in the dark, her fingers twining in his hair. “Who knew,” she whispered, “that I’d end up with such a hopeless romantic?”

  “Well,” Balder said, neatly flipping their positions until he was on top and her underneath, “one of us has to be.”

  “So true,” she answered, pulling him down until they were nose-to-nose. “This might be a terrible idea, you know. Sex. On the eve of a suicide mission.”

  Balder’s lips stroked up the side of her face, her skin like velvet, pausing to press a kiss to the birthmark on her chin. “I don’t give a shit. Right now, I don’t care about anything except the feel of you against me.” To prove his point, he shifted slightly, so he lay cradled between her thighs.

  For once, her eyes were unguarded, liquid pools of chocolate brown, rimmed with long lashes, swimming in desire. And then he kissed her.

  The kiss was gentle, exactly how she expected a kiss from Balder to be. A sweet, questing graze of his lips on hers, one which teased shivers of need out of her. Slow, heated pressure growing between her legs, exactly—right where–his weight lay on top of her.

  “We’ve waited far too long for this, Gabriella.” He drew her name out, and she shivered again, this time the tremors running deeper.

  Sliding a hand behind her nape, he lifted her head at the same time he crashed his lips down onto hers with brash, desperate craving, his tongue delving deeply as she opened beneath his onslaught, twisting her body up into his until she felt hard muscle grind against her ribs.

  Waves of desire washed through her as he deepened the kiss, firmed his hold on the back of her neck, lifted her hips to his, all the while her hands slid beneath his shirt, finally pushing it away from his spectacular chest. With a groan, he yanked it over his head, threw it to the side, then did the same for hers.

  Skin to skin, their mouths collided again—fused—as tongues danced and lips slid over each other. “Baaalder… Pleeeease…” Gabriella didn’t know where that low, whiny voice came from, but she was pretty sure there must be someone else in the room, except when Balder’s teeth closed over her nipple, she turned into something loose and liquidy.

  She was melting, between the sharp nip of his teeth and his soft lips while his provocative scent—woodsy mandarin and spice—overflowed her senses. Now that she had full, unbridled access to him, she couldn’t keep her hands off him. Her fingers tangled in his thick hair, scraped down his stubbled face, then traced over his muscled shoulders to settle in the curve of his back.

  Then it was his turn to groan as he released her mouth and she kissed his neck, drinking in the taste of him.

  “Gabbie… That feels… fuck.”

  A press of her teeth on his carotid artery had him making a sound she liked very much, and she fought him when he pushed her back down. “My turn.” Mischief danced in his eyes as he kissed her again, rolling his hips against hers and her breathing grew faster, erratic.

  The light tracing of his hand up the inside of her thigh had her quivering, “Are you good with this?” She nodded vaguely, lost in the feeling. “Words, Gabriella,” he urged. “Tell me what you like.”

  “Higher, please.” She moaned. Don’t you dare stop, she wanted to say.

  His hand paused, then his thumb delved beneath her panties and found her clit as she surged upwards at his touch. Her body
went even looser, boneless as he rubbed in slow, deliberate circles, her hips rocking in time to the rhythm he set, the dull, throbbing ache intensifying. “Balder….”

  Again, with that needy voice. I really should work on that.

  “I like hearing my name on your lips. Especially like that.” Or not.

  “Arrogant bastard.” She groaned, writhing harder against his fingers, intent on chasing the coiling tightness growing in her. She was close to bursting, needed to explode. “Inside me. Now. I want you inside me when I come,” she ordered, only half-coherent.

  It had never been like this; she’d never felt so overwhelmed by lust—half crazed by the sensations shooting through her body, all stemming from where his thumb met her flesh.

  The bed shifted, and she heard the sound of fabric tearing and then his lovely weight was on her again, and his knees spread her thighs wide, his face hovering above her, his eyes drilling into her as he searched her face. “Last chance, Gabriella.”

