“I’ll be back soon,” I said.
“Will you?” she asked.
“I haven’t died yet.”
Miranda looked into the fire. “I really wish I could do something, help somehow …”
“I know.”
I turned to grab the doorknob, but Miranda called out, “Wait.” She hurried across the room, leaned in close, and kissed me on the cheek. “Good luck.”
I blinked and felt heat creeping up my face. I hoped that the firelight was dim enough that she couldn’t see me blushing. “Thanks,” I said, and stepped out into the cold.
Phil Collins should have been playing in the background, because I could feel it coming in the air that night. A lot of mythologies talk about thin places, places where the veil between the physical and spiritual worlds is weak, times when magic is easier to grasp. Midnight has always been the most popular, and that’s why it’s called the Witching Hour. Halloween, or Samhain, is another big one, a night when some believe the dead can walk the earth.
But there are a lot of things that can bring us closer to the Otherworld. Sometimes people get lost in the fog or the snow and find themselves in a faerie glen. The light of a full moon could illuminate a spectral form. Stonehenge was designed to be a thin place, to channel the faith of the believers into a tool that would cut the veil between worlds. Magic was always easier in a thin place. The supernatural was always easier to contact. Heaven was always a little bit closer, and so was hell.
But this night was special. It was approaching midnight on it was the twenty-first of December, the Solstice, and a light snow was falling. There was a full moon … and an eclipse. Bright white gave way to blood red as the Earth’s shadow crept across her face. The Asatru would conduct their ritual in a naturally occurring glen, at the intersection of three ley lines, on ground that had been consecrated by repeated ritual invocations.
I wasn’t walking into a thin place, I was walking through a goddamn door. There wasn’t just a rent in the veil, the gate had been thrown wide open. There might as well have been a sign announcing an open house on the Other Side.
Touching the supernatural is always tricky, and summoning a god is the hardest feat of all, particularly when the god is as old and neglected as Wotan. But here, in this place, under these conditions, it was certainly possible. Hell, under these conditions, you’d almost have to work to keep the supernatural at bay.
I sent my willpower through my armor, briefly making it shimmer in the moonlight. I could feel its presence, of course, but it was reassuring to see it just the same. Satisfied that I was properly protected, I headed into the woods.
Chanting echoed through the trees, rhythmic, guttural, entrancing. It was an old kind of song, the kind of song that bypasses your mind and whispers to your heart. My pulse began to speed up as I drew closer.
A bonfire was burning, visible through the trees. It leapt twenty feet into the air, casting a hellish glow all around, and if you looked just right, the flames seemed to take the form of a dragon. Fantastic. A drake had joined their ceremony. The veil was already open.
The frozen ground crunched under my feet as I hiked toward the clearing. I broke out of the tree line about fifteen minutes later and saw …
Okay, here’s the thing. People found religions for plenty of reasons. Typically it’s about control. Whether you’re afraid Nefertem is going to smite your crops because your neighbor’s hair is too long or you’re just upset that you can’t get him to stop molesting your goat, adding “because god said so” to a rule is a great way to get people to fall in line. That’s not just true of backwater, Bronze Age sheep herders, either. Even today we have people who want to ban birth control or outlaw gay people because of The Jesus.
After control comes money. The Catholic Church alone brings in about two hundred million a year, and their net worth is estimated to be around ninety billion dollars. The meek might inherit the Earth, but for now they’re going to have to lease it.
But there is a third reason to set up a religion: girls. Damn near every religion has strict rules about sex, and damn near every one of them makes exceptions, official or not, for their leadership.
Gerald Gardner invented modern Witchcraft sometime around nineteen forty, and I’m like ninety percent certain that he did it just to get laid. It turns out saying “the goddess told me to tell you to take your clothes off” actually works every now and then. The term Gardner used was “skyclad”, but at the end of the ritual you still had a bunch of naked people dancing around a fire. He claimed it was the “old way,” and a bunch of people bought it.
