Destined (Desolation #3)

by Ali Cross

  “Please don’t bite me,” I say, because really—haven’t I had enough near-misses with vampire-bites today? “All I want is to leave with my lady.” Up until that moment I thought maybe I stood a chance with the thing, but at the mention of Helena, its eyes narrow and it hisses, a sound like air leaking from a balloon.

  The sound alone isn’t that scary, but the creature’s black glossy eyes, its rows of teeth, its sharp, angular, polished granite body give a whole new level of scary to everything around me. It sits on my chest, pressing my back into the sharp gravel of the beach. It digs razor-claws into my temples and I arch my back against the pain. It leans down and I squeeze my eyes shut, preferring to picture my lady in my last moments than to see my own reflection in the creature’s eyes.

  But with an oomph, the creature flies off of me.

  I rub at my chest, only now realizing how heavy the thing was, how it was crushing the breath out of me. I look to my left and see Desi standing there, watching me, before she whirls around, kicking out like a badass and sending three geniis scrambling across the beach.

  I feel gratitude, sure. I’m glad I’m not dead. But I’m still going to get my mistress out of here before anything happens to her, even if it means leaving Desi behind.

  I shove the boat out and scramble inside. “It’s okay, Lady. It’s all right.” She looks so trusting as she leans against the back of the boat with a small smile on her face. I want to be worthy of her trust. But while I have my face turned away from the beach, watching my lady’s face for any sign of displeasure—or to hear her speak a word of love to me—something rocks the boat forward, then brutally back.

  “What the—”

  A line of genii have hooked themselves together and are pulling us back toward the beach. I look in the boat for any kind of weapon, but there are only pillows and champagne glasses. I grab up the bottle and smash it over the head of the genii closest to me, but it only bares its teeth.

  “Disgusting creatures,” Helena says.

  “Disgusting creatures!” I scream.

  “Get them! Don’t let them get away!” Ophelia’s jumping and screeching on the beach, cheering her little freaks on. Desi plows into her side and a great big smile splits my face in half—maybe Desi isn’t so bad.

  “Let go you little freaks!” I try prying the genii’s fingers off the edge of the boat, but they won’t budge. Instead the thing snaps and hisses, nicking my hand with its teeth more than a few times.

  “Just get us out of here, darling,” my lady says, her voice a low, seductive purr.

  “I will!” And oh, I will! It’s the only thing I want to do. Suddenly I see no other choice but to break the chain of genii that holds us to the shore. Desi’s no help—she only cares about Ophelia. She doesn’t care enough to save me and my lady even after all I’ve done.

  “Bitch,” Helena whispers.

  “Bitch,” I say.

  And Horonius—what good is he? He’s just a stupid dog plowing through the rock creatures like they’re bowling pins. I guess if you want something done, you have to do it yourself.

  I throw myself off the boat, landing in the middle of their chain and breaking it in half. Me and about three of the genii roll into the water—the little freaks won’t let go of me, and they’re going to pull me down.

  “Let—” the water-that’s-not-water makes me gasp from its frigid iciness, “me go!” I try to scream, but my throat is filling up with the bitter-tasting liquid. My eyes are open, stinging in the red water, but I can’t see a thing. I can feel the rock creatures latched onto each wrist and one of my ankles. I thrash and kick, but the things hold fast, dragging me out into deeper water.

  My chest burns. I want to breathe. Need to breathe. But I’m far beneath the surface now and I suddenly find I’m too tired to fight anymore. I gasp, swallowing down more of the red liquid. Needle-sharp pinpricks blossom over my thigh. But it seems I’m beyond feeling now. After all, what’s a little more pain when pain has become your whole existence?

  I can’t figure out how I got here, why I’m sinking with weights attached to my arms and leg. The last thing I remember is calling for the Ferryman—my eyes fly open as I recall her beauty, gliding forward in her glass boat. Her red, luxurious hair. Her pale skin and the glimmering gown she wears that leaves little to the imagination. I remember how I felt when I saw her, how I only wanted to love and protect her.

