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

by L. A. McGinnis

  If this had been a game from the very beginning, then maybe they had all been played. In the end, the only one who got exactly what she wanted was…Hel.

  He’d lost Morgane. Odin had allied with the enemy. The rest of them would be at each other’s throats, once they discovered Odin’s treachery. The only winner would be her.

  “I can’t.”

  “You must.” Steel underlined each word of Fen’s. Steel echoed in the blue eyes when Loki raised his head and met them. “You have to if you want to see her again. If this is the cost, why not? Listen to Odin. Let him explain his reasons. Then use this information to get her back. We go down there like before, and we bring her home.” Fen reached out his hand, and Loki took it like a lifeline.

  “All right.” With renewed clarity, Loki focused on his son. “I’ll listen. And I won’t even try to kill him. Right away. But if the fate of the whole goddamn world wasn’t the price of him killing her, then I’m twisting his arrogant head off his shoulders.”

  27

  “So you’re saying the war is over?”

  “It’s over.”

  “No more fighting every single night?”

  “No. No human deaths, no carnage, no fighting.” Odin’s eyes raked over the lot of them. “Hel swore a blood oath to me. Which is completely binding.” Relief spread through the room. “No more fighting, no more demons, no more war. Ever.”

  Loki’s sharp voice cut through it like a knife. “Let me get this straight. You traded Morgane’s life for Hel’s promise to relinquish control over the entire mortal world? To keep her demons out of this realm? A realm she has had access to for two millennia? And that didn’t strike you as a bit...off?”

  Odin leaned forward, the bruises on his neck already fading. “It was all she asked for.” He smirked. “She stays in her realm, keeps all of her monsters off this plane, forever. She hates you. More than anyone else in existence, apparently. I took advantage of it. One soul for the entire world seemed like a good deal.”

  “It’s a shitty deal because you got played.” Loki’s gut clenched at the triumph shining in Odin’s eyes. “Whatever she’s up to, you got taken. My daughter beat you at poker because you’re an amateur, and you’ve been out of the game too long, sitting here in your gold high chair, acting like a pretend king.”

  “I didn’t get played. I accomplished what thousands of years of war couldn’t. I saved this world. I saved the human race. And I did it myself without lifting a sword.” Odin glowed with superiority.

  Watching him bask in self-flattery, Loki shook his head. “By offering her a single mortal soul, you seriously believe Hel gave up the world?”

  “Fine. Then explain how I got played?”

  Loki couldn’t, exactly, but he was going to find out. No need to explain all of that to this pompous asshole in front of the peanut gallery. Fen was right. First, they needed to get Morgane free. He just had to figure out a means to retrieve her.

  In the deafening silence, Odin leaned forward and snarled softly. “You can’t answer me because I didn’t. I beat her, fair and square. And you can’t stand it.”

  Loki shut out the gloating words.

  His voice deadly, he answered, “I don’t give a shit about winning or losing anymore. I care about living.” He spared a sideways glance at Balder. “Something you don’t remember a thing about. You’re the dude on the phone thinking he’s got a million dollars coming from Nigeria. And you’re just stupid enough to send them your account number for the deposit.”

  28

  Hel was enjoying the sound her stilettos made on the bedrock. Even though they were a wee bit tight because it was the end of the day and her feet were swollen. She hadn’t put them up like she usually did, but today had been so worth the effort. The girl was here. The heavens had opened and the planets had aligned, and Morgane was back.

  “I simply cannot believe Odin kept his promise, twice in a row. I never, ever would have gotten my claws on you had it not been for him. A bit of divine intervention, so to speak.”

  Well, that and couple drops of her blood and a teensy weensy little promise. One she had no intention whatsoever of keeping. Because pretty soon the immortal gods wouldn’t be in charge of anything at all.

  “Well, now that you’re down here, we might as well get started.” The girl…Morgane…had seen better days. Her shirt was bright red, her hair dripping with blood, which was still leaking from her mortal form, and she couldn’t even raise up her head properly.

