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

by L. A. McGinnis

  It had been years since Morgane had really cried. Hell, just the thought of crying seemed so pointless she’d thought she’d forgotten how. But as tears filled her eyes, spilled down her face, and dripped off her chin, as she crossed the space in a breath and took his hand in hers and pressed it to her chest, she knew she was simply out of practice. “I thought you were dead.”

  Oh God, she hadn’t only thought it. She’d known it.

  Loki looked up at her, puzzled, as if working out what he was seeing. “Wait. You shouldn’t be here, Morgane. As a matter of fact, why are you here? Mir needs to get you somewhere safe. Before Odin discovers you.”

  His hand was so warm, the heat radiated through her in waves. His eyes were…so alive. Such a perfect, depthless blue she thought could drown in them, and God knew, she wanted to. It took considerable effort not to reach out and stroke his face. Press her lips to his forehead.

  Mir’s raspy voice sounded a million miles away. “It’s too late for that, Loki. Way too late.” She blinked away the tears as Loki’s hand tightened on hers, until the warm connection between them was the only thing that mattered.

  She supposed it was too late, as well, to worry about what she’d just traded away.

  12

  “Too late for what?” Loki husked, his voice still rough from death. “What do you mean, too late?”

  Morgane reached out and slowly, carefully lifted the red, blotchy sheet covering him. Underneath, he was a perfect landscape of crests and valleys, unblemished, unmarked. Whole. Something in her chest loosened at the sight, as if she hadn’t quite believed what she’d find.

  “Mir, what did you do?” He looked up at Doc, who shook his head. “How did I get back here? Odin said my exile was permanent this time. Never going to let me come back, and I was there for days…weeks, maybe.” The words came slowly, his voice so hoarse it was painful to listen to him speak. “And you.” He fixed his laser-sharp stare on her. “Why are you still hurt, when you should be healed by now? Why didn’t you let Mir fix you up, Morgane?” She traded looks with Mir.

  “Seven hours. You were only in there for seven hours.”

  Loki stiffened, staring up at Doc, then looked over the sheets and the blood, Mir’s exhausted, drawn face, then to the ravaged room. Morgane watched him try to process it. When she laid a hand on him, he shook beneath her touch.

  “No, no… It was days, weeks maybe, I lost track of time, but I’m sure it was longer.” Rubbing his face feverishly, he sat up, still smeared with red and black blood, along with a fair amount of dirt, and fixed a lethal stare on Mir’s face. Morgane didn’t dare breathe as he hissed at Mir through clenched teeth. “What. The. Fuck. Did. You. Do?”

  “Because you know as well as I do,” Loki went on, his voice dangerously low, “he’ll punish you, even worse than he made me pay. For helping me, for helping her, he’s going to do something evil, worse than sending me to the darklands. He’ll break you, Mir, he’ll—”

  “Stop it, Loki. Stop. Besides, it wasn’t him.” Morgane’s soft, joyless sound stopped him cold. “I did it. I made the bargain to bring you back.” The silence between the three of them was deafening. “I didn’t have a choice. You shouldn’t be punished for helping me, and that’s exactly what was happening. So I… I said I’d do whatever they wanted, if only you came back.”

  The intensity of Loki’s rage was such that Morgane thought it might burn them all to cinders. Instead, he put his back to her and snarled to Mir. “And you? You allowed this?”

  “I didn’t have a choice. I was kind of busy watching you die. Besides, she was the only one who could get you back, so yeah, I helped her. Sue me.” Mir had the look of a wall, a thick, brick wall no one was going to get through. Least of all Loki.

  “I’m going to fucking kill you, is what I’ll do.”

  “That’d be a shame, when I just went to a hell of a lot of trouble to save you. Look, sure, I might have taken her to Odin, and he told her he’d bring you back. Miracle of miracles, he kept his word and returned you to this realm. But Jesus, Loki, you were dying. He returned you so both of us could watch you die. He meant to punish us.”

