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

by L. A. McGinnis

  Hel’s laughter tinkled through the hall. “Unbelievable. I don’t make bargains with mortals, especially when they’re tied to a chair in my realm. However, I do need your soul to complete a transaction I’ve been working on for eons.” Hel angled her head. “Until such time, I’m locking you away for safekeeping. Maybe I’ll put you with your dead sister and mommy.”

  Hel raised her hand, but froze. “What’s that in your hand?”

  “Oh, this little thing? Nothing at all.” Pulling free of the bonds, Morgane produced the deteriorated piece of metal, which had once been a mighty dagger but was now corroded down to a rusty sliver. “This is the hard way I mentioned before. You should have picked the easy way. Although I have to admit, a part of me is really looking forward to this.”

  “That’s mine. That’s Markvordur, the Grave Keeper. You can’t possibly…” The words spluttered, then died on Hel’s tongue.

  “Why? You want it back? You know, like I wanted Loki back? How badly do you need this old thing? Let’s find out, shall we?” Morgane palmed the dagger, the one Hel had been certain was locked up in her safe under the steps.

  Huffing out a satisfied chuckle, Morgane continued, “Told you I used my wish. Modgud gave me what I requested. And I asked for this dagger. The one that bequeaths the power of the Underworld to whomever holds it. Which means I’m in charge now. I’m the big, shiny key. So, what do you say?” As her bonds melted away completely, Morgane’s question echoed around the wet stone walls as she rose. “I’ll bet you’re itching to find out what I want.”

  Hel was pissed. More pissed than she could ever remember being. This little shit comes down into her world and starts making the rules? Reaching for the dagger, Hel’s hand burst into flames.

  “This belongs to me, remember? So...” Now the girl spoke deliberately, as if her words held some sort of power down here. Hel decided she wouldn’t listen. Until the girl flicked her finger toward one of the prison doors and it swung open, the metallic grinding a good indication of how long it had been closed. As the dead, some less than moldering bones, poured out into her hall, Hel gaped at Morgane, who flicked her fingers again. Another door grated open.

  And another.

  The stench of rot and putrid decay filled the chamber. And Hel, to her horror, felt a force push against her chest, shove her toward that gaping doorway. As she was forced across her own hall, her shoes dragging across the rock, toward her own dungeon, the girl stood there, a savage intensity on her face.

  Hel had to throw both arms out, gripping the edges of the opening to prevent herself from being pushed all the way through. Panting, she gasped, “Enough.” The pressure eased up slightly.

  “Thank you for explaining how this all works. Since I’m the key, I can imprison you in any of these cages. For as long as I wish. Forever. If I wanted to.”

  “Fine,” Hel said, straightening up, her eyes riveted to the sliver of metal in the girl’s hand. “Tell me what you desire.”

  “You’re going to release someone.”

  “Give me a name.”

  “Balder.”

  Hanging onto the edges of the doorway, Hel threw her head back and laughed. Laughed until she had tears in her eyes. “Oh, no. That one’s mine. You can’t have that one. You’ll never have him.” Her mocking laughter crashed up and over the dripping, damp stone.

  “Never is a long time. Even for an immortal.” Morgane told her coldly, and brandished the sliver between two fingers. “Especially for an immortal.”

  Before Hel could respond, Morgane plunged ahead with another set of demands, even more ridiculous than the first. “But wait, there’s more. I want my mother and my sister too. And you’re going to give everyone to me.”

  Listening to the mortal’s requests, Hel suddenly saw the part Odin played in this travesty. And fury coursed through her anew. “Damn you both. I already told you, no. I won’t give you Odin’s favorite son. Nor your family. They are mine. All of them, and I intend to keep them.”

  As Morgane squeezed the rusty relic between her fingers, they both watched as it bent slightly in the torchlight. “Fine. Then I’ll use this thing to lock you up forever.” Hel felt the unseen force press her through the doorway as her fingers slipped their hold on the jamb. “I’ve got time. Maybe I’m sick of hunting demons and getting my ass kicked every night. And as you were kind enough to point out, my family’s down here. But you…” Morgane’s eyes raked Hel, top to bottom. “Think of it. No little excursions. No shoes. No manicures. No nothing. I’ll empty out your prisons, open every gate, all of your subjects will be gone. And you’ll be alone.

