Magpies & Moonshine

by Heather R. Blair

  One of the angels is reaching out to me, stone eyes wide open and black as pitch. “The toll has been paid.”

  Stone creaks and the rest of the statues turn their heads in tandem and smile.

  “Okay, that’s not fucking terrifying at all,” I say, my teeth chattering together.

  “The toll has been paid. One can pass through,” the statue says again. “Back into the land of the living.”

  “Toll?” I say frowning. “What does that mean?”

  But the statue falls silent, though I swear its nightmare eyes are laughing at me.

  “What do you think?” My hand is squeezing Georg’s so tightly my knuckles ache.

  “I think you’re right,” he says slowly, staring at the archway. “I think this is Styx saving you. Maybe he’s not such an asshole after all.” Then he looks down at me, those golden-brown eyes gentle as he wraps me in his big arms. “Guess it’s time to say goodbye.”

  “But I don’t want to.” I’m clinging to his shirt, trying not to cry. “I can’t.”

  “It’ll be okay, Spot.”

  He’s right.

  It will.

  Georg is a big guy, but even big guys can be taken by surprise. I bend my knees and slam my shoulder hard into his gut, my weight catching him off-balance. I go to my tiptoes, my hands grabbing his shoulders as I whisper something in his ear.

  His eyes go wide. “No. No—”

  But it’s too late. With both hands, I shove as hard as I can. Already unsteady, Georg falls back through the doorway, vanishing through the stormy barrier.

  Instantly the dark mist breaks apart. Seconds later, it’s clear. The barren, metallic landscape winks at me from the other side of the archway. I walk through the opening anyway, holding my breath. Nothing happens.

  When I come back through, that one angel is grinning at me. His teeth are serrated and bone white.

  “The gate is closed.”

  “Yeah, I can see that.” I watch as the statue’s eyes close, going white once more. All along the line of sculptures, similar black orbs wink out, one by one, until there is nothing but marble surrounding me, cold and dead.

  I’m all alone in the grey, slithering twilight.

  25

  After countless hours waiting on that beach, what I am expecting?

  Certainly not a 250-pound bruin to land in my arms. One who looks just as startled and horrified as I am.

  “Carly.” We shout her name at the same time. But Carly is nowhere to be found.

  An hour later, I’m facing him across the table in my cabin.

  I know this bruin. I’ve only met him once when he was living, and then under rather extreme circumstances. I stood between Carly and my darker half that night. But today death snatched back.

  “Tell me again what happened,” I growl at Georg Kivistö.

  “I told you. I don’t fucking remember anymore. Everything is hazy.” And getting hazier. He forgets more each time I walk him through it.

  I growl lightly, barely aware of what I’m doing until my hand is halfway across the table, reaching for his throat. The bruin knocks it aside with a growl of his own.

  “I get why you would want to kill me, I really fucking do. But having been through it once, trust me when I say I’ll tear you apart before I let you take me there again.”

  I take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “You were at the white gate.”

  “She was already looking for the gate, man. I told you that.”

  He did. But he couldn’t remember why before. The frown on his face tells me he still can’t. I swear loudly and get to my feet.

  “How come you came through and not her?” He’s told me, over and over. But I can’t accept it. I won’t.

  “We were hugging—”

  I snarl. The bruin rolls his eyes. “So not like that, man. We were saying goodbye. She was sad and then she got that stubborn look on her face. The one she gets when things aren’t right?” I know exactly what look he means, but the bruin isn’t even seeing me anymore. His voice goes quiet, struggling to remember. “Then she pivoted on me, so fast. Threw me right off-balance.”

  “Carly is half your weight, maybe less,” I snap, starting to pace again. He ignores this, his voice still a bit dazed, almost bemused.

  “She shoved me before I could recover. But she said something first.” I spin, looking down at him, holding my breath. This is new. He blinks at me, his brow furrowed. “She said, tell Styx . . .

  I slam both hands down on the table, nearly cracking it in two. “Tell me what?”

  Georg’s eyes are wide. “See you soon.”

