The Radiant was unmoved, waving a hand dismissively. “The affairs of the unattuned have nothing to do with me. My duty is to the Aurora alone. I’ll hardly put our temple and our way of life on the line for something we have no stake in.”
Icy numbness bled into Marius’s limbs. “So, what? You’re going to let the world fall around us? You’ll let the Gloaming take this city just as they took Anster? Then nothing would be left for us to protect. Would Tyr—”
“Don’t,” the Radiant exploded suddenly, slamming his hand on the desk, “presume to tell me what Tyr would want. My ancestors have worshiped him for thousands of years, Marius. How long have your ancestors been worshiping?”
Another jolt of numbness. “That isn’t relevant.”
“Your father failed,” Oddfreyr spat. “He wasn’t suited for his station, and he stretched himself too thin, and he failed and died as a traitor.”
Marius grit his teeth. “I thought the official story was that he was exiled, Your Grace. But we both know neither of those stories are true. What else has the Aurora lied about? Who else have we demonized?”
“There is no ‘we,’” the Radiant hissed. “You are nothing.”
Marius ignored the stinging in his chest. “Call me what you will. I came to demand that you do the right thing. Before Tyr, on your honor, you have refused to do your duty.”
“I am doing my duty!” Oddfreyr’s face was red, his posture swelling, jaw flexing. “I am protecting the Aurora. More than you or your oathbreaker father ever did.”
“There are more important things to protect than the Aurora!”
Marius felt breathless once the words had left his mouth, like his lungs might collapse, and all at once, his body felt drained. A deep sorrow washed over him as he realized the truth of those words. Though he opened his mouth to say more, to qualify his statement, he couldn’t muster the energy.
There was no point. Oddfreyr wasn’t lost; he was hiding. And it was too late for Marius to go back.
Without ceremony, the vivid turned away, opening one of the office doors. Loss weighed heavily in his chest, dragging his gaze down to the floor, but immediately, he knew something was wrong. As he jerked his head up, his breath caught in his throat.
A squad of nine vivids filled the hall in front of him, in a three-by-three formation. Their weapons were summoned and at the ready, humming with warm energy.
He looked back at Oddfreyr and found the man smirking darkly. “Did you really think that you could just walk out, Marius?”
No. I suppose I didn’t.
Marius slammed the door, grabbing a chair and swiftly wedging it under the knobs. By the time he turned back, Oddfreyr had already rounded his desk, a longsword of plasma summoned in his grip. They locked eyes for a half second before the Radiant slashed, aiming for Marius’s neck.
He barely dodged out of the way, backing up toward the far side of the room. But the office was tiny, and the vivids were already pounding at the doors. The chair would barely impede them. He was a talented fighter, but he could not take ten warriors in close quarters.
The teachings of his mentors raged in his head. He knew what would be honorable, what the Aurora and the ancients would want of him. Stay. Fight. Die. Accept his fate.
Forget it. He wouldn’t make his death easy for them.
Oddfreyr lunged for another strike, and Marius summoned a shield of light just in time, sending orange sparks hissing to the polished wood floors. He sent a pulse of energy through his shield that surged with a pop, knocking the Radiant back a few steps.
The chair dug into the floor, then slipped. The doors burst open, vivids pouring into the room.
At the same moment, Marius turned, sprinting toward the window. Without breaking stride, he dove forward, enveloping himself in a bubble of light as he crashed through the pane in a shower of glass and splinters.
And then he was falling.
The office was higher up than he had realized, but the fall would still only take a few seconds. More than enough time.
With a shout, he called his lightsteed. In the sunbeams streaking across the courtyard, the winged horse materialized, rocketing beneath him.
The glowing beast dipped slightly as Marius fell into place in the saddle, but it never faltered, skimming the grass for a moment before swinging back up.
Solar arrows whizzed past Marius. A few managed to strike the lightsteed, but they did nothing to stop the ascent, only causing little bursts of flame.
