The Were Witch Complete Series Omnibus

by Renée Jaggér

  “Oh,” the scion remarked, “I am rejoicing.” He kept looking at the empty space where Balder, whose apprentice he had pretended to be, had once been. “But, yeah. Let’s move on. Plenty more to do.”

  * * *

  Loki watched. He did not move or speak or breathe or do anything; he only observed the scene playing out in the hunters’ forest before him. His son, Fenris, had completed his “killing” of Balder.

  Or rather, his destruction of Balder’s illusion. Powered by the combined magic of two gods, it was the most convincing level of deception in the universe.

  He was hiding behind another illusion, a highly convincing one made from the astral fabric of the realm. Loki had doubled-up the exact view of the woods in this direction and pasted it over reality on a vertical plane in front of where he stood. It served much the same function as a matte painting in a couple of old human movies he’d seen, where a distant landscape was represented by propping the painting up at the edge of the set.

  Fenris had not suspected his presence, just as he hadn’t suspected that Balder, in his supposedly final seconds of life, was not truly Balder.

  “Alas,” the god of mischief sighed, the sound of his voice muffled through magic, “I was expecting something to confound my efforts. That would have made this more of a challenge. And more interesting.”

  He looked down at his hand, where a tiny light glowed, and with a thought, extinguished it. The point of illumination was the signature of a spell he’d cast to record all that had transpired, creating a perfect holographic representation of the scene that had played out in the clearing.

  Everyone would see it. Everyone would hear all that Fenris had arrogantly confessed to, thinking there were no witnesses.

  Loki sent the vision to the other gods. It would register in their minds like a vivid memory, implanted there for them to recall at will, and it could still be conjured like a film scene for any mortals who might need to see it, such as Bailey and her friends.

  The black-haired deity laughed softly. He still thought of Bailey as a mortal, though she sat on the council of the gods.

  Fenris and his treacherous disciple watched the illusion dissipate into nothingness. Since the wolf-lord had defeated the god of innocence with such ease, he did not bother trying to absorb what little remained of his victim’s power.

  “You know,” Loki murmured to no one but himself, “I would have thought that my son would have been...cleverer. He’s dumber than I’d expected. Deceit is not his strong point, despite being my child. Oh, his lies have advanced things further than we might have expected, but his plan unravels so easily the instant someone is on to him. Given how heinous his aspirations have become, I suppose it’s good that he’s this sloppy and foolish, but...” He sighed. “I cannot help but wish for him to have made a better showing. We’ll see how he fares when the facades fall and it all goes to brute force. He’s rather better at that.”

  The trickster-god secured the playable illusion-scene within himself as he watched Fenris and Carl depart through a portal. Satisfied that they were gone, Loki turned and conjured one of his own, leading back to Greenhearth.

  “And now,” he murmured, “the girl will have no choice but to believe. I pity her.” Shaking his head, he went through.

  Loki stepped out of the gateway and into the backyard of the Nordins, striding past the familiar pole barn and toward the rear door. He moved silently, so no one poked their head out a window to engage him as he crossed the lawn. When he knocked on the door, Jacob, the eldest of Bailey’s three younger brothers, answered.

  “Oh, hi,” the young man said. “We were relaxing after lunch and the funeral service for the guys who died in the elf world. The rest of them are off paying their respects to the families. You need to talk to Bailey?”

  He managed a small frown of sympathy. “Indeed I do. Rather important, though not to the point of absolute urgency.”

  Jacob admitted the mischief-god, and they found Bailey on the couch in the living room, her arm around Roland as the couple and the other two brothers watched TV.

  The girl waved. “Hello. Bad news, I’m guessing? I was trying to relax after all the shit we went through earlier. We had to bury one of Will’s friends, plus the others. Though of course, I expected you back sooner rather than later.”

  Loki sat down next to Roland, pressing against him. The wizard made a sour face.

  “Yes,” the deity replied, “I’m afraid so. Well, mostly bad, but good in the sense that we have absolute, indisputable proof of what we’d suspected, and can therefore act without hesitation.”

