Quetzalcoatl stretched his neck side to side and cracked his knuckles—which remained at odd angles, ending in knife-like fingers.
“I’ve allowed cancer into my house once before. It destroyed an entire, glorious, civilization. I will not allow it to happen again.”
“What about your team?” Jason asked Fuyuko. “Do you think they’re on our side?”
“They will follow my lead,” she said.
Jason took note she didn’t mention their loyalty to Quetzalcoatl.
Good to know. Could be useful down the road.
“They were going to the barracks after our first meeting,” Fuyuko said. “If the commotion out here hasn’t brought them out…”
“Then something is delaying them inside,” Jason said. “We should go. The more Anunnaki on our side, the faster this will get cleared up. You men able to fight?” he asked the three remaining guards.
They snapped attention, answering, “Yes, sir,” even though he could see them wince against their bruises and possible fractures.
“Good. Let’s go.”
The barracks turned out to be the UN Plaza Hotel. Jason lived his younger years in the plain concrete confines of Suture. To him, the word barracks summoned those gray images, so he nearly turned around when stepping into a lobby with brass fixtures, lush carpets, and warm wood paneling.
“This is where your troops sleep?” he asked.
“I know,” Fuyuko said sheepishly, “a little opulent. But it’s because only the lower floors are the barracks. The upper floors with the best views are still reserved for visiting dignitaries and VIPs.”
They moved without further sound to the stairwell. Jason suppressed a shudder as the horrible visage of the Gorgon floated up from memory. Damn, he hated stairwells now.
Jason eased open the door on the second floor. A metallic smell, like the reclaimed, rusted metal panels Fenrir welded to help shield their vehicles, assailed his nostrils. He knew it was blood before opening the door enough to see butchered bodies and walls smeared red. He pulled more strength from the Veil and summoned his whip. He picked his way along the hall, trying to step on pieces of floor devoid of blood or flesh. In some places, it proved impossible.
One of the soldiers who’d come with them started gagging, finally producing a loud splash of vomit.
Fuyuko moved immediately to the man’s side, shielding him—whether knowingly or not—from Quetzalcoatl’s intolerance for weakness.
Jason recalled Wade vomiting outside a displaced walkup in a Kansas cornfield. They’d all acted like he was letting them down by being so weak. God, how they’d all envied him. Back then, Jason would’ve called swallowing his own vomit bravery or being professional. Now he understood it was as much cowardice as strength. Allowing others to see you weak required more bravery than hiding it.
“Go back to the stairs,” Fuyuko said to the man. “Guard our backs—it’s important.”
She emphasized the last two words. Jason wondered if it was more for the man’s own benefit, or for Quetzalcoatl’s.
The guard nodded weakly, but his expression seemed more determined. Jason imagined it took him a great deal of effort to not run back out the stairwell door.
Fuyuko moved closer to Jason.
“You don’t think this is another Veil beast like the Gorgon, do you?”
He nearly laughed at how closely their minds worked, even after all these years apart.
“I had been,” he said, “But I think this is the work of an Anunnaki. Veil beasts usually feed off their victims somehow—be it energy or blood. This is too wasteful by their standards. This is slaughter just for the joy of it.”
“How could anyone take joy in this?”
Ask your heart ripping boss, Jason thought. If he could’ve kept his own bloodlust in check, we probably wouldn’t be in the middle of this shit.
Jason just shook his head in response.
“How many floors of barracks?” Jason asked.
“There’s two more above us,” Fuyuko replied. “But we’ve hardly checked this floor.”
“We should go up to the top floor. There’re no sounds of fighting here, and if there was something going on above our heads, we’d probably hear something.”
“I agree,” Quetzalcoatl said. “We’ll open the door on the next floor, but I’m going to guess it will be similar.”
Jason nodded, his mouth drawn into a grim line.
They returned to the stairs and moved to the next level. Fuyuko reached to open the door when sounds of yelling and scuffles came from above them.
They charged up and burst through the door, weapons at the ready.