Soon, they were out of reach, soaring through the gray sky toward Manhattan.
“We need to get that motherfucker a phone.”
Edie didn’t respond to Cal’s grumblings, hurriedly tying her boots. She hadn’t had them off for more than a few minutes before another crisis reared its freaking head.
To be completely honest, she wasn’t sure where they should start looking for Marius. New York was huge. But the thought of sitting around the apartment and waiting while he could be in danger was unbearable. It would be just her and Cal searching initially; Basile and Satara were busy preparing for the valkyrie situation in the other room anyway.
If they needed more … well, that was a bad fucking sign.
She stood and considered the semi-automatic rifle she’d left on the coffee table, then picked up Mercy’s machete instead, clipping it to her belt.
Cal was armed to the teeth as always. “Ready?” He jerked his head toward the apartment door.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” With a sigh, she went to open it.
Before she could, the knob turned quickly under her hand, and she stepped back just in time to avoid getting hit as the door swung inward.
Marius crossed the threshold, golden eyes wide and furious.
So much for a daring rescue. Thank the gods.
“Marius!”
Instinctively, Edie reached out with her magic, prodding him, though she had no idea what she was looking for or how she would know when she found it. Somehow, his energy felt tumultuous; the usual seething brightness writhed with something darker, both equally intense.
She wrestled with the feeling for a moment, dazed, before she noticed he was hurt. His coat was torn at the shoulder, and there were a few scratches across his right cheek. “Where were you?”
“Holy shit,” Adam said, having just entered the living room. “Man, what happened to you?” On his back, the Genesis chimed in with a warbly moan.
“Oh no, he got all beat up and sexy,” Elle mused from her armchair.
“I’m fine.” With a huff, Marius glanced around the room before settling on Edie. “I was at the Temple of the Mid-Atlantic Divine.”
Her stomach did a flip. “Did they follow you?”
“No.”
“Bummer.” Cal sighed heavily and patted the shotgun holstered at his thigh. “Soon, baby. Soon.”
Edie ignored him and reached out, touching Marius’s wrist. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” When he frowned in question, she said, “You’re hurt. You didn’t notice?”
He reached up and brushed his cheek, wincing slightly. “Oh.”
“Come on.” She gestured for him to follow and kicked her boots off once more before passing Adam, through the kitchen, into the bedroom hall. As they walked by Satara’s room, they were afforded a peek of her and Basile chatting as he drew a complicated circle. Only a door down and they reached Edie’s room.
She tried not to think of how awkward it was to have Marius here as she approached the bathroom. The last time he’d been in here, it had been after that godawful nightmare … and that had been dicey enough. At least they were both fully dressed this time.
Once in the bathroom, she flipped the toilet lid down and gestured for him to sit. As he did, his entire body sagged tiredly. The righteous fury was draining from him somewhat, though she could see in his face that he was clinging to it bitterly, trying to keep himself going.
“You should take off your coat,” she suggested, opening the linen cabinet and ta
king out a washcloth.
By the time she had wet it with soapy water, Marius was in his T-shirt and jeans. Edie had to admit she still wasn’t used to seeing him in anything other than shiny Auroran armor. It was kind of nice to see him be more human.
Aside from the scratches, there was a deep gash on his cheekbone, and gently, he brushed his fingers against it. Light warmed his skin, but the gash didn’t close. It took her a moment to realize he must be sterilizing it.
“Here, let me.” Edie came closer, brushing some hair from his face without thinking. Her ears began to burn a second later. “You can’t heal it if there’s crud in it.”
There wasn’t really any dirt in the wound, but might as well put the soapy washcloth to good use. After a few good passes and some wincing from Marius, she balled it up and chucked it into the dirty laundry basket.
“What are Satara and Basile doing?” he finally asked, following her movements closely with his eyes.
Edie took a deep breath. She was starting to wish he had come with them. “We got the horn.”
He frowned, searching her face. “But something happened. What?”
“I could ask you the same question. You lied about where you were and ran off to see the Aurora … and apparently got hurt.”
