“Kaffi,” I told the waitress. It was the only Icelandic word I’d learned here. She glanced between Hunter and me but brought two white porcelain cups and the carafe. I wondered if I could somehow send the check across the street to Keira’s room.
Hunter leaned on the table and arched an eyebrow at me, silently asking me what the hell was going on. I sunk a little lower in my seat and mumbled, “I’m going to die.”
“Okay,” he said carefully. “Soon?”
I lifted a shoulder. “Soon enough… I’m not going to survive whatever’s going on with the Sumerians.” I wrapped my fingers around the cup of coffee to warm them. Not grabbing our coats had been one of the dumbest ideas I’d ever had, but in my defense, I hadn’t known we were going to make a run for it again until I was beating on Hunter’s door.
“What’s your plan then? And what about your dad?”
“My plan is to get us away from all of these deified assholes.”
“Is deified a word?”
“Of course it is,” I said, but I wasn’t actually sure.
But Hunter just nodded and asked, “Can we go somewhere warm? A tropical island with nude beaches is preferable.”
“You realize all the guys will be naked, too, right?”
Hunter squinted at me and sighed. “Fine. Swimsuits required. But I still want some place tropical.”
“We’ve got nothing, Hunter. No money, no identification, no allies. I don’t actually know how to get us out of Iceland. I only knew I had to get away from them.” I told him about Keira’s admission regarding the prophecy of my death, how they’d always known and had still forced me here and thrown me into this battle with the Sumerians, simply because they’d wanted me to fight on their behalf. And while Freyja had suggested the same thing, she’d also told me it was only a possibility and that my future could always change.
“But it’s just a prophecy,” Hunter argued. “Maybe their seers aren’t often wrong, but they could be.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell him I already knew they weren’t wrong.
“Besides, it doesn’t matter,” he continued. “We’ll go to the police and tell them the truth. If they get us home, we can get our passports and money and take off on our own.”
I sunk even lower in my seat. “The Sumerians know who I am now. They’ll follow me.”
Hunter rolled his fingers across the table as he considered this. “Any chance we can steal the passports Agnes is using?”
I cringed as I imagined breaking into her room. “You’re Celtic. You steal them.”
“I’m not a demigod,” he argued. “I can’t overpower gods.”
“Agnes hates me,” I lied. “She’ll curse me, or worse, she’ll make a pass at me.”
Hunter snorted as the bells above the diner door opened and a familiar face entered. I couldn’t place him at first, but there were few people I would’ve recognized in Iceland, which meant he was connected to the gods across the street. He spotted me almost immediately, and approached our table, so I reflexively tensed, prepared to fight him so Hunter and I could escape yet again.
“What,” I sneered, “they’re hoping I’m less likely to kill a hero?”
“Something like that,” he responded. I couldn’t quite place his accent, but like most of the Norse heroes I’d met here, he had the trademark blond hair and light blue eyes like we’d been carved from the same Scandinavian stone. He motioned to the empty chair next to Hunter, and I grunted as an answer. The bastards had sent a human after me because they’d known I wouldn’t kill him. But that didn’t mean I was going to sit here and listen to him as he tried to convince me to go die in their war.
But the guy sat down anyway. “I’m Joachim,” he said. “From Darmstadt.”
“You say that like I should know where it is,” I said.
He smiled and shrugged. “Germany. Descendant of Freyja, apparently.”
I grimaced because I was sitting across from a guy who looked about my age but was descended from a woman I’d slept with. And there was no amount of brain bleach that could remove this knowledge. But Joachim just laughed and told me, “We all know about you two.”
“There’s nothing going on with us,” I stubbornly insisted. “It was just a one-time thing. Okay, technically, a four time thing over the course of one day, but it was never going to happen again, even if I were staying.”
“You know,” Joachim said. “When she showed up at my apartment door and told me who she was and that I was descended from her, I didn’t believe her at first either. Who would? And once she proved she was really a goddess, and I started to think she might be telling me the truth, I wanted to gouge my eyes out for having more than a few of the same thoughts you obviously had.”