A similar scene to the first floor greeted them, but sounds of conflict came from further down the hall.
Quetzalcoatl flew ahead of them, his mouth widening and two large fangs filling the space between his upper and lower jaw.
Jason fought the urge to use his whip to pull the Ageless One back.
You’re no good to me dead.
But if Quetzalcoatl was revealing this face, it meant danger for anyone who got in his way.
Down the hall, around a blind corner—Quetzalcoatl didn’t even slow.
How long do you have to live before you think you can’t die? Jason wondered.
Jason didn’t slow his pace around the corner either, but he crouched lower to the ground, positioning himself behind Quetzalcoatl—the Ageless One could probably survive a blow that would kill Jason.
The two threw themselves against opposite walls as a body crashed down the hall, smacking against the wall with a sickening series of cracks.
Oh God, no!
Standing tall, his shoulders back and low, stood Kydoimos.
Sour knots twisted in Jason’s gut. He hadn’t seen this Einherjar since they’d escaped Valhalla seven years ago. Reflexively, he slapped his hands against his ears, protecting them against the man’s sonic assault. But Kydoimos didn’t seem to be bothering. He just stood facing the forces aligned against him—a maniacal grin spread across his thin, angular, face.
He wore the same security uniform as Hildy—Quetzalcoatl’s special forces. It was dyed almost entirely in differing hues of red and brown—dried and fresh blood.
“Homados,” Quetzalcoatl roared, “what do you think you’re doing?”
The man Jason knew as Kydoimos turned to look at them both. When he saw Jason, his smile widened.
“Two birds for the price of one trip,” he said. “My boss will be so pleased.”
“He’s an Einherjar,” Jason said, “Woten’s chosen army.”
Kydoimos gave a slight bow toward Quetzalcoatl, grabbing an approaching guard with his outstretched hand and snapping the man’s neck.
“I’m so glad you all showed,” Kydoimos said, tossing the lifeless body aside. “I was getting so bored dealing with these weaklings.”
A dagger of ice sliced down the hall, cutting through Kydoimos’ cheek.
He ran his fingers through the blood trickling down to his chin, inspecting them with the curiosity of one who never saw his own blood.
“Impressive,” he said. “It moved so fast, I wasn’t able to dodge it entirely. My compliments, Eternal Winter.”
Fuyuko stood several feet behind Jason, her shoulders heaving slightly with each breath.
“A god, a nuisance, and a frightening prophesy,” Kydoimos said. “Woten will be most pleased when I present your heads.”
Gunfire filled the hall.
“No,” Jason yelled. “Get back.”
With an unimpressed chuckle, Kydoimos phased out of sight. Jason spun, willing the barbs on his whip to flatten, and for it to grab hold of Fuyuko, pulling her back to him.
An iron hammer, tapered from the blunt killing edge into an elegant branch motif, smashed through the space where Fuyuko’s head had been. The two remaining guards were already dead.
Kydoimos moved so fast, he seemed to glide along the floor as opposed to running.
Plaster and wooden
splinters rained on Fuyuko and Jason as they rolled away from the hammer’s strike.
A mix of hissing and human scream sounded Quetzalcoatl’s attack. Taking advantage of Kydoimos’ pause while his hammer imbedded itself in the wall, the self-appointed god slashed at the Einherjar’s midsection—a small trickling of blood spattered on the mangled wall.
Crack.
Kydoimos took the slash but rolled aside so his hammer came loose from the wall, right into Quetzalcoatl’s head. A fountain of red trailed after the god as he flew backward from the blow. The wall he struck didn’t stop him and he plowed into the room beyond.
Hailstones the size of golfballs filled the hall where Kydoimos stood. Fuyuko braced herself against the wall to keep upright.
The crazed embodiment of war stood against the storm, laughing with outstretched arms as the hail pelted his body.
Dammit, that slide took too much out of her, Jason thought. She’ll be out of juice soon.
