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

by L. A. McGinnis

  Who the hell was he to punish Loki? Who the hell was he to think he was better than anyone else?

  It might have been the bored look on Odin’s face, or maybe it was the whole damn groveling scenario that didn’t sit quite right with her. Or maybe it was him sending her lover into hell out of what she assumed was spite. But by the time she completed the insanely long, unnecessary walk and stood in front of his throne, rage vibrated through Morgane.

  The slightest brush of Mir’s fingers against her forehead, and the last of the pain drained away as he pushed her gently forward, “That should help for a few moments, but no longer, understand? Don’t do anything stupid.” She nodded, never taking her eyes from the pompous asshole in front of her.

  She kept her shoulders back, moved forward until her toes brushed the bottom step of the dais. It took almost a full minute before Odin turned from the ravens and finally commanded, “Speak, girl.”

  That mocking smile of his held all the warmth of a viper. She should learn obedience, she really should. But she couldn’t stop the hate from spiraling higher. “Odin.” She dipped her head an inch. The only concession she was willing to make to this arrogant bastard. “I would…ask a favor.” Fabric rustled as he changed position.

  “Well, this should be fun. I take it you think you’re above begging?”

  In answer, she lifted her head defiantly and held his gaze unwaveringly.

  “Ah, I see. So very proud, aren’t we? What favor can I grant you, human?” Smug, sneering arrogance lurked behind his question.

  “Bring Loki back from where ever you sent him. He shouldn’t have to pay the price for saving me.” Her voice was calm, clear, and didn’t have a hint of humility in it. She was hoping Odin didn’t notice.

  His gaze fixed on her, he smiled, and Morgane thought he would be utterly beautiful were he not so completely hollow. Cruelty ran in his veins instead of blood. The kind that only found pleasure in pain.

  “Well. Someone has to pay. It might as well be him. Or perhaps you’d rather it be you? What are you willing to give me in return for such a favor?” Morgane paused. Considered the hint of greed lining Odin’s offhand, casual words.

  “It seems to me we each have something the other wants. You already know what I want.” She forced a lazy smile to her lips. “Why did you ask me here, Odin?”

  The stillness around them seemed to get even quieter as Odin leaned forward, any pretense at banter vanishing from his voice. “What exactly did you see when you died? Where did you go? And why were you sent back?” His eyes glittered greedily.

  Shit. She’d spent years trying to outrun these memories.

  To bring Loki back, she could do this. A quick, sideways glance over to Mir steadied her as she started. “The place I went was nothing but darkness, and it was ice cold. But it was quick, every time I died and came back, the process was quick. Too fast for me to tell you much of anything, really.” Those eyes of his turned into grey, glassy lakes. “But I swear, the demons? There were lots of them. When I was dying, it was like tumbling down a well, a well lined with millions of them, the demons and the faces of the dead. The whole place smelled rotten and awful. And that’s all I remember.” She debated his last question for a second. “And I didn’t have a choice, you know, to come back. The EMS guys saved me.”

  “How did they save you?”

  “They hooked me up to machines, and when we finally got to the hospital, they gave me a transfusion. Then the doctors operated. And I survived.”

  “And after that night, you could see the Grim?”

  “The demons?” Morgane let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. I already told you. That’s when I began seeing them. Everywhere.” Something inside her began cracking apart as she waited on the whim of a god. “Now, bring Loki back. Please.”

  After a few moments deep in thought, Odin gave a bored sigh and a half-hearted wave of his hand. “You truly want him back?” The smirk on his face turned terrifying as he continued. “I’ll grant your request, human. You both can have him. Enjoy.” Sagging with relief, Morgane allowed Mir to pull her away, practically dragging her out of the hall.

  “We need to hurry up. Odin’s never granted a favor before.” Mir’s voice sounded frantic, pushing through the doors, rushing her down the endless hallway. Because of his haste, a sliver of terror echoed inside Morgane.

  “You mean not to someone like me, right? Not to a human?” There had been a moment, as Odin flicked his fingers at her, granting the favor, when she thought she had sensed…something. A deception, of some kind.

  But he said he was giving them back Loki.

