“Dagda. That was fast. Here I thought I would have to wait.” Fen did take the time to bow, keeping his eyes on the god’s sword the whole time. Baring the back of his neck, he wished he’d come as the wolf and not in this vulnerable, mortal-looking body.
“Fenrir. Son of Loki. You need a bath.” The Dagda sniffed the air as Fenrir tried to keep his temper.
“And you need to learn some manners.” Fenrir bared his teeth and the sun god smiled back. He eyed the god’s tall, beefy form. The slightly slanted, golden, otherworldly Fae eyes, the pointed ears, the way their magic painted everything in this world with a faint shimmer of glamour. The Dagda could have come as anything. A giant, a man, a dragon, but he had chosen to show his true form, which Fenrir took as a good sign. “But no matter, as I am here to ask a favor.”
The Fae’s laugh shook the ground underneath him. “Better I should have sent my sister to meet you. She might have brought back your head as a trophy. But humor me, wolf, and tell me what you want.”
“We need a way into the Underworld. We cannot go through our usual doorways. If you let us use one of yours, we would be eternally grateful.” Fenrir bowed as he spoke, letting his words sink in before he rose and held the god’s fiery gaze. “A few hours is all we ask.” He kept his eyes locked with the Dagda’s as he explained.
The Tuatha could be trusted, under the right circumstances. And for the right price. “So you came to me?” Fen nodded, this time baring the nape of his neck. A cool wash of relief flowed through him when he didn’t feel the bite of cold steel. “There will a cost, as usual.”
“I expected it.” Fenrir firmly held the god’s gaze. “Name your terms.”
“Six in, no more than seven out. We will keep the doorway open for no longer than sunset to sunrise.” Dagda paused then held out a hand as Fen opened his mouth to speak. “And you will pay the price I name at the end.”
“Done.” Fenrir agreed, precious time ticking by.
The Dagda gave a sigh of exasperation before lifting his eyes to the sky, as if begging for eternal patience. “You know how my sister is sometimes…determined when she gets an idea in her head?” Fen nodded. That was putting it mildly. The Morrigan was known to burn worlds to the ground to get her way.
“Among our histories, there is a legend called the Amanna Deiridh or the end of worlds. It’s an old story of darkness and light, one our people have heard from childhood, since the start of time.” The Dagda waved an elegant hand in the air, speaking rapidly. “It revolves around a young girl returning to the living world after death, carrying the power of chaos inside of her. A power capable of swallowing up this world and all others. Her return precedes the rise of a dark god, one who will destroy all in his path. The legend also speaks of a key that unlocks the realm of the living, opening a white door between the two realms. A door the dark god will pass through. Whether the girl and the key are one and the same, is not known.
“My sister believes this time is upon us. That this dark god is on the verge of returning.” The Dagda’s gaze grew long, thoughtful. “If she is correct, this darkness would destroy not just one world but all worlds. Remember the name MacAskill. For that is the name of the key that opens the door. You swear to me you will kill anyone with that name, without hesitation, and the doorway is yours for tonight.”
“Whatever you say.” Fenrir nodded, already backing away.
“It will open at sundown. Use the doorway wisely, wolf. Fetch what you need. And be gone.” And with those words ringing in his ears, Fen found himself sitting in the middle of nowhere, alongside a field hemmed in by a rusting fence, forty miles west of Chicago.
Couldn’t the bastard have returned him to the Tower or at least Oak Park?
Fenrir got up and dusted himself off. And began to run.
He seriously didn’t have time for this shit.
Shut into the small room, Loki stared at a dusty, sweaty Fenrir, the phone hanging useless in his hand as his son finished relaying the Dagda’s message in its entirety. “The good news is, we now have a way in. We just need to be there at sundown.”
The bad news is, the Tuatha believe the end of the world is coming.
“This might not have anything to do with us. It could just a story.” Loki’s face was ashen. “It’s entirely possible he was working an angle to get something he wants.”
“The guy sounded pretty damn serious, Loki. And the name MacAskill, it’s pretty damn specific, it’s not like he threw out Jones or Smith.”