The Asatru had constructed an elaborate setup. A Greater Circle, formed by two grooves carved into the earth, nearly filled the glade. A Lesser Circle sat inside, again formed from two grooves, and various runes and markings filled the earth between them. A third Circle enclosed the bonfire at the heart of the glen. Five male goats hung from the trees, their throats cut, their steaming blood pooling on the frosty ground.
Each of the five men stood in his own Circle, facing the fire and calling out in the language of their god. They were all naked as the day they were born, but they didn’t seem to be suffering any ill effects from the cold. A woman knelt in front of each man, also nude, and …
Well …
The women were helping the men get into the spirit of the occasion. Helping them summon their magical essences, as it were. The girls were … um … playing with the guys’ magic wands. Vigorously. And they were tending to their own sacred groves, too.
I doubted that Warren started this whole batshit thing just to get into Ashlyn’s panties, but he probably considered it a really nice fringe benefit.
“Hi guys,” I said as I walked into the clearing. The Asatru had mixed reactions; roughly half of them seemed angry, and the rest of them tried to cover their naughty bits. Amateurs. Back in the day the Norse would face entire armies naked. These guys were bashful around me. “Gosh,” I said, “I feel a bit overdressed, but it’s just so cold out.” I glanced down at Warren. “But you knew that already.”
Warren narrowed his eyes. “Ignore the interloper,” he said, his voice booming and authoritative. “He can do us no harm.”
“I’d like to challenge that statement,” I said, walking forward boldly. I slammed into an impenetrable, invisible barrier. The Greater Circle flared with blue fire and the air in front of me shimmered with subtle force.
Damn it. They’d used my own trick against me. The Greater Circle wasn’t actually a part of their spell, it was just a ward, the same kind of defense I’d set up around the B&B, and it kept me–specifically, the enchantments surrounding me–at bay just as well as a brick wall.
I threw a punch at the air. The ward flared to life again, blue fire racing around the circle. My own armor shimmered from my fist all the way to my elbow. The ward was solid, and it was going to take some work to break through.
But it wasn’t like I had anything better to do, so I started throwing haymakers. Sparks flew into the air and it sounded like I was wailing on a giant Plexiglas sheet, but the ward held firm.
Warren resumed his chanting, and slowly the male Asatru joined in. The girls resumed their contributions to the ritual, too, except for Ashlyn, who turned to stare at me for a full minute before giving her attention back to Warren. Jesus. The girl was grade-A crazy, but I could understand founding an entire religion just to get her naked.
The Asatru continued their chant, at least the ones whose mouths weren’t full. Warren shouted over them, his hands held high, but he was speaking in Old German, so all I heard was blah blah blah Wotan, blah blah blah I can’t believe she fell for this, blah blah blah Wotan.
Mini-Thor was the first to … God, I hate my job sometimes. “Quick on the draw there, Skippy?” I said and slammed my fist into the ward again. He ignored me. His girlfriend, Strawberry Shortcake, stood, pressed up against him, and kissed him.
The rest of the Asatru followed suit, until only Warren and Ashlyn were stil
l “performing their ritual.” He finally bestowed his gift upon her, and Ashlyn stood up, kissed him, and faced the fire. “You’ve got a little something on your chin there,” I said and crashed against the ward again. All joking aside, sex magic is powerful stuff, and on a night like this …
Warren pressed against her, one hand on her stomach and the other cupping a breast. She closed her eyes and held her hands out, like one of those Buddha statues. The rest of the cult mirrored their actions.
The Asatru fell silent, and the sudden quiet was oppressive. Only the crackle of the fire broke the eerie calm. The Asatru held one another, their breathing rapid but regular, their eyes closed.
Warren began to speak. He was still muttering in German, but I recognized the cadence. He was a priest leading his congregation in prayer. Warren made some sort of proclamation, and the Asatru replied. Ashlyn called out, and again the Asatru answered. Their fervor grew with each iteration until Warren and Ashlyn were shouting into the night and the Asatru were howling like wolves.
“Lord Wotan, appear!” Warren cried out.
“Lord Wotan, bless us!” Ashlyn shouted.