  But now . . . I can’t remember why.

  Because it’s Miri I love. Her messy blond hair, her to-die-for eyes. I picture her now. My eyes close, my body sinks, and I hold Miri close to my heart.

  I backhand Ophelia across the face, sending her tumbling to the ground. She tries to lift herself, looking around wildly for her little minions—and finds them indisposed. Most have been tossed into the water by Horonius, and those that haven’t are busy trying not to be. His fury and speed in dispatching the vicious creatures are a sight to behold.

  Not something to laugh at.

  And yet Ophelia is rolling with laughter. She flops onto her back, looking up into the red-orange sky while laughter forces tears from her eyes. I stand over her, exasperated and frustrated. I both don’t want to know and do want to know what’s got her so giggle-happy.

  She gasps between puffs of laughter. “Your—” more laughter, “human.” And she succumbs to more coughing/laughing. But she’d said enough.

  I look out to the beach where last I’d seen James and Helena. The boat sits in the middle of the water, Helena reclining against the back of it. She holds a glass of golden liquid in her hand. When she sees me, she raises the glass as if in a toast.

  James is not in the boat.

  I watch her face, see the moment she knows I’ve realized I can’t see him. With deliberateness she tips her glass and pours it into the river.

  The river.

  A quick glance around the beach confirms what Helena has suggested. James is not on the beach. He is not on the boat.

  James is in the river.

  I don’t think—there’s no time for thought. I dash past Ophelia. She reaches out and grabs at my ankle, but I kick her face, knocking her unconscious. My leg free, I dash for the water. I rush out as far as I can before diving in, forcing my eyes to stay open, my mouth to stay shut even though the blood water is colder than cold, as frigid as the vast emptiness of space I’ve lived in for the past eternity.

  At first I see nothing, my vision clouded by the murky red. Something bristly brushes against me and I jerk, only to bump against something else at my other side. As they pass me they take shape and I see them for what they are—soul eaters. Dozens of them. All swimming lazily toward the same destination.

  All ignoring me.

  I don’t have the luxury of questions, besides, I know I won’t like the answers. So I dive after the soul eaters, following the creatures down, down, down, hoping they’ll lead me to James.

  My lungs are burning, my legs and arms growing weak, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop.

  Finally—there—I see a large mass resting on the bottom of the river. Soul eaters are everywhere, undulating as if they are one body, one mind. I thrust myself between them, pull them back, throwing them away as best I can with my ever-weakening arms. Flashes of light pop before my eyes. I don’t have much time left—but James has none.

  I see him then, unmoving, his eyes closed, mouth open, the soul eaters tugging his body to and fro. I grab him by his shirt and start pulling upward, kicking off the genii who still cling to him. At least three soul eaters are suctioned to his body, but I ignore them. There’s no time.

  Above me, I see the shape of the boat outlined in the water. I can even see Helena’s legs through the glass. I thrust James upward, shoving him, kicking with all the strength I have left. To my shock and relief Helena helps pull him out of the water. But when I reach up and grab onto the edge of her boat, she digs her long fingernails into the back of my hand.

  “You are not welcome,” she hisses. She deepens th
e dig and though I try to resist, I finally jerk my hand out from under her. She smiles and leans back, smoothing James’ hair from his face.

  “Don’t just let him die!” I scream. Red fluid fills my mouth and I have to spit it out before I can add, “Save him!”

  I tread water five feet away from them, feeling helpless, useless. What’s the point? What’s been the point in any of it?

  My legs are so tired. I stop moving and feel myself drifting downward until I kick, kick, kick again. A dog barks behind me—Horonius is perched on a rock that protrudes from the middle of the river. When I look back at her, Helena is pulling a soul eater off of James’ body. She grimaces as she tosses it into the water.

  Horonius barks again. A splash, then the dog tugs on the back of my shirt.

  What’s it all been for?