  “Not to anyone. Not like this. Not so easily.” Mir sounded wondering, even shocked. “We need to get to the roof, right now. That’s where he’ll be. Loki will be in rough shape.”

  The snail mail elevator climbed another six floors to the roof before she stepped out into the bright bowl of early morning, the wind catching her robe, pulling her toward a dark heap lying in the long shadows. “Loki.” His body was curled into a tight ball, and she smelled blood as she tried to roll him over. Her hands came away red and slippery in the sunlight.

  As she gaped at the blood, Mir took over. “Get out of the way, let me in there.” Loki was breathing, and Mir laid his hands on him as he moaned, his breaths fading, disappearing. The shadows hid the damage, but couldn’t hide his suffering. His breaths came in great wheezing gasps, his only sounds a series of painful moans and grunts at the smallest touch, every slight movement.

  “We’ve got to get him inside. Do you think you can you help me?”

  Morgane nodded, wincing as Mir shifted more of Loki’s weight onto her shoulders.

  In the elevator, the flickering light lit him like a corpse. He was bruised. He was damaged. He looked a hundred years older, and that was before he was underneath the bright lights of the infirmary.

  Morgane held Loki’s hand, the one that was not completely crushed, and murmured a constant stream of nonsense. Things she knew he couldn’t hear, things he wouldn’t understand, and things she never would have told him if she wasn’t absolutely sure he was dying. While Mir worked frantically, all she could do was hang on and whisper the useless things she needed him to hear before he went.

  As the pile of bloody gauze grew, her hopes faded. Dear God, he was…shredded. There was no other way to describe it. The wounds of countless claws and teeth covered him. “How is he not already dead, Mir?” she whispered, her voice hollow. There was almost nothing left of the man who had come to save her, who had made love to her. Who had made her feel beautiful.

  “Because nothing can kill an immortal in the darklands, they can only be injured. It’s like the Catholic equivalent of hell, where you’re torn apart by demons. Repeatedly.” Mir paused. “But now that he’s out? One immortal can kill another, which means if Odin truly wants Loki dead for defying his orders, then this is it. He’s done for and neither you nor I can do a thing to stop it.”

  Morgane wrapped both her hands around Loki’s remaining good one, hanging on as much for herself as for him.

  She was blinded, for a moment, by the sheer force of the rage as it slammed into her. Even imagined herself killing Odin, slicing him to bits as easily as she killed the demons, but this time she’d do it slowly, viciously, draw it out. Realizing perhaps, she was capable of just as much cruelty as he was.

  “I’m going to slaughter him for this.” She hissed, focusing on Loki’s face. “I’m going to watch him bleed out all over that fucking white marble floor of his.”

  “Not a good train of thought to pursue right now. Besides, like I said, only an immortal can kill another immortal. Let’s just get—”

  “This doesn’t piss you off? This doesn’t seem just the teensiest bit unfair to you?”

  Mir worked desperately fast now, his hands a blur as he ran them over and over Loki’s wounds, but every time the bleeding stopped in one place, it started in another. As he worked, he talked, faster and faster, as if time was ru
nning out and things needed said. “Odin doesn’t play fair. And he doesn’t do anything for anybody but himself. He’s in control of this world, which means he doesn’t have to play by our rules.”

  His gaze flicked up to Morgane’s, and fear crawled up her spine. “Let me tell you something, and this time, try to understand what I’m saying. Loki is the reason we’re here, on your planet, fighting these things you call demons. Loki precipitated the destruction of our world, the end of our culture, caused us to be banished to this place. So if Odin’s judgment seems harsh to you, keep in mind what your lover cost us. Everything. We’ve spent the last two thousand years being stuck here, among the likes of you. We were once gods of a glorious realm, now we’re prisoners. Odin can do with us as he wishes and no one can stop him.”

  He raised his head long enough to meet her gaze. “Least of all you.”

  Staring back at his face, she saw the truth in his eyes as he finished, “He gave Loki back to you to punish you for your pride and insolence. So you could watch him die.” Shaking his head, he laid a hand over his friend’s chest. “For both of us to watch him die.”