Risking a glance to where Quetzalcoatl landed, he saw the man’s chest rising and falling, but his face was a red pulp.
“I had really been hoping for more of a challenge,” Kydoimos said. “You three are greatly disappointing me.”
While the hail seemed to do little to the man himself, it started to fray and tear his clothes.
His arm…he’s not a Script?
Jason couldn’t make out the number of runes dancing across Kydoimos’ arm, but it clearly didn’t cover the entirety. A deep breath failed to calm his trembling limbs.
I must. We’re all dead if I don’t.
“Fuyuko, don’t stop. Just hold on a little longer.”
Pouring as much power as the Veil would provide into his legs, he ran, plowing into Kydoimos, grabbing the man around the mid-section.
“Come to embrace your death?” Kydoimos asked.
Jason ignored him, ignored Fuyuko yelling for him to get clear. Any second now, Kydoimos would try to snap his neck, or bring that damned war hammer down on his back. But a second was all he needed—just an extra fraction of a second to finesse a second-nature action.
“Huh?”
It was all Jason needed to know he’d succeeded. He threw himself away from Kydoimos and kept walking backward.
“What the hell did you do?” Kydoimos roared.
A loud snap silenced the mad man. His feet drew up an inch from the floor toward his bellybutton. At the same time, his upper body compressed downward—snapping his spine. Limbs went limp and his eyes blanked.
“What did you do?” Fuyuko asked.
Jason couldn’t answer. Because what he’d done hadn’t finished yet.
With cracks, snaps, and pops that caused aches in his own body, Jason watched Kydoimos crush up and down into himself. When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he tore a hole in the Veil and shoved what was left into it.
The sounds of Kydoimos’ body had covered Fuyuko’s gagging.
Yeah, I did that the first time, too.
“What the fuck was that?” she said through her dry heaves.
Jason didn’t look at her—his eyes remained glued to where Kydoimos had stood.
“I did what Anunnaki do. I tore a hole in the Veil.”
“That was not what Anunnaki do.”
“Yes, it is,” Jason said. “We tear holes in the Veil so we can vanquish our enemies. I tore a hole in the Veil. I just did it inside of him. He was a Fragment—he couldn’t close the tear a Script, I, created.”
From the nearby room, Quetzalcoatl moaned.
“We should tend to your boss,” Jason said. “I still need him.”
24
Resonance
“The Norns said Odin learned the meaning of the runes after hanging on the tree,” Gwynn said.
“Mhmm. But there is a difference in how you interpret ‘learned the meaning.’”
Gwynn stared at the line of runes circling Sophia’s hand and continuing up the stump of his right arm.
“Pridament said they were the instructions of creation,” Gwynn said.
He imagined flexing his right hand and forming it into a fist, so he could see the runes dance and skip across his flesh. As if reading his mind, Sophia’s hand mimicked his imagined motions. Outside the Veil, the runes looked like scars carved into his skin. He could discern their movements and shifts, especially when he was accessing the Veil. But here, they glowed like someone had painted them on their flesh with glowing paint. Even their shapes, which seemed so angular and sharp, seemed to flow like calligraphy.
Sophia giggled.
“A little romanticized, but he’s not far off. Consider the different ways Anunnaki manifest their powers. You know some who heal, shift rocks, or move at incredible speeds. They’re able to do those things because they resonate with those aspects of the world. Basic elementary school science teaches us all things in the physical universe are composed of the same basic building block. The earth you walk on, blood and healing properties within the body, even the air you breath, are all composed of the same things as your own body and mind.”
She opened her right hand and the runes shifted into different patterns. For a moment, Gwynn thought he saw something familiar in their shapes.
“These runes,” Sophia said, “aren’t a written language. Yes, Odin delivered those types of runes to the Nordic people, but his understanding of Anunnaki runes was different. He couldn’t read them, per se, but he understood they weren’t just things carved into his flesh. They were outward manifestations of a process occurring within his own body. These instructions told the world around him what he held a mastery over—as if God stamped him with an official seal. The Veil supplies the power, but the runes, the composition of your own mind and body, control the effects.”