  I’m still sitting there, staring at the archway, when someone comes up behind me. Right now, I don’t care if it’s one of those creepy-ass stone angels. I feel so out of it. Kind of flattened and pale, like I’m slowly being crushed from the inside out. I don’t know how long I’ve been here, but I think Styx’s power is finally beginning to fade. I need to get moving, but I can’t find the will.

  “You look sad.”

  “I’m in Hel, I’ve lost my best friend.” Again. “And I have a really bad feeling about a choice I just made.”

  “I can relate. Regrets are a bitch.”

  “Yeah, it sucks breaking someone’s heart.” Twice. I can’t even imagine what Styx is going to do when Georg comes through that gate instead of me.

  “Tell me about it.”

  I look up without much interest. He’s a tall man, broad shouldered, and he looks vaguely familiar. “Your lover’s?” I guess morosely.

  “No. My father’s.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I died,” he says simply.

  I blink and the reason he looks so familiar finally clicks. He looks like a younger version of Odin. Minus the scowling expression. “You’re Baldr.”

  “I am.”

  “Your father is kind of the reason I’m here.” I give him a look. “I don’t like him much.”

  He laughs. “Actually, I didn’t either.” Then he sobers, looking around the dully shining landscape around us. “Until I came here. My father has his issues, but he did love me.”

  “Oh. I can relate. My mother,” I say in response to his questioning look.

  “Parents,” he agrees.

  We’re both quiet for a while. Couple minutes, couple hours, couple days. Who knows here?

  “So, not to be rude or anything,” he continues at last, “but you don’t look like you belong here.”

  “Not really.” Though I probably will soon enough.

  “Maybe this will help.” He tosses something small at me, like a pebble. I pick it up, frowning. Charcoal.

  I lift my eyes in wonder. “How did you—” My voice cuts off. Baldr is gone. Empty grey sky swirls above me, the strange stars winking dully.

  Getting to my feet, I stumble over to the wall, looking down at the slender piece of charcoal in my hand doubtfully. There isn’t much. I squeeze it in my fist and make a wish. Then I start to draw.

  I’m a good artist, I always have been, but when I’m done, the spark of hope inside me flickers and fades. Dammit, this is the worst piece I’ve ever done.

  The sketch in front of me is more imagination than substance. I can fill in the lines and shadows because I know it so well, but nobody looking at the few streaks of black on a white wall would recognize it as a hallway. They wouldn’t see the pictures on the wall, the mirror next to the kitchen archway, the glint of light from the parlor down the . . .

  Glint of light. Making me squint.

  Sunlight.

  I lean closer to the wall, hardly daring to breathe. Then my nose brushes the brick, but there’s no brick there anymore.

  With a gasp, I fall face-first onto familiar midnight-blue carpet. For a moment, I just lie there, unwilling to move or even to breathe. Eventually, though, I have to. I lift my head to see the golden gleam of stairs winding away above me. A murmur of voices trickles down those steps, soft and low. Seph and Jett. Jack, too.
<
br />   But the smell is what really convinces me I’m home. Earl Grey and cut flowers and the late-summer air of Duluth wafting through an open window somewhere. There was no smell in Hel.

  I did it.

  I’m home.

  26

  I stumble down the hall, dazed and blissful, running my fingers over the wall to center myself, looking at the knickknacks on the wall as if I’ve never seen them before. I want to kiss each and every one.

  Then I reach the kitchen archway. Styx is sitting alone at the table with his back to me, his head in his hands. I lean there for a moment, trying to catch my breath.

  His shoulders are as wide as ever, but they’re slumped, defeated. His profile hints at a man on the edge of insanity, but he’s here. He’s real. Not like those shades that tormented me so in Hel. I can’t help but drink in the sight of him. It fills up my shriveled soul. Finally, I find my voice.

  “Got any pancakes?” I say softly, watching his spine snap straight. “I’m partial to blueberry.” His head whips around, pale hair flying until his eyes find mine.

  The look in them makes me stagger back a pace, losing my balance.

