“The Arc’s already got some of his thrones posted at various parts of the world for such a movement.”
Right. Týr frowned. “Yeah, about that. How is he still able to command them when he’s not bound to the Celestial Realm?”
Nik shrugged. Deadpanned, “The mighty Arc works in mysterious ways.”
He snorted and slowed his steps. Farther down the alley, several of the homeless dug through a few discarded makeshift homes flattened by the snowfall. But a short distance from them, one of the figures leaning against the wall didn’t seem to fit. With the male standing downwind, Týr couldn’t quite get a bead on him. Even the natural vibe indicating his species appeared to be muted. And that, Týr didn’t trust.
“Gotta go.” He took off in a burst of preternatural speed. If human, apologize after, then apply memory swipe 101. If demon…kill.
Suddenly, the figure shimmered. No, you fucking don’t! Týr dove through the air, colliding with the male without species detection like an eighteen-wheeler, sending him crashing into the wall. The fucker shot up, dagger swinging in a zealous arc, nearly slicing through Týr’s jugular. He leaped back. Shit! Too freakin’ close. Any closer, and he’d be coloring the snow red.
He smashed his fist into the asshole’s sternum, and he staggered back with a grunt. Týr grabbed the flashing weapon, ramming it into the scum’s belly. A gravelly screech reverberated off the buildings.
This shithead wasn’t demon. Other? Blow that. “You scumbags never learn, do you? Come after us, you die!”
A familiar, guttural snarl erupted, distracting Týr. What the—?
Fists hammered into his gut with the power of a sledgehammer, sending Týr flying to the sludgy asphalt. His breath lodged in his lungs. He rolled a couple of times before he broke the momentum and jumped to his feet. The bastard flashed.
Jaw ground down, in a scatter of molecules, Týr followed the trail. He dove for the fucker as he started to solidify, taking him down, both of them crashing into the dumpsters and sending the drums careening against the building in an explosion of metal. A cacophony of barking dogs picked up, several stray cats screeching and skittering out of there. He would get answers first, and then he’d incinerate the son of a bitch.
Týr grabbed the prick by his coat, hauled him up, and felt as if he’d been clocked in the solar plexus at the familiar, ebony-haired male with bright blue eyes glaring at him. “Narfi?”
He lashed out a fist. Týr’s head snapped sideways, and pain exploded in his face. “Did you think I would just let everything go?”
Týr shook his head, confusion ambushing his mind. “What do you want?”
“Your death.” Narfi grabbed Týr by his jacket and shook him, hard, his gaunt face twisting in rage. “You took everything from me. You took Jora!”
Breathing hard, Týr shoved his old friend off and spat out the blood in his mouth. “It was an accident. You accepted the hefnd for her.”
“You think it’s enough? Is she alive? Tell me, you bastard? Is she alive!” he screamed. The rage in Narfi’s voice had Týr lowering his gaze, guilt like a lodestone clocking him hard. “You couldn’t have her, so you killed her!”
Tyr’s head shot up. “You know that’s not true—”
“Stop,” he snarled. “You were furious when I told you I wanted her.”
“Narfi—”
“No! To show her you were all-powerful and me lower than shit, you used your ability on me when we fought,” he spat at him.
Damn, Týr pinched the bridge of his nose. It was Narfi’s insecurities and quick temper that had caused the fateful fight that day. Not that he was innocent since he’d welcomed it.
“It was an accident,” Týr repeated wearily. “I was angry, but over something else—”
“Don’t care.” Narfi pressed a hand to his injured side. A sly smile lit his paler than usual features. “Did you really believe that when Fenrir grabbed your hand, he was trying to save you from being pulled through the portal into Tartarus? It was all part of my hefnd plan. Fenrir’s so gullible. But he is my sibling and blood…”
Týr stared blankly as Narfi ranted on about Týr turning Fenrir against him—and Hel, too. The male’s bitterness had festered into madness.
“Of course, that dumb animal couldn’t forgive you for your betrayal. He didn’t even realize that bitch—our aunt—didn’t care about us. In his anger, Fen bit off your hand. I have to say, that made up for some of what you did to me. But I needed more—” A chilling malevolent glee crossed Narfi’s cold features.
