Okay, without Styx, it’s pretty fucking horrible.
Mostly because I keep seeing things. I recognized right off they weren’t real. But even when you know you’re hallucinating, it’s scary. I thought I was pretty well-adjusted for a witch, especially considering my family history, but here . . . this place uses your mind against you.
In horrible ways.
Styx forms in front of me. Again. Version number 7.0.
The way he looked when I left him. Angry. Devastated.
Betrayed.
I ignore him, walking on. But then he’s blocking my way.
Reluctantly I raise my eyes.
The pain in his face is worse than the anger. It snips at my heart, making it bleed in a dozen more places. “I’ll never forgive you. Never,” he whispers.
“It hurt more the first half dozen times,” I yell after his disappearing form. But the shadow is already gone. With a sigh, I decide it’s time for a break. I’ve no idea how long I’ve been walking. Hours? Days?
Forever.
I’ve not only seen Styx, but other shades as well. My father. That damn duke. Even the men whose souls I ate. I know none of it is real. But despite my shouted bravado, it hurts.
It hurts so much.
A tree forms at my back and I glare at it, expecting to see it covered in thorns or fire ants. After careful inspection it appears to be just a tree. I lean against it but don’t close my eyes. I’m not tired, not exactly. Just . . . soul weary. Like the air itself is draining my energy breath by breath.
Loki’s warning comes to mind and I push away from the tree. I may not be doing his bidding, but I still don’t have time to waste.
Another shadow forms up ahead before I can take a step. I brace myself again. This is a big shadow, bigger than even the Styx shadows. I cock my head, getting slowly to my feet, squinting.
A big and familiar shadow. I hold my breath as he approaches, bracing myself for more rage and pain, but I can’t look away. I don’t even try. Long hair brushes broad shoulders, lips curving in a smile that is both wicked and boyish. My hands clench at my sides as a sob catches in my throat.
It can’t be, but it is. Big golden-brown eyes look down into mine, crinkling at the edges in a way that is both happy and sad.
“Hey there, Spot.”
Georg.
I fly at him. He could be another awful hallucination but I know he’s not. I just know.
The former king of the bruins is very big and I am small, but he staggers when I leap into his arms. Then he laughs, that familiar rumble that vibrates from his chest all the way down to my toes. He hugs me hard and tight, though not as long as I would like.
Instead he stiffens and puts me away from him gently before giving me a stern look. “You’re not dead,” he says gruffly.
“No,” I agree. “Not yet. It’s a long story.”
“What the hell’s going on up there these days, anyway?”
I shake my head. “You don’t want to know.”
He laughs again, but a shadow flits across that handsome face. “You’re probably right. Why don’t we skip the gossip for now and you tell me exactly what you’re doing here.” His gaze rakes me from head to heels. “The living aren’t meant for this place.”
“I know. Here’s the short version.” And I outline things as quickly and succinctly as possible.
When I’m done he leans back. Between one blink and the next, there’s a tree behind him to match mine. My eyes widen, but Georg has begun to speak.
“So the you-and-Styx thing is for real.” He rakes his hands through his long brownish-blond hair, frowning. “I’m not sure that’s wise.”
“It’s also not up for debate.”
“There’s that stubborn streak you usually hide so well.” He sighs and gives me a sidelong look. “You know, most of that night is muddled, but I remember him bringing me here. Your Styx. From what I hear, he doesn’t use his human form much for his duties, but he used it for me, explained a bit what was happening, too. Not that I appreciated it at the time. When he left me at the gates, I tried to punch him in the face.” Georg chuckles softly, rubbing at his beard. “Didn’t even make contact.”
“Do you hate him?”
He gives me a startled look. “Why? He didn’t kill me. He was just doing what he’s made for. His purpose, you might say.”
“It didn’t . . . hurt?”
“Nah,” he says quietly. “Dying didn’t hurt, Carly. Though other things did.”
I don’t say anything, wishing he wouldn’t. But knowing that he will. After a moment, the question I’ve been waiting for comes.
