Queen of Swords: The Banished Gods: Book One (The Banished Gods Series 1)

by L. A. McGinnis

  But now? Pain tore through her, cracking bones, tearing flesh.

  It threatened to crush her, to rip her apart. With every echo of it through her body, the sheer intensity caused starbursts to flare against the backs of her eyelids before fading away, replaced by a barrage of images and impressions coming far too fast for her to fully comprehend.

  Bright blue eyes, warm hands, a broken bed, anger, a gaping mouth dripping with sharp teeth.

  Remembering the first time she’d come to this city.

  Body shuddering, she drew a breath.

  Her heart began to beat. A slow, steady thudding against her ribcage. As life flowed back into her, she was hit with a fresh blast of agonizing fire. But as her heartbeats evened out, her breaths steadied, the flickering images slowed, cleared, focused.

  The first time she saw Chicago, she was flying into O’Hare, watching the shoreline of the lake against the brilliant lights of the city. She remembered thinking how incredibly clean and crisp that line between the light and the darkness was, a clear demarcation separating nothing and everything.

  Life should be so perfect. So precise.

  Morgane wanted to believe she was in heaven. The white light gave her hope. The gentle, soaring feeling, she presumed, would be exactly what Heaven might feel like. But surely, pain like this wouldn’t exist in such a place? Not anything so wicked and sharp at the same time?

  “Hey. Hey, I think she’s waking up. Somebody find Odin.” A man’s gruff voice, a familiar voice, from right beside her caused a memory to stir.

  Odin. She remembered that name from somewhere.

  Beneath the pain, fear lanced through her.

  Hovering between unconsciousness and wakefulness, the too-bright light still seeping between her tightly squeezed eyelashes, Morgane moaned. She couldn’t stop the pain. It radiated from every part of her body, pierced through her consciousness. With a muffled moan, she tried to shift position. That was a no go.

  Her tongue leaden, a few words slipped out. “What the hell happened?”

  Opening her eyes, she blinked, and when the room swam into focus, she noted the hermetically sealed infirmary hadn’t changed a bit. Well, except for the mountain of bloody white gauze in the corner and the extremely pissed off dude with long white hair and crystal clear eyes looming over her, arms braced on either side of the table. Trying to block everything out, the man, the pain, the blinding light, Morgane squeezed her eyes tightly closed again.

  “Don’t bother pretending, human, I know you’re awake.” Somehow, she just knew this guy was Odin. “Although I‘m questioning why I ordered Mir to bring you back from the dead.” He didn’t sound particularly happy about it as he mouthed her name with distaste. “Morgane Burke.”

  “So you know my name. Holy hell, why does everything hurt so bad?” The back of her neck prickling in warning, Morgane scanned the room for Loki. Mir. Anyone other than this intimidating man staring down at her. “Where is everyone? Where are Loki and Mir?”

  “Neither of them are here to save you this time, human. Although…” He paused, his eyes glinting, nothing human in that cold, cold face. “Both of them defied my orders to help you. Which makes me curious. I have questions. Take care with your answers, mortal, your life may depend upon it.” The pale man’s voice had the detachment of a casual killer, taking his time while he toyed with his prey.

  Pain was punching holes through her, the agony of it bright and sharp, making her voice quiver. But Morgane paused, the sense of impending danger overriding the agony. “Who are you, anyway?”

  His eyes blazed white, his face hard and unyielding. “Perhaps the real question is, who are you, Morgane Elaine Burke?” His silky tone took on a childlike eagerness, as if nothing surprised him anymore, and he’d just found something that did.

  Morgane assessed him, hoping he wouldn’t go to all the trouble to save her, just to kill her right away. “Me? I’m just a girl from the Midwest. Nobody special at all. I’m not sure what else I can tell you.”

  Still, he watched her, so she looked around the room, at the stainless tables, the state-of-the-art equipment, before settling back on his face. “What is this place, anyway? Some kind of military facility? A medical lab? I told them everything the first time I was here, not sure what else I can offer…”

  His eyes darkened, the clear silvery gray turning stormy, swirling with anger as he drawled, “Perhaps I should have made myself clear. Mir told me who you said you were. I’m asking for the truth.”

