Apollo sneered. “You think you can get in my head, don’t you? I already know what my Father intends with you filthy reptiles.” He got right up in Carl’s face, gripping him by the throat. “You and your people will soon be licking my feet if I so much as look down. And the god of the sun is always looking down.”
“Always a let-down,” I mumbled.
Apollo flinched, shoving Carl away and rounding on me. “What did you just say?”
I winced. “I did that thing again, didn’t I, Carl?”
He nodded, looking annoyed. “Yes, Master Temple.”
“What are you two fools babbling about?” Apollo snarled.
I met his eyes. “Repeated something told to me in confidence. Zeus will kill me if I repeat it. He wanted it kept a secret.”
Apollo clenched his fists and I felt a wave of heat settling on me with his glare. “Not from me. My Father has no secrets from me, or else he wouldn’t let me in here with you.”
I shrugged. “He said especially from you.”
I felt my skin begin to burn. “Talk or burn. I’ll bring you back and do it as many times as needed before you give me what I want. What was this conspiracy they concocted?”
“Fine!” I snapped, shielding my eyes. “I can’t tell you shit if you give me third degree burns. Turn it down for a minute.”
He did. Barely. Enough to be increasingly uncomfortable but not lethal. “Talk. Now.”
“When Zeus spoke to me in private, he said the Elders would be mine to command. That he didn’t trust you with them. You could only be trusted when Zeus set up a controlled environment for you to work in. He said it was like tee-ball.”
Apollo punched me in the mouth and I fell to the ground, seeing stars. “What is tee-ball?” The god demanded from behind me, kicking me in my already aching kidneys.
I fell onto my back, staring up at him, panting. His eyes glowed with fire. “Tee-ball is a children’s version of baseball,” I said, holding up my palms. “Your dad sets the ball on a stick so the incompetent, gangly, awkward child can manage to hit the ball. It helps them develop their tiny, worthless minds to grasp the concept of hand-eye coordination. Teaches them how to, one day, do it all on their own.” Apollo’s face reddened. “Some peak early, though, never progressing to the real game of baseball.”
Carl burst out laughing. Apollo rounded on him, his chest heaving. “Watch it, Elder. You have no idea what I’m capable of.”
Carl grinned back. “Aphrodite told Master Temple that Zeus often laughs about how easily controlled you are. That you’re in tighter chains than even Hephaestus, who is literally in chains. And you expect your father to give you command of my people? To prop the ball up on the stick for his incompetent child?” He burst out laughing even harder. “You can’t even make a real sunbeam, godling.”
Apollo suddenly held a bow in his arms. Faster than the speed of light, he let loose five arrows that struck Carl. My eyes shot open to find Carl pinned to a nearby column with a single arrow through each arm and leg, and another in his chest.
He was no longer laughing, but he managed to lift his head and meet Apollo’s glare. “What’s the matter, godling? All out of sunbeams?”
I flinched at the sudden sensation of eyes staring down upon us. I glanced up at the ceiling and saw a hazy ripple, but I couldn’t make anything out. It felt familiar, though. Like Quinn. Was I imagining things? Something like that bizarre sequence of dreams? The sensation disappeared abruptly.
I shook my head free of the thought as Apollo strolled over to Carl, dumping Ambrosia on his wounds from a flask—but not taking the arrows out. I grimaced. He was letting the wounds heal with the arrows still inside the Elder.
So he could rip them out again.
The sick bastard.
Carl smirked. “Maybe you could cauterize them for me with your little flashlight.”
Apollo yanked out the arrow in Carl’s chest and then stabbed him with it again and again and again. His hair flew wildly as blood spattered his face.
Carl never stopped smiling, even as his eyelids fluttered weakly. And then he began to sing in a soft, loving tone. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy, when skies are gray…” he sang in a rapidly weakening whisper.
Apollo screamed, slamming the arrow into Carl’s chest hard enough that the shaft snapped as the tip struck marble on the other side.
He was panting laboriously as Carl’s head dropped to his chest. Then, like Ares had done, he was pouring more of the elixir down Carl’s throat. He waited until Carl began to breathe again before ripping out the arrows and dousing the wounds with a second—and then a third—flask.
