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

by L. A. McGinnis

  Let me go home, she wanted to beg, but there was no one listening.

  Except…

  There. Amidst the silence, something watched. Ancient. Infinite. An ageless well of power thrumming in the darkness. It came closer, curious, while she was held rooted to the ground, and she felt… She fucking felt the thing’s preternatural attention shift onto her, its predatory focus so intent, she swore she felt it carving out a place for itself within her. In front of her, twin embers glowed golden in the dark. The thing had eyes, the shadows hiding the bulk of its otherworldly presence. A deep, instinctual fear quaked through her, the kind that takes your reason and your logic and turns you into a twitchy, stupid animal, prone to making mistakes.

  Part of her knew she was already dead.

  Had known it, the instant she felt herself slump to the floor. After that…things went blurry. Now there was only this wicked, depthless dread, lashing at her with cruel, cold fingers, those glowing ember-eyes staring out at her.

  And then with perfect clarity, she realized this was not death. Whatever was left of her shattered soul was trapped in here, beyond all worlds, with a monster honed from darkness. The monster who wanted her soul in the first place.

  Just her and this infinite thing and miles of sleek, smooth evil wrapping around them.

  “What do you want from me? Why did you want me in the first place?” The embers seemed to flare, a quick flicker of gold dying back to banked orange. A whisper of something in her mind, the touch of one impenetrable sentience against her own, one she quailed back from with every ounce of her being.

  The thing caressed her, stripped her bare, and then it stopped, just as quickly as it started. Yanked its creeping presence from her and turned away, as if she wasn’t even worth the effort. As it slid elsewhere, leaving the icy cold to sweep back in and wind its frozen fingers around her, she wondered what had suddenly changed its mind.

  Whatever this thing was, it burned with desire. Burning and ravenous, at the same time. Hungry, so, so hungry, Morgane feared if it ever found its way out of this prison, it would consume the entire world.

  42

  Idly, Loki wondered if it were even possible for Hel to die.

  With that thought, the flames leapt higher, churning and spiraling until he felt them licking at his face, his own clothes beginning to smoke. Something pulled at him, and he glanced over to where Morgane’s body lay sprawled across the floor. He swore, he still felt their connection. As if their bond was still intact. But she was gone.

  How had everything gone so damn wrong?

  They should be on their way back home, Mir, Tyr and Fenrir to get drunk, he and Morgane to celebrate, and Ava to do whatever the hell it was she did with herself. The thought of Morgane, the loss of her, guttered all the rage inside of him.

  “Enough, my brother. That’s enough, now.” His flames flickered out as Mir looped an arm over his shoulders, pulled him away from Hel’s smoldering form, and over to where Morgane lay, the gods in a semi-circle around her. Exhaustion, and something akin to pity lined Mir’s face as both of them stared down at Morgane’s body. From across the room, Tyr watched them, wariness in his eyes as Mir murmured in his ear, “You know she’s gone beyond? You understand that whatever the fuck that was, took her beyond our reach? Her soul, it’s gone, Loki.”

  “I know.” From the hollow, dull ache splitting his chest apart, he did know it, but there was a part of him, a very real, very mated part, that could not accept the fact. That something could still be done. That he could change this. “It’s only…”

  Ava shouldered up between them, her hand wrapping around Loki’s arm like a claw. “For fuck’s sake. If neither of you are going to do anything to get Morgane back, and stop that…thing over there,” she hissed through clenched teeth, “then at least let me try.”

  Mir’s blue eyes flashed in anger. “Even the immortal gods can’t bring a soul back once it’s gone, Ava, so I don’t think you can do anything to help your sister now.”

  Horrified shock flared in her eyes. “None of you can see it, can you?” Ava twisted her hand in his sleeve as she turned panicked eyes to Loki. “You really can’t, can you?” Her voice reduced to a quivering murmur. “That…monster is still in here, watching us. It never left. I think it’s enjoying the spectacle you’re putting on.”

  Loki kept his eyes pinned to the smoking, moaning heap that was his daughter, his voice cracking slightly as he asked, “I thought it disappeared, or I would have…shit, never mind. Where is it, exactly?”