  “What will it be like, I wonder? No one to torture? To torment? Seriously, what kind of life is that?”

  Morgane’s gaze drifted over the dress. The shoes. The nails and hair and makeup. “I wonder how long you can tolerate it? Because since I have this”—she slowed the spinning of the blade, letting it lie still in the palm of her hand—“I can hold you prisoner. For as long as I want. Until the clothes rot off your body and those fancy shoes fall to pieces.”

  The urge to scream ripped through Hel. “Odin set this up, didn’t he, you little bitch? She was putting together the pieces quickly now, about an hour too late, but at least she was getting caught up. “He fucking set me up.”

  “You could say that,” the girl answered. “Oh, and I have a name, it’s Morgane. Feel free to use it.” The mortal straightened her shoulders and closed a fist around the remains of the dagger. “All I want is what I came for. You give me what I want, I give you this shitty hunk of metal back, and we go our separate ways. And that’ll be the end of it.”

  18

  Hel was about to implode.

  Odin, the lying bastard, had screwed her over. She’d used him to get this mortal’s soul down here, and he had turned around and used the worthless human to steal back his dead son.

  Backstabbing, betraying, duplicitous bastard. Good thing mortals were so easily manipulated

  “You know what? Forget about Odin,” Hel crooned smoothly. “What do you say we strike our own bargain? There are many things I desire as well.” Something churned in her gut, demanding this little human pay for her insolence. “And there is so much I can offer you in return.”

  “Nope, he said you’d try that. There isn’t a single thing I need from you except what I’ve asked for. Give me that, you get this thing back. And we all go home.” Morgane leaned forward with a grim smile. “Back to the land of sun and blue skies, while you get to stay here in the cobwebby dark. Forever more, as far as I care.”

  Damn it, damn it damn it. She’d been stuck down here for too long, and now Odin was using this little nobody to take away her entire future. She should have this girl’s soul locked up now, nice and tight.

  “I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you one or the other. You can choose. Balder? Or your mother and sister? Your choice. Makes no difference to me.” She couldn’t lose her precious souls, not three of them. And certainly not Balder.

  The girl squeezed the metal sliver until it squeaked. “All or nothing. That’s what I came here for, that’s what I’m leaving with.”

  This pitiful human was about to get her way, spoiled little bitch.

  Hel considered her choices. She’d kept Balder longer than anyone else. Once, he’d been the centerpiece of her entire collection, the shiny, golden crown jewel. The only thing Odin had tried to get back and failed. The one thing she had denied him, over and over again. But… The poor guy was probably one apple short of an orchard by now, all locked away. Maybe she should give him up. Wasn’t like she’d miss him or anything. She hardly even got him out to play anymore. “Prove to me Odin sent you here for him.”

  “Prove to me you have him,” the girl countered.

  Morgane. What an idiotic name.

  “Fine.” Hel ground out. The force released her and she stepped away from the prison door, practically tripping over her stilettos in the process.

  Hel gestured and a ghos
tly figure drifted through the stone, a pale imitation of his former self, which had been all shiny and golden blond and all that shit people used to love to sing about. Not so godly now, are you? Hel gloated as the bent figure took a few halting steps toward the girl. “Here he is, Odin’s oldest kid. Now. Give me what you stole from me.”

  Morgane shook her head. “My mom and sister too, then you get this back. You do want it, don’t you?” Morgane dangled the relic between two fingers.

  Heartless, spineless little bitch.

  She was going to tear the girl’s spleen out and feed her to the demons. Or rip her head off and shit down her throat. She couldn’t decide. Seething, Hel waved again and two more shambling figures appeared. Hel gritted out, “There. Now give me my dagger back. I swear, mortal, I will get ahold of your soul, if it’s the last thing I do.”

  As the weak, pitiful human gathered her ghostly entourage about her, Hel pondered the next few hours. They’d never all make it across the bridge. They’d be lucky if they made it past her walls. So this could very well turn out to be a win-win after all. She’d still end up with the prize at the end. And then she’d make this human pay for her little act of defiance. Besides, it would feel so good to take something else away from her father.