  With a wave of her hand, the girl’s fleshy shell stopped bleeding all over everything as Hel prattled on. “Normally, I’d turn you into a wraith, but I’ve decided to keep you mortal so we can have a bit of fun. We don’t have a lot of time, a day at most, but since you made it a point to make my life miserable the last time you were here, I thought it only fair to return the favor.”

  Another wave of Hel’s hand had Morgane on her hands and knees. “Lest there be any question about who is in charge now, I thought perhaps a reminder is in order. Of how powerful the gods are and how pitiful humans are.

  “Let’s see…you embarrassed me in my own hall. You escaped with two stolen souls. You stole from me… And that’s just for starters. However shall I punish you?”

  And as Morgane’s screams bounced off the thick stone walls, weaving through the high wooden trusses and into the soaring ceilings and walls covered in runes, Hel grinned. “You sound so much like your sister. Do you have any idea how long it’s taken to get you down here?”

  Hel loosened the dark ribbons of magic, allowing Morgane enough freedom to raise her head an inch or two. “That’s right. I’ve been after you for a while. A good, long while. Ever since I discovered your soul was the key to my everlasting freedom. A dark, precious secret locked up in that weak, mortal body of yours.”

  Years ago, when a dark voice began whispering in her ear, Hel thought maybe, she was going a wee bit soft in the head. But she soon realized what this dark god proposed had real merit. As the Goddess of Death, Hel held dominion over all mortal souls. Including Morgane’s. It had been a no-brainer—one soul in exchange for eternal freedom, eternal power, and dominion over a new world.

  And the final piece of the puzzle? Divine, godly assistance in the form of Odin’s part of the bargain. Ironic, really, that he’d be the one to unleash the God of Chaos upon the Earth. She couldn’t say she regretted it one bit.

  Hel stalked around Morgane, who was panting and silently sobbing on the floor. Around them the darkness closed in, the markings on the walls winding themselves up and around and across the expanse of ceiling, not a single square inch was uncovered. Morgane’s eyes skated from Hel to the darkness, around the corners of the vast cavernous hall, along the markings. “Do you like them? It took my ghostly stonemasons centuries to carve them all. They cover every inch of the dungeons. Those markings ensure nothing is getting in or out of here.

  “There will be no rescues, not this time. This is the most secure place in all the realms, which is why I keep everything of value down here.” Hel gestured to a heaping pile of gleaming treasure scattered across the floor. “My hoard. So many wars. So many worlds. So many kingdoms plundered.” Hel lifted a heavy golden crown encrusted with jewels and spun it around, the huge stones catching the light like starlight. Tossing it back on the pile, it rolled down, settling against the rest of the gold and jewels. “I must admit, I don’t even remember where half this stuff came from. Doesn’t keep me from wanting more, though.”

  Morgane’s raspy breathing turned frantic, and Hel’s smile grew wide. “Oh, this is going to be glorious. I’m not allowed to kill you, but we can play. And nothing is going to save you, my sweet girl, nothing at all. Not even your fire breathing lover, try as he might.” The raspy breathing intensified. “This is the end of the line, Morgane. And it won’t be pretty. The god who wants your soul has been waiting for it since the day you were born. I might have missed you two years ago. But I have you now.”

  Hel saunt
ered over until she stood in front of Morgane. “You’re going to pay. For everything.” With a wave of her hand, Morgane began to scream anew.

  29

  Fenrir’s boots clicked in a steady cadence against the floor of the weapons room. The way he was pacing like a caged beast told the others he couldn’t seem to get comfortable in his own skin. Mir and Tyr shifted away an imperceptible inch or two while he ground out the words. “We’ll need everyone to make this work. I’m telling you, everybody.”

  Tyr emphatically shook his head. “Not again, Fenrir. I’m telling you, they won’t do it…”

  Fenrir let out a snarl, his fangs elongating. “So you’d screw my father over because of your pride? Which makes perfect sense. Fidiot. Thought you were the fucking God of War.”

  Mir stepped in between the two of them before things spiraled out of control. Hard to say what would happen with so much steel laying around.