“How is she?”
I swallow. “She misses you. She’ll always miss you, but she and Jack . . . they’re meant to be. It’s all good now between them. Really good. They saved each other.”
“Did they? I’m not actually surprised.” Georg nods to himself, looking unexpectedly thoughtful. “You know, there is a lot of time to think down here. I mean, a fucking lot. I don’t know that I spent too much time doing that before. I was more of an action kind of guy.”
I laugh softly. “I’d have to agree with you there.”
He smiles and reaches over to tug one of my curls. Then he sighs again. “I loved your sister for so long.” He stares at the upside-down stars. “It’s not in bruins to change their minds. Fickle, we’re not. I always knew Seph didn’t love me the way she did him, but I could never resist a challenge.” He chuckles, the sound echoing oddly over the dull landscape until it dies away completely. “But you know what really sucks? I keep wondering if I missed my true mate, fighting for someone else’s. Regret is one helluva bitch, Spot.”
I can’t help it. I reach over and take his hand. He looks down as if in surprise, then squeezes my fingers with a wry smile. “Of course it hardly matters now. No mates for the dead.”
My heart aches, but I have no words so I squeeze a bit harder. I know Mom can’t save everyone, that some sacrifice is inevitable. I’ve always believed she does the best she can, but right now, it seems wrong. Georg lost so much at the hands of my family, intentionally or not.
He sighs and pats my hand. “It’s okay. It may not sound like it just now, but I’ve made my peace with death.” Then he gives me another sidelong look and a twisted smile. “Speaking of, I suppose you think you and Styx are as fated as your sister and Jack Frost.” He looks grumpy now, brows drawing together. “Despite what he is.”
“Yes, I do.” I smile at him brightly, trying to lighten the mood. “Dating Death isn’t so bad once you get used to it.”
“He’s not really Death though, right? I mean, like not literally.”
“No. He’s kind of a god. But not like Odin. He’s . . .”
“He’s fucking dangerous.” That brotherly tone of warning is back.
I frown at him. “So is Jack. So is Stephen, for that matter. Tyr. You.”
“Hold up.” Georg straightens against his tree. “Who the hell is seeing Tyr?”
“Ana.”
“Gods. Is every woman in your family completely mental?” He lifts a hand. “Don’t answer that.”
“Maybe we just like a challenge.”
He laughs, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’ll be one, getting you out of here without ending the world. I assume you have a plan.”
“Umm. I did. Or I thought I did, but I’m having a hard time finding what I need. I need a place where I can draw. Like a wall, or anything solid and real that won’t disappear out from under me.”
“Why, you think you can paint your way out of Hel?” His thick eyebrows pull together in that disbelieving look I came to know so well. The one he gave me when I used to make him do ridiculous things in exchange for sneaking his messages to my sister.
I grin. “That’s exactly what I think.” If I can paint it, that means I can make a link, and with a link . . .
Magic is a two-way street.
“Oh gods, Spot. That’s not a plan. That’s insanity served up on a plate.”
“Maybe. But it’s my only shot at getting home.” I know damn well Loki has to have a plan to keep Styx out of Hel long enough for me to do his bidding. And even though I managed not to bring the Eitr by some clever wording and a bit of magic, the realms are still screwed if I die. Loki was right, Styx will go full-on nuclear if I die in here.
So the plan is simple. Don’t fucking die.
I look at Georg and cross my fingers. “Tell me there is a place like that somewhere in here?”
He shakes his head. My heart tumbles to my toes, but then he frowns. “Maybe I saw something that might work,” Georg says slowly. “Once. Finding it again won’t be easy.”
“Of course not.” I get to my feet and hold out my hand. “Where would be the fun in that?”
23
The way to the underworld is blocked.
I step away from the gates, catching sight of Hel in her tower. She looks sad, her long black hair a waving curtain over dim, purple eyes. Then he steps in front of her.
Odin, with Loki at his side.