  He did stew about things forever.

  As if thoughts had the power to summon, she felt another presence in the room, and Loki materialized in front of Hel with a faint bow.

  “Daughter.” The second he straightened up, his eyes flashed over to the girl, flicking over her top to bottom as if to make sure she still breathed. Hel swore she heard a sigh of relief escape him.

  Loki, God of Fire, had brought that damn wolf with him, she groused, already itching at the thought of all the dog hair she’d be cleaning up once they were gone. Well, she’d have her minions clean it up, but still, there’d be work to be done.

  “Father.” He didn’t even have the decency to leash the beast, who was dripping and snarling at her like she was dinner. “Fenrir.” With a wave of her hand, a thick, iron chain sprang out of the dungeon floor and lassoed around Fenrir’s neck. “Keep your beast on a leash for the gods’ sake.”

  Loki just laughed and snapped his fingers and the chain disappeared. “Manners, dear daughter. I would think you would treat your own brother better than that. You act like you were raised in a barn.”

  Hel hissed, her fingers curving into claws. “No, I was raised by you. Which makes my behavior self-explanatory.”

  Morgane cleared her throat. “Look, if you’re finished, can we get out of here now?” When her voice cracked on the final word, Loki’s eyes immediately flashed to her.

  “Right.” Loki shifted, putting himself between her and Hel. Stepping to her side, he draped a casual arm across the girl’s shoulders. “I came for Morgane. She shouldn’t be here and you had no right to involve her in whatever this bullshit is between you and Odin. I’m taking her home. And reminding you to keep your nose out of our affairs.”

  “Funny, isn’t it, how nobody thinks they belong down here?” Hel mused, rolling her eyes. “Fine. Take her with you, she’s been a pain in my ass since the minute she got here.” She stuck out her hand and wiggled her fingers. “As long as she gives me what’s rightfully mine before she goes. I’m feeling magnanimous. She can even take what she came for.” Hel’s face turned predatory. “Good luck getting them all out. I’m sending everything I have after you, Father.” She flashed her canines when she smiled, every bit as long and deadly as Fenrir’s, so there’d be no mistaking her for anything but the monster she was. “You’ll never make it to the river.”

  Loki merely paused for a second before continuing smoothly, “Then it’s good we came. And you’re right, we should get to it. Stay out of my realm, daughter. Stay away from Odin. And most of all”—his eyes flicked over Morgane—“stay away from her.”

  The trio of shadowy figures came forward, lingering next to Morgane. Hel noted with satisfaction the minute Loki recognized the golden god before he whirled to the girl, his voice a furious hiss. “Balder? You came down here for Balder?”

  Through gritted teeth, Morgane spit out, “Yes, I did. I came down here for him and my mother and my damn sister. And we’re leaving here with all three.” The ghosts looked at her dubiously as she pulled him close and whispered, “You can get everyone out, right?”

  “I can hear you,” Hel crooned. “And no, he can’t get all of you out. But it’ll be fun trying.” She was back to feeling pretty good about this whole cluster fuck. Until the girl turned around and flung the dagger straight at her, right before the lot of them vanished in a flash of flame and smoke. Her father’s doing, no doubt. The sliver of a dagger passed straight through her and clattered to the floor, but not before striking the wall and carving out a huge chunk of stone.

  “All right, Father. Let’s see how this goes for you.” Hel was grinning as she flew up the stairs, lined with the undulating forms of serpents and the faces of the damned. See? This was just the sort of excitement she needed, exactly what she had been missing. It had gotten so boring, sending forth her minions each night and welcoming a handful back.

  Now, as the adrenalin surged through her body, at least she felt alive.

  19

  As smoke swirled away from her face, Morgane finally stopped coughing long enough to punch Loki gently in the arm. “Smoke and mirrors, much?” But then she squeezed him, burying her face into his chest. For a moment, all she did was breathe him in before fixing her gaze on the giant wolf. She had never seen, nor imagined anything quite so large. Or frightening. “Thank you. I was in way over my head. Plus, I think Hel and I were almost at a stalemate.”