  “To your left, over Tyr’s right shoulder. It’s keeping to the far wall, inside the shadows. I can see the damn thing, clear as day. Though it’s obvious none of you can.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because if you could…” her voice caught, “none of you would be standing around here chit chating. You’d all have your swords out and that fire of yours would be wrapped around that thing. Instead of her.” She pointed down at Hel. “What I can tell you is this. Whatever’s inside of me?”

  Ava’s voice shook. “That thing is made up of the very same darkness. Except.” Ava began panting. “Except what’s inside of me is only a very small touch of its power. But inside of that monster? The power is depthless, it goes on and on as if there’s no end to it.”

  “I think…” She licked her cracked lips. “It took my sister…because it wanted what’s inside of me back.” Her voice shook so badly the words were barely coherent. “I’ve felt this draw, like somehow, it’s been calling to me. Ever since I first set foot through the portal.”

  Stealing a glance at her face, Loki took a step back, pulling Mir with him. Darkness was already leaking from her eyes, inky teardrops staining patterns down her face as she continued, her voice growing too calm and quiet to sound remotely normal.

  “This power inside me wants to connect to that thing. I’ve been fighting against its pull, ever since it first appeared. Like it’s been…calling to me.” Her monotone turned thoughtful. “Which means it wants me. Or at least, this darkness I have inside of me. Let’s see if it’s willing to make a trade.”

  “Ava, no.” Loki murmured, as her hand slipped from his sleeve. “You have no idea what that is.”

  “Maybe not.” Ava told him.

  “If this works, great, take Morgane home. If it doesn’t?” Her wan face turned to Loki, her eyes pleading. “Then get everyone out of here as fast as you can. Because I have no earthly idea how this might play out.”

  Casually, Mir and Loki inched over to where Morgane’s body lay, gesturing Fen and Tyr and Vali to join them until they formed a circle. Ava watched them shift to form a tight, impenetrable knot around Morgane’s body, Mir’s magic shimmering into a circle of protection around them. Ava’s hands slicked with sweat as she turned, edging around the blackened ring of ash surrounding Hel’s charred body.

  “Please.” The plea rasped out of Hel’s mouth, her blackened, ashy lips barely forming the words. “Please, please I didn’t know what it was… I didn’t know… I was only trying to get free…please, help me.”

  “Fat chance.” Some feral part of Ava embraced the savagery of this spectacle, of the torturer becoming the tortured, of the tables finally being turned. Of karma coming back to bite Hel in her perfect little ass. But truly, she didn’t have time for this shit right now. Because behind the charred goddess, amongst the shadows, something waited. Something ageless. Something eternal. Something that reached out for this new, horrible piece of her, and she hoped she could give it away forever.

  A quick glance back reminded her of everything she had to lose.

  Of why this was worth the chance.

  A future for her sister.

  For friends willing to risk everything.

  Ava took a half step forward, then another, feeling the entire time that terrible darkness as it overflowed her body, forming a black river at her feet, flowing out in front of her, seeping toward the source, that shadowy, terrible thing beckoning her on.


  She willed her feet to stop before she reached it, to not step straight into the center of it and allow it to swallow her whole. “I have come to make you an offer.” The creature, for it was some sort of sentient, embodiment of darkness, waited. “My sister for whatever this is inside of me. Take whatever this is, and give her back to us.”

  The shadow-god in front of her hesitated, as if sensing a trick.

  “No trick. Give her back to me, and I’ll yield this power over to you.” Sensing the unasked question, Ava answered it. “Yes. Even if it kills me.” It stared at her then, stared into her, into what might have once been her soul, but now was some threadbare thing she hardly recognized.

  Dark power, so powerful it made her gag, brushed up against her. Held her still, as if she were nothing, or as if he knew exactly what she was. And had been waiting for her. The dark god wrapped claws of shadow and ice around her, as if he was poised to tear her apart. And a sharp, icy nail ran down the side of her face, driving the air out of her in a rush. Ava began to shake, bones rattling, so hard her teeth clacked together. Until finally, and far too slowly, the pressing strain on her body lessened. She touched a hand to her face, just to make sure she still had one.