“You first,” he pressed with a grimace.
She leaned against the side of the tub and recounted what had happened that morning: the fires, the Blood Eagles, the graveyard, how they had had to hide … seeing Indriði, watching Daschla unveil. She couldn’t help the goosebumps that sprang up on her arms when she thought about it. “There was just something … wrong with her. Satara said she didn’t feel like a normal valkyrie.”
Marius’s brow had furrowed, his gaze almost glowing in its intensity. “So there is going to be a rally.”
“It doesn’t sound good.”
“No.” He scrubbed his hand across his face, careful to avoid the scratches. “We need to get moving.”
Edie jerked her chin in the direction of Satara’s room. “We’re leaving in around an hour to do whatever it is we need to do for Satara’s wings. Then … I guess we’ll have to figure out how to take on a whole army of crazy people with guns.”
She looked over at him and realized, suddenly, that he wasn’t healing himself; he simply sat patiently, expectantly.
“Did you … want me to use blood magic on you?” she asked slowly, in disbelief.
Marius faltered. “Should I not?” A pause. “I could do it myself, I’m just a bit tired.”
Tired was an understatement. “I just assumed you wouldn’t want me to heal you with, you know, ebon magic or whatever.”
He hesitated. “It’s fine.”
Edie peered at him for a moment before pushing off the tub and standing in front of him. Again, she brushed some curls from his face, trying not to notice how warm the skin of his jaw became when she cupped it.
She focused on the smaller cuts first, calling to the blood and flesh, and soon, they were completely healed. The gash on his cheekbone took more concentration, but within a silent minute, it, too, knit together as if with invisible thread.
When she pulled away, his warmth left her, sending a shiver through her body. He had felt it, too, if his earnest expression was any indication. But she had no hope of parsing that expression. She still wasn’t one hundred percent certain where they stood, even after that … moment … in the subway.
His wounds hadn’t been serious enough to exhaust her, but with a bit of her energy depleted, she lost whatever resolve had been keeping her together before. She sighed and rubbed her forehead, voice just above a whisper. “What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know.” Marius’s intense gaze searched hers again. “But we can’t rely on the Aurora. The Radiant is pulling them all off the streets. They won’t be there to help, no matter how bad it gets.”
Edie blinked. “But why? Isn’t his whole job to care about what the Gloaming is doing?”
“I don’t know exactly. Perhaps he’s just too proud to put the Aurora in harm’s way. Perhaps he just doesn’t believe they’re a threat.” He paused, then gave a hopeless shrug. “Or perhaps he agrees with the Blood Eagles’ ideals. Perhaps he likes what they’re saying so much that he’s willing to look the other way for as long as he can.”
“And no one is stopping him.”
Another hopeless shrug. “What can the Aurora do?”
“Better.” The word left her like a curse.
“I’m sure there are those who would like to see him replaced. Or dead,” Marius added with a humorless chuckle. “But I wouldn’t know who those people are. And we have no time or means of finding out.”
For a moment, they were silent, both turning their heads to watch the rain melt the snow outside the bathroom window. Then Marius spoke again, so quietly that Edie almost didn’t catch it.
“Gods help us.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Satara tried to suppress her queasiness as the world rippled and shifted around her—in vain, it seemed for a moment. But then, the brisk sea air hit her face, filled her lungs, and she managed to hold on.
Just a little longer. If she could just keep her body from failing for just a little longer…
The place they had landed was nothing like the Manhattan apartment they’d left. They were near the edge of a sea cliff jutting out into frozen water, with a sheer drop to the ocean about thirty feet ahead. Icy grass glittered around them, gentle sunlight rendering it practically glowing as it twitched in the salty breeze. It was late morning, so they must have left the US. The smell of ozone was thick in the air.
Despite the beauty of the isolated landscape, Satara felt her stomach dip, waves of nausea threatening the back of her throat again. She shuddered violently, making her breastplate clink against her gorget. Every inch of her skin was hot. Her vision swam at intervals. Her muscles felt so weak she could barely hold her spear. And gods, how her wings ached.