  Pain rippled through her still. But she held the man’s gaze. Held it and challenged it. “Fine. Obviously you spent time and effort bringing me back. What do you want to know?”

  “Your parents. Were they human?”

  Shoving aside the ramifications of what he seemed to be asking, she answered, “Yes. My father was a computer programmer, and my mother was a teacher.”

  “And you?”

  She shrugged helplessly, sending sharp, needles of pain shooting through her. “Yes, of course. I don’t understand why we keep having this conversation when I answered all your questions the first time around. I told you the truth, I’ve given you everything I know.”

  “Not everything, Morgane. Not nearly everything.”

  “But I have, I’ve…”

  “The demons. How long have you been able to see them?”

  The room suddenly became too small, too hot, too damn confining. “I don’t understand… I can’t…” All too clearly, she saw exactly where he was going and what he was asking.

  “Tell me, Morgane. When did you begin seeing them? How did you begin seeing them?” She felt the blood drain from her face, felt dizziness hit her as his deep voice prodded. “Tell me and this conversation is over. Lie to me, and you will deeply regret it.”

  “After my mother and sister were killed. Only after I…died.” Sheer will forced the rest of the story out, and only because she absolutely believed he’d carry through on his threats. “I couldn’t see what attacked us that night, only that something was pulling us, stabbing us.” She was acutely aware of how loud her heart was pounding. “But I died on the way to the hospital, in the ambulance. And after that… I saw those creatures everywhere. I couldn’t believe how many of them there were, black and monstrous and awful.” Morgane snapped her mouth shut, marking the way his silver eyes glowed.

  “Did you tell the other humans?”

  “No,” she admitted, “Because it sounds absolutely crazy, saying something like this out loud. Why would I tell anyone that?”

  “How long were you dead?”

  “Minutes, but they brought me back then they lost me again. I wasn’t stabilized until after I reached the hospital. Do you think this is why I can see the demons?” Morgane pressed.

  “You are not in a position to ask questions, human.” His arrogant dismissiveness got under her skin. “Although your account does clear up a few things. Not everything, but enough.”

  “Enough for what?”

  His lips curled into a smile. He’d be handsome if he wasn’t so terrifying. “Enough to allow you to keep breathing a bit longer.”

  This was becoming tiresome. “You see? That’s our problem in a nutshell. I tell you the truth, and you threaten me. We’re on the same side, or can’t you see that?” Her voice was fading as she lost steam. “Who in the hell are you people, and why are you hunting those things?”

  He reached for her neck, but all he did was clasp his hand around her jaw and turn her face from side to side with that strange, inquisitive look on his face.

  “How have you managed to stay alive all this time, when death seems to be nipping at your heels?” He muttered, sounding intrigued.

  “I already told you. I’m nobody special. And I’d like to see Loki now if you don’t mind.” She wished it had come out a little less whiny, but hey, there it was. Mir stopped short in the doorway, his gaze flipping between her frantic eyes and Odin’s hand wrapped around her face.

  “Mimir. Congratulati
ons. It appears you have saved the mortal. Again. She wants Loki?” A slow, cruel smile spread across his face as he stared down into Morgane’s. “There’s a way to bring your lover back. When you can walk, Mir will bring you to my Throne Room, and I’ll explain what I want. Which should be amusing, at the very least.” He released his hold on her face, and Morgane collapsed backwards onto the cold, metal table as Mir materialized in her wavering vision, same red hair, same pissed off personality.

  “Mir, right?”

  He offered a terse nod.

  “Thanks again. You must be a wizard with a needle. You’d have needed a sewing machine to put me back together this time.”

  “I didn’t sew you up, I healed you. Much quicker, but the pain…” He lifted an eyebrow at her. “The pain will be worse initially, but it’ll fade in a day or two. I had no choice. I had to take away the toxins or the damage would…linger. The pain you’re feeling is an unfortunate side effect.”