  It doesn’t matter because his arms are around me faster than lightning, that hard, carved body shaking like a leaf in a storm. For what should feel like an eternity, he holds me, but then again, an eternity wouldn’t be enough to savor this moment.

  “You did it,” he whispers, his voice ragged, when he finally pulls back to look at me. “You fucking did it.”

  “Told you so.” I smile before reaching out with trembling hands to wipe the tears off his face. Then he’s kissing me and somehow it’s hard and soft all at once. Broken and bitter and fierce and joyous.

  Then Ana walks in, takes one look and drops the platter she’s carrying with a shriek.

  A minute later, the kitchen is full.

  Styx won’t let me go, but he does allow Georg to throw an arm around me and squeeze. Then the rest of my sisters are crowding into the room, one after the other, pale faces turning bright with color and amazed laughter as I fill in the holes Georg left in our little adventure. For better or worse, Styx’s power has left me with total recall of every moment I spent in that place.

  “You kicked ass, Carly. Drawing yourself out of Hel.” Jett looks impressed.

  “I met Odin’s son, Baldr, by the way.” I twist in Styx’s arms to look him in the face. “There at the very end. He kind of saved me. Well, gave me the means to save myself. He’s changed.”

  “Hel will do that to a man.” Georg’s voice is soft, but his words carry a weight I feel all the way down to the depths of my soul.

  “And a woman.” I sigh, then snuggle deeper into Styx’s arms. “Thankfully, that is all behind us now. No more worrying about the goddamn underworld.”

  Styx stiffens at my words, but then his lips brush my hair and all I can think of is how damn tired I am. I have been awake for . . .

  “How long have I been gone?”

  Stephen clears his throat. “Just over a week.”

  I stare at him, eyes wide. “But that . . .”

  “Should be impossible, yes.” Ana glances over my shoulder. “But the bond between you and Styx sustained you far past what any normal creature could’ve endured.”

  “I think Carly needs a nap,” Styx says shortly.

  “A shower,” I correct before smiling at him. “Then a nap.”

  “Unfortunately,” Tyr walks into the room, his face tight, “there’s a god in the backyard, demanding that we turn over the Eitr.”

  But when we step into the garden, it’s not Odin we see first.

  It’s my mother, taking a long drink from a bottle with a familiar rune. But it’s not the Eitr. It’s the Ren.

  Ana screams for the second time in an hour as Mom falls to her knees. Before anyone else can move, my oldest sister is rushing forward to lower her to the grass. Tyr is on her heels, yelling for Stephen, but there is nothing the bear king can do. You can’t heal a void. My mother’s magic is gone.

  The funny thing is when she finally sits up, she’s smiling.

  “Help me up, dearies,” she murmurs. “We don’t want to keep the All-Father waiting.”

  “What is the meaning of this little production?” Odin thunders.

  Loki is lounging on a stump behind the All-Father, but the god of chaos is staring at his hands, ignoring his king’s rantings. His only reaction as my mother explains I never had the Eitr in Hel is to chuckle softly.

  When my mother tells Odin she just returned from taking the Eitr as far back in time as she could manage before taking the Ren so no one could send her back after it, there is complete and utter silence.

  For about half a second.

  “I’ll kill you all for this.” The godly rumble shakes the ground at my feet.

  “It would be a war with no point,” Styx steps forward, his expression one of hard satisfaction. Obviously, in this case, Styx approves of my mother’s actions. “The Eitr is gone now and with it your chance to create new worlds. Give up before you destroy the only realms you’ll ever have.”

  “I won’t give up. Ever.” Odin points a finger that crackles lightning at him, stepping across the lawn. “This all started with you and your kind.”

  Styx catches the bolt in midair, twisting his hand to send it back at Odin. The air in the garden begins to blacken and boil, a storm creeping over the grass, raising the hairs on the back of my arms. Ozone scents the air and both Tyr and Jett put hands on their swords.

  “Actually,” my mother steps between them, so fearless it takes my breath away, “this all started with Loki.”

