The Tower

by L. A. McGinnis

  But she was pissy. She was dead, already. She’d paid her dues, and this was supposed to be the easy part, damn it.

  It was not.

  “Move, Gabriella. Run faster. I’m not getting buried underground because of that twisted fuck,” Mir panted in her ear, pushing, pushing her hard, propelling her the last ten feet up the stone corridor and out into the freezing cold, as if she’d been ejected from the mouth of a cannon.

  “Oh God. Balder?” She reached for him, retching, bile coating her mouth. He pulled her into him and squeezed her hard. Mir sprawled to the ground, then Odin. As a group, they climbed to their feet, eyes on the gaping maw of the cairn, which was issuing inky black tendrils of darkness, like fingers of death searching the cold winds for anything to attack.

  “Get back.” Balder waved Hunter and Tyr away as they approached, and they retreated, boots spraying dirt down over the mound in their haste. Gabriella watched them go, relaxing a bit when they disappeared from sight. And then her stomach squeezed tight as Domenic ducked out of the opening, his eyes promising death, Ava right on his heels.

  She hadn’t missed. There was enough crimson soaking the front of him to ensure she’d hit his heart. But that’s why they call them theories. Some prove true. Others not.

  But it wasn’t Domenic that transfixed Gabriella. It was Ava.

  Ava, with her dark, exotic beauty.

  Ava, with her midnight, obsidian eyes and soul-sucking aura.

  Ava, whose long, evaluating stare told Gabriella that whatever this thing was in front of them? It wasn’t Ava any longer.

  “I think you will discover,” she purred, her voice playing across the howling winds, “that we are difficult to kill. Even for such an illustrious bunch as you.”

  Pieces of shit, her eyes added in no uncertain terms.

  Gone was the woman who had warned them—saved them—just days ago. Gone was the girl playing the odds, looking for redemption, trying to fit in. Gone was Morgane’s sister. And as far as what Odin had meant to her? Ava sliced toward them through the wintery cold, Domenic’s greedy gaze following her the entire way, triumph blazed in them so brightly, Gabriella choked.

  Ava’s eyes burned as she scanned them, but when they finally rested on Odin, savagery flamed especially hot. “You tried to take me. Away from him.” Her chin notched up higher. A princess.

  No, Gabriella thought, fearfully. A goddamned queen.

  Exactly what Domenic had hoped to accomplish by coming here. This trip hadn’t been for him at all. This had been for Ava. It was to transform Ava into what he wanted her to be.

  His mate.

  Ava’s voice was as icy as the winds curling around them. “You thought you were my superior once.” She raised a hand, finger pointing straight at Odin’s silver-bright eyes. “You thought wrong. Time has diminished you. Not me. Everything I’ve endured has made me stronger. Better.” She curled her hand, as if grasping something. To her horror, Gabriella saw a flickering, blue ball of flame appear in her hand. “You are not our equal and never will be.” She flung the flaming ball towards Odin.

  The bastard didn’t even duck.

  Balder, however, tackled him out of the way, the white-hot flames searing a furrow across his back, the smell of burned flesh thick in the air. Gabriella threw both her knives, watched them fly end over end.

  And when the knives imbedded themselves into Ava, as she spun away, darkness leaching from her like a veil, Domenic shouted in victory. Hunter screamed for them to run, run, run from atop the cairn, Mir and Gabriella grabbed the back of Odin’s coat and hauled ass down to the pile of rock that marked the spot they had entered through.

  42

  Passing through the gateway, Balder was swallowed up by an endless, widening span of evil, leaving him cold and clammy. For a second, all he could do was breathe, given the horror of what they’d just seen. Caused. His back burned with hellfire, a crease of it across his shoulders where Ava’s magic had caught him. But the only thing that mattered was what had to be done next. Gabriella desperately clung to him, Mir was a mess, Odin was crumpled against the opposite wall, his breathing shallow. When Hunter half-carried Tyr through the portal a second later, blood spurting from his head in a great, red gout, he went to his knees as soon as they were through.

