Gods old and dark

by Holly Lisle

  "I couldn't leave Lauren to get through this without me."

  Heyr nodded. "Love can work miracles."

  Nearby, a gate opened—softly, smoothly, making almost no ripple—and something came through. Heyr got an instant's impression of massive size, terrible power, endless intelligence, and bottomless evil. And then, as if a door had closed, nothing.

  His heart sped up, and his groin tightened and his belly knotted. Without his realization that he had called it, Mjollnir was in his hand. He knew the shape of that evil, and knew how it felt to have the weight of that intelligence aimed against him. "We're going to need a miracle," he told Pete.

  Pete looked at him sidelong, and his eyes narrowed. In an instant his weapon was in his hand, the safety thumbed off. "Why?"

  "A third Baanraak just arrived. And this one feels like the Baanraak I remember—who once nearly killed me."

  Cat Creek

  One minute Molly was sitting there trying to block out the discomfort of being so close to Lauren and Jake. The next, she was hungry.

  Hungry in a way she'd never been before, though. The life that radiated from her sister and her nephew suddenly smelled like food to her. With that much life in them, think about how much death will be in them. They owe you. You died for that little bastard, and he won't even look at you now. You gave up everything for your sister—you gave up your lover and your life and your place in a world where you belonged and where you had no pain, and she doesn't trust you enough to close her eyes while you're in the same room.

  Molly's blood burned, her belly ached, her skin tingled. She had never known hunger like this. She could taste the two of them so near her. They were incapable of reacting in time to save themselves if she chose to take them. She could not use Loki's gun against them, but she still wore Seolar's dagger at her hip. She'd changed that, had turned it into a weapon worthy of a god, and even here on Earth it would have those qualities.

  She sat on the tub, eyes still closed, and saw herself killing the two of them. Saw herself crouched over them, eyes closed in ecstasy, drinking death and feeling the power pour into her like a drug. Feeling herself expand, feeling her mind encompassing the whole of the universe through a gate of darkness.

  She was a dark god who had not yet claimed her birthright. She clutched eternity in one hand, with the whole of this world spun out before her, naked and vulnerable and ripe for the taking. And all that stood in her way if she decided to claim what was rightfully hers were two people who owed her—who had both played a part in making her who she was. What she was.

  Her hand slipped to the pommel of the dagger, and she opened her eyes, and Lauren noticed and smiled at her—a tired, worried smile. Lauren was holding Jake on her lap and rocking him back and forth, patting his back. Jake looked like he was asleep.

  Molly felt a wave of revulsion at the hunger she had just felt and at the thoughts she had just entertained. How close to falling was she?

  Too close. Too close by far. She might have slipped all the way off the edge right then, and taken her world and everyone in it with her. She could still feel the hunger gnawing inside of her. She was still looking at Lauren and Jake as if through two sets of eyes—the eyes that saw them as the family she'd always yearned for and had finally found, and the pair that saw them as nothing more than food to feed a hunger.

  Molly took her hand off the pommel of her knife and stood. "I have to go," she said. "I can't stay in here."

  She could see surprise in Lauren's eyes, but wariness, too. "What's wrong?"

  "They're trying to fight blind out there." You could have her now, the voice in her head whispered. You could have the life in her as your own, you could drink it down, you could fill yourself up with it. Molly swallowed hard. "I can locate the Baanraaks for them," she said, and her hand started inching toward the pommel of her dagger again, as if of its own free will. "Stay in here. Keep the door barred. Don't open it again, except for Heyr or Pete." She shivered as she saw herself stepping downworld, changing herself into a reasonable facsimile of Pete, and coming back for Lauren and Jake. "Maybe not even them," she said, and fought her way to the door with the hunger clawing at her, stronger and more compelling every second.

  She moved the chair, and through gritted teeth said, "Put this back the second I'm on the other side of the door."

  She heard Lauren moving behind her, standing up while still holding Jake.

  Keep going, she told herself. Keep going. Don't turn around. Don't look back.

  Behind her, all she smelled was food. All she felt was food. Yet somehow she still got through that door, and pulled it shut behind her, and stood trembling on the other side. She heard Lauren push the chair under the doorknob again and kick it into place, and kick the towel that would keep it from slipping out of place, too.

  She'd open it for you, her hunger said.

  Molly felt tears start down her cheeks. How hard could it be to do the right thing? Almost impossible.

  And it was only going to get worse.

  This…this was what the other Vodi had felt at the end. This was the moment when they had, every single one of them, found the strength to end it. They had been strong, and she was so weak. She was so hungry.

  It was only going to get worse.

  She had to die—now, and for good. She could not think of a way to get the resurrection ring out of herself; it coiled inside her body, woven through her guts. Sometimes she could feel the weight of it in there, like a tumor, like a snake waiting to strike. Sometimes she could feel it purring.