  Odin stops in midstride. “What?” He glances over his shoulder. “What is she talking about?”

  Loki says nothing, but he lifts his eyes to my mother’s face, a faint smile twisting his lips.

  “Loki came to me not long after Ana was born. We were in the woods outside our little cabin. She was just learning to walk, toddling through the daisies. I was gathering herbs.” My mother closes her eyes, opens them again. “I was just learning to do magic, little things. I hadn’t caught onto rhymes yet, but I was getting stronger. We were so happy, Herne and I. I know it sounds ludicrous now, but we were.” She presses her lips together. “Then Loki showed me the future. All of you.”

  She smiles at me and each of my sisters in turn before the smile fades.

  “And all of you dead. So many ways to die. So many ways to live. But some of them so very cruel, so dark and twisted.” She takes a deep breath. “He asked if I wanted the power to change our future. All he required was that I steal something and keep it safe until the opportune moment.”

  Next to me, Styx swallows hard. My mother flashes him a look.

  “Of course I said yes,” she continues. “I desperately wanted to keep my daughters safe. I wanted you all to be happy.”

  My mother looks across to the trees where Loki is sitting motionless on the stump, and to my shock, there is pity in her gaze. “He offered me an escape from Herne, a portion of his magic. A gift, but one I’d never be able to fully conquer, especially with him stacking the deck. Isn’t that what you thought, Loki? The ability to see the future, all the possibilities of chaos. Then chaos gave me another gift—time travel, the one thing gods cannot do because they are too far outside the mortal stream. The ultimate game. You thought I would go mad. You thought that I would fail.”

  “But you didn’t,” he whispers. “You saved them all. Your daughters and fucking Asgaard and Odin, too.” He turns that electric gaze on his king. “All I have heard about for the last thousand years is Baldr and your pain. How much you want your son back. What of my children, Odin? What of them?

  “You dream of new worlds and I dream of one that can never be restored.” Odin is silent as we watch Loki get to his feet. “Of course I wanted to watch it all burn. Especially you.”

  Jack reaches for him, but Loki avoids his brother’s hand, disappearing into the mist at the edge of the woods
.

  “Shouldn’t one of you be imprisoning him for treason?” Tyr wonders aloud.

  Odin shakes his head, looking suddenly old and tired. “Loki’s prison travels with him, wherever he goes. I should understand that better than anyone. Losing a child is something one never gets over. I wish . . .” The god clears his throat before his craggy face shutters and he shakes his head. “Time for me to return to Asgaard.” Then he looks around slowly. “And I’d really prefer never to see any of you there, ever again.” His eyes land on Styx. “Particularly you.”

  With the gods gone, we start to file back into the house. Styx stops Mom at the door. “I have some questions.”

  “I imagine you do,” she waves Ana into the house and leans against the doorjamb, looking out over the gardens.

  “You put Carly in deliberate danger at least twice . . .”

  “Three times, actually,” she interrupts coolly.

  “What?”

  “Cyril was me as well. I put that bug in his ear about you long ago, when he paid a visit to the Dark Council.”

  Styx stares. “Why?”

  “I needed you careless and shaken. I had to make sure you’d expose yourself to Odin. It was imperative he discover your identity when you were with Carly.”

  “So he’d see what she is to me.” His jaw tightens.

  She nods, then gives me a chagrined look. “I had to take the risk, sweetie.”

  I shrug. “I get it, Mom. We’re good.” And we are. Mostly.

  Styx frowns from me to her. “One thing I still don’t understand. Well, two, actually.”

  “Yes?” She smiles at him as if she already knows what he’s going to say and I guess maybe she does.

  “First, witches can eat souls. How—”

  “Ah, well. I was rather fascinated with your powers, you know. I kept thinking if I could find a way to harness death, or at least consume it the way you do, that maybe I could find a shortcut to protecting my family, especially Seph. So I tasted the Eitr.” She says this last matter-of-factly. Styx’s jaw drops. “It didn’t work. I almost died, but still.” She shrugs. “Gave us a handy edge when dealing with our enemies.”