Carl collapsed to the ground in an unconscious heap. But he was breathing.
“In his defense, Zeus did say you look ghastly enough that the Elders might take you for one of their own. Which was actually a compliment since they have no reason to fear your sunlight. Their sun is much stronger, you see. Your sun is like a cold moon to them. A passing beauty to occasionally glance up at and then forget.” I grinned through bloody teeth, chuckling. “Puts a whole new take on something else Zeus said about you, now that I think of it.”
Apollo stormed my way, his toga and face covered in blood. He dropped his bow and lifted his bloody hands as if aching to clench my throat. He was shaking. “What did he say?”
I shrugged, spitting blood out the side of my mouth. “They were laughing when he said it.”
“They?” he whispered in a murderous tone.
I nodded. “Ares, Aphrodite, and Hermes. They all laughed along with their father when he said that even though you were terrified of the dark, you would always be daddy’s little star—”
A solar flare struck me in the chest and everything went white.
Too hot for me to even feel pain.
18
I woke back up in my cell with a rasping gasp, feeling the drink coating my lips. Carl was just sitting up as Apollo’s voice cut through the dim interior of our cell. “No light, and only enough Ambrosia to keep you alive. The injuries will stay until tomorrow when I open them back up to see how well you’re healing,” he snarled. The door slammed shut behind him.
I glanced over at Carl to make sure he was all right. He nodded stiffly, smiling weakly.
I tenderly touched my eye and winced. I was going to be sporting a wicked black eye, soon, and I couldn’t breathe through my nose. Maybe the broken nose would help blacken the other eye for me so that I was at least symmetrical. I had once read that beauty was symmetrical. I waited a few more minutes, wondering if I’d gone too far with the conspiracy theory and ruined everything. What if Apollo demanded answers of his siblings, and then they stormed in together to beat the hell out of us and clear up the story for their fragile brother?
Or maybe he wouldn’t trust them, and would simply keep a close eye on them.
I didn’t dare speak in case we were being watched. Then again, if we were, Zeus would have already seen what I’d said to Ares and likely shown up himself to give me a little fatherly talk.
Hell, maybe he would be impressed with me. We slowly recovered over a long two hours with no interruptions. Then two more hours went by, and we began pacing our cells anxiously, wondering why we hadn’t heard anything. My eye had gradually swollen to a slit and my head throbbed with every step, making my broken nose ache, so I’d lost interest in pacing. Soon, night fell, and I twitched at every change of wind whistling through our window.
I needed answers, and since I was just sitting around anyway, I decided to try astral projection again, wondering if I would be able to meet up with Quinn and ask her about our shared dream. She’d babble and curse at me in her usual Flogging Molly impersonation, making me smile in amusement, and then she’d call me an idget a few times for good measure before telling me I must have been drunker than I’d thought to have such a crazy ass dream.
Which was infinitely better than sitting here, worrying. I couldn’t even drum up enough energy
to consider Aphrodite’s lessons, fearing that the door would kick in at any moment, catching me in a depressed mood about my poor love life, or lack thereof.
Running away from my problems sounded like a grand old time. I closed my eyes, and sent my soul off into the cosmos, looking for adventure. And answers.
I SOMEHOW SKIPPED past the oppressive darkness with the crimson lightning, and found myself smack dab in the middle of some drama. My favorite kind, too—someone else’s.
I hadn’t expected the cast of characters before me, or the backdrop.
Yggdrasil towered over me, filling the air with the sound of a million chiming echoes. I sat down on a nearby log, sweeping my gaze across the scene and wondering why I was here. Colors were more vibrant, almost seeming to be highlighted with a neon pen at the edges.
Freya stood near the base of the World Tree, waiting as a Valkyrie in gleaming golden armor approached her. The warrior came to a halt, thumped the butt of her gleaming trident into the earth, and then knelt down on one knee before her boss. I picked up a pebble and threw it at them, wondering what kind of experience this was going to be for me. Interactive or observatory.