Anger roiled through Týr, his power battering beneath his skin for release. The only thing staying his hand was the friendship that had once existed between them. “You should leave.”
“Why?” Narfi cocked a mocking brow. “I’ve barely started. It was fun watching Fen terrorize you while you did your pathetic little patrolling job.”
“Fenrir’s held captive on Lyngve,” Týr pushed out through gritted teeth.
“I know that,” Narfi sneered. “Where do you think I went while setting my plans in motion? No one has dared set foot on that island since Hel imprisoned Fenrir there because of some foolish rumor of him killing all the powerful gods. And I had plans. So, I took Fen his meals and, eventually, became friends with my brother.” He grinned. “You always wanted that, didn’t you, old friend? Of course, with us being blood, I finally got him to see things my way. I freed him. He shadowed you in the alleys, then marked you with a slash, making it easy for me to keep track of you and yours—”
“What did you do?” Fear cramped Týr’s belly.
“Seems your current whore loves animals…little ones. The plan was to torment her, hurt her, and drive you out of your mind. If she bled, so much better.”
The fucking pup! Fury exploding, his heart slamming violently against his ribs at the threat to Kira, Týr’s fist shot out, ramming Narfi full in the face. His head snapped back. Chilling laughter echoed in the alley, the bastard flashed.
“You will regret this…”
Chapter 29
It had been several hours since Týr went on patrol. And Kira hadn’t left their quarters. She paced the length of the living room and dropped her cell on the coffee table, her gaze drifting back to the TV and to the old yuletide movie playing there. Christmas was in two days.
Being an Oracle, Gran didn’t celebrate the holidays—or rather her otherworldly mother didn’t. It all made sense now.
But she still gave you Christmas, a tiny voice inside her head whispered.
Her chest compressed as if a giant fist squeezed it when Kira realized Gran wouldn’t be with her this year. Even though her rational mind understood that her mother had been the one to give her happy memories of the holidays, her heart overruled. She wanted the person she’d grown up with.
At the light rap on the door, Kira inhaled a shuddering breath, squared her shoulders, and went to open it. Echo beamed at her. “There you are. I finally finished with Lore. Gah, that angel has too much time on his hands. He probably invented the slave-driver label.
“At least he’s a good-looking taskmaster,” Kira deflected, heading back into the living room.
“Hmm…yeah. Anyway, I thought we should continue our Christmas traditions here. What do you think? Like we used to do with you, me, and Gran. I loved those times. Darci and Shae are in. With all of us women living here now, it will be so much fun. And, let’s face it, the guys could learn a thing or two about the joys of mortal traditions…”
Kira stared out through the window into the night at the snow-covered grounds, but hearing Echo reminisce about the past had tears burning her eyes.
“Kira?” Echo grasped both of her arms and turned her. “What is it? Is it Týr? Oh, God! The destined mate, did he—?”
Kira hurriedly shook her head, unable to stop her sniffles. “N-no.”
“For godsakes, tell me what’s wrong!”
Kira pulled a tissue from her jacket pocket and dabbed her wet eyes.
> How did she tell her best friend that the grandmother she adored like her own was no more? Compared to her, Echo had had a difficult childhood. After escaping the cruelty of her foster family, she’d lived on the street for years. And her parents truly were dead.
“I don’t know where to start…” Kira lowered to the couch, doubting that her legs would hold her up much longer. “Týr and I went to see Gran this afternoon. I wanted to tell her about my father…” She shredded the damp tissues in her hand as she filled Echo in on what had happened, and about Luceré’s disclosure.
Her friend’s tan face paled. “No—” Echo started shaking her head as Kira finally revealed the truth about Gran. “No!” She jumped up, her bi-colored eyes darkening in pain and shock. “It can’t be. It’s not true.”
Swallowing hard, Kira nodded. “It is. My…mother is the one who raised us. She took on Gran’s appearance because she didn’t want to disrupt my life with a new caregiver…”
At the tears gleaming in Echo’s eyes, Kira reached for her hand. Her friend dropped beside her and wrapped her arms around Kira. There were no words at the sorrow consuming them both. After several long minutes with only the soft voices from the TV and the crackling flames filling the silence, Echo eased back. Her expression determined. “I want to see her, Ki. She helped me through so much. She was there for me when Damon first brought me to your house as a child.”
