Fatal Ties: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Lillim Callina Chronicles Book 7)

by J. A. Cipriano

  “Hades is a cheeky bastard,” I said because if I actually took stock of my mother actually being here, I might just lose it, and this definitely wasn’t the time to have a breakdown. No, if I wanted to avoid bursting into tears, I was going to have to go with the good old Lillim standby, cheekiness.

  Before I could do anything else, my mother turned away, wiping her eyes with the back of one hand. She must have gotten something in them because my mother didn’t cry.

  “Manaka and I will help you break through.” She pointed toward where we’d been going. “Go, Lillim! We haven’t much time. They’ll keep coming until that dragon is dead. You have to kill him.”

  “But, Mom!” I cried, and as the cry left my lips, Thes put one hand on my shoulder.

  “Come on,” he said, but there was a lot more understanding in his voice than I’d expected. Still, could I really leave her side? I couldn’t, could I?

  “No,” I said, turning toward my mom as she called the winds to her outstretched hand. A tornado touched down in her palm and whipped outward, clearing the space between us and the new hole and as it did, Manaka called more fire. It surged up on either side of the pathway like a burning bridge into Hell itself.

  “Go!” my mother cried, and I could see the strain evident on her face. I’d never seen her do something quite like this before, but one thing was sure, my mother made death look good.

  I started forward, sprinting behind Thes as the lavender flames licked the moisture from my body. As I reached the howling edge of the pit, cold overtook me. Frost covered the edges of the sinkhole, threatening to freeze the very blood in my body. I ignored it, forcing myself to keep going even though staring into the wailing abyss seemed nearly impossible. How, I was supposed to go in there? Was I insane?

  “Lillim, I’m proud of you,” my mom called, and as I turned toward her, the smile on her face made my heart nearly explode. “You can do this!”

  “Okay!” I said, turning back to the hole as Thes stepped up next to me and stared down dubiously. I wasn’t sure what we’d find down there, but at the moment, I didn’t care. My mom was proud of me, and with those words filling up my heart, I knew I could kill anything.

  “We can do this,” he said almost like he was trying to convince himself. Then he held his hand out to me. I glanced at it for a second and sighed. He was scared, otherwise he wouldn’t offer me his hand. I could tell, it wasn’t for my sake, but his. That was fine, I could play his rock just this once.

  “Yeah, my mom thinks so too.” I took his hand and shut my eyes. “You’re both crazy.” We leapt into the darkness.

  21

  We fell.

  For all of three seconds.

  Just as I was coming to the realization that jumping into a pitched black hole who knows how deep was probably a bad idea, the air in front of us split open like a watermelon sliced in half by a machete. Fleshy red light spilled out in front of us, casting the entirety of the sinkhole into dancing red shadows. I had half a second to scream like the little girl I secretly kept locked inside me before Thes and I slammed into the frothy red flesh.

  The world erupted into a cascade of kaleidoscoping colors as we sank beneath the mushy surface. The smell of watermelon was so strong that combined with the fleshy feel of the surface, I could have sworn that’s what we’d actually hit. Moisture seeped through my Dioscuri fighting suit as I tried to claw my way to my feet. My ribs ached from the impact, but I felt otherwise unscathed, so yeah, points for surviving.

  As my fingers dug into the pulpy floor, and I pulled myself into a seated position, I found myself staring at Loki. His tall form loomed over me, all handsome angles and douchey smiles. He wore a pair of navy slacks, leather belt, and a “You Mad Bro?” T-shirt, and somehow it all worked.

  “Miss me?” he asked, his lips settling into a satisfied smirk as he ran one hand through his long black hair. “Cause I’ve been wondering when you’d show up with that.” He gestured toward the revolver holstered at my hip. I wasn’t sure how he knew about it, but either way, there was no way in the nine worlds I was giving it to him. If that was his plan, it was a non-freaking-starter.