  The girl’s face fell, and there was a twinge of pain in the expression. She’d been holding out hope, he suspected, that Fenris was not truly her enemy after all.

  But what was going on was far bigger and more important than the emotional security of one young goddess. He could not spare her the truth. As she watched, he extended his hand, summoning the point of light he’d held while recording the battle between Fenris and Balder. With a snap of his fingers, he replayed the entire scene.

  Bailey watched with mounting sick horror. She had good control of herself, but it was obvious that it was taking a great deal of effort. In particular, she seemed hurt and disturbed by the cold, flat tone Fenris used when admitting his role in the recent chaos and to his intentions to bring about the end of the world, regardless of who he had to sacrifice.

  The other thing that clearly bothered her was the revelation that Carl was working with Fenris and had been in on his plans the whole time. Loki recalled that Bailey and the scion had become friends during their time together at the training grounds.

  The girl’s mouth fell open. “My God,” she gasped. “Loki, I know this is a stupid question, but...are you sure this is real? This is exactly what they said and did?”

  He let the wry amusement drain out of his face; sometimes, it was better to be serious. “Quite sure,” he declared. “I had to be there to observe them in order to record it, and this was what I saw and heard. I don’t deceive people when it comes to truly important matters.”

  After a short pause, he added, “Balder is fine, however. We successfully pulled off the ploy to trick Fenris into thinking he’d murdered him.”

  Dead, absolute silence held sway in the room for about ten seconds. Then Bailey abruptly jumped up and stormed out to the backyard.

  Jacob commented, “Let her go. She needs a minute alone. You can talk again when she’s ready.”

  Loki folded his hand, canceling the illusion in the same motion. “So be it. I take it she’s accepted what she’s seen.”

  Frowning, Roland remarked, “I think she accepted it a while ago, but in the back of her mind, she didn’t want it to be true and was holding out a tiny speck of hope. I suppose it’s better for her to be one hundred percent certain today than still be inwardly confused at the very end. There was no avoiding it forever.”

  Kurt’s mouth hung open, and he stared at something far away, or at something within his own head. “Fenris,” he stammered, “is…is…he’s our god. He’s the Father of Weres. How could he do this to us? To everyone? I didn’t believe it at first, either.”

  Russell flexed his huge hands and his eyes burned. “There aren’t any words for this,” he growled.

  Jacob only sat holding his downturned face in his hand and sighed. “No one could’ve anticipated this crap. It doesn’t make sense. We’ll have to tell all the other Weres that there’s no denying or pretending anymore.”

  Loki agreed, then he wandered through the house toward the rear door before following Bailey to the backyard. She stood at the edge of her family’s property, back to him, looking into the mountains and the sky.

  He came to within five feet and waited. “I’m sorry, Bailey.”

  “Yeah,” she responded, her voice low and soft. “Me too.”

  The god of mischief ran two fingers through his black hair. “He is my son, as well as your people’s father, but he’s too far
gone for us to do anything but stop him. You may take the remainder of the day and the night to rest.”

  She turned around, and her eyes were red and shiny. Her fists trembled with anger, though her face was mournful. “Then what?”

  “In the morning, we depart for Asgard.”

  Chapter Nine

  Bailey awoke at 8:22 and decided it was good enough. She’d slept for over seven hours, yet it was still early enough for her to make the necessary preparations for her coming excursion.

  As she walked downstairs, sniffing the air for any signs of fresh coffee, she saw at once that preparations must not have been part of the plan. Loki was sitting in a chair in the living room, waiting for her.

  “Good morning,” he opened. “I hope you rested well. I heard you snoring loudly, which usually seems to mean that it was a good sleep, yes?”

  “Uhh,” she muttered, her brain not yet operating at full capacity, “yeah, usually. Something like that. Did anyone make coffee?”

  Russell poked his massive head out through the dining room doorway. “Yeah,” he replied. “It’s strong.”

  Bailey nodded and accepted a cup gratefully. She felt as though she’d been drinking heavily last night, though all she’d had was one beer.