“I know…” Kira rubbed her damp face with the back of her hands. “Hey…I forgot to mention, I met Damon’s brother in Stygia.”
Echo blinked in confusion. “What? I didn’t know Damon had family.” Hope brightened her eyes. “And, Damon?”
Kira shook her head. “I’m sorry. Dare apparently hasn’t seen Damon in years.”
Echo’s expression dimmed. Understanding her friend’s sadness, Kira grasped her hand. Damon had been the one to rescue Echo from her horrid life on the streets. He’d saved her. He’d been the older brother they both always wanted. Now, Kira had one to fill that loss, but Echo didn’t.
Kira’s skin suddenly started to prickle as if something approached. Inside the castle, this was unusual since powerful wards kept out any supernatural danger. Still, she snatched her jambiya from the table, unease skittering through her.
Echo jumped up. “What is that?”
Kira shook her head. With everything that had happened over the last few days, she refused to be unprepared. In the next instant, a flicker in the living room had them both freezing as a ghostly image appeared. At the familiar and much smaller figure of the older woman with steel-gray hair in front of them, Kira’s gasped, “Gran?”
Her grandmother smiled, her brown—not ebony—eyes, warmed. “Yes, Kira.”
Her weapon clattered to the floor, and she rushed to her gran, as did Echo. Except they swept straight through the old woman, distorting the image. Kira’s throat swelled with grief.
“H-how are you here?”
“Even on the astral plane, I felt your pain. It’s where I watch over you both and linger to make sure you are okay. I’ve been waiting for this day. I’m so happy I get to see you both one last time. Don’t grieve for me.” Gran’s eyes softened with tenderness. “Luceré shared you with me. It was a gift I never expected since I’d chosen to be alone. Your mother is compassionate and gentle. Give her a chance. Nothing is what it seems…” Lila broke off, her image wavering, agitation flickering through her ethereal form. Energy like electricity prickled Kira. “Cabin, now, Kira— Be strong.” Her words resonated in the silence as she vanished, but the urgency of her command rebounded in Kira’s head. She spun to Echo. “What did she mean by that?”
Echo shook her head, looking equally confused. “I don’t know.”
She snatched her cell from the table and called Týr, but it went to voicemail. Dammit. “Týr’s not answering. I’ll call him once I’m at the cabin. I have to go.” She slipped her phone into her jacket pocket.
“Maybe Hedori will teleport you there?” Echo said.
“No, he’ll only try to stop me until Týr gives his okay”—Kira rolled her eyes—“like all the men here do. This sounded urgent.”
“Can’t argue there,” Echo muttered.
“Besides, Hedori doesn’t have to transport me…” Kira grimaced, realizing that there was one more thing she hadn’t told her friend. “I can dematerialize now, thanks to my mother.”
Echo’s jaw nearly hit the floor, but with no time to lose, Kira closed her eyes and willed herself to the cabin and… Nothing. “God, not now! Why can’t I summon my ability?”
“You’re probably too agitated. Come on.”
Kira swiped her dagger off the floor and sprinted after Echo. Downstairs, they cut through the small living room where Echo stopped at several framed pictures on the wall and pointed to a photo taken in spring of a familiar cabin and lake. “This place, right?”
Kira nodded. “Yes. It’s somewhere in the Adirondacks.”
“Okay.” Echo hurried out into the chilly night, stopping a short distance away from the castle. She held out her palm with the rune imprint. “Let’s hope Lore’s lessons paid off, and I can do this without using any items to guide me.”
“You know where the cabin is?”
“I have an image in my mind, so it should be fine…” The runes on her palm glowed, and the night air split apart with a hiss. Flickering colors whirled at the edges of the portal, revealing complete darkness on the other side.
Kira grabbed her arm in awe. “It worked.”
“Yes. Hopefully, this really is the gateway to the cabin and not Timbuktu.”