“Dude, your ancestor is like the Helen of Troy of the Norse world,” Hunter interjected.
“How do you know who Helen of Troy is?” I shot back.
“Hey, I know things,” he said. I crossed my arms and waited and he finally gave up. “Troy. You watched it with me, dumbass.”
“Gavyn,” Joachim said, “just hear me out. If you want to leave, I’ll go back to the hotel and get your things and you can go. No one will try to stop you. The only condition is that you listen to what I need to say.”
We really didn’t have any other option, but I pretended to think about it anyway and made a big show of reluctantly agreeing to his terms. I don’t think we were fooling this German hero, but the guy seemed way too nice to call me on it. He just thanked me and poured his own cup of coffee before taking a deep breath, his eyebrows bunching together and his lips slightly moving as if he were trying to translate his speech in his head before launching into it.
Hunter and I shot each other our “What a whack-job” look, but Joachim must have pieced together all the right English words because he took a sip of his coffee then took another deep breath. “Gavyn, it’s not only the Sumerians we have to worry about now. And if you leave… Look, I don’t understand how they’re so certain that you hold the key to saving the world, but they are sure of it. And we’re here to help you with—”
“Wait,” Hunter interrupted. “Back up. What do you mean it’s not only the Sumerians that are worrisome?”
Joachim fidgeted with his coffee and offered me an apologetic glance. “The Egyptians have announced their alliance with the Sumerians. Apparently, they want to take their territory back. They have too many temples to just abandon Egypt altogether, but we can count on more pantheons demanding a return to our pagan pasts. This is going to blow up in our faces really soon.”
“How long have you known about this?” I demanded. Just like Keira to keep more information from me. I sat there seething, feeling stupid that I’d actually come to trust her after she rescued my father and me then stayed by us in the hospital, not only for our protection but so that I wouldn’t be alone. I wasn’t sure if I was angry at how she’d been using me and toying with my emotions, or if I was sick over it.
But Joachim glanced at his watch then said, “About fifteen minutes. Gunnr just told me—”
“Keira,” I corrected. As much as I’d hated her adopting my ex-girlfriend’s name, it had stuck, and I had a hard time thinking of her as Gunnr now, which really was an unfortunate name.
“All right,” he agreed slowly as if he were placating a toddler on the verge of throwing a tantrum, which honestly wasn’t that far from the truth. “Keira got me up, told me I had to come talk to you and why, shared they’d just learned the Egyptians were starting to cause trouble, and that we needed you if we’re to have any shot of defeating them.”
I shook my head stubbornly. “What they need is someone expendable, some schmuck they can send into heavy fire and distract their enemies while they sneak in unnoticed.”
“First of all,” Hunter said, “you watch too many movies. And secondly, you’re way too Southern to say ‘schmuck.’”
“I didn’t realize my vocabulary was limited by geography,” I retorted.
> Hunter nodded. “Just like you can’t say ‘bloody hell.’”
“I do say that.”
“Yeah, but you shouldn’t.”
“Um…” Joachim cleared his throat and squirmed in his seat as he waited for us to remember he was still there.
“I’m not going back,” I told him. “Now, I’ve heard you out. Please bring us our coats and passports… and go dig through Agnes’s purse. See if she has any money.”
“Agnes…” he repeated.
“Badb,” Hunter explained.
“No way,” Joachim said. “I’m not crossing that woman. She’ll probably put a curse on me, and hell, my entire country, and honestly, we did a good enough job cursing ourselves. We don’t need her help.”
I snickered and thought if our circumstances had been different, I would’ve actually liked this guy. I mean, he’d probably try to get me to sit through a soccer match, but it’s not like Hunter hadn’t tried at least a hundred times and I usually forgave him. “Okay,” I agreed. “Avoid Agnes. That’s probably good advice for the rest of the time you’re with these people. Dig through Keira’s purse.”