  I watch as Helena yanks the last of the soul eaters from James’ body. Watch as she pulls him toward her, as he takes a breath and coughs. He’s alive! Just knowing that, knowing he’s living and breathing, even if he is lying in Helena’s lap, gives me the strength to kick and move my arms in an attempt to help Horonius. Together we make our way to the shore where he continues to drag me until I’ve scrabbled back from the frigid river water.

  “James!” I call. Let him go! I scream in my mind.

  “Oh, he can’t go with you.” Even though she’s out in the middle of the water, I hear her answer as clearly as if she’s standing next to me. Hel wraps her arms around James, one at his waist, one around his chest. I see him roll his head to the side, snuggling himself closer to her.

  “Yes, he can. Now let him go!” I’m standing at the edge of the water, screaming, crying. This can’t be happening!

  “I don’t want to go with you, Des.”

  I choke on the tears that clog my throat. “Yes, you do. What about Miri?”

  “What about her? She’ll be okay. She’s just a kid—she’ll understand that I need to be with a real woman for a change.”

  Fury burns through me, rapid, all-consuming. Father would be proud.

  To Helena I say, “You said you only needed him to do something for you.”

  “Oh, I do,” Hel says.

  “Then tell him what it is, so he can do it and we can get out of here.”

  “I don’t want to leave,” James says.

  Hel looks down on him, her face actually managing a sweet expression of tenderness. “He’s happy here for the moment. When I tire of his company, he’ll perform his chore. And when he’s completed it—if he completes it—he can go back to Midgard.” She runs her fingers through his hair, teasing it up into spikes. James rolls his head back onto her shoulder and groans with pleasure. “If he even wants to.”

  I step into the water and point at Hel. “He better want to. Or I will kill you.”

  Helena laughs and James laughs with her. I stare in horror at the scene, wishing I could erase it from my memory. Wishing I didn’t have to tell Miri I’d left him here—like this.

  “Just get outta here, Des.” James closes his eyes as Hel’s hands roam all over him.

  “Young Mistress,” Horonius says from what seems like very far away. “We must go—now.”

  I back away from the water, fuming, desperately trying to figure out a way to save him. But the boat rocks gently as it glides toward the tunnel and I’m powerless to stop it. Hel is a goddess and I’m just . . . me.

  A Door appears, cutting through the murky air and momentarily blinding me. Horonius lunges forward, grabbing my hand and pulling me through and smack into a Remembering that feels like a sucker punch to the gut. I Remember James and my love for him. I Remember how much he had suffered at Akaros’ hands. When I step through that memory into another, it’s to Remember the way he changed his life to be worthy of Miri. The way he took care of me when Michael had gone to Hell.

  To Remember that I’d left James in Helena’s clutches with a promise I was sure he’d die trying keep.

  I stumbled into way too much brightness and fell to my knees.

  Leaving Helheimer, being released from my prison, left me with more worries and doubts than I could name. You’d imagine having an eternity to think, to reason through things or to figure out who I really was, would have left me ready for this new step—my first into a new life.

  But now I had different worries.

  No matter how much someone else loved me, wasn’t there a point at which there was no return? What right did I have to any of their forgiveness?

  Like Miri.

  Like Michael.

  Yeah, I knew James had willingly come for me, knew Michael had something to do with getting the Hound to find me. Knew that Miri had wanted James to go, to risk his life to save mine.

  But knowing all that didn’t convince my heart to worry any less.

  And now I hadn’t brought James back home with me.

  A hand reached down for me, larger than my own by at least ten sizes, and as black as night. Heimdall. His eyes gleamed and his sharp cheekbones rose high in a broad smile. I took his hand.

  He pulled me to my feet and for the space of at least ten seconds I couldn’t see, hear or feel anything else other than his arms around me, his huge heart beating beneath my cheek, the comfort of his embrace.

  I did not cry.

  And for the first time in my very long life, when he released his hold on me and stepped back, I didn’t feel inadequate. I didn’t feel like there was any ulterior motive behind his retreat. He simply made room for Odin.