  It’s got to be the aftereffects of absorbing the dark elven king’s power, she surmised. But it was different in the past. Then again, I was siphoning it from gods. Gormyr was a supernatural creature, but not a frickin’ deity. That must be it.

  She sat down in the living room to sip her brother’s borderline-dangerous brew, blinking and stretching her limbs one by one.

  Loki spoke up. “How do you feel? The sooner we visit Asgard, the better.”

  She grunted. “Eh. Okay, I guess, but I’m gonna need time for coffee, hopefully breakfast, and a shower. So, like, an hour?”

  “Hmm.” The god of mischief stroked his smooth chin. “Aim for forty-five minutes.”

  Fifty minutes later, the werewitch was ready to go. She’d dressed in nice slacks and a blouse. Somehow, she felt like she should be presentable while visiting the homeworld of the Norse gods.

  Roland wandered in. He’d slept out in the pole barn to create fewer disturbances while his fiancée rested and recovered from the recent battle. He pursed his lips appreciatively at the sight of her.

  “Nice! Are you going for a job interview at the bank or something?”

  Her head whipped toward him. “No, dork. Like we said yesterday, I’m going to Asgard. Maybe I’m overdressed since I was still wearing the usual blue jeans when we went before the council, but I dunno, this seems different.”

  Loki came up. “It doesn’t matter much, but there’s no downside to looking good, is there? Anyway, come. I can’t say how long we’ll be gone, but one of us will try to send word to your family and friends if it’s terribly long.”

  Jacob had wandered in. He and Roland gave solemn nods and hugged the girl goodbye.

  “Don’t worry,” she told them. “Nothing’s killed me yet, and I don’t intend to break that streak.”

  She and the lord of mischief strode out the back door to open a portal behind the pole barn by the pine-forested slopes.

  Before they went through, Loki held up a finger in a schoolmarm-like gesture of admonishment.

  “Do not let your guard down,” he warned Bailey. “Under normal conditions, Asgard is not dangerous to anyone who has business there. As a goddess, you do. However, things lately have not been normal conditions. The attacks on the realm’s boundaries have everyone on edge, and of course, we are not yet certain if Fenris might have turned anyone to his cause, or who his agents might be if so.”

  The girl grimaced and nodded. “Got it. Makes sense.”

  “Another thing,” Loki added. “The people of Asgard respect strength. It is a domain where tremendous power, divine, arcane, or physical, is the norm, so don’t hide your power. Don’t be ashamed of your status as a rising deity. Flaunt it. Not in an obnoxious or conceited way, but with calm confidence and quiet grace. Such a bearing will serve you well there, and in other places, too, if need be.”

  She understood and said so. It didn’t sound too different from when she’d had to present herself as a leader before large numbers of Weres and witches.

  Loki swept his hand toward the portal with an elaborate, almost swishy gesture. “Very well. After you, my dear.”

  She stepped through, ignoring the typical brief instant of dizzying cold, and her foot came down on the marble pavement that lined the streets of the city of the gods.

  “Wow,” she murmured. Loki came out behind her, closed the portal, and allowed her a couple of seconds to take in the sights.

  All around them was an airy blue void filled with fast-moving white clouds and bright light that refracted into rainbows against the gleaming surfaces. The city had been built upon the broad, mostly flat top of a mountain, and beyond the main metropolitan area was an island that floated in the sky at a higher level than the rest of the city. There lay the palace of the gods.

  Loki took her by the shoulder and led her down the broad avenues as tall, handsome people in strange bright clothes looked her over. Since she was with Loki, they paid little heed to her beyond the first glance.

  “In truth,” the trickster-god began, “you should have been introduced here sooner. You have every right to a place here, after all.”

  She glanced around as they walked. In addition to the white marble pavement, there were buildings, domes, and spires of gold and silver, the style sometimes reminiscent of Viking longhouses or tall and narrow Norwegian stave churches, sometimes structures that had no earthly equivalents. The aesthetic was Old Norse, but ten times more grand and glamorous.