  Mir swung around to Morgane. “What I find amazing is, you actually did it, didn’t you? You really convinced him to bring Loki back?” Both pairs of eyes now bore straight through her. “The second time, you actually begged for Odin to spare—”

  “Well, begging might be too strong of a word for it.” Morgane shrugged. “I offered them a bargain.”

  “Them?” Loki’s piercing blue gaze demanded an immediate answer. “What do you mean, them?” His voice was stronger now, no sign of the half dead man lying on a table minutes ago. Oh no, now he was filled with a cold, quiet rage. “What did you promise him, Morgane? What in the hell did Odin want?”

  “Nothing. Yet. I don’t know, I suppose I should have asked, only I didn’t think about anything except saving your life. Mir couldn’t save you, so…” She chewed her lip, wondering what she had done, making the bargain with Odin and the woman.

  Mir spoke up. “You were dying, bro. I closed your eyes and covered your face myself. Sent you to the Otherworld where you belong.”

  As her breathing caught in her throat, the last hour catching up with her, Morgane managed to stammer, “The darklands aren’t a euphemism, are they? Odin really has the power to send someone to another place? How does he even do that?”

  His voice turned softer when he answered. “Yes, the darklands are our version of purgatory. And yeah, Odin has portals he uses to send immortals through to other realms. You should have left me there. Fuck knows what he’ll want from you. You just complicated the hell out of everything. Why did you do it?”

  She had done it for so many reasons. Not that she was going to tell Loki, and certainly not Mir, what those reasons were. Not when she didn’t fully understand them herself. “Because I owe you. You pulled me out of that alley and saved my ass. I wouldn’t be here without you. So…yeah.”

  Loki’s eyes were clearing as was his memory. “You said them before? Who exactly is them?”

  “Well, Odin and that woman who was with him.”

  Loki and Mir exchanged glances. “What woman?” They asked, together.

  “She was beautiful. Really beautiful. Long black hair and really dark eyes, black almost…” While she explained, Morgane hoped the looks they exchanged didn’t mean trouble.

  Loki’s next, careful question made her heart skip faster. As if hysteria vibrated beneath the surface of every word. “This beautiful, dark-haired woman. What exactly did she say to you, Morgane?”

  “Just some stuff about how Odin should give me what I wanted. And how fun everything was. And she thanked him for his help. But Mir said Odin never does anything for anyone but himself, so I thought the whole thing was kind of strange.”

  Mir interrupted. “Why in the fuck would he do anything for her? Why is she even here?” He looked pissed. Pissed and worried. “Did the woman ask you initially for the bargain, or…please tell me you didn’t offer her something first?”

  “I…” Morgane strained to remember. “I guess I did, actually. I told her if there was a price, I’d pay it. I said to just tell me what they wanted.”

  “Anything else?” Mir’s voice sounded weak.

  “I swore it on my life.”

  Mir ground out a foul curse.

  But all of Morgane’s attention focused on Loki. Though he spoke in the barest of whispers, every word was clear. “You should have just let me die, damn it. You should have left me there and never looked back.” He cradled his head in his hands. “Now there’s no going back, is there?” It sounded like a plea. Mir shook his head.

  “You are scaring me. Both of you.” Morgane swallowed hard, eyes shifting back and forth. “There weren’t any terms. They didn’t ask me for a single thing. I only wanted you to live.” Behind Loki, Mir frowned. “What in the hell did I just agree to?”

  When neither of them answered, she practically sc
reamed, “What in the hell is going on here?”

  “You made a deal with the devil, is what you did,” Mir whispered too softly.

  “No.” She swallowed. “Oh no. I made a deal with your boss. Asshole though he is, he’s not a complete monster. How bad can it possibly be?” She hesitated. Well, it could get pretty bad. Demons. Gods. Immortals. Whatever this was she’d gotten mixed up in, she had to admit, she was awfully far out of her league.

  Loki took a shaky breath. “First, I need to get out of this fucking infirmary.” He looked around the bleak, sterile room, which was a bloody disaster. “Mir’s going to have to help me upstairs.” He pointed to Morgane. “And you’re coming with us. And then…me and you are having a little chat.”

  She didn’t argue.