The pebble struck the Valkyrie in the helmet with a sharp clang, and my sphincter clenched as I jumped to my feet in sudden alarm. The Valkyrie cocked her head slightly and removed her helmet, frowning down at it curiously. When she lifted her head, I gasped sharply. I knew her.
Kára’s long blonde braid hung over her shoulder, highlighting the shaved sides of her head. What the hell was she doing here? The two of them wore perplexed frowns as they quickly scanned their surroundings. Kára’s dual-colored eyes—one green and one blue—passed right over me, and I let out a sigh of relief to learn that I was invisible. I saw another log closer to them, and I approached it warily, wondering how good my invisibility truly was. How the hell had my pebble hit her? How had I managed to even pick it up?
Whatever the answers, I knew that I didn’t want to miss this conversation.
Kára turned back to Freya, dipping her chin respectfully. Her smile was forced, judging by her clenched jaw. Now that I was closer, I realized that Kára looked like she’d been through hell. Her armor was not as polished as I’d initially thought, and it even had scrapes and gouges across it. I frowned to see an intentional etching over her left breast, what appeared to be a crude lighthouse of sorts.
I frowned. Valkyrie armor was elegant and grand, decorated in ornate swirls, symbols and meticulous design. Why would Kára vandalize it? If she’d wanted a lighthouse on it, there were any number of dwarven armorers who would have done a much better job.
Also, it was fucking hard to scratch Valkyrie armor. She must have tried using her freaking trident to do it, explaining the low quality of the design. Perhaps there was a lighthouse god in the Norse pantheon. They were big on ships, so I could believe it.
Freya also seemed to notice it and pursed her lips in disapproval. But…she didn’t openly acknowledge it. Strange…
Kára cleared all thoughts of her armor from my mind when she suddenly hefted her trident atop her palms and held it out to Freya in what seemed a formal gesture. Freya arched her brow, startled by the display. “What is the meaning of this, Kára?” she asked, sounding overly calm.
Kára cleared her throat, keeping her eyes lowered. “My loyalties are divided,” she whispered.
I blinked, shaking my head. That couldn’t be true.
“Your loyalties?” Freya asked, sounding doubtful. “Are you a traitor, then?”
Kára snorted dismissively. “No,” she growled. “My heart is divided.”
I froze, recalling our brief conversation about her feelings for me. She couldn’t really be handing over her powers as a bet on us getting together. That was insane. We hardly knew each other. And as far as she knew, I was still committed to Callie—as I’d told her during our last conversation.
“Explain,” Freya demanded, refusing to accept or even acknowledge the offered trident.
“I have used your gifts for my own benefit,” Kára said, refusing to come off as meek and apologetic. “I watched those who should not be watched. I spied.”
“Why?” Freya asked, and I realized that she did not look angry. She looked…curious.
“Personal reasons,” Kára said, obviously not willing to talk about it.
“And what is this personal reason’s name?” Freya asked, sounding as if she was struggling not to laugh out loud.
Kára missed it, still averting her eyes. She remained silent, refusing to answer, and I found myself appraising her for my own…personal reasons. Because my time with Aphrodite had scoured parts of me raw, permitting me to see certain things in a new light.
Kára was amazing. She’d been a comforting shoulder for me to figuratively cry on at her bar. But…I hadn’t actually spent any time crying on her shoulder. I hadn’t complained about Callie. I hadn’t even talked about Callie. Little had I known that my lack of conversation about Callie had led Kára to assume that I was no longer in a relationship with Callie.
In her eyes, my weeks visiting with her at the bar had been…well, one long first date. In my mind, I’d found a friend I’d desperately needed. In some ways, I felt I knew the mysterious Valkyrie better than I knew some of my oldest friends. Even though we hadn’t shared much about our pasts, we had learned about each other’s character and values.
Which was way more important, in my opinion.
We’d bonded. And then she’d come onto me not too long ago, catching me entirely off guard. Only a hundred feet or so from where I now sat. That had been one of the first times that I consciously realized there was a major rift between Callie and me. Before Kára had made her intentions clear, I’d always assumed Callie and I just needed to take a vacation away together.