Kira would have smiled if her stomach weren’t knotting itself at what could be happening at the cabin. She hurried for the cavernous opening, Echo following on her heels.
“Oh, no—” Kira spun back, shaking her head forcefully. “You can’t come with me.”
“You came to Hell for me.” Echo lifted a brow, her bi-colored eyes sporting the same gimlet stare Kira was fond of using, daring her to deny it. “Do you honestly think I’ll let my best friend go off alone?”
“But, Aethan—”
“Yup, mad as a wasp with a missing wing when he finds out,” Echo agreed helpfully. “But we’ll be done with whatever Gran wants us to do by then, right? Besides, she wouldn’t send you into danger, and we aren’t exactly helpless either, yeah?”
“Echo—”
“Stop worrying. As the Healer of the Veils, traversing to dangerous places is going to happen for me anyway. Besides, I don’t think the Celestial angels would let me die, not when they’ve waited eons for a new Healer. And I’m damn tired of being stuck in the castle.” She grabbed Kira’s hand and pulled her through the portal. “Might as well get in some real practice for when my work calls.”
Yes, Echo was the long-awaited Healer. Only she could heal and strengthen the rifts formed in the mystical veils that protected the world from supernatural evil.
“Okay-okay, fine. Truth is, I’m really glad you’re with me.”
Kira glanced around as the gateway whooshed shut behind them, the unmarred, frozen surface crackling beneath their feet. The moon cast a ghostly light over the iced lake, the snow-covered ground, and the thick, dark forest edging the property. Yep, they were at the cabin.
Kira pushed her jambiya into her jacket pocket and trudged closer to the cottage, searching the vista beyond the building. Everything appeared quiet. “I can’t detect anything. You?”
“No…” Echo shook her head.
“Let’s go check the other side of the cabin.” Kira fished out her cell from her jacket pocket and called Týr again and got voicemail once more. Trying not to worry—he was probably busy—she put her phone away.
“This place’s so remote and serene,” Echo murmured. “And really beautiful.”
“You and Aethan should come here. I’m sure Týr would agree. Wait, don’t the guys use properties from each other for getaways?”
“You’d think.” Echo snorted. “But why do th
ings the easy way? They’d rather bet on it over some silly game and then cling to their win like ivy just to annoy the tar off the other. But ask to use it like normal people? Are you crazy?”
Kira laughed. Her friend could do that, make her smile despite her troubles. At the front of the cabin again, she halted as the fine hairs on her nape rose. A sense of unease trickled through her…as if a malevolent presence stalked them.
Hurriedly, she tugged Echo into the shadows behind the steps leading up to the cabin. Snarls suddenly ripped the quiet. Out of thin air, two figures hurtled into the snow like meteorites crashing, gouging the earth for several feet. At the pale hair gleaming in the moonlight, fear strangled Kira’s vocals. Týr!
He and a dark-haired man fought almost too fast for the eyes to track. Fists flew, and grunts and roars ricocheted around them.
“Stay the fuck away from her!” Týr snarled, anger scalding him. The bastard would threaten his mate? He slammed an uppercut into Narfi’s jaw, sending him sprawling into the snow.
“I don’t care about your whore. It’s you I want bleeding.” Narfi bounded up and circled Týr, a blade glinting in his hand. “Too bad for you, you couldn’t die then. This time, I made certain I have all the bases covered. When Hel’s your kin, opening a portal even to difficult realms, is easy. Except, the bitch demanded blood payment. But killing you will be worth the pain of being sliced and drained.”
Týr spat the coppery taste filling his mouth, his focus fixed on Narfi. He no longer recognized his childhood friend, not with the madness shining in Narfi’s blue eyes and the hate twisting his haggard features.
“Hel’s so warped in the head, I doubt she knew I was even after you. If she did, she would have undoubtedly stopped me from coming after her precious son!” Narfi sneered the word, swiping at the blood dripping from his nose. “Especially since she made sure your best friend got sentenced to Reapers Hell—another of her little playgrounds—for what he did to you. But, while ripping you open and watching you die was fun, you resurrected every damn time…”
Heart's Inferno (Fallen Guardians 4) Page 31