  She could not get it out. But one of the Baanraaks could. She knew which one. The one who had come with a single clear intent. He had come to kill her—to destroy her. He had no doubts; he was certain. He would not falter if presented with the opportunity; he would not at the last moment change his mind.

  He would rip the resurrection ring from her still-living body, and then he would kill her body, and the spell that bound her to the ring would be broken and she would be freed from the burdens and the pains of this existence. If she did not go on, if soulless, everything that she was and everything that she had known came to an abrupt halt, well, that seemed the best option she had. The best option she would ever have, now.

  She forced herself down the long hall toward the stairs, and the front door, and the end of her misery.

  CHAPTER 22

  Cat Creek—Baanraak of Master's Gold

  THAT WENT WELL, Baanraak thought, though not precisely as well as he might have hoped. Lauren and her child both still lived; had things gone ideally, both of them would be lying dead on the floor and Molly would be fleeing the house in horror at what she had done. He hadn't expected that best-of-all-possible outcomes, however. Molly still had too much of her past life clinging to her.

  He shared his hunger with her again, cautiously increasing the amount that he let seep through to her. He did not want to make her aware of his own presence within the corridors of her mind. His interests were best served if she truly believed she had traveled so far along the path toward the dark gods' pure state. She had fallen far enough that his hunger stirred a genuine hunger in her—and that amused him, because it so frightened her. But she was not nearly as far gone as he had convinced her.

  Ah, and she was convinced. Deliciously so. She was at that very instant launching herself toward his stupid twin-self, the one that couldn't even do a decent job of keeping himself invisible. She was going to let Stupid Baanraak have her—going to let him reach into her and rip the Vodi necklace out of her gut while she still lived, going to give herself up to him so that he might devour her and put an end to her.

  Baanraak would have enjoyed doing all of that himself, but the one who destroyed Molly was going to reveal himself to the two immortals who hunted him in the instant he tore into her. And while Stupid Baanraak didn't have the sense to stay out of the way of immortals, Baanraak the Master of the Night Watch most assuredly did. He planned to let the two immortals amuse themselves in dest
roying the other Baanraak, and while they did it, he was going to move in and take the Vodi necklace and slip quietly back to the Hub, where he could grind the thing to dust—for even though Molly would be gone for good if the necklace was removed before she was dead, the necklace could someday raise up a new Vodi, and who needed that? Baanraak preferred to cover all his bases.

  Cat Creek

  June Bug, sprawled on the floor in her bedroom, felt the change in Molly. She felt Molly's dull yearning for her own death suddenly become sharp and immediate. She opened herself to Molly's pain, and the girl's plan drove itself into June Bug's brain like a railroad spike.

  "Oh, hell," June Bug muttered, and dragged herself to a sitting position. Molly was moving fast, and one of the two…no, three…Baanraaks was waiting in the front yard for her. Neither Heyr nor Pete seemed to realize what was happening; neither of them was going to get there in time to save her.

  "Oh, hell," June Bug said again, and fought the pain and the weight of the world, and stood up.

  Cat Creek

  Through a wall of hell, Mayhem felt the end of everything coming to Cat Creek. He could see it—this darkness of death gods—blurred against a rain of war, a sleet of torture,a hurricane of genocide and starvation, and he tried to find the little thread of pure life that would give him the strength to stand and fight. He caught at it, and thought he had it, and pulled himself to his feet, heading for the mirror, and the gate; and Molly's foul hunger blindsided him and he lost the thread and went down, all the way into unconsciousness.

  For Darlene, the intimations of coming battle flowed over and through her, and she could only curl tighter into a ball and close her eyes and rock herself against the pain.

  Betty Kay tried. She made it to the closet where she kept what she called the god gun, crawling on hands and knees, blinking through the tears that blurred her sight. She managed to sling the gun over her shoulder, and crawled back to the mirror with it tangling between her arms and catching on her knees, but as she put a hand to her gate-mirror to push her way through, something slammed her back, and the green fire of the gate died. She gritted her teeth against the pain of the backlash, and retched, though her stomach had emptied long before. And eyes narrowed, she began crawling toward the bedroom door, determined to crawl all the way to the fight if that was the only way she could get there.

  Cat Creek

  Heyr drew the world's magic to him and brought his fists together with a crash that ripped thunder from the sky and slammed lightning down into the yard all around Lauren's house. He hoped the lightning would flush out one or both of the Baanraaks, but it didn't. He felt the magical surge crash all of the gates in the town, though, which was probably just as well. The magical shock wave reverberated through Cat Creek, and he felt it block both George and Betty Kay as they were getting ready to step through their gates into what would be, for both of them, certain disaster.

  If he and Pete had to fight alone, that would still be better than being weighed down by the helpless and the vulnerable, and having to constantly watch out for those who couldn't keep up.

  Cat Creek

  Lauren breathed easier when Molly was on the other side of the door. But she was still sitting there like a damsel in distress, waiting for everyone else to go down in flames to save her. That role didn't suit Lauren. There had to be something she could do—something that would let her improve the odds for the old gods, or weaken the dark gods; something that would let her fight.