  13

  Twenty minutes later, overlooking the city from the leaded glass windows, Morgane had to admit Loki’s room had a sweet view. Just slightly better than the one from her shitty apartment. “Amazing.”

  From this vantage point, she also knew exactly where they were. “We’re in the Phoenix Building, aren’t we? Top floor, if I’m not mistaken?”

  “Yeah, how did you know?” His voice was still a hollow husk of what it had been, but at least he was talking. Breathing. She couldn’t even turn around because if she did, she would cry again. And if she started crying, she may never stop. Instead, she kept her gaze locked on the city, the buildings, the lake stretching out beyond.

  What was she supposed to say? Oh you know, it’s just my favorite building in the whole city. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve stood on the sidewalk below and dreamed of looking out this exact window. Wondering who lived here.

  She shrugged, staring out. “Oh, you know. I’ve been by it before.”

  The building had been a marvel when it was built, standing alone on the shore of the lake, a hundred and fifty years prior. Made of solid blocks of limestone, each weighing over seven tons, the place was a fortress. Though it was dwarfed these days by its steel and glass neighbors, it had lost none of its charm. The gothic windows alone stood twenty feet high. It might be located on one of the busiest corners of the city, but the place remained an enigma, as it had always been privately held. Feeling the penetrating glare of the man waiting behind her, Morgane knew exactly why that was.

  Loki had collapsed the moment Mir set him on the edge of the bed, Morgane turning on her heel right behind Mir, intending to follow him out, before Loki caught her wrist in a firm grip. “Stay.” He murmured.

  “I should go home,” she protested.

  “You should stay,” he countered.

  In the end, she stayed. Now she was left staring out these soaring windows, wondering why she was even here, while he watched her with sleepy, hooded eyes, pushed up against the headboard.

  He was exhausted. She had questions.

  He was pissed off. She’d probably just made the biggest mistake of her life.

  But by the time she worked up enough courage to pad across the thick rugs to ask him about this stupid bargain, the slippery woman, he’d passed out, and now, up close he looked so damn…young. Vulnerable, even.

  Morgane nestled herself beside him. And now, hours later, here she was, still wrapped around him. For a while, he slept quietly in her arms, such peace on his beautiful face, she could only stare before laying him down and moving back to the window.

  To watch the creatures of the night. The whores and the vagrants and the drunks and the demons feeding on them. She once speculated what it would feel like to look down upon all the world and wonder how it had all gone so wrong.

  And here she was.

  Demons. Purgatory. Immortals. Gods.

  She may have dipped her toes in the waters of the supernatural, coming here to kill the monsters for revenge, but now? She was drowning under miles of the unknown. Loki. Odin. Mir. She’d studied these names, once. These were Norse names. Mythological names. Scattered through her memories of a half-forgotten literature class, they were the old gods, worshiped by pagans. Yet thousands of years later, the legends remained. Odin, the All Father. Loki, the Trickster. Mir, God of Knowledge. Her thoughts strayed back again and again to that damn woman. At what Odin said.

  “I do not rule over the realm of Death.”

  Despite herself, a bone deep shudder shook Morgane.

  What Morgane glimpsed in those dark eyes, the eyes that did not reflect a single bit of the light in that white hall, was cruelty incarnate. Honed over centuries. Eons. Practiced and perfected in ways that Morgane wagered she loved every second of. “I can. I will grant your wish, human.”

  She watched the river of red and white lights flow beneath her, drifting past as her thoughts did, one after another, each more disturbing than the last. All this power flying around, how had she gotten caught up in it? She’d been minding her own business, for chrissakes, until two nights ago. And now look at her.

  Padding back across the room, she settled down into bed and waited for the sun to rise. Tracing the planes of Loki’s face, wondering why. Why had he picked her up off the pavement that night? Why not just leave her, like his friend had suggested? Why even bother?

  It had been a long time since she had thought of anything besides revenge. Or survival. And as the sun rose, as she watched it paint the lake mist gold, as she watched the man sleeping beside her, wondering why he’d thought her worth saving, she realized it was the first day she’d woken not thinking of her mother.