  And she swore to fucking God the thing smiled at her.

  As it plucked the darkness from her, like an apple from a tree.

  And when she blinked, she was alone.

  43

  Morgane sat up, the stench of the Underworld a thick, noxious sludge filling her nose. No, that wasn’t quite right, this smelled more of burned eggs and something gone sour, left out in the sun for too long. Her head pounded from an incessant humming, and she was surrounded by tree trunks, which wasn’t right either because as her vision cleared, the trunks became legs, and the humming became voices, and the smell became a truly horrible thing.

  She was aware she was breathing.

  Her heart beat in her chest.

  Then finally, she saw their faces.

  Faces she’d given up on ever seeing again. First, they blurred as if she were still looking through the shadowy veil, then they cleared as warm, salty tears slid down her face, and she wondered if her heart might stop as she saw they were all unhurt. Unscathed. Safe.

  Ava, far away across the room, falling to her knees, her face so white she looked like she might pass out. Mir, standing beside her along with two other gods, one blonde, the other dark, all of them gleaming in the golden light, as if they were surrounded by halos. Fen, in his huge and monstrous wolf form, bristling and growling and snapping.

  And Loki, looking as if he wasn’t breathing at all.

  She was alive. Not dead. Not stuck in the endless dark with a monster made of shadow, hungering for this world. She was alive in the light with friends. Tears dripped in a steady trickle off her chin.

  “How, why am I alive? What’s… What did you do? What happened?” Her jumbled, incoherent words brought Loki running from across the chamber. He dropped to his knees, touched a shaking hand to her face, his face blazing with joy.

  Then she was crushed against him. She felt him to her bones, felt the lifeline between them, felt his heartbeat against hers. “I’ll tell you later, Morgane. When you’re home, safe and warm and cleaned up.” Remembering, she touched a hand to her head, pressed against the matted, hardened mess. He pulled her hand away, while scooping her high in the air. “Later, when you and I are together, I will tell you everything. But not here.”

  His gaze skimmed across a mass on the floor, and her eyes followed, catching on the mangled heap of black. “What is that, Loki?”

  “That’s Hel. I think I might have meant to kill her. But it appears today was not the day.”

  Fingers tangled with hers, and she found Ava’s eyes, wide and staring. “All of us are going home and everything is going to be okay,” her sister whispered, pressing together her trembling lips, her eyes darker and more shadowed than Morgane had ever seen them before. She managed a weak squeeze in return.

  “You all came for me. All of you. Thank you.” The warm press of Loki’s lips on her forehead was a benediction. Safe. She was safe. They all were. And they were going home.

  “There’s one more matter to deal with before we leave,” Loki said, casually. “I don’t have any plans on ever returning to this shithole, so let’s get this done now.” His arms tightened while he positioned her until she was practically sitting, taking in the whole of the room.

  It’s up to you, Morgane. Your decision. What should we do with her?” With a moan, Hel sat up.

  What was it Hel had said? She wanted to be a queen? For an eternity? Then an eternity was what she would get.

  “Forever. I think she should stay down here for an eternity.”

  Loki’s snarl of approval was echoed by Fen, then Mir. Tyr and Ava merely nodded, their faces equally cold and pitiless.

  A low, keening wail issued from the charred heap at their feet.

  And as Loki carried her past the dripping, black walls and the wavering iron torches, Morgane hoped with all her heart she would never, ever see this place again, either.

  44

  Loki rubbed his forehead, feeling the strain.

  “I don’t care that you think you got away with it. The Morrigan and the Dagda are going to be a problem, and you know it. And there’s the matter of your sworn oath, Fen. We’ve got to figure out how we’re going to handle this, so it doesn’t blow up in our faces.”

  Loki, Fen, and Mir were holed up in the War Room, the scarred, round table in front of them covered in maps, knives, and half full coffee cups. Morgane was tucked into bed, and as Loki looked at their red-rimmed, tired eyes, he knew that’s where they all should be. But there were loose ends to be handled before any of them were going to get any sleep.