  “With every bullet so far,” I grumbled, reaching toward the revolver. I had two shots left and Nidhogg only required one. I’d wanted to save the last bullet for Connor just in case, but well, I’d have to get to Connor for that to matter. If I died now, it wouldn’t matter how many bullets I had left in the chamber.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” Loki said, and as he spoke, he raised his arms and one leg like he was imitating Daniel-san from the karate kid. “Otherwise I might have to kick you in the face.”

  Before I could properly react to his tremendous display of crane-kicking ability, he toppled to the ground on his back. His head struck the fleshy surface with a hard thwap as Thes hopped to his feet like a goddamned ninja.

  “I’m not afraid to sweep the leg,” Thes said, planting his foot on Loki’s throat and pinning the god there. “Now what in the nine worlds are you doing here?”

  “Stopping you,” Loki said, evidently unconcerned by Thes. “Isn’t that obvious?” He rolled his eyes as I drew the revolver and pointed it at his prone form.

  “Why?” Thes shook his head. “Ragnarok isn’t happening as foretold. Thor isn’t dead and Jormungand is. The rules have changed.”

  “Yeah about that,” Loki replied, snapping his fingers. As he did a stained cardboard box rose from the center of the fleshy platform on which we stood. “Go on, ask what’s in the box.” He put his hands to his face before crying out “What’s in the box!?” I’ll be honest. He did a very good impression of a young Brad Pitt.

  “If it’s a severed head, I’m going to be very upset,” I said in my best slacker voice while glancing from Thes to the box and back again.

  “We both know you’re going to check,” Loki purred. “So let’s just get on with it.” He snapped his fingers. “Haven’t got all day, the end of the world is nigh!”

  “Fine,” I said with a sigh. I kept the gun aimed at the unconcerned God of Mischief with one hand while kneeling down next to the box and flipping open the lid. A severed head stared back at me because of course it would be. The head in question was covered in stringy red hair and a beard that would have made Odin proud. I couldn’t tell much else because of all the hair and blood, but I was guessing it was Thor. Damn.

  If Thor was dead, it meant Ragnarok was back on track. Sure maybe the details surrounding his untimely demise were a little different than I’d been lead to believe, but then again, we were going off a thousand-year-old oral history, surely some names and events had been changed. Either way, he was dead, and since it was a monumental event for the Nordic apocalypse, I couldn’t help but feel we were at least a teensy bit screwed. Still, I couldn’t let that bother me. If I did, I might not move forward, and if that happened, we were all definitely going to die.

  “You killed Thor?” Thes asked, the disbelief in his voice obvious.

  “Do you even know who I am?” Loki asked, vanishing in a puff of smoke and reappearing behind Thes. “I’m like Thor’s worst enemy, so yeah, I killed him.” He mimed swinging an axe. “Turns out, it takes nine swings to sever the bastard’s head from his shoulders with an axe.” Loki rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Probably could have used a sharper axe though.”

  Thes couldn’t break his stare from the box, which wasn’t good. Loki was a trickster after all and part of me had hoped it had been a trick. Unfortunately, Thes’s look confirmed it. That really was Thor’s head in the box, and that meant Ragnarok was back on track. Damn. Double Damn.

  Who did Loki think he was? Sure, he might be way above my pay grade and a Nordic god, but so freaking what? That didn’t give him the right to help the world slide into apocalypse. It was time to teach him a goddamned lesson. Screw pay grades.

  I narrowed my eyes at Loki and pulled back the hammer on the revolver. “Well, then it doesn’t matter if you die, either.”

  “You make a
n excellent point,” Loki said, vanishing again. I spun around as he reappeared behind me. I fired, but as I did, it felt like something pushed my hands to the side. The crack of the gun was loud enough to shatter the silence of the cavern, and I almost cringed away from it. The bullet caught Loki in the right side of his chest and blew a hole in him the size of a basketball, which was sort of unfortunate because I’d been aiming at his heart.

  The God of Mischief staggered backward, flailing melodramatically as blood sprayed from his gaping chest wound. He collapsed to the ground, kicking his legs wildly, and as he did, he began to dissolve into green smoke. I took a step forward. Something was very wrong with this picture.