  “You healed me?” Morgane held his gaze. “Like how?”

  “Like with magic.”

  She waited for the punch line. The laughter. Nothing came. “So these are like phantom pains, and all my injuries are gone?”

  Mir gave her a quick slice of his head in confirmation. Rolling her shoulders, she did feel whole again. Weird but intact. And this pain felt different, less fleshy, more bone-deep. Okay. Wow. The shakiness returning for a whole different reason, Morgane asked, “Can you at least tell me where Loki is? The Viking guy…”

  Mir cut her off, shooting a quick, furtive look toward the empty doorway, hissing, “That’s our king. Odin. Show some fucking respect.”

  She forced her breathing to remain steady, a sort of panic setting in.

  Dropping her voice, she whispered, “I need to see Loki, like right now. Why isn’t he here?” Without him, she felt strangely rudderless. True, she didn’t know a lot about the guy, but she knew enough to know that if he could be here, he would. The fact he was missing gave her the willies. The fact nothing made sense gave her the willies, too, but at least if Loki was here, she’d feel safer.

  “Odin exiled him. He banished Loki to the darklands for bringing you here, and he’s probably going to send my ass there next. So yeah, you’ve FUBARed everything up royally again.”

  Morgane clung to the edge of the metal table, eyeing the pile of bloody gauze. “Sorry. Had I known that almost dying on the street would inconvenience you so, I would have tried to avoid it. Now…” Morgane drew a deep, calming breath. “Explain what you just said to me…in plain, simple English. What are the darklands? How did you use magic to heal me? And when will Loki be back?”

  Mir sighed, a look of bleak desperation crossing his face, and her stomach curled in on itself. As if these darklands were an actual place and Loki had actually been banished there and this was exactly what it sounded like. A terrible punishment devised by a scary man who acted like he ruled the world. But she lived in a major city in the First World and scary stories were just bullshit. Right?

  Mir’s gruff voice broke through her rising panic. “It’s as real as the world you live in every day. And trust me, Loki’s stuck there. I used magic because I can, and because you would have died otherwise. None of this is what you think it is, and you, Morgane Burke, are in way over your head.”

  Who did he think he was talking to? She had survived losing her family and crawling back out of the darkness. She had survived monsters. She’d survived all by herself for two whole years. She would get through this too.

  Lifting her chin higher, she managed, “I’m sure I can handle whatever you throw at me.”

  “I highly doubt it.”

  “Try me.”

  Every menacing step he took toward her made her doubt those words. “We are not military. Or Special Forces. Or fucking CIA. Or anything else from your pitiful, human world. We’re immortal gods from another realm. Banished to this world as punishment, many eons ago. Tasked with protecting your kind from the demons of the Underworld.” His eyes frosted over as he crossed the room. “And you’d better fucking hope you never meet the bitch who holds their leashes.

  “We’ve been here since you people wallowed in the mud. Watched you rise and build and take over like cockroaches. Protecting your kind, fighting the demons, and all the while, we‘ve been waiting to escape this place. Waiting for all of this to end.” He waved a hand around the room while his eyes narrowed to mere slits, and a chill rippled down her spine. “But you know what? It never fucking does.” A thin, joyless smile stretched his lips.

  “But I digress. The darklands are another realm on another plane, which Odin uses strictly for punishment. Someone like you”—he looked her up and down before dismissing her completely—“wouldn’t last a minute.”

  “So you’re saying that these darklands are an actual place? Some hellish purgatory where Loki is languishing for saving me? And the Viking—”

  “Odin.” He cut her off. “For the gods sake, if you’re going to address him, call him by his fucking name. Odin, the All-Father, the One-Eyed, or Fader, it means…”

  “Father. Yeah, I know.” Morgane chewed her lip, dodging his questioning look. “English Lit. I went to college, I learned stuff.”

  The room seemed to close in around them. Loki had found her, brought her here so Mir could save her life. Now Loki was being punished for it. “So Odin exiled him to this place? But he also said there’s a way to get him back, right? And you’ll take me to him?”

