Desolate (Desolation)

by Ali Cross

  Desi

  I have no time nor care for thought.

  There is only action. Only Father’s command.

  Only power.

  Destruction.

  Desolation.

  I see the girl, Miri, as she kneels before me, her frail human hands trying, uselessly, to lessen my grip.

  I only squeeze tighter.

  And then something changes.

  A flash of light.

  A burst of knowledge, of something warm and foreign, something totally unwelcomed.

  And now the girl who kneels before me isn’t Miri at all.

  My mind divides. My heart turns on itself.

  Now part of me names the girl—Lucy.

  Calls out to her.

  Remembers her.

  And oh.

  Oh.

  Michael is with me, whispering my name, calling me love.

  “Take it off,” he says.

  “Just take it off, baby,” Lucy says.

  The ring. Take it off.

  I want to. I will.

  Oh, how I want to be rid of it.

  chapter fifty-one

  Michael

  Desi blinked and let her hands dropped to her side. She stared at her father. I stepped nearer. While I watched, the life in her eyes drained away.

  I lunged for her wrist, clasped it within my tight grasp and grabbed at her finger, yanking, pulling, desperate to rid her of the poison her father had cursed her with. She screamed, pushed and clawed at me with her free hand.

  I wrestled her to the ground. She lay on her stomach while I straddled her back. I practically lay atop her, trying to remove the ring, but she clenched her fists, making it impossible.

  “Get off her,” Loki shouted, throwing a blast of frigid wind against me. I lay down on Desi, desperate to stay with her, to finish my task.

  A flash of golden light and Fahria had arrived, smashing her shield into Loki’s face. I inched higher over Desi’s back and forced open her fist. I pressed her hand down on the grass, and, using my body to keep her still, I tried to get the ring off. But it would not budge.

  Tears ran down my face, to be lost in my love’s black hair. Fear ate away my hope as my strength faded. I would fail.

  Fail Odin.

  Fail mankind.

  Fail the one person I never wanted to lose in all my frightfully long life.

  Yet my fingers slipped, and Desi wrenched away from me. I have failed.

  chapter fifty-two

  Desi

  Father appears and with the turn of his cloak destroys the illusion. The image of Lucy where there is only Miri.

  But . . .

  I love one no more than the other.

  And I know: they both love me.

  “Remove it and you will die,” Father says.

  I believe him.

  I know what he says is true.

  Michael forces me to the ground, forces me to open my hand, to give him access to the ring.

  He must not have it! Michael cries.

  Do not let him take it. Father demands.

  I hear their words in my mind—their words, my words, I do not know.

  Take it off.

  chapter fifty-three

  Michael

  “Take it!” Fahria shouted and I looked up in time to see a golden object flying through the air between us. It landed in the grass, blade buried deep.

  Does she mean for me to cut it off? I hesitated, unwilling.

  In that moment of hesitation Desi screamed a wild, visceral animal-like cry and with Herculean effort reached forward and grabbed the hilt of the dagger.

  She will kill me now.

  And I thought, It will be a good death. Because I would die with her skin beneath my hand. With her face before me.

  But she didn’t roll over like I thought she would. She didn’t plunge the blade deep into my heart like I expected her to.

  She opened her mouth wide and screamed.

  chapter fifty-four

  Desi

  “Ahhhhhh!”

  I grip the hilt tightly in my fist and bring it down with all my strength, with all that remains of my free will.

  My aim is true.

  chapter fifty-five

  Michael

  She plunged the blade deep into her finger, severing it. A soundless burst of black light billowed outward from her hand, knocking me and everyone around us to the ground. I fought to my feet, dove toward her

  “Desi!” I wrapped her bleeding hand in the folds of my shirt, looked around desperately for something to staunch the flow of blood.

  I heard Loki scream with evil hatred and I was aware of the Shadows and genii flashing out of existence all around me. The humans who had been used by Loki’s damned fall to the ground. Left standing are those Valkyries who had prevailed. And Longinus.

  Though he saw me from across the cemetery, he broke into a run immediately. Before he even reached us, he had his belt and T-shirt off. He fell to the ground beside me and took Desi’s hand into his lap, getting to work quickly on her wound. Desi lay limp, lifeless in my lap.

  “Desi, Desi,” I repeated over and over. “Please.”

  Please.

  Fahria joined us. “It is over,” she said. But I didn’t know if she meant the battle, or Loki.

  Or Desi.

  But I believe her.

  It is over.

  chapter fifty-six

  Desi

  A tornado of blackest night, with winds that carry ice on its breath, appears before me, pulling me into its maelstrom, separating me from Michael.

  Helena screaches, visceral, earth-shattering. Triumph. Betrayal. I feel what she feels, know what she knows. This is mutiny. This is Hel’s revenge.

  Then the wind is gone. And the cold is gone.

  And I am gone.

  chapter fifty-seven

  Michael

  Desi was gone.

  Hell’s black wind left the field of battle empty. Only our sorry band remained. Fahria helped Miri to her feet. She was weak, but well enough.