Joachim nodded and pulled out his wallet, producing a few bills to pay for the coffee, but he didn’t get up. He flipped open the photo sleeves and passed it across the table, jutting his chin toward the photo on the right. “My daughter. She just turned three. Her name is Ada and she’s obsessed with Mia and Me, and anything on wheels. She must have a hundred toy cars.”
He extended his hand and I placed his wallet back into it. What was he doing? Resorting to emotional blackmail? But Joachim put his wallet away, and with it, the picture of the beautiful little girl with blond curls and round, pink cheeks and a sunflower yellow dress, a picture-perfect child that could have been painted by whomever the German Norman Rockwell was. “I don’t know if I’ll see her again,” he said. “But I know I can’t go home. I can’t risk losing. That’s not the world she deserves.”
He stood up and promised he’d return soon with our things, but the sinking feeling in my stomach already assured me we wouldn’t be needing them.
Because I got it, what I would have to do and why.
It was my life for theirs.
Chapter Six
Keira kept trying to get my attention so she could apologize and convince me to forgive her for not telling me I would never be going home, but I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of a clear conscience. I pretended to be immensely interested in Frey’s presentation on the Egyptian gods who’d joined the ranks of Asshole Evil Gods Intent on Subversion, or AEGIS for short. And yeah, I’d totally just made that up, but since I’d also recently learned what aegis was in the world of Greek gods, I wanted to use it as often as possible.
Frey hadn’t assembled us in a conference room but the indoor training area. I noticed Joachim stealing glances in my direction, but I ignored him, too. I wondered if Keira had told him about my prophecy and that by guilting me back into this war, he was just as complicit in my death as she was. Frey occasionally shot me irritated looks, like he knew I wasn’t paying attention to his Egyptian god profiles, but honestly, what did he expect? I hadn’t yet proven capable of paying attention to anything for more than two minutes.
Frey suddenly stopped speaking, and I realized I hadn’t actually paid attention to any of his lecture. A god I hadn’t seen since Hunter and I were picked up at the police station approached the weapons’ table, selected a bow and quiver, and waited by the archery range. What was this god’s name? And why were we all standing around to watch his target practice?
“One of these days,” I thought, “I should really learn how to listen when other people are speaking.”
“Archery is one of our best defenses against the Egyptians,” Frey said. “It’s unlikely you’ll be able to get close to them if Menhit is around.”
“Why?” I asked. The heavy sighs and impatient shuffling of feet from the heroes and gods told me Frey had already explained all of this.
“Because,” he said slowly, “her arrows ignite and her fires spread preternaturally fast.”
I wanted to ask what “preternaturally” meant but decided to just use context clues instead. I mean, I’d already been dubbed the village idiot so it’s not like I would’ve changed anyone’s opinion of me by asking, but by now, I was curious as to why the god whose name I couldn’t remember was standing around with a bow and quiver full of arrows because if all of his ignited in the air, that was actually worth being dragged into the training center and having to tune out an entire lecture on Egyptian gods no one had ever heard of.
But my hope that I’d get to see fiery arrows was quickly dashed when Frey said, “We can’t fight fire with fire, so our best hope is to kill Menhit first. And the only way we’re going to do that is by expert archery.” He waved a hand toward the god holding the bow and continued, “Ull is one of our best archers. I’d like you each to work with him until you can shoot almost as well as he can.”
No wonder I couldn’t remember this guy’s name. Out of all the gods I’d met, he’d definitely drawn the short stick when it came to names. But Ull pulled an arrow from the quiver, nocked it, and released. He’d moved onto the next target before his arrow embedded into the center of the bullseye. By the time he’d moved onto the third, his second arrow had also hit the center of the target. Down the row of paper circles, twelve in all, he drew an arrow and released it, never once missing his mark. It took him less than a minute to demonstrate he had preternaturally excellent aim and preternatural speed.
I raised my hand, mostly to be a smartass, and waited for Frey to notice. When he did, he groaned and rubbed his temple like I was giving him a migraine. “Gavyn… what?”