  She turned her head to Loki. “Question. The council chamber…is that located here? In Asgard, I mean. I was only ever in the main chamber or the hallway leading up to it, so I never saw much of where it was if that makes sense.”

  Loki nodded. “It lies in Asgard, though distant from this point, near the far upper edge of the domain, where Asgard starts to blend in with other of the ‘higher’ realms. The city is located at the approximate center. The borders of the realms of the monstrous peoples lie at the lower edges, near the base of the great mountain.”

  That makes sense, she thought. Mostly. The stuff about “edges” is weird, but not everyplace works the same way as Earth.

  The broad marble avenues soon led them to a stone arch with warrior statues on either side. The arch lay at the edge of the mountaintop, and below was nothing but a sea of clouds, denser than the ones higher in the sky.

  A causeway led to the floating palace, made of what looked like pure, condensed, multicolored light. Bailey stared at it in wonder.

  “Bifröst,” Loki announced, “the Rainbow Bridge. It will more than support our weight, don’t worry.” He stepped onto the curved mass of light.

  Bailey did likewise. Though she’d flown magically through the air, it was strangely uncomfortable to walk on a translucent surface, looking down between her feet to see nothing whatsoever beneath her. But the bridge held, and its surface seemed “magnetic” in that it exerted a mild pull on her feet with each step, likely to ensure no one fell off.

  Halfway across the span, four guardsmen emerged from the gate to the floating palace complex to greet them.

  “Hail, Loki,” their apparent leader opened. “All is well and secure. If we might ask, is this Bailey Nordin with you?” He looked at the girl with an open, neutral expression.

  “Yes,” said the black-haired man.

  Bailey waved. “Hi. I’m standing in for Freya, at least for the time being. But I’m guessing you heard that.”

  The man bowed briefly, then he and the others turned to escort them through the gates. They wore armor that looked like it was made of stainless steel and polished gold, though she imagined it was a stronger, divine material. They carried partizan spears and short Viking-style swords at their sides, and sky-blue cloaks trailed behind
them in the cool breeze.

  Once they passed through the gates, Bailey realized that the central structure upon the floating island was more of a walled complex than a single building, much like the castle at the training grounds, though again, the architecture here was a fantasy or science-fiction extrapolation of traditional Scandinavian styles.

  Loki waved a hand to the guardsmen to indicate that the two deities would be fine on their own; they nodded and returned to their posts. Then the trickster god took Bailey into a shadowed corner off one of the main avenues, behind an outbuilding of white stone.

  He flicked his hand, and a shimmering curtain surrounded them. “There,” he quipped. “We’ll look like common attendants to any but the most prying eyes, and no one will be able to hear us speak.”

  “Okay,” she replied. “So, uh, is Odin still in charge? I know he’s traditionally the king of Asgard, but you guys have barely mentioned him.”

  Loki smiled. “I was getting to that. You’re quite inquisitive, aren’t you? But yes, Odin reigns, and yet does not reign at the moment. Therein lies the problem.”

  Feet tramped by, and Bailey glanced toward them. It was only a pair of soldiers followed by four servants carrying two barrels, perhaps of mead, between them. She relaxed. Scenes from the awful hologram of Fenris killing Balder, or so he thought, while Carl looked on and sneered, kept flashing in her mind, and robbing her of her ability to trust her surroundings.

  Loki went on. “The All-Father, at this point in time, rests in the Odin-Sleep. Frigga, his wife, watches over him. They are not present. Thor is the designated heir, but he is not yet ready to assume sovereignty over our realms, so Asgard has no sitting ruler. The throne room within the palace lies empty, and it is there that Fenris likely waits even now.”

  The girl squinted in confusion. “No one’s there to stop him? And nobody thinks it’s suspicious that he’s prowling around in Odin’s place?”

  The god of mischief shrugged. “The one who sits on the throne is the important thing. Otherwise, it is merely a chair within a room. The place is ignored when not occupied by its king. Besides, everyone is distracted by the frequent attacks on our borders, which of course, Fenris himself organized.”