  “I fail to see the problem, Father.” Fen slung his booted feet up over the edge of the table and dangerously close to Mir’s coffee. “How will they ever know, anyway? It’s not like he or the Morrigan ever come to this realm. No way they’ll start now.” The table they sat at was over two thousand years old. It was made from the trunk of a single, ancient oak from what was now Sweden, and had followed them from one home to another, until finally, they’d lugged it here to Chicago. This very room had been built around it. Loki shuddered when he imagined moving the behemoth again.

  “And I highly doubt either the Dagda or the Morrigan will let you off on a technicality. The fact remains, the girls’ name is MacAskill. Whether or not the name Rigan factors into this, remains to be seen.” Fen met Loki’s gaze evenly, as if daring him to disagree.

  Clearly, Mir decided a subject change was in order. “What’s Ava told you about her little tête-à-tête with the shadow god? Anything interesting come to light?”

  “She’s not been particularly forthcoming.” And Loki had tried to talk to her. Twice. Both times had been especially painful for both of them. Loki wasn’t sure if she was willfully withholding information, or if it was simply too distressing for her to relive.

  “I’ll bet not. Still, we need to know exactly what happened. You realize, it’s either Ava or Morgane who the legend references. Last name or no.”

  “It hardly matters…” Buying Ava and Morgane time to heal seemed paramount right now. Some dusty old legend hardly seemed to be their priority at the moment.

  Still, Mir pushed. “Everything might matter. The Morrigan seemed convinced end times are upon us, and I’m inclined to agree. Makes me wonder if we shouldn’t be using this time of peace and prosperity to check out a few things ourselves.”

  “Things like what?”

  “The security of the portals onto this realm. We should consider talking to the other organizations, especially the one in New York City since they’re the closest. See if they’ve noticed anything…unusual in their region. We don’t talk to each other, not as much as we should.” Mir paused, searching everyone’s faces. “No need to mention what we already suspect, of course, but we should be vigilant.”

  “W
e could send Tyr to New York,” Fen offered casually, a hint of mischief sparkling in his eyes.

  “Isn’t Hunter Wallace still stationed there? I doubt he’d be willing to go. I heard they hate each other’s guts.” Suddenly, Loki saw exactly what Fen hoped for. A bit of an immortal dustup always added some excitement to their days. Especially when the God of War was involved.

  Fen went on casually, “And Freyr would be all over going to Los Angeles, especially since its spring. He’d do nothing but spend his time getting laid while he was there.”

  Mir shook his head emphatically. “No, we send Tyr to Los Angeles and Freyr to New York. Better use of manpower and we might actually get something accomplished. Freyr can drive one of the Hummers, I’ll line up plane tickets for Tyr.”

  “He’s afraid of flying, you know.” Loki reminded Mir, while the red-haired god smirked.

  “I know, which is partly why I switched the locations. Give them both something to bitch about besides how bored they are without demons to battle.” The grin faded from Mir’s face as he swung his gaze all the way around the table, meeting every set of exhausted, wary eyes. “Look, the world might be changing, and we need to prepare for whatever’s coming. We all saw that…thing down there, what did Morgane call it?”

  “God of Chaos.”

  Right.” We all felt its power. We’d better be ready.”

  “What about Odin?” Fenrir’s calm, blue eyes rested on Loki, evaluating every twitch of his face, no doubt. Up until now, they’d all been avoiding the elephant in the room. Leave it to Fen to bring it up.

  “I’ll take care of him.” Loki did have a plan figured out. Much of its success depended on Odin’s cooperation. Or lack thereof.

  “You can’t kill him,” Fen reminded him unnecessarily.

  “Well, technically it’s possible, but no, you’re right. If things with this God of Chaos go south, we might need him. His foresight would certainly come in handy. I’m going to tell him how things are going to be from now on. We’ll see how well he can follow rules.” This was going to be a new world. A democracy, not a monarchy.