  He guffawed. That’s what her grandpa might have called it. A superficial, scoffing laugh, given by the elders when they think the children are in over their heads. And it did what Odin hadn’t been able to do, or even the damn demons. It pissed her off. She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I see. You don’t think I can, do you?”

  The laughing stopped and Mir walked over to her and got in her face. Real, real close. “My doubts have nothing to do with you. I don’t think either of us can bring him back. The darklands are one step above the Underworld itself. Odin is the only person capable of bringing a soul out of there. And I’m willing to bet he won’t release him. Especially not for you.”

  Morgane frowned at him. “Noted. So, best-case scenario, what will Odin expect?”

  “Things you’re not willing to do.” Mir leaned back against the other table, which groaned under his weight.

  “Just tell me, Mir.”

  “Begging, for one.” He crossed his arms, snorting before adding, “He especially enjoys groveling. It makes his day.”

  “Not my strong suit.” It bugged her he knew that about her already, only having met twice.

  There was the ghost of a smile on his face when he met her eyes. “No shit.”

  “Odin will expect you to plead for Loki’s life, he’ll most likely toy with you for a while, although for the life of me, I can’t imagine why he’s playing this game with you. But maybe we can both pray he brings Loki back in one piece.” He straightened. “Because the demons? They infest every inch of the darklands. Along with a host of other monsters. And Odin sent Loki in there weaponless.”

  Morgane blanched. “How long has he been gone?” How long had she been out?

  He checked the clock hanging on the tiled wall above them. “Seven hours now. Too long,” he muttered, “way, way too long.”

  “Oh, God. Help me up.” She clung to him as she sat up, hung heavily from his arm while she set her feet on the cold floor, using his weight for an anchor, and heaved herself upright. “I‘ll make you a deal. You get me up to see Odin, and I’ll do whatever I have to do to free Loki.” Stifling the urge to throw up, she felt pain crawl through her. “Shit.” The room spun around her as she forced herself to breathe through her nose.

  “Hurts like a bitch, doesn’t it?” But Mir’s voice gentled slightly while he steadied her. “Look, I know the pain’s worse, but it was the only way to save you, sweetheart. Otherwise, you’d be dead.”

  “Yeah, well, I can deal with it, thanks. All I have to do is find out wh
at Odin wants, right? How hard can it be?” Morgane shuffled her feet, one in front of the other, so slowly Mir finally took pity on her and slung an arm around her waist. “Much better. Where are we going?”

  He nodded toward the door. “Odin‘s Throne Room. Through there, down the hall, then we gotta head two floors up.”

  He might as well have told her she had to run a marathon. But she couldn’t let Loki down. Even clinging to Mir, it felt like a lifetime before she stumbled into the elevator and heard the rattle and click as the doors slid shut. “You guys seriously need to do something about this thing.” The machine hummed and shook, but she could have crawled upstairs faster.

  When Mir pushed the double doors open, a gasp slipped out of her.

  Mir chuckled. “Yeah, yeah, I know. That’s what all the chicks say.

  “Size, it seems, does matter.”

  11

  Morgane stepped into a dream.

  The columns holding up the rib-vaulted ceiling, cut through with magnificent flying buttresses, were pure white marble threaded with shimmering veins of moonstone and onyx. Each one a massive pillar of solid rock supporting the stone vaulted ceiling forty feet overhead. The floor beneath her feet was made of the same gauzy, nebulous marble, so perfectly white it seemed she was walking on snow. Except it wasn’t cold.

  It was the stillness of the place that caused her to stumble slightly, as if the space itself was gripped by an unnatural presence. This was a hall meant to make you feel insignificant. Worthless.

  At the end, so far away it made him appear small, lounged Odin. His tall, lean body thrown back, his alabaster hair shining, his attention focused on two huge, black birds perched on the back of a throne that looked suspiciously as if it were made of gold.

  She took one halting step then another, the marble cool and slick beneath her feet. This place may have been designed to make her feel weak, but the farther she walked, the stronger she felt. Angrier.