  “You can’t save him, can you?” The bleeding continued while Loki grew paler. His lips turned gray. He was almost gone, Morgane realized with a start, the hand clasped in hers beginning to cool.

  “Fuck. Probably not. I’m not giving up though. I’ve got more magic I can try, and there’s other things… I am not giving up. Hang on, brother.”

  She watched in fascination as blue curls of lights emanated from Mir’s hands, spreading over Loki’s body. Morgane let Loki’s limp hand slip from hers. “You keep trying. I’m not giving up either.” The stairs were infinitely faster than the elevator, even with her legs feeling as if they might go out from under her at any moment. When the doors swung inward on silent hinges, and the cavernous, milky hall echoed loudly with every footfall slapping against the pristine, white floor, she half-wondered if Mir was the only one entertaining false hopes tonight. But if Mir couldn’t save Loki, maybe there was still a chance she could.

  Odin wanted groveling? Then groveling was what he’d get.

  With every step she took, she reminded herself, this is not about me.

  This was for Loki, for him saving her ass and not letting the demons eat her for dinner. Twice.

  Even though he’d known death might be the cost.

  This was about balancing the scales. This was about her doing whatever was necessary to bring him back. This was, quite possibly, because she cared too much, too quickly, for someone she barely even knew. That somehow, the lonely ache in her chest had changed into something else. Something she wasn’t ready to let go of.

  In this place where people were made small, Mir was right. Only one person held the power here, and at the moment, he towered above her on a throne. So. Morgane did what she had to. She wiped away every ounce of pride she dragged in here with her. And as she did, the last vestiges of rage were replaced by resolve. She’d come here to beg for the only person who had touched her in two whole years.

  Quite possibly the only person who ever would.

  Odin twisted away from the figure at his side and fixed a mocking, predatory smile on his face before leaning back, waiting. Beside him stood the most beautiful woman Morgane had ever seen. She glistened, like an iridescent fish in the sun. Long, inky black hair trailed to the floor, and her eyes, which absorbed the light, were shadowed under arching eyebrows set on a face the shade of bone-white porcelain. As the woman tilted her head and brought her wicked, consuming gaze fully onto Morgane, she felt slowly pulled apart, layer by aching layer.

  Odin’s face smoothed out into cruel, hard planes. “Ah, you’ve returned. Now. Let’s see if you can get it right this time. Last time was such a bore.” With a raised brow, he pointed to the floor in front of the dais. The woman’s smile matched Odin’s. Mocking. Anticipatory.

  None of it mattered. Morgane didn’t care why this woman was here. Her attention focused wholly on Odin, she sank to the floor. Knees and arms and back screaming, she bowed low until her forehead rested against the cool white marble. And tried not to think of Odin’s red, red blood flowing in lovely rivers all over it.

  From above, he chuckled. “Oh, you can dream all you want, girl. Just don’t let your imagination run away with you and think you might actually get away with it.”

  Morgane cranked down tighter on her emotions. “We need to get on with this. There isn’t a lot of time. Or do you need more groveling to make yourself feel kingly?”

  “You can rise, mortal.”

  Thanks, asshole.

  “Now, now, none of that. Think of me as a benevolent ruler, kind enough to grant you two audiences in one day. A rare scenario, I can assure you.”

  The woman let out a low, husky laugh, whispering in his ear, her blood-red lips curved in a sultry smile.

  Odin stilled before turning back to Morgane, the weight of his scrutiny pressing down upon her. Something flashed in those silvery eyes, sparked brightly, before his hands gripped the arms of his chair and his knuckles turned bone-white. The woman laughed again. A low, sinister sort of laugh. The kind that skated lightly over Morgane, raising the hairs at the back of her neck.

  Her soft, seductive voice floated downward. “So. This is the one you told me about? She survived the demon attacks? All that venom? Clever little thing.” While the woman’s eyes narrowed and fixed on her with a knowing, familiar stare, Morgane’s gut tightened. “Interesting. She appears human enough.”

  Carefully, Morgane watched the two exchange a glance. The sort that contains an entire conversation, and not a pleasant one. And then the woman’s gaze settled onto Morgane.