  “Oh gods, help him,” Hunter screamed, her teeth gritted against her mate’s weight. “We barely made it to the gate—they’re right behind us.”

  “Mir and Gabriella, see to Tyr. Hunter, give them some room, they need space.” Balder ripped off his jacket, then wadded up his shirt and handed it down to Gabriella, who pressed it against Tyr’s head. He turned to Mir. “Stop the bleeding. Then get him up.”

  “It’s a head wound, Balder, a bad one…”

  “We need to move.” He cast an uneasy glance at the shimmering, white doorway. “No telling if they can come through or not.” He yanked Odin from the wall, shoved him away from the portal just before the opening snapped shut, turning the shimmering portal into a wall of solid stone.

  “You can thank me later.” Hel strode up, immaculately dressed, sleek-haired, groomed, and sparkling, and beckoned them on. “And for fuck’s sake don’t get blood all over my floors.”

  “You could have helped us out there.” Balder swore if there had been any other way to get these people back to Chicago and safe, he would have taken it, other than to trust this duplicitous bitch in front of them. For some reason, uncontrollable hatred pulsed through him.

  “Would’ve, could’ve, should’ve.” She waved her hand airily in the air. Balder caught her wrist mid wave.

  He made damn sure she saw the promise of death in his eyes. “Though you wouldn’t understand, the lives of those I love are not a thing to be played with, bargained with, nor thrown away. I do not care what you want. I do not care what was promised you.” He gripped her wrist harder, contempt licking up his spine. “No one would miss you, Hel, if you were to disappear. No one needs you. Except… At the moment, we do.”

  A note of bitterness crept into his voice. “Which is all that is keeping my hands from your throat. So, you would do well to mind yourself.”

  Some of the wicked glee faded from her eyes. “I just couldn’t go out there.” He felt a tremor go through her. “I couldn’t do it. I thought about it, I really did.” And he did see a flash of genuine misery in her eyes when she raised her face to his. “But I remembered… All I could remember was…” As her voice shook, Balder released her, instantly regretting his actions. What was wrong with him?

  “Get us back up top, before the Orobus and Ava make it through the portals. We’re on a different timetable now, people. Anything that we thought before is wrong now. Gabbie, how’s Tyr doing?”

  “Blood loss is slowing. You guys have some crazy healing powers, don’t you?”

  Odin mumbled some smartass retort.

  “You’d better shut it, old man,” Gabriella snapped. “You nearly got us all killed back there. I don’t know what you were thinking…”

  Balder clamped his lips together, knowing perfectly well what Odin was thinking. He was thinking the exact same thing, at least half the time.

  “I was trying to get Ava out of there. Before she transformed completely. Before the power, that fucking darkness inside of her took her over. However she’s controlled it—through willpower or fucking stubbornness—it was enough. But once he took her to that island, it overwhelmed her. Now she’s gone.”

  And there it was. The fear Balder faced every single time Gabriella stomped off on her own, decided to do something stupid, like throw a knife at Domenic, even if it was a damn good throw, or decided to blow up half the city while hunting for monsters. There was always that possibility…

  “She’s gone.” There was so much pain lacing each of Odin’s words. “I should have stayed on Niflheim. I should have figured how to keep her alive, any way I could.”

  Hel opened her mouth. With a look, Balder dared her, dared her to say it. She clamped her lips sh
ut.

  “We move out. We get up top. We move out. We stay out ahead of this, and we figure out how to keep ahead of it. Any ideas, Mir?”

  “My head feels like it’s about to explode, and I might be having a heart attack, but besides a miracle? No, I got nothing right now.”

  Balder felt as if a door had just slammed shut in his face. “Later, then. You think on it and figure out possible options. Firstly, let’s get everyone home.” His eyes slid over to Gabriella’s. “And we are not going through your torture chambers again.” He watched Gabbie’s shoulders sag in relief. For that alone, he’d wring that bitch’s skinny neck.

  “Fine, then it’ll be a longer walk,” Hel huffed. “But I swear, if I ruin these heels, you’ll be buying me a new pair.”