  Or her sister.

  But of someone else.

  Hel, Goddess of the Dead.

  14

  For a second, the world seemed to catch on Loki’s eyes as they opened, the sleep-dimmed aqua pools narrowing as they discovered her beside him. When he finally focused, a lazy, sexy smile curving his mouth, a selfish part of her wanted to taste that smile in all of its sweet, sensual glory.

  “Hey there,” she said as he smiled up at her. “Welcome back.”

  “Morgane?” He was still fuzzy, and underneath the layer of confusion in his eyes, a what-the-hell-happened kind of intensity to him as he worked backwards through everything, starting with waking up next to her in his bed.

  “Yep, it’s me. Great view from up here.” Since she couldn’t help herself, she settled for brushing a strand of hair off his face, in order to see those eyes a bit better. “You know what? You’re sort of nice to wake up to.”

  “It’s nice to wake up. I didn’t think…” The words trailed off as he blinked and took her in. “You’re blonde now?”

  She ran her fingers through the long, golden tresses. “Yeah pretty close, I think, to what my natural color is. I don’t… Sometimes it’s hard to remember those things. It seemed like a good idea to change my appearance occasionally, you know, just in case.”

  Still, he just stared as if he was seeing all of her, down to her very soul. “Shit. You brought me back, didn’t you? You really did it.”

  Morgane held his gaze until the silence stretched out between them.

  Eyes full of apology, he murmured, “I think we’d better talk. There’s some things…I probably should have told you before.”

  “Okay.” She breathed, wishing to delay the inevitable. Savoring the sight of him, alive, the smell of him, alive, beside her for just a little longer. “Okay. I woke up in the infirmary. So let’s start with how I got back here last night?”

  In a flat, level voice, he began, “I followed you from your new apartment when you went out hunting. Lost you for a few minutes when you ducked down the stairs to lower street level, but I picked up your scent again right after they attacked you. By then you didn’t have much time left, and I knew your only chance was Mir and his magic, so I did what I had to do. Odin discovered Mir healing you and was pissed off. Really pissed off.” He spread his hands helplessly. “He’d ordered me never to see you again, you see. He dragged me to the Throne Room and threw me through the portal, into the darklands. And you pretty much know more than me from that point on.”

 
Her breathing shallowed out at the memory. The blood gushing. The endless, awful gashes, his moans of pain…

  She fought to keep her voice light, playful. “Well, we got you back in the end, so it’s all good. How did you even find me? I do a damn good job of hiding. Or so I thought.” Part of her marveled at how easily he had found her. Another part of her resented the hell out of him for it.

  “Maybe I looked for the shittiest apartment in the shittiest neighborhood.” A smile quirked his mouth.

  “Har har.” But her mouth went dry. “Seriously. How did you find me so fast?” Because if he had found her, and the demons had found her, was anywhere in this city safe anymore?

  It was Loki’s turn to shrug. “I’d been watching you from the moment you left your old apartment with the U-Haul. Out of the four places you looked at, I have to say, you picked the best one strategically. And good call on the door, it’s the only way to keep them out. This place”—he indicated the stone sarcophagus surrounding them—“was built with enough steel and stone to keep out an army of the little bastards. Plus, Mir’s added security gives us an extra layer of protection.”

  Her mind went back to that night. “About that army. There were so many,” she murmured. “Too many. I’ve seen them hunt in pairs normally. Sometimes threes and fours. But I couldn’t count them that night, there were so many. Twice, now, and that can’t be a coincidence.”

  Loki pushed up against the headboard so they sat facing one another. “I know. By the time I reached you, you’d already taken out nine. Tyr, Fen, and I got another twenty or so pulling you out of there. I thought…” Studying her, her heart stuttered to a stop as he said, “It was as if they were sent to find you. To hunt you specifically.”

  That.

  That had been her final, horrible thought as she had sunk to her knees, slashing futilely away. That it hadn’t been chance or a mistake but rather some sort of plan had brought so many of them to that underpass last night. That they had come there for her. To kill her.