“How does it feel?” the All-Father calls out. “To be kept from the one you love above all others? To be helpless to do nothing but wait and endure? Give me the Eitr, Fenrir, and I’ll let you in.”
Behind Odin, swirling eyes of chaotic blue meet mine in unmistakable smugness. Obviously, Loki thinks the Eitr is in Hel already, and just as obviously, he’s playing Odin like a damn flute.
I don’t trust Odin to let me in even if I do give him the Eitr, which would only expose Carly’s treachery to Loki. Nothing I do here can lead to anything good. I need to think.
With a curse, I turn my back on the crooked tower.
Odin’s taunts follow me to the end of the scorched earth, to the boundary between Hel and Earth, and then I’m falling up through the water once more, Tyr still at my side.
Tyr blinks, then looks down at himself, then back at me, puzzled. “How come we’re not wet?”
“Because it’s the underworld. You can die, but you don’t get wet, dirty or hungry.”
“Well, that’s something,” he mutters.
I glare at him, knowing he’s thinking about Carly. “You think so? Yes, it’s true, souls have no physical bodies, so the underworld’s traps are all mental. You ever been kept up all night because your mind won’t stop sifting through every mistake you’ve ever made? Every regret?”
He doesn’t answer because he doesn’t have to. Tyr is an assassin. I imagine he’s had nights he wouldn’t live through again for all the gold in the Inferno Palace.
“But Carly,” he says softly, “is not like me or you.”
“That’s the only thing giving me hope she’s still alive.” I stomp into my boots. “Let’s go. I want a word with Oriane.”
Oriane looks no worse the wear for having been kidnapped. She sits on the couch, watching me. She didn’t protest when I told everyone to leave the room, though Jett and Ana certainly did.
Seph, the only one here who considers me a friend, didn’t vocalize her concerns, but I saw the flash of fear in her eyes as she hesitated at the door. Smart girl; I am no one’s friend tonight. The beast boils just beneath my skin, furious and desperate to save our woman.
But Oriane just calmly waved a hand and told them to go. Now the matriarch of the Gosse clan watches me as if she can see my true form and isn’t in the least fazed.
She doesn’t even blink when I hold up the Eitr.
“My daughter is a clever woman.”
“Except where she trusts you. You set her up. Again.” I’m seething.
“No, Styx,” she says gently. “Loki truly did kidnap me. I’m not entirely sure he would have carried out his threat of murder, but who knows? He is very close to losing and he must know that.”
“Losing what?”
“Everything.” She smiles, but it’s a sad smile. “I wish I could tell you the whole story, but it will come out soon enough. Right now I just need to know one thing: How much do you love my daughter?”
I hold up the Eitr, my hand shaking. “Enough to destroy the realms for her. Just like Loki wants.”
Her lips press together and she seems to gather herself before she speaks. This is not the flibbertigibbet everyone speaks of. This is an incredibly focused and powerful woman who reminds me all too keenly of her daughter. “Destroying the worlds while she is in them won’t help, Styx. She refused to take the Eitr with her into Hel because she didn’t want to take the chance of that happening. You need to honor her choice. Give the Eitr to me.”
I laugh, staring at her incredulously.
“She believes in us both, you know. She always has.” Her smile is sad. “I’ll keep it safe while you do what needs to be done.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The solution is not to get you into Hel, it’s to get Carly out. So, I’ll ask another question. How much do you—”
I swear so loudly Oriane flinches. “There is no limit to my love for Carly. I told you—”
“No, Styx. I’m not asking about love this time. How much do you trust her?”
I blink.
Oriane’s eyes bore into mine. “Do you trust her with everything you are? Trust her to save not only herself, but you, too?”
Then I get it. I don’t know how she knows, but I finally get it. Our eyes lock and she holds out her hand.
Minutes later, I’m headed back to my cabin. There’s only one option I have left. I told Carly before that other than myself, there is no path out of Hel.
