Heart's Inferno (Fallen Guardians 4)

by Georgia Lyn Hunter

  Týr put a hand on her back, feeling her pain as if it were his own. He realized this had to be done, the truth revealed for Kira to get some understanding because closure for this devastation surely wasn’t happening anytime soon.

  The Ancient pressed a shaky hand to her chest, her expression tormented. “I didn’t know, I didn’t realize—”

  “You took away the one person who meant everything to me…” Her lips trembled, and her body started glowing as if lit from within. “You can never replace her!”

  “Kira, no—!” Týr dove for her, but his hands just slipped through air. She vanished right in front of him.

  “What the hell did you do?” he snarled at the Ancient.

  “Her abilities are unraveling. Not only did her sire bind her, I did, too. It seems she can now flash. Go. You are her mate, you will find her. My Kira won’t hold onto her anger for long. She will always have a bit of humanity in her.”

  Týr, turning for the door, wheeled around, his eyes narrowing. “Humanity? How?”

  “It was something I had to do so Kira could appear mortal to Others. I’ll explain all later…” The female swayed, her body distorting and wavering like a hologram, and then Kira’s beloved matriarch appeared for a brief second before morphing back into the Ancient.

  “Is it wise to wear this glamour?” Týr asked then, frowning.

  She grasped the table as if she needed its strength to keep her upright. “I no longer need it now that Kira knows the truth. It is difficult to wear a glamour for as long as I have, but if you mean will it keep me safe from the Ancients, then no. We can sense one another when we’re close, no matter our facade. This is my true physical form.”

  Hell, what a fucked-up mess. Týr rubbed his eyes, nodded at the Ancient, and then dematerialized, following the strain of anguish he picked up from his mate.

  Chapter 27

  As her molecules resettled, Kira stumbled before she gained her footing on a snow-laden terrace, finding it hard to breathe at the overwhelming pain spilling through her. It was as if someone were carving out her heart.

  But even knowing she’d somehow miraculously managed to flash, dematerialize, whatever, didn’t even make a dent in her pain.

  Dashing at her blurry eyes, she sniffed and glanced around her. The sounds of balls crashing against wood drifted to her. She was back at the castle, and near the rec room.

  Not wanting anyone to see her like this, she trudged off to the gardens, her boots crunching through the frozen surface of the snow and grass to the mush beneath.

  Her entire life had been a lie, a mirage. Nothing was real. She just had to be an odd duck again, created from two polar opposite beings who weren’t even a figment of the imagination. Clearly, her father had more empathy than her mother. Kira still couldn’t get past the fact that her “mother” had been there all along—she even knew her pain and had done nothing.

  Kira wrapped her arms around her waist, staring blankly at the gazebo trapped on the island surrounded by the frozen lake. Late noon sunlight bounced off its icy surface. The air shifted, and the fine hairs on her arms rose. She spun around just as a large figure emerged near her. Her mate’s anxious gaze skimmed over her face. “Come.” Týr held out his hand. “It’s too cold out here. Let’s go inside.”

  “I’m not cold. Look—” She stuck out her arms. “I’m whole again. Now, I can disappear when I want. Cool, right?”

  “Kira—”

  “But great news, huh? I have parents. A Sin for a father, and a mother who is an Ancient, whatever that means.”

  “Kira—”

  “Hey, let’s go to the cabin. It’s nicer there.” She grabbed his hand.

  He simply pulled her into his warm body and hugged her tightly. “You’re hurting. I’m not going to let you go through this alone. I don’t care who your parents are, you are all that matters to me.”

  The numbness cementing her chest cracked. Tears fell in a deluge as harsh sobs broke free, the pain inside her consuming her whole…

  Týr simply held her in his arms, one palm rubbing her back in slow, comforting circles until the flood finally slowed, and only hiccupping breaths remained. She inhaled a huge gulp of air and pressed her hot face against his chest, the even thump of his heart a soothing sound. His warm lips brushed her brow in a soft kiss.