  “Now, Balder.” And he drove into her slowly, taking his time, his eyes never leaving hers as he filled her, inch by glorious inch, while a crazy urge to never let him go welled up inside of her. She rocked her hips so he’d hurry—God, she wanted more—and still, he took his time, as if he wanted to draw the moment out, as if this first time meant everything.

  And finally, when he was seated completely, stretching her, he moved, drowning her in sensation, waves and waves of his scent and this fiery shuddering hunger that might never be satisfied. And then, like a surprise, her orgasm shimmered through her, and for a moment, she became nothing but raw nerve endings and shuddering breath and a fast-pounding heart. When the roaring in her ears faded, Balder, one arm thrown across her chest, cradled her tenderly against him.

  She sniffed and realized she was crying.

  “Well”—Balder leaned his forehead into hers—“that’s probably one of the least terrible ideas you’ve had so far.”

  39

  Ava was struggling. And if Domenic found out, she was a dead woman.

  Reading helped. It grounded her, somewhat, to this place she knew she belonged, but didn’t quite fit these days.

  Unleashing the darkness inside of her, she had come to realize, may have been a mistake.

  It took her over at times, swept over her like a tide, enveloping her as if she wasn’t even there, and then she’d snap out of it, hours, or days later, a bit befuddled, and more than a little pissed off. She liked control. And she sure didn’t like this.

  Lately, however, things had gotten a bit out of hand.

  Like now, for instance.

  They’d taken one step through the portal, and she’d experienced that strange push-push sensation of being torn apart, and then they’d arrived…here. Her darkness was just settling down from the transition while Domenic sent men scattering across the barren island, scurrying like so many rats. Ava tapped her foot, surveying this cold, rocky place he’d brought her. It could, she supposed, be quite nice. Had this been summer, and the air was warm, and the sun was shining? Maybe.

  But no. It was freaking winter and freaking cold. Not Chicago-cold, but cold, nonetheless. And it really was an island, where the water crashed into the rocks with steady, rhythmic sounds that she found strangely soothing. While David shouted orders to the dozen or so men he’d brought, she wandered down and studied the water. Slate gray but clean. Smelled like brine. Shutting her eyes, she drew in a deep, cleansing breath. She’d always liked the ocean, the smell of it, the sound of it. She was just beginning to relax when rough hands yanked her back.

  “It’s deep and the currents are strong. If you founder in, you could get carried away.”

  “Founder in?”

  “Fall in.” David corrected himself as he steered her away from the rocky beach. “I don’t want you to fall in and drown.”

  “Now why would I do that?”

  “Accidents happen.”

  Ava studied him, out here, in the open. He seemed different, as if he was unbound from the earth somehow—bigger, less contained. “Yes, they do, don’t they?” Ava forced a smile onto her face, pissed at leaving the ocean behind. “Just show me what you brought me here to see, David.”

  He led her toward the low, grassy bank, half covered by wind-swept bushes and dusted with snow. Where a dark hole in the side of the low hill beckoned. Ava paused, an old memory surfacing. “I think I know of this place.”

  She’d been in a bathroom, with other women. They’d spoken of a cave, by the ocean, where an ancient power waited. And then the memory flickered away. A humming call issued out of that dark hole, and a low whisper inside of her answered. “I feel like I’m home,” she told him softly, gripping his arm. Somehow feeling safer.

  “Maybe that’s because you are,” he answered, drawing her down the walk, lined with stones stacked in almost military perfection.

  As they disappeared through the opening, the black-as-night cold enveloping her, Ava realized she’d never even asked what, exactly, this place was.

  40

  “Now. This won’t exactly be like walking through one door and then another.” A few hours later, Hel was clarifying points of their step-by-step itinerary to the Underworld and back. Hopefully.

  “We go in here.”

  When she pointed to Burberry’s on the map, Morgane immediately rolled her eyes.

  “I know, I know,” Hel groused. “You and me didn’t start out on the right foot, but we’re on the same team now, so focus Morgane, and we’ll both get through this.”