I didn’t exactly lie about that, but there is a backdoor to the underworld. A failsafe, you might say. I didn’t make it. My people did long, long ago. They did it because they’re selfish, just like Odin. There is a catch, of course: it’s a one-way door. Nobody can go in, but a single soul can come out. For a price.
And I’m the only one left on this plane that can pay it.
I have to skirt the edges of both realms to get there. There is a single ugly gargoyle guarding a lone archway to nowhere, in the middle of nothing. It stirs as I approach, grinning evilly.
“Well, this is a pleasant surprise. Company at last.”
“Unfortunately for you, I’m not in a socializing mood.”
I’ve never seen stone pout, but this guy does a helluva job. “Let me guess, you want me to let someone out.”
“Yes.” I hold the stone eyes, my gaze steady. “I agree to the terms.”
“Very well.” Your life force is immense. We will enjoy eating you.
My stomach knots at the icy voice in my head. My people are not the only race that hungers for energy. There are others, older and colder and far more vicious. I force a sneer. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“Yes,” the stone laughs. “First, she must find the gate. Would you like to see?”
I lean forward, full of fear and longing, and there she is, a vision projected onto the mist gathering in the gateway.
Carly looks tired and drawn, but determined. The jut of her chin makes me smile and I reach out my hand, but someone calls her name and she turns, her body fading away. I try to hold on, but it’s like trying to catch the mist. Just a final toss of red-gold curls, then she’s gone.
When I turn around, the gargoyle is stone once more, a smirk frozen forever on his smug face.
Less than a half hour later, I crawl back onto the rocky beach below my cabin. All I can do now is wait.
And hope she makes it to the gate before the magic we share runs out.
24
“Ugh.” I shudder. We’ve been wandering for what feels like forever, but we finally made it.
Only I don’t like it.
What looks like a white brick road stretches away in front of us. It’s like a photo-negative cut-scene from The Wizard of Oz. That would be creepy enough even without the wicked witch and her monkeys, but on either side of the road are white marble statues. Dozens of them. Cherubs drawing their bows and gods with tiny penises and angels with outstretched wings.
“Don’t blink.” Georg says with an unexpected grin. He rolls his eyes at my shocked look. “Oh come on, between you and your sister I think I’ve seen that episode of Doctor Who around twenty times, give or take.”
“Are they real?”
“Realer than most things in this place,” he says, eyeing the statues warily.
“How do you know?”
“They’re always here, always the same. The only reason it was so hard to find them is because everything else moves and changes.”
“And the doorway?”
“Here.” He slides between the statues, moving gracefully for such a big guy. After a minute of following him, I can see what they’re guarding. At the end of the brick road is a huge archway. Into nothing. The landscape on the other side is exactly like the landscape here.
“What happens if you walk through it, I wonder?”
Georg shakes his head and immediately walks under the archway, making me curse. Then he walks back again, laughing at me. “Nada. I’ve no idea what it’s for. No one here seems to.”
Huh. A useless archway is an anomaly, but that’s not what I’m here for. What I need are the walls on either side of the opening. Two solid brick walls, each six feet or more in length.
“Yeah, baby,” I whisper. “Now I just need to find something to d—”
“Carly, back away.” Georg’s voice is sharp.
The archway is filling with smoke, or mist. It quickly obscures the extension of Hel on the other side until there is only a solid wall of grey.
“What in the hell?” Or Hel.
“I have no idea. It’s never done that before.” Georg looks nervous, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t like it.”
But I’m drawn forward, staring into the twisting darkness, the smell of ozone teasing my nose. When I turn back to Georg, he frowns at the smile on my face.
“What?”
“Styx.” I breathe softly. “This is Styx. I can feel it.”
“You can’t know that!” His hand latches on to my wrist. “This place fucks with your brain, Spot. You can’t trust anything.”
Then another hand brushes my shoulder, this one hard and cold. I squeal, jumping forward to latch on to Georg.
Magpies & Moonshine (Toil and Trouble Book 6) Page 13