  Kira released his sweater she’d bunched in her fists, then retrieved the tissues from her jeans pocket and wiped her runny nose, grateful he didn’t spout meaningless words like “it’ll be all right” or some crap like that. This was life-changing for her—a reality she’d never expected. Now, she had to find a way to deal with it.

  “I-I’m sorry,” she hiccupped. “I must seem petty for running off like that when I should be ecstatic that both of my parents are still alive.”

  “It’s not petty. You just had the life you knew ripped apart. It’s understandable.” He removed his leather jacket and put it around her shoulders. She slipped her arms into the overlong sleeves, relishing his warmth and in his comforting masculine scent. Týr zipped the jacket closed. “I’m the last one to offer advice on this,” he said quietly, “but considering who they are, they’re bound to come with a shitload of baggage.”

  Kira lifted her wet gaze to his. “What do you mean you’re the last person to offer advice?” she asked, ignoring his latter comment.

  He slipped his hands into his jeans’ pockets, his features shadowed. “My móðir died a short while after I was born, and Hel raised me. For a long time, I believed her to be my mother, and the realm of Niflheim, my home.”

  Kira frowned. Even though he’d told her what had occurred when he was a protector to the Goddess of Life and about the atrocious things he’d endured while in Tartarus, not once had he mentioned his family. “Who is she?”

  “Do you know anything about the Norse pantheon?” Týr asked instead.

  She rubbed her damp cheeks. “Not much, except for what I’ve seen in movies.”

  A grimace crossed his face. “Right. Not everything humans portray about the gods is correct, Kira. They would never put it all out there for everyone to know. My sire adopted Hel and her sibling, Loki, as children, after their parents died in a skirmish. They grew up with my much older brother. I was born centuries later. Anyway, Hel took me in since my sire was lost to his grief at the death of my mother, and the rest simply overlooked a wailing child. She was good to me. But in my seventh year, she sent me back to my father. Said she couldn’t keep me in Niflheim any longer—she ruled there as the Goddess of the Dead, but she wasn’t quite herself anymore. I didn’t want to leave. But she refused to let me stay.”

  “Why?”

  A shrug. Absently, he shoved back the falling hunk of hair off his brow, his attention on the gazebo. “I didn’t understand then, I only knew she didn’t want me. Years later, I learned why. Her form was changing. She was starting to appear and behave more like Death itself.”

  “I’m sorry.” Kira put her hand on his back. The devastation he must have suffered at that tender age. Not being wanted must have been excruciating. Gran—her mother—had, though. Unable to deal with that now, she shut off the thought. “It was cruel of your father to ignore you.”

  “He wasn’t intentionally cruel, just trying to live the best way he could without his mate. She died protecting me from one of his many enemies who’d broken into our home, but he chose not to follow her into death as destined mates can do. Life back at the pantheon was okay, I suppose. I had Narfi and Fenrir, Loki’s offspring, as friends.”

  Týr raised his hand. A small ball of fire sparked, hovering above his palm. His mouth tightened as he stared at the thing. “Then I turned ten summers, and it all went to hell. We were at the river, building a fire, except I wasn’t aware my pyrokinesis had come into being and I accidentally hurt Narfi—”

  “You burned him?”

  His brow furrowed. “Not seriously. His hair and skin got singed. He screamed—so did I. But the flames leaped and spread, raz
ing the entire hamlet there.”

  The fiery orb snapped back into his palm. “To placate the inhabitants, my sire shipped me off to squire at the Gates of the Gods, the political powerhouse of all deities. There, I met Dagan. He was a few years older, and he became the brother I often wished mine would be. After I passed my eighteenth year, I left the Gates and fought in my sire’s wars for a while, then I returned home…”

  He scrubbed his jaw. Kira waited.

  Something bumped into her ankle. She looked down and found Echo’s cat weaving its chunky body between her legs. “Bob, what are you doing here?” She reached down and caressed the feline’s smoky-gray, furry back when she heard Týr’s low words, “I killed someone, a female I cared about. I never meant for it to happen…”

  Instantly, she straightened. Týr was one of the most protective people she knew.