That part was true enough, but there was no time to consider what this meant. The only important thing was they had a way inside. Morgane had been down there for hours already. Too long.
Pulling up a map of the city on his phone, he paused as a heavy, rhythmic pounding and someone shouting his name, echoed through the thick oak door. Flinging open the door, he heard Vali’s voice, yelling his name from downstairs, and he broke into a run, thundering toward the chaos.
32
Ava sat in the commissary, a donut in one hand, her other tangling round and round in a strand of hair as she chewed. She was dressed in the tattered remains of whatever clothes she’d come back in. It had been days since she had last seen her sister. Even though she might have mentioned she would like to be left alone forever, it wasn’t like she meant it. Not really.
This place was a mausoleum. It was as if Morgane had completely dropped off the face of the earth. Worse than that, Ava felt all alone.
And for a bunch of big, beefy guys, they sure seemed skittish. None of them even spoke to her. They avoided her mostly. Although sometimes she could feel their eyes boring through the back of her head any time she stepped out of her room.
Which meant she stayed upstairs. But she was starving and had snuck down here to forage for food. Plus, she was tired. Tired of this pushing, pulling thing inside of her struggling to get out. She was tired of fighting it. It had been two whole days, and she figured this was as good a spot as any to wait for Morgane to show up, because duh, everyone needed to eat, right?
So here she was.
On her fourth donut, her fifth cup of coffee, and still, no sign her sister even existed. Ava was about to move to Plan B. Which was track down this Loki dude and wring some answers out of him. Problem was, she couldn’t find him either. The thought crossed her mind they might be holed up in his room. She had gone so far as to stand outside the door, hand raised to knock, but that had seemed creepy. So she’d turned on her heel, came back to the kitchen, and now was actually contemplating eating a fifth donut.
Her eyes tracked the man who stalked in. The tall, handsome one who fought with Morgane after they came back from the Underworld. The one who made her insides freeze up. The one with the long, moon-silver hair and the pale gray eyes that seemed to cut you right in half when he looked at you.
Like he was doing right now.
She popped the rest of the donut in her mouth and chewed. Kept her face steady. Focused. Felt the darkness in her begin its slow, determined rise. Straightening her spine, she tamped it down while he stalked closer.
Because that’s what he was doing. Stalking.
Intimidation was the purpose, using his body to make her feel small. Using the room to his advantage, and her seated position to make her feel trapped. The caveman routine probably worked for him most of the time. She relaxed, allowing a flicker of the darkness out, licking an icy path up her spine. She reached out for the last donut and paused, lifting it to her lips. “I’ve had five…four already, so I suppose another one won’t hurt.” Held his gaze. “I’d leave you one, but frankly, I’m hungry and bored, and your food is about the only upside to me being stuck in here, so I might as well enjoy it.”
She practically saw the rage unfurl, like a spiraling, living thing. It crawled through him as he went rigid, his eyes snapped open, turning flinty, the planes of his face shifting, hard and unyielding. Unbidden, a ripple of wicked glee flit through her. As if she were the conductor and he the orchestra, and the
possibilities of the symphonies she could conduct with this man were endless and infinite.
This.
This made her feel alive, fed the dark monster inside of her, made it happy, made it want more, more, more. “I’m Ava, by the way. Avalon Burke, Morgane’s sister.”
The silver god came closer, moving with a swagger that bespoke his rank here. The king shit, so to speak. The dark thing in her squirmed and fought, rose up a bit higher. Good, she was so tired of fucking around.
“I’m well aware of who you are. Ava.”
His deep, rich tenor voice was burnished with careless cruelty, ridged with an undercurrent of an emotion she could not quite place, sounding almost like triumph. A kernel of warning settled into the pit of her stomach as a slow, cunning smile curved his sensual mouth. “Looking for anyone in particular?”
Ava tossed the donut back onto the plate, noting with satisfaction the bite out of it. “Yes, as a matter of fact. Your coffee sucks and I’d like to lodge a complaint. Happen to know who that might be? Or do you guys have a form I need to fill out?”