  “We go in there fully armed. We bring Morgane out.” Fen blew out a breath. “We all go in together and Hel won’t stand a chance.”

  “And break the peace Odin just managed to forge between us? No thank you.” Tyr shook his head emphatically. “It’d be a clear act of war, Fenrir. Or at the very least, she’d see it as an act of aggression, and use it to wipe everyone out. You want to be responsible for that?”

  “But Morgane…” Fenrir’s voice was cut off by the flash of Tyr’s white teeth.

  “It doesn’t matter.” Tyr’s voice was low, rough. “It doesn’t matter because you’re talking about a mortal. She’s not one of us, Fen. Why is this even an issue?”

  “Because I owe her.” Loki spoke softly from the doorway. “Because she shouldn’t have to pay penance for rescuing her sister from Hel. Because she’s been battling demons on the streets of this city for two years, alone, and is still alive.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “No bullshit.” Mir murmured. “I’ve saved her ass twice now.” He shrugged. “She’s a hell of a fighter, judging from her scars and the piles of dead Grim she’s left in her wake. Didn’t blink an eye to do what she had to do to bring Loki back from the darklands either.”

  “I wondered how you managed that feat, traitor,” Tyr mocked softly. “Thought he’d use the opportunity to get rid of you, once and for all.”

  “The girl traded herself to get him back. Which is why she’s in this mess to begin with.” Mir pursed his lips, sizing up Tyr before shifting his gaze over to Loki and Fenrir. “I for one, am in. Whatever you need from me, my brother, you got it. I say we go get her back.”

  Loki’s eyes glowed bright as he stalked toward Tyr, explaining, “Odin killed Morgane because she defied him. See, Odin sent her to the Underworld to do his dirty work, to retrieve Balder. Problem is, she not only succeeded, she brought back her sister too. For some reason, Hel wants her…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I’m not sure yet but there’s a bigger game being played, and I mean to figure out what it is.”

  Tyr’s jaw dropped. “Balder’s back? He’s alive?” Mir nodded. “You’re serious? A mortal went into the Underworld and brought him out, by herself?”

  Loki’s feet stopped and his voice slowed as he chose his words carefully. “Once, Tyr, you believed in something worth fighting for. We all did. But that was a long time ago. You still don’t think a mortal life is worth the effort? Then so be it. At least get out of our way.”

  30

  Odin felt oddly…remorseful. Especially now, sitting here, listening to Balder blather on and on about the supposedly dire consequences of forcing Morgane to pay a debt she shouldn’t have to pay. Blah blah blah.

  Always arguing for the rights of the weak.

  Always trying to do the right thing.

  Balder, the golden boy.

  Once, he’d been the favorite. Now the gold had dimmed a bit, tarnished, dulled down to a brassy finish. Not that it made him wrong.

  Thousands and thousands of years they’d been stuck on Midgard. Since before this world had a single city, or building, or road. Hadn’t they paid enough? Centuries of pointless battles. Fighting Hel’s endless stream of demons. And for what? To do it over again? Maybe that was the point of punishment, he mused, a never-ending loop from which there was no escape.

  So yes, when Hel had poofed up here and offered to swear an eternal blood oath to him, vowing to remain in the Underworld forever, granting him dominion over a peaceful Earth, Odin had agreed immediately. Whatever price you name, it’s yours, he had promised her. With a careless wave of his hand, if he recalled correctly. At the time, it seemed worth it. Ending centuries of war, loss of mortal lives, bloodshed.

  All of that in exchange for one, pitiful mortal life, which meant nothing in the big scheme of things.

  Except today, he felt slightly…dirty. Sure, these days his moral compass was eternally set on south and never so much as ticked a degree off to either side, but killing Morgane had struck him as suddenly too great a cost. Of course by then, regret came too late.

  Balder had always believed in a better world.

  While Odin knew there was no such thing. Better worlds were far behind them. Better worlds than this had been consumed in ash and fire, and now they were stuck here on this backward planet. But at least they’d live out the rest of their miserable, immortal lives in peace. Maybe he’d take up knitting or some such bullshit.