  “Narfi and I had a disagreement. We often did. Hell, we’d fight about the color of the sky, so this was no different. He accused me of wanting Jora and going behind his back to change her mind so I could win her first. The fight started, and I was already in a mood after an altercation with my sire, who was furious about my decision not to join him and my brother in his wars any longer. Anyway, Narfi manacled me with his telekinesis, the one thing I loathed, and I retaliated…”

  Oh, hell.

  Týr pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jora tried to stop us but got caught in the blaze instead. She died, charred beyond recognition. Narfi was inconsolable with grief, and only then did I realize it was more for him. He was in love with her, too…”

  Bob wandered off to investigate the edge of the slippery lake. Kira wrapped her arms around her waist, not sure how she felt knowing had Týr loved someone else even, if it had been eons ago. Then she shook her head and realized it didn’t matter. “What happened?”

  “I only had to pay a death rite because she was from a lower tier—”

  “What do you mean death rite?

  A nerve pulsed on his jaw. “Usually, it’s a fine. Gold’s given to the victim’s family in compensation for the death. And a hundred lashes from the wronged, with our healing abilities blocked for a week. It’s the norm for those like us. Jora’s family refused the latter, but I insisted. Narfi stepped up and performed the deed. But her death ate at me…”

  “It was an accident. A tragic one, but an accident,” she protested.

  “You’re too soft-hearted, Kira.” He gave her a little smile that didn’t quite reach those churning irises, the swirling colors reminding her of the deadly storms on Jupiter.

  She studied the firm lines of his chiseled jaw. His eyes, which could be as cold as glaciers or warm like the sun, now appeared dull with remorse.

  “Perhaps,” she said slowly. “But you cannot change the core of the person you innately are, Týr. Sometimes, to save the one we love, we don’t think rationally, we rush in blindly to stop even a deadly fight.”

  He remained silent.

  “Is that when you left and became a protector to the goddess Inara?”

  He nodded. “I joined, hoping for a way to make up for my wrong. I removed myself from the place where I’d always remind everyone of my savagery. I swore my allegiance to the tribunal at the Gates and left to the Sumerian pantheon. My sire was undoubtedly ecstatic to see the last of me. Besides, younger sons from powerful houses were being conscripted to become protectors anyway, so I saved him the trouble.”

  In life, she was finding out, nothing was ever what it appeared. After all, she’d lived a human life for twenty-five years, believing she was one. And she wasn’t. “I came here torn apart, and now my problems seem so trivial.”

  “It’s not trivial.” Týr glanced at her, his expression serious. “The point of me telling you this is not for sympathy, Kira, but so you know I understand. Your grandmother was real to you until a few hours ago, and now she’s gone. You need time to grieve. You should also speak to Luceré.”

  At the name, she shook her head, the overwhelming sorrow of loss drowning her once more. “I can’t right now. I know Gran wasn’t real, but I miss her so much.”

  “In retrospect, and despite her facade, Luceré is the one who raised you,” he said quietly. “She’s the one who lived with you for most of your life, the one who loved you—only in a different form.”

  Her shoulders sagging, Kira lowered her gaze. She understood all that, but still… “I know. I-I just need time to process.”

  “It is a lot to take in. But we’ll take it one step at a time. Together.” He grasped her hands and pressed his mouth to her knuckles. She looked up. The warmth, the love in his eyes steadied her. “C’mon, let’s go inside, I need to leave for patrol soon.”

  As they ambled back to the castle, he put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close. “You need to talk, I’m here.”

  She inhaled a shaky breath and nodded. He would be.

  Týr had showed it to her in so many ways and so many times. This immortal. He was her constant, her entire life. And right now, her lifeline in a turbulent sea of confusion and pain.