  As I watched him dissipate into the ether, Loki stepped in from my left looking as good as new. He struck me in the left side of my chest with his open palm. “You missed me. Close though.” Blood rushed up from my mouth and splattered across his neck and chest as he spoke. He was still in front of me, one hand extended out toward me. Neon green energy crackled across his glowing palm as the illusion I’d shot dissolved into nothing. He’d tricked me, the bastard. “If you’d been a few inches to the left, you’d have gotten me.” He shrugged. “Too bad.”

  He swiped the revolver from my hand as I fell to my knees. It felt like my insides were on fire. I coughed again and blood sprayed across his pristine red and white Jordan’s. Well, at least that was something.

  “Thanks for the gun,” he added as he opened the chamber and emptied the last round onto the ground. Then he tossed the gun off the edge of the platform. “It’s not really my style.” He knelt down next to me and grabbed my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “But the five-finger exploding heart technique is.” He mimed his fist exploding and made a “boom” noise right before Thes tackled him.

  I wish I could say what happened during their scuffle, but I was too busy focusing on the flames engulfing my heart. It hurt unlike anything I’d ever experienced. I tried to draw upon my magic, tried to force away the effects, but as I touched the magic he’d forced within me, I managed to do little more than drive the spell deeper into me. I grabbed hold of it anyway, ignoring the fishhooks of the spell as they caught along my heart. I ignored the barbed wire of magic as it sliced through my metaphysical fingers while I tried to keep it from cinching tighter and tighter.

  It felt like I was coming apart, like my insides were being torn asunder. I shut my eyes, concentrating as the taste of blood filled my mouth. I focused on reaching in anyway. I grabbed the razor wire of magic around my heart and pushed my own power into it. I called on everything I had, everything I was, everything I would be. I let my pain, my anguish, and yes, my hatred flow into the noose tightening inside me. I was going full Dark Side, and you’re never supposed to go full Dark Side.

  Fire leapt from my skin, and the smell of burning flesh and hair filled my nose. I wasn’t sure if I was literally on fire, but as I pushed the sensations of my body away, flame flickered at the edge of my vision.

  Loki’s power wormed inside my heart, burrowing deeper, and as it did, I pulled on it with bloody hands. The claws of his spell tore furrows in my heart, ripped me open, but I gritted my teeth, ignored the stars flashing across my vision and the fireworks exploding in my skull, and pulled with everything I was.

  The wriggling, seething mass of power didn’t come away easily. It fought and spit and wrecked absolute havoc on my insides, but I didn’t let go. Its spines punctured my hands, spilling venom into my blood. It was so hot, I was on fire. So cold my teeth chattered together.

  My breath came out in bursts of ashen fog. Still, I pulled. I ignored his talons as they raked across my soul. He would not kill me. I would not let him.

  “Is that all you’ve got!” I cried, and the words tore something inside me as his magic ripped out of me. The blackened wriggling spell writhed in my hands, desperate to leap back into my chest and finish the job, but I tightened my grip upon it.

  My skin was a cacophony of scrapes and gouges. Blood poured from my nose, eyes, and ears as I turned my red-tinged gaze upon Loki. He held Thes over the edge of the precipice by his throat. That wouldn’t do. We weren’t going down like this.

  I sucked in a breath that tasted like I was dying and gathered the writhing remnants of Loki’s death punch into my palm. Then I got to my feet. My limbs nearly didn’t let me. My muscles screamed and protested with white hot pokers. I did it anyway.

  My feet moved toward them. One step. Two. Three. I crossed the distance as my vision went hazy and broken like a funhouse mirror. Loki’s back was large in front of me, but he didn’t seem to see me. Good. That’d make this even better.

  “You lost this,” I croaked and my words sprayed bloody spittle across his back as I shoved the wriggling, vile power into him. It hit him in the small of the back like a wrecking ball. Fluid exploded out the front of him as a scream unlike anything I’d ever heard filled my ears.

  Thes slipped free of the god’s grip as Loki spun toward me. Blood dribbled down from the corner of his mouth as he touched the hole in his torso with one hand. He raised his bloody fingers to his lips in disbelief.