The darkness surrounding them began to soften with a hazy green glow coming from the walls. As he looked closer, Gwynn saw this wasn’t just a light, but the glow of millions of runes, coursing along the interior of Yggdrasil.
“There’s so many,” he marvelled.
“This,” she nodded over his shoulder toward the runes, “is the script of creation. All the instructions for the workings of the universe and every song shaping the behavior of each living thing. This is the closest thing I know of to God. It doesn’t hate or love, there is no judgement, there’s only creation and beauty.”
His mind raced at the possibilities of what contact would feel like.
“Go ahead,” Sophia said. “It’s part of why you’re here.”
A chill ran through Gwynn, his nerve twisting into a knot in his stomach.
“What will it feel like?” he asked.
“There’s only one way to find out. Don’t worry, I won’t leave you.”
They glided toward the stream of runes. Gwynn reached a tentative hand outward and eased it into the current. His body went straight and rigid as the sensation of cold water poured over, and then into, his hand, up his arm, and filled his body from the center outward.
“Oh God,” Gwynn said through grit teeth. “It’s too much. I can’t contain it all.”
Sophia pressed her right hand into the stream. Instead of being filled to the point of bursting, it changed to a current, rushing in his left arm, circulating through his body, and leaving through the remains of his right arm and Sophia’s hand.
“I said you would need me,” she said.
“But you’re only touching it with one hand. How is it flowing out of me but not hurting you?”
Warm lips brushed against his neck.
“Silly boy. In this place of souls, we’re as close to being one as any two can. Besides, it wants this.”
“It?” he asked. “You mean the tree—Yggdrasil?”
“Mhmm. I told you, the Veil thrives from its connection to our world. Even if the tree doesn’t actually say so, it still has a will. And that’s for you to keep the cycle intact. Now stop asking silly questions and concentrate. You’ll need what you learn here when you visit the well for your arm.”
“I wil
l be able to get my ar—”
“Shush. Concentrate. Try to feel the flow of energy and understand its meaning.”
The energy ran into his body through his hand. What was there to learn? Looking closer at his left hand, he saw the runes flowed around his hand like a rock in a stream.
“But…” He flexed his hand within the flow of runes. “It feels like…”
“Keep going,” she said.
Gwynn tried to focus on the point of contact—ignoring the rushing cold within his body.
Is it flowing into my hand?
“It’s not, is it?” he said aloud. “But if it’s not flowing into me…”
The sensation wasn’t dissimilar to tearing the Veil. To his mind, he’d always envisioned the energy of the Veil flowing into him. But what if that wasn’t true? What if contacting the Veil just awakened something inside him?
“The runes in the tree are causing a reaction in my body—nothing is flowing into me. Which means you don’t have anything flowing out your arm back to the tree. You’re just…calming the reaction inside me?”
“Good, yes. Everything is connected. The barriers between ourselves, the Veil, and everything in our world are based on the arrangements of energy. What if I told you the sensations you’re experiencing are your own runes, or atoms, or godhood, whatever you want to call it, resonating with those of Yggdrasil?”
“But I felt it everywhere, like my whole body was filled.”
“Do you think a Fragment would feel the same thing?”
Gwynn smiled.
“I’m guessing the answer is, no. You wouldn’t ask me otherwise.”
“True,” she said. “So if your entire body is reacting to these runes…”
“Then they exist within me. And if they exist within me…”
“You can control them. Contacting the stream is awakening even the most dormant of your abilities. This is what it means to learn the runes. Test it against the tree—just by trying to alter the flow.”
He used the same technique Fuyuko taught him all those years ago—creating an image in his mind. As silly as it seemed, he envisioned his hand emitting a gust of wind—scattering the runes like a leaf blower sends leaves flying.
The runes’ motion flickered—no more than a pebble thrown in a river.
Resonance 4th Edits - Bleeding Worlds Bk 3 Page 22