  The heels were well and truly trashed and dangling in Hel’s right hand by the time they climbed the slippery, algae covered steps to the top of the staircase.

  True to her word, she’d restored the spark of life in each of them. Just as he’d felt life yanked out of him, she plunged it back in, sharp as the point of a spear, and just to prove that she could, put a little extra turn to it—if he was to judge—by the predatory gleam in her eye.

  The mission was a complete and total failure, and yet, as Balder counted heads, he considered it a success.

  If Tyr hadn’t had Hunter to hold him up, Balder wasn’t sure he would have made it, Gabriella hadn’t spoken a single word, Mir either, and even Hel’s endless chatter had sputtered to a stop halfway across the great, cavernous hallway that marked their halfway point. But they were all alive. As far as he cared, there was nothing better than the smell of Chicago winter edged by acrid smoke and brimstone. Home. And miracle of miracles, the Hummer was still sitting out in front of Burberry’s, dusted with an inch of fresh snow.

  No footprints, no sign of any movement, none of his instincts going off, and still, Balder held out a hand to test the air for any sign of the enemy’s magic. Everything about the Orobus, and now Ava, defied the rules. And Balder knew for a fact that the second they forgot, they were all bloody dead.

  “Mir?”

  Mir shook his head.

  “Tyr, you sense anything off?” Even with a blood-soaked shirt pressed to his head, Tyr scanned the rooftops, the opposite sidewalk, every dark corner. A negative slice of his head.

  Hunter agreed.

  But the second they were loaded in the vehicle, Balder did a one eighty and flew east, tires grabbing hold, snow streaming behind the truck in a long, white kite tail.

  Failure takes the words right out of you. Puts you deep in your head. That’s where they all were. And that’s where they stayed, the entire way back to Oak Park. Even Hel kept her mouth shut, although Balder figured his intermittent glares in the rearview helped. One by one, they trickled out of the parked truck, showing little more wear and tear than when they’d left. The odds, they were a-changing. Had Vegas still been a thing, Balder doubted anyone would take such a long bet.

  Gabriella headed straight upstairs, her whole demeanor drooping, and without a word, he followed, unease settling deep into him. He felt off. As if he was unbalanced, or had left a part of himself behind on that godsforsaken island.

  “I made a mistake,” Gabriella admitted, the second the door closed behind him. Balder figured she didn’t say those words very often. Or ever.

  “You had no way of knowing how it would turn out.” Balder measured the defeated set of her shoulders. “There was a chance it would have worked. It didn’t, move on.”

  “How can you possibly say that?” When she whirled around, he saw it all in her eyes. Desolation. Grief. Confusion. “I’m the one who almost got us all killed. Not Odin. Me. What the hell was I thinking?” She spread her hands in supplication.

  “You were thinking you could stop him. You were thinking you could save the world.” He crossed to her, took those hands in his, felt them shaking. “You, Gabbie. You. All the things you hoped to accomplish with that single throw of a knife might not have happened. At least now, we know how he can’t be killed.”

  “I let everyone else convince me…” She went motionless. “You know what, never mind, it doesn’t matter. So today was a learning opportunity?”

  “Exactly.”

  “You crazy man. How I wish I’d learned to live by your code and not the one I was brought up with.” Balder watched the shadows in her eyes grow brighter with every word as the tears built up. “Bottom line, though. I screwed up today. I think it’s safe to say, Ava’s no longer on our side. Where does that leave Odin?”

  Balder drew her in and kissed the top of her head. “Not sure, but he’s not my problem right now. As a matter of fact, I’m not thinking about a single thing right now.” He leaned into her, craving the feel of her up against him. “Except for you. And me.”

  “I do like the sound of that.”

  Suddenly, she pushed away. “Your back, I should look at your back. Turn around and let me see it.” He shed the jacket, then felt her hands tracing the expanse of his back. “I don’t get it—I could have sworn…”

  Confusion lined her face. “That magic of Ava’s, I thought she hit you with the full force of her power, and there’s a char mark on your jacket, as big as…” She shook her head. “Never mind, there’s nothing on your back, not even a slight burn. It must not have penetrated the leather.”