  Carefully, he cupped her face, inspecting her. “When… How did you get the dagger?” Deeming her all right, Loki knelt beside her and wrapped her in his coat. “That was brilliant move.”

  “I have Odin to thank for that.”

  Loki offered her a rueful smile, scanning their surroundings. “You might have hung onto it Morgane, it could have come in handy.”

  “I never even thought about it. I was so angry, I just threw it at her.” Her heart sank. “I should have, though. Do you really think it would have helped get us out of here? You can get us back, right?” She wanted to explain, there was so much to explain, but as they all shot appraising glances over the lip of the rock, she knew now was not the time.

  “This is my son, Fenrir. Fen, this is Morgane.” The wolf dipped his huge head. Morgane tried to smile in return, even as her spine stiffened automatically. Something inherently instinctual, she reasoned, being this close to a predator. The lupine beast was gigantic, a shaggy, black behemoth of muscle and fur and teeth.

  They were perched on the rocky edge of a drop off, stranded and vulnerable, the three ghosts hovering over the abyss. Probably wondering if they’d made the right move, Morgane figured. “Hey Mom…” When Morgane lifted her hand, the specter drifted forward, her beautiful face an older reflection of Morgane’s.

  The giant wolf nudged Loki hard, growling. Loki scowled at the increasing darkness overhead before hauling Morgane to her feet. “We have to get moving. Hel won’t make this next part easy. She’d love to trap us all down here.” He pointed at the narrow path hugging the ridge leading down to a flat plain. “We need to get down there, and then across the river. Once we reach the bottom of this cliff, it’ll be an all-out sprint to reach the edge of the bridge.”

  Morgane kept ahold of Loki’s shirt as they followed the narrow ledge, only her feet on solid ground, the rest of her hanging out over nothingness. The river roaring below sounded exactly like the monster it was, waiting to swallow them whole. The ledge they followed was smooth and well-worn, which made each step even more treacherous. And slow. Fenrir padded behind her, his body hugged tightly against the wall, the three ghosts drifting easily over the blackness.

  Morgane couldn’t stop looking at them, weirdly fascinated.

  They had moments, maybe, before Hel’s demons descen
ded on them. They were weaponless, unless you counted Fenrir’s teeth, but even those wouldn’t do them much good, balanced precariously on a few inches of rock. She pushed against Loki’s back. “We have to move faster. Don’t worry about me, just go.” With her body squeezed tight against his back, he picked up the pace. And yet, it still seemed like hours before they stumbled into the wide, dusty sprawl of a cavern set into the wall of the ravine.

  “Better, so much better.” She breathed. At least, that was how she felt before the skittering of a thousand demons echoed through the cavern walls. “Now what?” Searching the cave, Morgane found nothing. No way out, not even a rock to use as a weapon, and the river and escape was still a hundred feet below them. Fenrir and Loki closed in front of her, forming a wall of flesh that she determined would take the demons about ten minutes to cut through. “Please tell me you have a plan?”

  “I had a plan, until you decided to bring company.” Loki growled, studying the trio of ghosts, who were looking a bit less…ghostly than they had been in the dungeon.

  More corporeal.

  Dirt showered over the opening, and she could practically feel the demons creeping down from overhead, pressing in upon them.

  Wrapping her hand around Loki’s arm, she spun him around, staring into those serious blue eyes, begging, “Can’t we do something…anything?” His face, and the regret rippling across it, were the last thing she clearly remembered before he heaved her off the side of the ledge into the great, black nothingness. As the air whistled past and the roar of the river drew closer, Morgane wondered how she could have been so wrong.

  Until her body jerked to a stop, midair. The roar of the water was still dangerously close. But she knew those ghostly fingers clamped around her wrist. She’d loved them, from womb to tomb, and as she looked up at her mother’s shifting, indistinct face hovering above her, she could have sworn it smiled. Then the roiling water reached up and snagged her feet and dragged them both into the churning river, sucked down below the surface. Morgane was flung against rocks, trapped beneath crushing chutes until breath burned hot in her lungs.