  Odin stepped forward, a look of such grace and kindness on his face that all of my emotions were immediately laid bare. He reached for me, his smile for me, his eyes alight with love, his arms wide to embrace me. He offered the love of a father, the comfort of a friend. I fell into his arms.

  I cried then. Cried for Aaron who was no more. Cried for James. And cried for myself because I still had so much to atone for. I only hoped the people I loved would let me have that chance.

  “You know they will, my daughter,” Odin whispered in my ear. And I knew he was right. Knew I’d been blessed with people with the biggest hearts the worlds had ever known. They would forgive me. The real question was—

  “Can you forgive yourself?”

  I shook my head, annoyed that I’d thought of myself—again I was selfish, always selfish. “It doesn’t matter—James. Helena has James.”

  Odin frowned, his brow furrowing, his expression hardening. “I feared as much.” He turned away from me for a moment, like he needed to gain control over his emotions before he could talk to me. “She has ever meddled in my affairs—” He closed his eyes and when he opened them again, he had returned to his normal, kind self. He gave my arms a small squeeze. “James is strong. He has survived much, even before he met you,” he added. “I have hope that he will yet be returned.”

  Odin pushed me out to arm’s length and made a show of taking a good look at me. I tried to let his peace soften the edges of my guilt. It didn’t really work.

  “My daughter, you don’t have to carry the weight of the world.”

  Yeah, cuz the weight of all my sins is a lot heavier, I thought to myself with a snort.

  Odin chuckled and pulled me back into his embrace. I felt his joy radiating outward until it became my joy. He filled me with thoughts of Aaron, helped me remember the light he’d shared with me—and that’s when I realized—we weren’t alone.

  Horonius stood outside the wheelhouse, beside a Valkyrie warrior, her arm in a shield and her other hand on the hilt of her sword. All around us Valkyries and Gardians stood, arm to arm. We were surrounded.

  I was surrounded.

  My blood ran cold as I straightened and pulled out of Odin’s grasp. I tried to convince myself that any punishment he chose to impose upon me was deserved. Even if it meant an eternity in prison, I would deserve it. But the warriors’ eyes were fixed to my right, to a swirl of light that grew between a pair of columns.

  “The Doorway opens,” Heimdall said from near the well.
He held his horn to his lips and blew—though I could not hear it.

  Everyone tensed. Steel rang out like the sighs of the wind as swords were drawn and arrows notched.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  Odin handed me the sword from his waist and pulled another from his Halo. “I fear we may be at war,” he said, his eyes trained on opening Door. “There have been some developments on other worlds that lead us to fear there may be dark days ahead.”

  Before I could respond, the Door coalesced out of the blackness of space, ripping a brilliant multi-colored portal into the wheelhouse. Fahria stormed out. Even though her sword sat in the scabbard at her waist she had the feel of war about her, her face burning with fury. She strode right up to Odin, a dozen or so Valkyries streaming out of the Door behind her.

  “My liege,” she said, placing her fist over her heart, but not kneeling. “Our fears have been confirmed.”

  Odin said nothing, only nodded. He put his arm over my shoulder and when I met his eyes I saw something different than I expected. I saw hope. Compassion. And other tender feelings I didn’t dare name.

  Fahria shifted her glare from Odin to me. Her fierce expression faded as she too looked at me with expectant hope—like she thought I would do something for her. But I was no savior—I could still feel the cold burning of Soloman’s ring on the finger I no longer had. Proof that I’d never be free of the darkness that was a part of me. I opened my mouth to say so, when Fahria stepped to the side.

  Behind her, the Valkyries formed parallel lines, leaving a walkway between me and the Door. And there, stepping out of the rainbow light of the Bifrost, came Michael.

  My heart lurched into a new rhythm, my words caught in my throat. Every single cell of my being focused on him. On the way he hung his head. The way he released the hilt of his sword as he swung his arm forward, about to step into a long stride—and the way he looked up and froze.