  A chilly breeze ruffled his hair as Týr stood at the bottom step of the brownstone. He should have gone straight out on patrol after he’d left Kira, but here he was, back again. Dammit, he had to know what dangers his mate could face with this Ancient as her mother. All powerful beings had enemies.

  The door opened, and Luceré stood there, concealed by those swaying vines at the entrance, her silhouette backlit. “I expected you, Warrior. Come.”

  She retreated indoors. Týr loped up the steps, shut the front door, and leaned against the wooden panel. He didn’t bother with small talk, just waited.

  Luceré stopped near the couch, picked up a book from the seat, and set it on the table.

  “Lila and I met over two and a half decades ago when I finally took human form,” she said. “We developed a friendship of sorts. After I became pregnant, I explained my situation to her. She wasn’t surprised. Apparently, she’d suspected I was immortal. Anyway, I asked her for her help. Lila agreed to have some of her heart’s blood used to help conceal Kira so she’d appear mortal. It was the only way I could keep her hidden from extremely powerful forces.”

  “Why?” Týr demanded. “Varied immortal species have mated and borne young.”

  “Because Kira’s the child of a forbidden mating—especially between Ancients and Sins. Offspring like she can become too dangerous with our combined powers. Kira never would have been allowed to exist as a child. As an adult, they—the prime Ancient and his second—would bind the very essence of who she is and take her into a life of servitude. It’s happened before—”

  “Take her?” Týr growled, fury resurging. “They can try.” These beings were so fucked-up in the head with their self-importance. In his impossibly long life, he’d seen unbelievable things, had lived through a nightmarish imprisonment and survived it. But this?

  Two primordial beings, parents to his mate, had unintentionally caused her untold pain just to keep her safe. Not that he had any experience with how parents should behave. But he could understand why they—Wrath and Luceré—had done what they had.

  Still, he cut the female a hard stare. “Just so we’re clear, anything happens to Kira, I will wreak havoc like none have ever seen. Because I will find this prime’s source of origin and destroy it, along with anyone else who even thinks to harm my mate.”

  The Ancient inclined her head at his decree, her shoulders drooping as if in fatigue. “It is your right to do what you must. Just as I did everything in my power to keep my child safe.”

  Chapter 28

  Close to midnight, and not even a whiff of the gut-churning sulfuric odor that clung to the scourges fresh from the Dark Realm. Restlessness crawled through Týr after his visit with Luceré earlier in the evening, at knowing that Kira could be a target for such primordial beings. No, he would never let those fuckers get anywhere near his mate.

  Head lowered, his thoughts troubled, Týr strode deeper
into the alley. Hell, he’d welcome a fight right about now, wanted this damn night to move along faster, so he could get back to Kira. He understood it was the sense of betrayal she felt from the one person she loved the most that made her bleed.

  His cell vibrated with a text. He retrieved the device from his pants’ pocket, and a smile started. The tightness in his chest eased at the sticker Kira had sent, two cartoony cats hugging. Beneath it, her message; Thank you for being there—

  He collided with a figure detaching from the shadows. At the familiar glacial vibes of his fellow Guardian, Týr growled, about as patient as a rattlesnake. “Seriously?”

  Nik tossed him an amused, icy stare. “What’s got you so distracted?”

  Týr put his phone away. “Kira’s having a hard time with the changes in her life. And I feel fucking useless.”

  Nik nodded, his amusement fading. “Then be her strength.”

  Right. Nik probably thought he was talking about Wrath. Týr hadn’t said anything about Lila being an Ancient to the others yet. It was Kira’s life, and her decision to share when and if she was ready.

  Týr cast a frustrated look around the quiet alley, the itch for a fight growing, and then kicked a rusty can out of his way. “Wish I had one of those damn scourges to interrogate right now.”

  “Doubtful you’ll get any. They were just go-betweens. After what you did down in the Dark Realm, it’ll be a while before they show up here again.”

  “Perhaps. But those fuckers who came to the arena with their fighters were on their last lap of life. They won’t wait long. They’ll want fresh blood and life force as soon as possible, and the abductions will start again…”