  In truth, he’d been looking for a way out of this Groundhog Day existence for eons. Only a god could kill another god, and he’d about given up on the prospect of ever properly dying. But when Morgane had double-crossed him? Grief had almost turned Loki into the perfect weapon to accomplish that task. A little nudge here, a snarky comment there, and they’d come so close in the Throne Room, he could still feel the God of Fire’s hands encircling his throat.

  So close and yet? So far.

  He’d given Morgane fifty-fifty odds, at best, when he’d sent her on that half-assed rescue mission. Since rules were rules, and because the Underworld was strictly off limits to him, he’d concocted that scheme to steal back his favorite son. Yet not only had the human succeeded, she’d defied him and brought back the sister too. Almost the mother, too, if the stories were to be believed.

  Morgane had beaten him at his own game, by his own damn rules, in his own damn house.

  So yes, were he completely honest, the whole affair chafed.

  And when Hel had crept back up here and demanded the girl’s soul? He’d been all over it. Loki was probably right. He had been played. But he’d been angry. He’d wanted Morgane to pay.

  There had been a time, long ago, when he’d been a good father. A good king.

  Once he’d been everything they said he was. But that was a long time ago.

  If this world fell, there would only be seven realms left. Looking back, Odin realized they’d let Asgard go without much of a fight. And for some reason, this seemed like their last stand. The strange thing was, he’d never felt like this before, not even when they’d been damned here for the rest of their eternal lives.

  This felt bigger.

  Odin didn’t need to listen to Balder’s words to know he was right. Balder had always been the best of them. From the time he was a child, he’d never believed in violence. War. Killing. He was needed up here, which was precisely why Odin had sent the mortal down after him in the first place.

  And while Odin listened to his favorite son going on and on about truth and honor, something shifted in the universe. Odin sat up straighter as a darkness brushed up against him—the slightest surge of shadowy power—but before he realized what it was, it was gone.

  31

  Stunned, Tyr looked from one face to the other. “There’s no fucking way a mortal brought Balder back. I thought the bitch meant to keep him forever.”

  “Morgane isn’t any mortal. She’s…unique. She came to Chicago to avenge her family and ended up killing Grim in the streets, same as us. Hel put her here, same as us. From what we know, Hel murdered Morgane’s family, and t
hen maneuvered Odin so that Morgane bargained her soul away. This whole thing has been a set up. From beginning to end.”

  Time ticked past as Tyr’s dark eyes began to clear. He finally nodded to Loki, to Fenrir. “Fine. I’ll go. I suppose you’ll need the muscle, if things go south. Tell me where we’re meeting, and I’ll be there.”

  Mir let out a low laugh. “Fuck…all right.” He swung his head over to Fen. “We need a way into the Underworld, one that Odin won’t be watching. Get in touch with the Dagda if you know where to find him…

  “Or worst-case scenario, her.”

  Since Odin guarded his portals like a rabid watchdog, Fen was forced to ask for help from another race. From another realm. Good news was, he knew the way in. Bad news was, the Tuatha De Danann killed any and all intruders on sight.

  But Fenrir didn’t need telling twice. He took the steps two at a time to his chamber and slid down the wall bathed in moonlight, letting the silvery rays play over him. Let himself fall and fall and fall until he slipped from the mortal realm into the Fae realm, praying it wouldn’t take him forever to find who he was searching for.

  The Dagda, King of the Fae, existed in Annwn, a realm similar to the Otherworld. But maybe not so different from Seattle, Fenrir mused, his eyes straining to penetrate the gray nothingness pressing in around him. The Tuatha world was even older than Asgard, one of the very first worlds created by The Three. And the immortals who inhabited it, the Dagda and the Morrigan, were so powerful and so reclusive, they had to be handled with kid gloves.

  But Fen knew someone would be along soon. The Tuatha De Dannan kept a close eye on their borders, and there’d be hell to pay once they sensed someone had broken through. Sure enough, moments later, a large hooded figure floated toward him.