  She went cold as ice the instant those black, empty eyes rested upon her. And the flicker of hunger crossing the woman’s beautiful face? Morgane felt marked by it, as though the woman had been searching for her and finally, finally found exactly what she’d been looking for.

  Odin’s sharp, pointed voice pulled her back into the moment. “A Midwestern girl, I believe, was what she claimed. Nobody special.” His smile was slightly cruel. “Am I close, Miss Burke?”

  So they were to engage in a pissing contest while Loki bled to death and Mir fought to save him? “I…I…Yes.” With enormous effort, Morgane yanked her attention away from the woman’s scrutiny. “Close enough.”

  “You know, Miss Burke, your begging technique could use some work, and yet… I’m tempted to let you continue. I confess I find it fascinating the risk Loki took bringing you here. Knowing full well the punishment for defying me.” With this, Odin’s eyes drifted to the woman at his side, taking in her rapacious, predatory stare. After a moment, he continued, “I wonder, would you do the same for him? Make such a noble sacrifice?”

  The woman leaned forward in anticipation.

  Morgane relaxed a little.

  Ah. That was their game.

  A grim smile twisted Morgane’s mouth as she stared at them unblinkingly. Every second they wasted here put Loki one step closer to the grave. Posturing and preening while so much hung in the balance. Time Loki did not have. “Then let’s cut to the chase, shall we? What do you want to bring Loki back? Name your price.”

  The woman’s eyes glowed with an unholy light.

  “Name your price,” Morgane repeated, looking up to Odin. “I’ll do anything, give you anything…”

  “Anything?” The woman mused, her teeth a flash of white against her red, red lips.

  Resolve settled into Morgane like mortar between rock, and for her, the matter was settled. This was her choice. Her decision. If they refused her, then she’d leave and hold Loki’s hand while he died. If they agreed, then she’d have saved him. Exactly as he’d done for her. “If there’s a price, I’ll pay it. Whatever it is, I will pay it. Just tell me what it is.”

  Slowly, Odin released his vice-like grip on his throne. “That particular wish is not mine to grant.” His gaze slid over to the woman. “Because I do not rule over the
realm of Death.”

  “He can’t.” The woman drifted forward, and Morgane recoiled a step. “But I can. I will grant your wish, human.” Her eyes narrowed to slits, something cruel and dark guttering in her gaze, her voice taking on a silky, cajoling tone, “And you shall give me whatever I want in return? You swear it on your life?”

  Morgane nodded, even though it took everything for her to hold the woman’s dark, brutal gaze. “Anything at all. Just give me back Loki, alive.”

  Morgane could have heard a pin drop, but instead, the woman began clapping. Her slim, elegant hands coming together again and again and yet again. She had never thought the sound could be so mocking. “I believe my work is done here, Odin. Thank you for your help. I couldn’t have done it without you. This has been such fun. We should do it more often.”

  When Morgane’s eyes met the woman’s black, obsidian ones, she couldn’t help but see what was shining in them. Victory. Bright, shiny victory. Whatever she had just done, whatever bargain she was just forced to make, somehow she’d just been beaten.

  It didn’t matter. Whatever they had gained, she had bought back Loki’s life. And as far as she was concerned, she had gotten the better end of the deal.

  Odin dismissed her, a quick slice of his head toward the door, and she turned and limped for the stairs, hobbling down to the infirmary as fast as her battered body would allow. She found Mir cradling his head in his hands, Loki motionless on the table, the sheet pulled over his face, and the white cotton blowsy with blood. Morgane froze, unable to take another step. Unable to move. To breathe.

  “He’s gone?”

  Mir nodded into his hands.

  Her hands clenched into fists. “Damn it, that bastard Odin wasted too much time. He argued with me, he argued, Mir, and we took too long and now…”

  “Don’t do it. Don’t talk like that, or he’ll come after you.” The wispy, broken voice made her turn toward the table as Mir raised his head from his hands. “Don’t let him hear her say that, Mir, don’t...” Loki reached up, pulled the sheet away from his face, and opened his eyes.