Lightning streaked from the sky and struck the center of the clearing. The bonfire exploded, sending a column of fire fifty feet into the air. It slammed into the Asatru, knocking them backwards, but they weren’t burned. The flames danced over their skin, bathing them in light. It would have been beautiful if they hadn’t been laying around like the victims of a car wreck.
The fire rushed out and slammed into the ward, shattering it. It slammed into me, too, and my armor burned as white as the sun. I dug in my heels, leaned in to keep from being knocked on my ass, and closed my eyes against the unbearable radiance.
When the tempest passed the ground was charred black and the Asatru were all trying to get back to their feet. All of them except Ashlyn, who had weathered the blast untouched.
There was something different about her. She stood taller, prouder, more regally. The crazy look was gone from her eyes, replaced with something more imperious. She looked around the clearing at the men and women on the ground and wrinkled her nose.
Warren staggered to his feet. “Lord Wotan?” he asked her.
A chill ran down my spine. I gathered the Æther around my fists and stormed forward, ready to crush her skull. I stepped forward–
Ashlyn waved her hand in my general direction, sending me flying through the air. I slammed into a tree, cracking its ancient trunk. If I hadn’t been wearing my armor, it would have snapped my spine.
Ashlyn spat at Warren’s feet. “Please,” she said. “As if Lord Wotan would respond to such a meager offering.” She glanced down at her belly button. Smoke curled from her skin; Ashlyn’s silver piercing was burning her flesh. The creature possessing her pinched it between her fingers and ripped it out of her skin, then tossed the jewelry aside.
“Forgive me,” Warren said, hands spread and head bowed, “but if you are not our Lord, whom do I have the honor of addressing?”
“I am Frau Holda,” Ashlyn said, “the wife of your so-called Lord.” She looked around the circle and said, “Stand, my Sisters.”
The girls all got to their feet and the men backed away, casting leery glances at Ashlyn. Or Holda. Whatever. The wife of a god wasn’t any better than the god himself. She might not summon a horde of spectral riders, but she was still capable of wreaking havoc in Mirrormont. She could–
Make out with the other girls?
Holda walked up to Sandra, who was still wearing her Goth eyeliner despite abandoning the rest of her raiment. Holda took her by the hands and planted a kiss on her. Not a chaste friendship kind of kiss, or a say hello to Grandma kiss, but a passionate, sloppy, drunk-girls-on-spring-break kiss.
Even Sandra was taken aback. She staggered away from Holda, eyes wide. Holda smirked at her, then walked over to the Swedish Bikini chick. She puckered her lips, apparently hoping to avoid a tonsil inspection, but Holda pulled her in and kissed her just as ardently.
Holda repeated the spectacle with Strawberry Shortcake and Italian Princess, leaving the men literally standing around with their junk hanging out. “My Sisters,” Holda said, “it has been too long since I have enjoyed the company of the women of the moon.”
“Lady Holda,” Warren said, “forgive me, but–”
Holda jerked an angry face toward him. “You should pray for forgiveness.”
I got to my feet and crept forward, but Holda felt my approach without even looking at me. She waved her hand again, and an invisible force crushed me to the ground. I groaned, and Holda continued addressing Warren.
“You impious swine,” she said. “You dare think that this,” she gestured around the clearing and at the goats, “was enough to warrant Lord Wotan’s attention? To gain his favor? To receive his blessing?”
“We are sorry, Frau Holda,” Warren said. He knelt before her, head hung low, and grabbed her feet. “Please, allow us to make amends.”
Holda smiled, crouched down, and touched Warren’s chin, raising his head. She stood back up and looked down at him benevolently. “There is one thing you can do to set things right,” she said.
“Anything, my Lady.”
“This sacrifice was paltry, a trifling. To summon one as great as our Lord, a more substantial offering is in order.”
“Of course, my Lady. I was so foolish, so–”
“Indeed, you are a fool, but all will be well. I shall show you the kind of sacrifice my Lord demands.”
“Thank you, my Lady,” Warren said.
“God damn it Warren, get away from her!” I screamed.
But it was too late. Holda reached down, cupped his jaw in her hands, and snapped his neck.