  “How?” he asked, and instead of responding, I kicked him square in the chest. The blow sent him careening over the edge.

  “Red sauce on pasta,” I said, scooping up the discarded bullet and pocketing it as Loki tumbled down into the abyss. I wondered what it’d feel like to hit bottom, assuming there was one. “Say hi to Thor for me, dick.”

  “Lillim, are you okay?” Thes said, rushing over to me and gathering me into his arms. He was covered in wounds and bruises that seemed to fade before my eyes. Damn, I really needed werewolf healing. As it was, I’d be surprised if I lived through the next few moments. Still, now wasn’t the time to dwell on that little factoid. If I did, I might not press on, and I had to press on. “Please tell me you’re okay.”

  “Yeah,” I coughed even though I was pretty sure I needed to go to a hospital or pick out a coffin. Probably the latter. “Let’s go kill a dragon.”

  “You can’t even walk,” he replied. It was true, but he didn’t have to bring it up. The jerk.

  “I’ll walk when I’m dead,” I said, sucking in a breath made of fire and spikes. “Now get me down there before I get angry.” I tried to smile. “Trust me. You won’t like me when I’m angry.”

  “But we lost the gun,” he said, ignoring my awesome Hulk reference. As my consciousness threatened to slip away, he glanced over the edge of the platform like he could see my gun below. My eyes felt so heavy, I could barely keep them open. We had to hurry.

  “Then we’ll just have to kill it with magic.”

  22

  I tried to keep from falling unconscious, really I did, but as Thes set me down near the center of the platform so he could figure out a way down that didn’t involve jumping, which had been a stupid idea to begin with, let me tell you, my eyelids felt like they weighed a bazillion pounds.

  Darkness threatened to overtake me, and as it did, I shook my head in an effort to stay awake. If I let them close, I might not open them again, and that was simply unacceptable. While the sight of Thes wandering around wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, there was no way that was going to be the last thing I saw before I died.

  My eyes fluttered open, and I found myself staring at Thes. We were still on the same platform, but he looked different. For one thing, he wasn’t in wolf form, and for another, he was totally dressed in what looked like a roman toga, which seemed altogether weird because he’d been wearing gym shorts like a second ago. Man, how long had I shut my eyes?

  “Hey, Lillim.” Thes let out a slow breath and settled back on his haunches to look at me. “It’s been a while.”

  “It’s been like three freaking seconds,” I said, trying to figure out what about him seemed so different. It wasn’t just the clothing, that was for sure. I inhaled sharply through my nose because yes, he even smelled different. Unlike normal, he smelled like pine trees and root beer.


  “No, it hasn’t.” He stood and offered me his hand. “Come, I want to show you something.” When I made no effort to take his hand, mostly because it still felt like a bomb had exploded inside my ribcage, he continued. “It’s important.”

  “What’s wrong with you?” I blurted as a thread of golden fire danced across his fingers.

  “Sorry, I forgot how hurt you were.” The flames leapt from his outstretched hand as he spoke and hit me in the chest. “Let me help with that. It’s the least I can do.”

  I gasped, trying to back away from him, but before I could move, a wave of warmth and relaxation swept through me. I could actually feel my wounds stitch themselves closed, which was pretty damned incredible. As it happened, I watched my wounds appear on his skin, and as they did, he cringed.

  “What did you do?” I asked, patting myself to make sure everything was okay. It was. Better than ever, in fact. Was this what it was like to heal like a werewolf? If so, I needed to bottle this stuff.

  “I healed you,” he said, shaking his head. “Well, I lent you my healing ability.” A sad smile flitted across his lips as he stared at me with big brown eyes. There was so much emotion in them, I couldn’t place it, but one thing was clear. He felt guilty. “I’m never used to how much that hurts.”

  “How did you do that?” I asked, getting to my feet and staring at him like he’d grown a second head. He hadn’t, but he might as well have. No werewolf had ever been able to transfer his healing to someone else. It was impossible.

  “It’s a long story, and we don’t have time.” He took a deep breath and shut his eyes like he was thinking back. “I just need you to do something for me.”