  In an instant, she pressed herself back into him, her arms wrapping around him while he drank in the smell of her, the feel of her. “I’m fine,” he reassured her. “I guess we’ll chalk it up to Fate that today was both a win and a loss. At least we’re still alive.”

  “I don’t believe in Fate.” She sighed. “Of course, I never believed in destiny, either.”

  His whiskey-hued gaze locked with hers, he continued quietly, “You should. The Fates represent the past, present, and future. In our mythology, we used to call them the Norns, although Tyr calls them something else entirely…” He smiled slightly. “If they ever stop weaving the threads of the universe together, some say destiny wouldn’t exist.”

  “These threads, they’re what tie people together, right?”

  “Once they’ve crossed, the legend is, the threads cannot be broken. They may stretch and they may tangle, but they will never break.” He smiled gently, then kissed her. “You and I, Gabriella, our paths were destined to cross that night. You are meant to be here. And no matter what happens—I love you. Across time, space, and whatever the Orobus has in store for us, that will always be true.”

  Weeks. They’d only had weeks together, but in the strangest way, his words rang true. “Destined for each other, huh?” Gabriella grinned up at him. “Since that night we met, I’ve felt you were my opposite. I thought, for a while, that was a bad thing. That you’d hate who I was, once you found out. But what if I’m the yin to your yang? Maybe this is a good thing, you know, maybe we balance each other out.”

  “Balance is what makes the world work. Yin and yang, just like you said.”

  “These Norns of yours, how much power do they have?”

  “Enough that even the first gods bowed down to them. When they speak, the universe listens. And when they tug on a thread, they change fate. When Tyr bargained with them for Hunter’s life, they granted him his wish and…”

  “Wait. You’re telling me they’re actual, living entities?” Gabriella’s eyes gleamed. “You can talk to them and they talk back? Tyr bargained with them? How?”

  “Once, Hunter traded her life to save ours. Tyr went to them to save her and actually succeeded. She lived.” Balder could practically see the wheels turning in Gabriella’s head.

  “So, they exist. They’re not some mythological invention for bedtime stories and old folk tales. Interesting.” Her eyes shone brighter. “And these threads they weave, what if the Orobus wipes out all of humanity? What happens then?”

  She paused, her tone calculating. “What happens to all those threads? More importantly, what happens to the Fates?”

>   Balder hesitated.

  Purpose. It had driven him for eons. Everyone, everything had a specific purpose. Without life, the Norns would have no purpose for existing. “You have a point.” He considered the implications. “What do you propose? I should warn you… These goddesses are slippery.”

  “Good thing I am too. Besides, it sounds like they have everything to lose. Just like us.”

  The snow, Gabriella thought later, created the perfect blank slate for a plan.

  In all her battles, she’d never had access to such raw power.

  Jeez, the Fates.

  What sort of world was it when you bargained with Fate to save it from the devil himself, with Hel at your side? Just the thought of it made her shake her head.

  Never did she think this was where she’d end up. Certainly not on the good side. Certainly, on the losing side. Yeah, she hardly ever ended upon the winning side. But so long as the Fates hung in the balance, maybe there was still a chance.

  And so, across the plain white snow, she painted the steps of her grand scheme.

  43

  Two stories above, Odin stared out at the same endless span of white and saw nothing.

  For someone blessed with immortality and endless patience, he’d shown the backbone of a mewling schoolboy today, pinned down under Domenic’s mocking gaze. Bastard.

  He’d charged in there with nothing holding him back. Not self-preservation, not pride, not common sense. Nothing to lose. His only thought had been getting to Ava. Getting her out of there before it was too late.

  Down there in the dark, he’d sensed the last vestiges of her humanity vanish like smoke. The barricades she’d erected between herself and the darkness collapsing like paper. There might have been a moment—he swore he saw it—of helpless recognition in her eyes when he’d reached out for her. But then it disappeared.