She held the means to her salvation—the horn—in her left hand, but she was hardly reassured. Her limbs were numb, her torso tingling with anxiety. She could barely think, but through the haze of pain, panic showed its face.
However this ended, her mortal life was about to come to an end. It was only a matter of whether she would go on to serve the gods for eternity or if she would languish in agony in Náströnd.
It was obvious which path was better, but she couldn’t shake the overwhelming, warring feelings she had about this fate.
Glancing over one shoulder, she counted her companions: Edie, Marius, Cal, Basile, Adam, and Elle. The latter two were a bit more wide-eyed than the rest, but they were all on edge. It wasn’t every day you called on heavenly messengers to take you to the city of the gods.
Edie and Basile were the first ones to follow Satara out of the translocation circle, and as Edie came to stand beside her, the necromancer looked her over. “You’re not wearing ceremonial armor.”
Satara glanced down at herself. “No. As you can see.”
Edie tilted her head. “When you and Astrid came to see Indriði…” She trailed off, her gaze darkening. “Before— Well … she said something about making a good impression.”
Satara sighed. She had considered mending her ceremonial armor to wear it. This was supposed to be the most important day of her life, after all. But every time she took it out to start patching up the holes, or to launder the stains that had transferred from Indriði’s dungeon, she thought about that night; she saw Astrid dissolving into oblivion again and again, as clear as if she were reliving it.
Donning the armor had been Astrid’s great gesture, a show of strength. She had come dressed for war and, by the gods, she had found one. Satara couldn’t bring herself to do the same.
“It’s not my … style,” she said quietly, gazing out onto the rolling sea. A shock of anxiety numbed her stomach and legs. “That was Astrid’s path. If I’m going to do this, I have to find my own.”
She glanced b
ack to see Basile looking at her steadily. Then he turned away, going to stand near the edge of the cliff.
“Fair enough,” Edie said simply.
“Windy as a bastard up here,” Cal complained from a few yards behind. “So where’s the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow?” He looked over at Marius in his gilded Auroran armor. “Oh, shit, found it.”
Marius rolled his eyes, but Elle gaped. “I can never tell if you’re just being an asshole or if you flirt with everyone you see, Cal.”
“I think a little of both,” Adam mumbled, smirking.
The revenant shrugged. “What can I say? I'm a rovin’ cowboy. I got horny mojo.”
Marius pulled a face. “You’re dead.”
“Then why do I feel so alive when we’re together?”
“Oh, brother,” Basile mumbled, though his voice was carried away on the wind before it reached the others. He motioned Satara forward. “Let’s get this over with.”
She sighed, approaching. Usually, Cal’s antics made her smile, but today … she wasn’t sure anyone could soothe her today.
Once she stood by his side, Basile indicated a spot near the edge of the cliff, then the horn. “Face the horizon and blow the horn,” he said, adjusting his glasses. “Like this: da-daaaa, da-daaaa.”
She planted her feet where he’d instructed, frozen grass crunching under her boots. With a deep breath, she raised the horn. The pain in her wings lanced her arms, sending bolts of heat up and down them. There was no delaying this any longer.
She pressed it to her lips, staring out onto the horizon. Then…
Da-daaaa. Da-daaaa. The rich, keening notes echoed over the sea like sorrowful wails.
For a few moments, nothing happened. Bifrost didn’t appear. Satara’s stomach dipped in terror. Was she too late? Had the horn not worked? Was it not the right one?
She was about to raise it and blow again when she heard Adam’s voice from behind her: “Whoa, what the fuck is that?”
The clouds over the sun had parted, and its blazing glow stabbed her eyes. She shaded them with a hand but could still see nothing. It wasn’t until Basile pointed just above the sun that she could make out the change.
Unholy Spirit (The Necromancer's Daughter Book 3) Page 29