  Cornelius made his way through the field of fallen, blessing each of the humans, banishing the residue of evil that had inhabited them. For every Valkyrie, he knelt and said a prayer—there were not many lost, but he wept for each of them. As did Fahria, though she didn’t say as much. She didn’t have to. I had loved a Valkyrie warrior my whole life and they were proud and stubborn women. They are the best of Asgard.

  I rocked back on my heels and turned to look at the crypt. The Door was still there.

  I stood, checked my weapons, and turned to go.

  “Where are you going?” Fahria stood between me and the crypt.

  “Step aside.”

  Her sisters joined her until there stood an impenetrable wall between me and my intention.

  I hung my head in defeat. I was exhausted. I knew it was foolish of me to go after Desi—to go to Loki’s kingdom in my weakened state. If it even was Loki’s anymore. The genii belonged to Helena—I would need to be certain of my strength before I tried to defy her.

  “Come home, brother,” Fahria said. She reached out to me, put her shoulder under my arm. As if on cue, my strength left me and I slumped against her. I was so, so tired.

  “We will find a way. We will free her.”

  A portal opened beside us, and Heimdall stood there, beckoning. The Valkyries filed in, some supporting others, some with their heads held high.

  Fahria and I turned. There was Cornelius, who had found James, bleeding from a wound above his left eye. He helped James sit beside Miri. Miri put her arm around his waist and held him to her. Cornelius stood behind them, his hand on James’ shoulder.

  Longinus rose from where he had been kneeling by Desi’s side. He made no move to join us, to bid us farewell.

  “Go,” Cornelius said. “You have earned your rest.”

  I pushed away from Fahria and knelt in front of Miri and James.

  “Will you be all right?”

  Mi
ri nodded. “Was that Lucy?” Her voice quivered. I’m sure she reeled from what had happened—she was just a normal girl. Or, she had once been a normal girl. I suspected there was nothing normal about this whole group. The Hallowed had always managed to attract those humans with the greatest gifts.

  “If you desire it, I’m sure you can seek her out—in your dreams. Your dreams are a bridge, Miri. A Bifrost of your own making.” I smiled and hoped she understood. She nodded again and James squeezed her tight.

  “I will return,” I told him.

  “Get her back for us.”

  I looked at Fahria, then back to James. “I will. We will.”

  James shifted his attention to Miri, and I stood.

  I shook Cornelius’ hand, then he pulled me into a hug. “I don’t believe he will harm her,” he said. “He has had many opportunities and he has not taken one.”

  When I stepped back, I nodded my head. I hoped what he said was true, but I couldn’t rely on it. I would go back to Asgard, but only to regain my strength—and to find some friends to help me. Namely Heimdall who I hoped could get me to Helheimer without Loki knowing. I couldn’t simply use this Door which would take me directly to his throne room. No, I’d need to be stealthier than that.

  Without looking back, I strode to the portal. I passed Fahria and Longinus, though I didn’t stop. Only when I had stepped onto the bridge did I look back at Midgard. At The Hallowed—my friends, and Desi’s. I saw Fahria clasp Longinus’ forearm, and the glisten in her eyes when she turned away from him. She joined me on the bridge, and then they were gone.

  chapter fifty-eight

  Desi

  I am here.

  I am nowhere.

  No one knows of this place, except my Father and Hel—and her Hounds. And none of them will give my location away.

  Michael will come looking for me, but he will never find me. Even the Ascended Ones, even Aaron and Lucy, will search tirelessly for me. And will not find me.

  I am beneath them all.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  First and always, I have to thank my husband, David. Truly, every book I write is co-authored by him. He brainstorms with me from the earliest conception through the entire process. He’s the first one to read my books, the first to guide me past the pitfalls and help me climb the mountains.

  And tripping on David’s heels is my dearest friend, C.K. Bryant (check out her books—they’re awesome!). She hangs out with me on MSN every day, keeping me sane and laughing at me when I’m clearly not. She pulls me through the sluggish days when writing seems like a chore, and is the first to cheer for me when I reach happy milestones.

  My critique group, Elana Johnson, Sara V. Olds and Stacy Henrie (all published authors—check out their books, too!) are the bread in this ali-sandwich. The ply me with chocolate even while slashing my prose and making my pages bleed. I let them because, well, the chocolate is good, but also because they work magic with my words and help me become something better—something I could never reach without their help.

  My friends L.T. Elliot and Jill Smith help ground me and remind me that there is a life to be lived beyond my words on the page. My children are the happy recipients of their encouragement!

  And thank you, dear reader, for choosing to read my books, for taking the time to leave reviews and to email me. I love hearing from you. You teach me what I can do better, what more I should strive for. I wish I could give every one of you a great big hug—even though I’m probably the world’s worst hugger and would probably stick my nose in your eye or elbow you in some inappropriate way.

  Life is good. And as long as I have the love of my family, the camaraderie of my friends, and awesome stories to tell, I think I will be (as I am now) the happiest girl alive.

  About the Author

  Ali Cross is the sensei of the Writer's Dojo where she holds a black belt in awesome. She lives in Utah with her kickin' husband, two sparring sons, one ninja cat, two sumo dogs and four zen turtles.