“Just thought I’d point out I’m not a god. I can’t move that quickly. And you’ve seen me shoot arrows. Unless this goddess lives underground, I’m the wrong man for the job.”
“You can move that quickly and you have,” Frey reminded me. “And you don’t need to be as perfect as Ull. He has thousands of years of experience. You just need to be good.”
I snorted because that still seemed like a tall order.
“Fine,” Frey sighed. “Just don’t kill any of us, okay?”
“I’m not making any promises,” I replied.
Tyr handed me a bow and pointed to a target at the archery range. “Trust me. You don’t want to find yourself close enough to Menhit to fight her with a sword. If she’s not shooting fiery arrows at you, she’s morphed into a vicious lion, and—”
“Wait, she’s what?” I interrupted.
Tyr blinked at me then ran his good hand over his face. “Did you listen to anything Frey just said?”
“Did you just meet me?” I retorted.
Behind me, Thor laughed and clapped my back. “I’m glad you decided to return, Gavyn. Would’ve been… quiet without you around.”
I squinted at him and mumbled, “And I’m so glad all of you have shown up now. Except your father. That asshole’s still hiding in Asgard.”
I thought Thor would be offended, but he just shrugged and handed his demigod a bow. “He’ll be here when we need him. Considering he governs all of Asgard, he can’t just leave whenever he wants.”
“Never stopped him whenever he wanted to get laid,” I said.
“Gavyn, enough,” Keira scolded.
But I wouldn’t turn around to scowl at her. I pulled an arrow from the quiver Tyr was holding and shot it at the target then watched as my arrow sailed gracefully over the top and into the tarps hanging behind the row of targets. “Well,” Tyr offered, “at least you didn’t massacre the ground again.”
I nodded and took another arrow from him. Ull, who was working his way through all of the practicing heroes, stopped beside me and corrected my stance then asked me to show him my form. “Keep your elbow straight,” he instructed. “Draw your string to the same anchor point each time.” I’d heard these tips before, of course, but Ull moved around me, studying my feet, my finger
s as they kept the string pulled back, turning my elbow just slightly so that it was in optimal position, feeling the tension in both the string and my back. When he told me to shoot, the arrow actually hit the board—not the bullseye, of course, but considering I’d never even hit the target, I was counting this as a win.
“Good,” he said. “Now, the key to archery is consistency. You pulled to the left when you released because you allowed your elbow to rotate just slightly. Try it again.”
I focused on the bullseye through the sight-pin and released. “Still pulling to the left,” I said.
Ull nodded. “But it’s better.”
I glanced at Tyr and said, “So… this Egyptian goddess. Is she like the Nemean lion? Will we need to resurrect Hercules?”
“Heracles,” Keira and Tyr corrected at the same time. “And no,” Tyr added. “Although I’m terribly curious as to how you know anything at all about the Nemean lion.”
I lowered my bow to flip him off, although I wasn’t sure how I knew that either. Maybe I hadn’t slept through as many of my college classes as I’d thought. “Just want to make sure I’m getting this right,” I said. “She’s just a regular lion then?”
But Tyr shook his head. “Still a goddess. What kills her doesn’t change just because she looks different.”
“Damn,” I sighed. A few targets over from me, Joachim was shooting arrow after arrow into the target, many of them even hitting the center. Freyja stood smiling beside him as if she were taking credit for her progeny’s ability to shoot consistently well. She caught me watching them and winked at me, so I set my jaw and glared at the target I was supposed to be impaling.
After what felt like hours of target practice, a hush fell over the room, so naturally, I turned to see what was so fascinating. Agnes, stooped in her black shawl and looking as weak as any nine-hundred-year-old witch, hefted a quiver over her shoulder and snatched a bow off the table. She shuffled to the targets and waved a hand irritably at the hero who’d been practicing there. He scurried out of her way and Agnes lifted her chin as if telling us all, “Now watch as this old hag shows you up. Pansies.”
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