  She stared at the floor-length oval bathroom mirror on its pretty oak stand. It was a little narrow for a mother holding a kid—but if she woke Jake up and held his hand and they stepped through sideways, and one at a time…

  Yeah. She knew how she could help.

  "Hey, kiddo," she said, and tousled Jake's hair.

  He woke up just a little, just enough to open his eyes and give her a sweet, trusting smile.

  She kissed the top of his head. "Come on. We're going to go do stuff." When they got where they were going, she could magic up a backpack that he could ride in, and he could go back to sleep.

  She slid him off her lap and steadied him while he stood up; he clung to her hand. She led him to the mirror, and pressed her fingers to the glass and looked deep into her reflected eyes, seeking the green fire that connected her to all the layers of the universes, and all of space, and all of time.

  And when she reached deep enough, she found the place she wanted. She touched it, and felt the pure power of it—she would be able to work with such a place. She spun the path between her and it, and then, still holding Jake's hand, she pressed against the mirror and the gate opened for her and she stepped through.

  Cat Creek

  Heyr and Pete had tracked one of their enemies to the pecan trees all the way at the back of Lauren's big lot, when something clicked softly at the back of Heyr's mind, and he froze. The front door of Lauren's house had opened.

  His blood froze in his veins. All the world's hopes lay, not just in one basket, but within one egg in that basket. And the egg had just dropped and cracked.

  "Run," he screamed to Pete, who turned with his weapon unslung and stared toward the house. The two of them pounded through the darkness, dodging trees and shrubs and scattered kid toys.

  Heyr used magic to stretch his stride, to speed his muscles, to feel ahead. But everything that lay before him was darkness—he could no more reach within the minds of the dark gods than they could reach within his; the two sides stood separated by an unspeakable abyss, and no bridge could span it. He caught the shape of Molly, out on the porch, and the second click, as the door closed behind her and the spell respun itself. He felt one of the Baanraaks unfold and move forward with terrible, certain speed.

  And then he was around the corner, in time to see the nightmare rrôn, one of Earth's mythic dragons twisted out of smoke and darkness, unveil itself beneath the yellow gleam of the porch light and reach Molly and with the delicate precision of a surgeon slice her open and rip gleaming gold and shining guts from her in a long thread.

  He heard Molly's scream and felt her pain bleed into him like knives, and the world slowed down. Heyr shouted, "Stay with Molly! Don't let her die!" to Pete, and Pete staggered toward the horror on the porch, already at his breaking point, and Heyr took off in pursuit of the rrôn who had grabbed the necklace.

  He threw Mjollnir, aiming for the monster's head, but the rrôn evaded the throw and kept running, cornering around the house with fierce speed and incredible grace. Heyr didn't understand why it was running instead of jumping through a gate, but he was grateful for the error. He tore off around the house in pursuit.

  Cat Creek

  Pete dragged himself up the stairs toward Molly, who lay gasping on the porch. She was a bloody mess, but she turned her head and stared at him and whispered, "Let me die, Pete. Please, please, let me die while I'm still me."

  He put a hand on her arm and stared into her eyes. Her pain poured into him, unbearable pain, grief that in these last minutes was fully human; he couldn't carry her pain, and he didn't dare let her die. "I can't," he said.

  Behind him, a voice whispered, "Ah, but you can. You will."

  And something ripped into him like razors. His own pain, in its immediacy and ferocity, swallowed everything else, and he twisted as he fell to find himself looking into the eyes of Hell: a shimmering rrôn, black scales gold-tipped in the porch light, a vast grinning mouth full of teeth as long as Pete's hand, gold eyes glittering with amusement.

  Pete was bound to the Earth, so he would not die. But his leg lay across the porch and his blood gushed and poured from him and the monster grinned down at him and with the splayed talons of one massive foreleg sliced across and into him, tearing him apart.

  Pete tried to find the power to heal himself, to pull everything back together, but the magic he could reach and use was too sparse, too tainted. He could keep himself alive, though he did not want to, but pain was his everything.

  And then green
fire erupted behind the Baanraak that bent over him, and a golden-haired goddess—an avenging angel or one of Heyr's Valkyries, and yet somehow off-kilter—strode out of the mouth of Heaven wielding a sword that glowed with blinding fire and bearing a silver shield. He knew her, Pete thought, though he knew just as clearly that he had never seen her before in his life. Perhaps she was the last image dying warriors saw before they breathed their last. Or the first they saw after they died. Either way, he was okay with it. And then she tore into the rrôn, who twisted, breathing fire, and lunged at her.

  The Valkyrie laughed, turned the fire back on him with her shield, and swung her sword, and the back half of the monster's tail was off. She took a step forward, and Pete realized that she was getting bigger—that she was easily as tall as the rrôn and still stretching upward, and she swung the sword again, and ripped one wing from him.