“You have the same smart mouth as your sister, I see.”
Worse, if truth be told, but now might not be the time to get into it.
“Runs in the family, I guess. Like high cholesterol and pattern baldness. I’d say permanent dickishness runs in yours, but I’d have to meet your father to know for sure.” She swung her feet up onto the chair next to her with a solid clunk, leaned back, and held his stare. “Could come from your mother’s side, of course,” she continued, “but being a dick is such a male thing. I’ll just assume—”
“Shut up, woman.”
Ah. Mommy issues it was.
“Let me guess, you didn’t get the teddy bear when you were five? Or a pony for your tenth birthday? Or enough hugs? Well boo fucking hoo.” Part of her was horrified at the words coming out of her mouth, but the other part? Well, that part was riding a delightfully slippery slope of exhilaration, remembering how this asshole had pushed Morgane around. That part of her found pleasure in each bloody nick she was taking out of him with every word rolling off her sharp, wicked tongue.
The dark thing inside her was fighting now, so close to freedom she clamped down upon it, held it under her boot, feeling it kick back, felt it winning. She hadn’t gotten up this morning looking for a fight, but one had just strolled in here and found her.
And still, she couldn’t quite wipe the lazy arrogance off his face.
“So…no complaint form, I take it?”
“Your sister is dead. I killed her.”
The words, those horrible, hateful words, wound their way through the air with terrible slowness. She knew he had been saving them, waiting to spring his trap while she teased and taunted, holding them for the right moment, just so he could watch her, savor the way they tore straight through her.
“How?” Was all she managed before the words were choked off.
“A knife through the heart. It was quick.”
He might as well have plunged it through her chest. Ava became vaguely aware there were others in the room with them now, aware she had surged to her feet, but all she saw was that face, his gloating, triumphant face in front of her.
She shoved down the sob rising in her throat. Clamped down on the panic. Steady Burke, steady. You can’t know for sure if he’s telling the truth. You can’t know what games he might be playing.
The darkness howled for release now, an icy, clawing creature tearing a path up through her. She pushed that back down as well. Not until she knew for sure. Not until she saw Morgane’s body would she know the truth. “I have to speak to Loki. Right now.”
“Thought you might.” He smiled savagely. His silvery eyes flicked over her shoulder, behind her, to someone standing there. “One of you assholes go find him. Tell him Morgane’s sister needs to hear it from him and make it fast. I want her out of here and back in the mortal world. Sooner the better.”
And then they were alone.
Ava felt the world slipping out from beneath her as she tracked him, watching him circle her, closing in.
Something else, there was something else he was about to tell her. Something that was going to hurt, even worse than death.
“She thought to save you from eternal hell, you know. Made quite the gamble, double-crossing me to do just that. Too bad you’re up here.” He leaned in closer, purring the truth into her ear. “And she’s trapped down there. Forever.”
“No, no, no. Not possible. She was alive. She must be alive.”
“Oh no, Ava, I can assure you, she is not. She is very much dead and trapped in the Underworld with Hel. Where she’ll stay, for all eternity.” He stared down at her, slicing through her with his icy gaze, while every piece of her recoiled.
“It’s exactly like you said, boo fucking hoo.”
Ava.
He had forgotten about Ava. They all had.
As Loki raced down the hallway toward the commissary, he prayed Odin wasn’t talking to her, or worse, toying with her. From what Vali quickly explained after he pounded on the door, Odin was walking a dangerous edge, and he’d better get his ass down there. So here he was, taking the steps three at a time before skidding into the kitchen.
Blinking, he wasn’t exactly sure what in the holy hell he was seeing.
The room was filled with a mixture of dappled sunlight and blotchy patches of darkness, the air shifting between light and shadow. This was before he realized that darkness itself was emanating from Ava. Some kind of sinister, primordial ooze, tendrils of which were wrapped around Odin, and the immortal, the most powerful god of them all, had his head thrown back, his mouth open wide. Screaming in pain so intense, he couldn’t make a sound.