And now I had Aphrodite stripping in my peripheral vision, and she wasn’t wearing Team Callie colors either. I shook off the thought, focusing back on the exchange before me.
Freya stared down at Kára and then let out a warm laugh, pushing down the offered trident with two fingers. “Oh, Kára. If I wanted your heart, I would have taken it. War and passion are two sides of the same coin.” I flinched to hear Freya echoing Aphrodite’s quote from earlier. “Only the greatest warriors know how to truly love. Taking that away from the Valkyries would render them impotent. Keep your heart. I want only your blade and righteous fury.”
Kára frowned in confusion. “What if my loyalties pit me against my heart, or vice versa?”
“Then you will have an interesting dilemma,” Freya said, smiling compassionately. “I recommend you choose your heart, child. Some of us do not have that privilege.”
Kára stared down at her spear thoughtfully. “I do not think my feelings are reciprocated. In fact, I am certain of it.”
Freya laughed again. “Men are fickle beasts. Which einherjar do you have your eyes set upon? I could apply some pressure.”
Kára’s cheeks colored. “He is not an einherjar…” she said slowly.
Freya cocked her head thoughtfully. “I see,” she said, just as slowly. The curiosity was clear, but she didn’t force Kára to answer. She also didn’t seem to assume it was me. Maybe I was getting ahead of myself and Kára had already found a new lover. “Is he a good man?”
Kára was silent for a very long time. “I…do not know,” she admitted, and I felt my heart thump wildly. That sounded like a Nate Temple answer, for sure. “But I do not care. I do not want a good man. Good men die swiftly. I believe he could become a great man—for better or worse. I wish to help him on his path, whichever path that turns out to be.”
Freya waited, arching an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“If he strays down darker roads, I shall bring him back or kill him. And I believe he would want me to do so.” I shuddered. Well, true love had just been tossed out the window. Or…had it? Wasn’t that exactly what a man wanted? Someone to stand beside, not stand before.
Freya nodded. “Memento Mori,” she murmu
red. “You would be his confidante—his conscience and his trusted executioner.”
She nodded. “If he would have me.” She straightened her shoulders. “I would tell him all of this up front—my full intentions. If he’s the man I believe him to be, he would want me to.”
And…she was right—if I was the topic of conversation, anyway. How did Kára seem to know me so well? She was the most insightful bartender ever.
“How long have you known this man to become so besotted?” Freya asked. I winced, already envisioning Freya laughing in her face when she learned that it had only been months.
“Over a decade, but he does not know this,” Kára whispered.
I sucked in a breath. What?
Freya grew still, mirroring my thoughts. Even the wind stopped. She cocked her head, studying Kára apprehensively. She looked suddenly troubled. “I know you didn’t truly die in a car crash. A Valkyrie is required to leave her old life behind.”
Kára remained silent. I realized I was leaning forward, holding my breath. Kára straightened her shoulders and met Freya’s eyes. “I owe you an apology. I have been working for Odin this whole time—at his request and vowed to secrecy. He wanted me to be his second eye,” she admitted with a faint smile, “to safeguard you, Asgard, and…” she hesitated, “one other.”
I stiffened. Me. She had to be talking about me.
“I see,” Freya said coolly, not pleased to hear that her husband had stolen one of her Valkyries. “And now you’ve fallen for this…one other.”
Kára shook her head. “That happened long before I died, but I was too much of a coward to admit it to him. It is only in death that I found my truth. And it is now because of that truth that I must forsake my vows to you. I can no longer serve two masters.” She clenched her teeth, visibly trembling. “It. Is. Tearing. Me. Apart.”
Freya seemed just as upset, riled up by mention of her husband—especially since she’d told me Kára was her favorite Valkyrie, even if she was the newest. I racked my brain in an effort to guess who she had been in her previous life. Which woman I had met who had never admitted how she truly felt for me. If true, it was no wonder why part of me felt like I had known Kára for much longer than a few months.
Carnage: Nate Temple Series Book 14 Page 13