Chapter Eleven
The Asatru screamed. Warren fell to the ground, dead.
I cried out and ran forward, Æther swirling around my fists, but Holda merely waved her hand and hurled me through the air again.
“Let that be a lesson,” Holda said, looking around the glade. “If you plan to summon me again, show me the proper respect, lest your fate be his.” She glared at the men hard enough to turn them to stone–figuratively, she wasn’t a Gorgon or anything–then looked at the women. “A shame,” she said. “I do so miss the company of my Sisters. As for him …”
Holda stuck her fingers in her mouth and whistled. A pair of enormous wolves emerged from the tree line, eyes glowing red, fangs bared, hair bristling. They closed their jaws around Warren’s ankles and dragged him into the forest.
Ashlyn’s body went into convulsions, like she was being controlled by a puppeteer with Parkinson’s. Her eyes glowed and rays of green light shot out from them, streaking into the sky like searchlights. Ashlyn fell to the ground screaming, and I waited for the demon to tear its way out of her.
Only it never happened. Holda’s exit didn’t look fun–in fact, it looked like Ashlyn was standing in a bathtub full of toasters–but it didn’t kill her. She knelt on the ground, on her hands and knees, breathing in great gasps of air, but other than her belly button, she seemed unharmed.
I knelt beside her and put a hand on her shoulder, but she smacked it away. “Are you all right?” I asked.
“I don’t need your help,” she said in between gasps.
“Yeah, you’re obviously in top shape right now.”
“My Sisters will help me,” Ashlyn said. “Sandra, Megan.”
Gothy and the Swedish Bikini model looked at each other, then slowly walked over to Ashlyn. They acted like they expected her to bite them, and I honestly couldn’t blame them. But Ashlyn just leaned on them, letting them bear her weight until she was able to stand on her own.
“This is your fault,” she snarled, looking at the trail of blood left in her lover’s wake.
“Yeah,” I said. “It was totally my idea for you assclowns to run through the woods naked, trying to summon an elder god from the cold blackness of forgotten memory. If only I could have foreseen this going so terribly wrong. No,
wait, I did, and you short bus–”
Ashlyn screamed and flung out her hand. The girls jumped away, but she wasn’t attacking anyone, at least not physically. Mini-Thor’s hammer, singed but recognizable, flew off the ground and into her grasp. Her shriek continued as she thrust the hammer forward, sending an arc of white-hot plasma tearing toward me.
I raised my arm and squeezed my eyes shut tight. Damn but lightning is bright when it’s right up close. The electricity slammed into my arm, driving me back a step, but my armor held, shining just as bright as the lightning and absorbing its force.
“Are you finished?” I said when the attack subsided.
“How … how did you do that?” Mini-Thor asked. “That hammer isn’t supposed to listen to you. It’s–”
“I was touched by a god, you asshole,” Ashlyn spat. “You think your little enchantment is going to stop me from–”
“Oh, the hell with it,” I muttered. I turned my hand palm-up and sent blazing light streaking across the clearing. It slammed into Ashlyn like a wrecking ball, knocking her to the dirt and Mjolnir from her hand. She started to get back to her feet but I turned my hand over and pushed it down. A ward smashed her into the ground, flattening her and the grass around her. She groaned and stopped fighting. I held out my hand. Mjolnir flew through the air and into my grasp.
The Asatru stared at me. “Look,” I said, “your leader’s dead, and I don’t care if your High Priestess has Holda on speed dial, you people are clearly in over your heads. Wotan doesn’t think you’re even worth showing up to murder himself, so why don’t you idiots quit while you’re ahead?”
The Asatru looked at me, some of them glaring, some of them abashed. Mini-Thor flexed his fist, and a small crackle of iridescent energy formed around his hand.
“What the hell is wrong with you people?” I asked, summoning my own shimmering force. Mini-Thor blinked and took a step back. “That man is dead because you idiots wanted to play Sunday school with the Horned God. When are you going to get it?”
“We didn’t know,” the guy with the hooked nose said.
The Wild Hunt Page 10