“Ava?” The darkness swirled about her as she turned to him, a protective, embrace of shadows wrapping around her, her eyes endless pits, her lips a thin, cruel line. Not a single flicker of recognition on her pale face. The cords in Odin’s neck stood out, his back arching until Loki thought he might break in two.
Loki met that dark, endless gaze unwaveringly. “Ava. Let him go. This won’t help your sister. But I know how you can.”
Her head tilted, a strange, foreign gesture, those depthless eyes glimmering with something not of this earth. “Ava, honey, if you kill him, it will trap Morgane down there forever. You will be the one who dooms her. Do you want to be that person?”
She reached out, stretching toward him, reaching, the blackness leaking from her, inky pools of it falling around her feet.
“Come back, Ava, get control of it again.” He paused as the dark tendrils coalesced, ribbons wrapping tighter around Odin. “You can do it. Come on, take control back.” Finally, he screamed, “Fucking let him down, damn it.”
As if a wind blew through the room, the shadows disappeared, the shifting light became sun, and Odin dropped to the floor, heaving on the linoleum. At the sounds of boots pounding down the hallway toward them, Loki raised his arms, his eyes searching Ava’s blue, terrified ones as she backed slowly away from Odin.
Instantly, blue flame crept from Loki’s hands, running in rivulets across the floor, and covered Odin, flashing heat in blue and gold over him while he groaned and writhed. In a blink, they were gone, leaving charred clothing and rising blisters in their wake. The steps stilled out in the hall. “Get out of here,” he hissed to Ava. “Right now, just go. Don’t stop, don’t talk to anyone. Lock yourself in your room and wait for me. And don’t let whatever the fuck is inside of you out again.”
She skirted the body on the floor and left, the scent of smoke and burnt flesh filling the room. Odin stirred, limbs flopping, moaning. Loki gave him a second, then two, waiting for Odin to open his eyes.
They finally fluttered open, full of impotent rage, his voice a hoarse whisper, “You are so fucking dead. I am going to…”
“Save it.” Loki crouched down, well aware of the gathering crowd behind them. Careful to enunciate every single word. “We’ve gone around for tho
usands of years, you and me, but this is the end. Today was only a taste, you hear me? I would have killed you had Ava not been here to stop me. Count yourself lucky she was. But I’m coming for you, and you’ll never know when. Might be in your sleep or at breakfast. But trust me, I’ll take you out.”
Rising, he brushed a bit of ash off his pant leg and met every bit of condemnation in Mir’s incredulous face with a grim smile. “You should clean this mess up. It smells like burnt popcorn in here.”
33
Loki found Ava exactly where he told her to be.
Pale and shaking, but alive.
A faint glimmer of hope that maybe something might be salvaged out of this mess after all.
Thank the gods.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I did.” He breathed. “If Odin thought it had been you, Ava, if he so much as suspected…” He couldn’t finish. She would be the one lying on the shitty linoleum floor, dead. Both sisters, dead. He allowed himself what he hoped was an easy, careless shrug. “Besides, he hates my guts already. He can add today to the growing list.”
“Damn it, Loki.” Ava prowled closer and he noted while the blackness wasn’t currently leaking out of her, it was very much writhing inside of her. Searching for a way out. “Now we’re both in trouble, when all I was doing was waiting to talk to you.”
“I know.” With everyone occupied with Odin, this would be their best chance for conversation. Once Odin was up and healed, which might take minutes, or hours at most, the opportunity might never arise again. Loki blew out a breath. At least, he told himself, they wouldn’t be coming after Ava. At least he’d prevented that.
“Tell me. Tell me why I haven’t seen my sister in two days? Why isn’t she with you right now?” She asked in a shaky voice, panic vibrating a hairsbreadth beneath the surface. “Tell me anything…except what Odin told me is true. Say he’s lying. I want you to tell me that bastard didn’t kill Morgane.”
Queen of Swords: The Banished Gods: Book One (The Banished Gods Series 1) Page 19