  Find Ali online at www.alicross.com

  Proud member of The Indelibles.

  To read more awesome YA novels from

  this incredible group of authors, click here.

  Page through to read the first chapter of Artemis Writing

  by Indelible Cheri Lasota.

  On the voyage home to the Azores Islands, Eva accepts the pagan name of Arethusa but learns too late that her life will mirror the Greek nymph’s tragic end. Her mother reveals that her destiny lies with Diogo, the shipowner’s volatile son. But Eva has a vision of another...

  When the ship founders in a storm off the coast, Tristan, a local boy, saves her life and steals her heart. Destined to be with Diogo yet aching for Tristan’s forbidden love, Eva must somehow choose between them, or fate will choose for her.

  To purchase ARTEMIS RISING by Cheri Lasota for your Kindle, click here.

  1: DAUGHTER OF THE MOON

  24 August 1893

  Strange how our names become our fate. No matter my fate, given a choice, still I would choose that name: Arethusa, nymph of the old world, daughter of the moon. Is the name a curse or a blessing? Perhaps neither. Perhaps my mother has merely destined me for a love of watery things. It is true. The sea is in my blood, slipping quicksilver through my veins. And the Moon Goddess is to be my mistress. No more Eva now. No more a daughter of God.

  Eva’s fingers shook as she held the match to the candlewick. The chill night air seeped through her thin shift. Even in deep summer, Massachusetts still clung to the remnants of spring when the sun sank below the foothills. But it was not the wind that gave her shivers.

  “Calm down,” Mãe said, laying her hand over Eva’s to still them. “Your Pai will be gone for hours and Artemis will rise soon enough.”

  Eva held the match closer to the candle. The wind snatched out the flame with a huff. Her hand trembled when she drew another match, and she hated that her mother saw it.

  With the changing of her name, she would deny her father’s faith and embrace her mother’s. A simple choice. And a dangerous one. A pagan in a Catholic world had need of secrecy and courage. But for her it was more than a question of faith. This choice would direct her destiny. Her namesake was a nymph devoted to Artemis, Goddess of the Moon. A nymph who was chased by the obsessive river god Alpheus into the depths of the sea and back. Yet in the end, Alpheus found Arethusa and merged his waters with hers until they became one.

  She knew that this would be her fate. But it was not the Catholic fate of heaven or hell. It was a kind of immortality. A deathless death. She feared this most of all. When she was joined to Alpheus, would she cease to exist? Would her soul be lost?

  For many years, she had known this day was coming. Her mother had taught her the old sabbats and rites and, for Mãe’s sake, had practiced these secret rituals over and over. At first, Eva felt torn—it was so different from Pai’s strict Catholic sacraments of the Eucharist and Confirmation—but over time, Mãe’s beliefs had become her own. Despite her fleeting doubts, she knew she would not hesitate when it came time to give her promise. It was not in her nature to falter. And she dared not falter now.

  Mãe laid the matches next to the other items on the makeshift altar, a boulder hidden in a copse behind the farmhouse, and took Eva’s hands in hers. Her mother’s fingers were warm despite the sharp coil of the night wind.

  “What is it?” Mãe’s eyes penetrated hers even in the murky hour before moonrise. “When you come before Artemis, you cannot doubt her.”

  Mãe knows me so well. Eva glanced down at their clasped hands, unable to look at her mother.

  “You have to stay strong. The Goddess has very few followers left in the world. Certainly none that I know of among the Azoreans, save my mother, and she herself was guided into the old ways by a pagan traveler from Europe.”

  Eva considered this. “What will it feel like when I make my vow?”

  “It will be a sea-change. You think that you understand, that you believe. Bu
t when you give your promise, when you change your name, your belief will be just the beginning. You will be transformed. You will see with new eyes.”

  “I will turn to water?”

  “Yes, in a way. I, myself, do not fully understand how the goddess’s powers work.”

  “And this river god... Who is he?”

  “He is both a god and a man. And he will be someone different for you than he was for me.”

  “Were you afraid of him?”

  “At first.” Mãe smiled and shook her head. “But I grew to love him and I love him still.”

  “What about Pai?—”

  “You hush about Eduardo. He...” Mãe didn’t finish, but smoothed her nightgown absently.

  Eva peered at her mother. She could only wonder at her mother’s marriage to such a cold, disagreeable man.

  “I’m not sure I understand—”

  “Take your vow, Eva.” Mãe stopped her with a squeeze of the hand. “Take your new name. We’ll soon be sailing back to the Azores Islands, and there—where I was born, where you were conceived, where all of this began—your fears will pass into understanding.”

  This was some comfort. The doubt in Eva’s heart seemed to bend now, allowing her space to breathe and think and let go. And she did breathe, deep and full. Then she struck a new match. The spark kindled a bit of hope in her heart as she lit the candle. Yes, she would take her name, her vow. She would accept and follow.

  She felt Mãe’s hand on her shoulder.

  “Look.”

  Eva glanced up. Though she hadn’t broken the tree line yet, the Goddess had already fired the tops of the distant maples and pines with the spindly orange flames of her moonlight.