  “How about you go fuck yourself, Hel, and I’ll get through this just fine.” The blonde bared her teeth at the raven-haired goddess, who simpered back.

  “Anyway, we go in through here, and once we’re down below, I’ll guide you through, and we come out on the other side. On the island,” Hel clarified. “Piece of cake.”

  Hunter’s eyes narrowed in suspicion and Gabriella had to agree. In Gabriella’s experience, anyone who used the expression piece of cake while planning a difficult mission was either hiding something or talking out of their ass. Or both.

  “You’re saying we just pop into the Burberry’s on Michigan Avenue and pop out the other side into France?” Gabbie shook her head, every single one of her instincts tingling. “What’s the catch? It can’t possibly be that simple. And when do we get dead during this process?”

  “You’ll get dead when I say you get dead.”

  Gabriella was biting back her retort when beside her, Balder went on high alert.

  The screen on the laptop flickered to life, the image shifting as static rippled through it. A picture of the dolmens came online, initiated by movement—the line of SUV’s pulling up in front of the circle. Odin’s breathing grew louder, or maybe the room just got tighter as everyone crowded around the table, Loki practically holding Morgane upright.

  Together, they watched Domenic exit the vehicle, then turn and pull Ava from the passenger side. Surrounded by a barrage of walking dead, they walked to the circle where the opening of the biggest dolmen flickered to life. Then they all disappeared.

  “What are the chances…” Whatever Balder was about to say trailed off at the look on everyone’s faces. “Ava said she would try to get him there. To kill him, right? It’s possible…”

  “If that’s where they’ve gone, then we don’t have much time to get things in place.” Sydney mused.

  Gabbie nodded in agreement. “That was Ava’s plan. If she’s already visited the other realms, chances are, they’re heading to this last site. If they are, she could use our help.” Gabriella whirled to Hel. “What are you hiding? I’m not about to put everyone’s lives in the hands of someone I don’t trust.”

  “I’m the Queen of the Underworld…”

  Gabriella straightened, her center of gravity wavering for a moment before righting itself. If Balder noticed, he didn’t say anything. “Let me remind you—you’re the Queen of Nothing right now. I’m in charge of this mission, and we’ll get dead, an
d then we’ll get alive when I say we do. You will hold to your end of this bargain or so help me God, I will fucking strangle you to death.”

  From the other side of the room, Morgane grinned.

  “You will outline exactly what we should expect, and what precautions to take to get us through any pitfalls while we’re down there. You’ll run it through for us. Step by step.” She smiled darkly. “And then you’re going to run it through again in the truck. Just because I want to hear it a second time.”

  “Fine,” Hel bit out, “we go through here.” She jabbed a finger at a point on the map that said Michigan Avenue. “And when we come out, it won’t exactly be on the island, it will be in the Underworld. We’ll traverse my old realm, for an hour, mortal-time. We’ll pass though several antechambers. The last, and final one, is Death. It is there you will leave your souls. If you make it through, then I will show you the opening onto the island.”

  Gabriella interrupted her. “What do you mean if we make it?”

  “Each of the chambers is like a well—they hold the emotions of all who have passed before you. You must traverse each room to make it to the next. Sometimes, these rooms have no effect on the dead, other times…” Hel let her voice trail off, her meaning clear.

  “You’re saying these chambers are full of what? Feelings that can kill us?”

  “They’ll become a collar around your neck, so heavy you will not be able to pass. In essence, you will become trapped within your own minds. It might well be that some of us might not make it.”

  “And you’re just now telling us this, because?”

  “Because I cannot guarantee anything,” Hel snapped. “We might all make it through. None of you might make it. Success depends on you, and you alone. Each chamber feeds on whatever emotional baggage you bring into it. Bring in enough grief, you drown in it. These chambers are stuffed full of souls who never escaped. But if you want what is on the other side badly enough, desire alone should get you through.”