The Were Witch Complete Series Omnibus

by Renée Jaggér

  Fenris looked down at his feet and the waters beyond. A man could have waded into the ocean for one, perhaps two steps, then the ground would have dropped out beneath him, giving way to fathomless depths that did not seem possible by Earthly standards. There was no gradual slope. Beyond the lip of the sea, it transformed into a downright abyss.

  Thus the water appeared a deep cobalt blue, and the sky overhead was covered in equally dark blue-gray clouds. The two shades blended with distance, so the horizon was an indistinct strip of blue-black.

  Beyond him was a rolling expanse of barren and dreary heath and bog-tundra. Overhead, a pale white speck of sun was visible behind the cloud cover. It was a domain of nothingness that lay at the farthest edge of the Other.

  But it was inhabited.

  The wolf-father raised his arms then and began the chant that would call forth Jörmungandr, the World Serpent—the great worm, the devourer, the beast of beasts whose acts would usher in the beginning of the end. Fenris’ words echoed across the limitless expanse of cold waves.

  And then he fell quiet. There was no reaction thus far, but he knew the serpent had heard his call.

  There was someone else he needed to summon, too.

  “Thor!” he bellowed, the vibrations of his voice going past the borders of the dimension to reverberate through the halls of Asgard. “Come quickly, for my need is urgent. Death and destruction are upon us, but we may be able to halt them. Come to my aid!”

  While he waited for the god of war and thunder to manifest, Fenris turned again to the waters and saw the sea churning and bubbling from a great disturbance below its surface. A vast shadowy silhouette was visible amidst the waves.

  He addressed the unseen presence. “Jörmungandr. The time has come at last for you to fulfill your destiny and slay Thor Odinson, your prophesied enemy since the dawn of time. When he is gone, you will be free to swim across the entire universe. Complete the task, for Ragnarök is nigh!”

  A deep, almost subsonic rushing sound filled the air. The World Serpent had heard and understood.

  As Fenris walked up and away from the shore, they both waited.

  A moment later, thunder rumbled, and a bolt of lightning fell from the clouds. When the flash faded, Thor stood on the gloomy heath in full armor, his red-bearded chin thrust forth, looking around for the source of the threat. He gripped Mjölnir in his right hand, the weapon’s head resting on his powerful shoulder.

  “Fenris!” Thor bellowed. “I’ve come. What’s the trouble? We’ve had enough goings-on lately, all the border skirmishes and attempted invasions. I’m tired of leaning on the girl and letting her do our dirty work. It will be good to crack skulls again. Point me in the right direction!”

  The wolf-father stared at the boisterous deity with a somber, neutral expression. “I’m afraid it isn’t that simple, my friend. The border attacks are part of a much larger conspiracy, which we must confront by subtler means.”

  Thor frowned and spat in the sand. “Bah! Deviousness and treachery and plotting again. Very well, who are the conspirators? Once we’ve found them, I will end them.”

  Fenris explained, “I have reason to believe that the unrest of late is the work of the gods of other pantheons. They feel Asgard has grown too strong at their expense, so they have riven us with internal dissent, forcing us to fight the rebel creatures within our own realms as they move to initiate Ragnarök. They are willing to tolerate the destruction this will cause as long as it deposes us.”

  “Oh, ho!” The thunder god scoffed. “Wretched bastards! We’ll intercept them before they get very far with such a boondoggle. Once we’ve found the nithlings who planned all this, I will wring their necks.”

  Fenris had turned and begun to walk back down from the low heights of the heathland back to the bleak and sandy shore. Thor, still ranting and blustering, followed. The vast dark-blue expanse of the World Sea was before them.

  “And having mashed their bones to a paste with my hammer,” the red-haired deity continued, “I will dispense the liquid residue of all the mead and ale I’ve drunk on what remains, drenching them in a veritable yellow shower of—”

  With blinding speed, Fenris pivoted and struck Thor with his fist, the blow massively enhanced by a pulse of concussive force. The thunder god careened past the shoreline and landed amidst the churning waters with a loud splash.

  The wolf-father intoned, “Jörmungandr! Arise and end it now!”

  Thor righted himself and floated magically at waist-level in the sea, not hampered by the weight of his hammer. “What the devil?” he sputtered, water streaming from his beard. “Is this your idea of a joke, Fenris?”

  The wolf-god had not intended to answer, but before he would have had time to, the World Serpent showed itself.

  Thor spun away from Fenris toward the gargantuan bulk that rose from the depths to tower before him, filling half the sky. Fenris watched, totally still, transfixed by the spectacle.

  An expanding wave of water gushed outward as the World Serpent reared its head and neck.

  It was like a great finned snake with glossy black and dark green scales, and tendrils trailed from its huge, fanged, dripping jaws. It was larger than any other creature in existence, so big that most minds could not comprehend what they saw. It blotted out the pale and pitiful disc of the sun. The spines on the back of its neck were lost in the low dismal clouds.

  Thor’s eyes bulged wide in horror as he realized—at last and too late—the awful trap into which he’d fallen. Fenris could see the gears of his mind turning, his recollection of the prophecy, his quick and hopeless calculation of how much chance he would have against such a monstrosity.

  But the god of thunder was nothing if not courageous. He hoisted his hammer in the air and lightning struck it with crackling fury, making it glow. Thor bellowed a war cry that echoed across the waves.

  Jörmungandr responded in kind. Its roar drowned out Thor’s, rendering it insignificant by comparison. Fenris smiled in triumph.

  The war god plunged toward his adversary through the waves. Before he struck a single blow, the World Serpent plunged down with a speed and force that created a wind, its mighty jaws open.

  Thor disappeared between the creature’s rows of fangs as the ocean exploded, white spray rising like a mushroom cloud as the monster bore the god beneath the surface. Then both of them were gone.

  Fenris raised his hands and face to the sky, a brief tremor of emotion running through him. He had succeeded. He’d destroyed every last one of the council gods. Some turbulence out in the water suggested the struggle was not yet over, but it would be soon. Thor was too stupid to fight fate.

  The wolf-father turned away and walked up the shore to the heath, enjoying the mental image of what had happened before he opened a portal and left the World Sea behind.

  Though Fenris did not know it, this time there was no slender black-haired figure watching him from behind a holographic mirror. Unlike his confrontations with the other gods of the council, this was no illusion.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Bailey leaned on her sword, breathing heavily and watching over her friends as they rested and recovered from the long, brutal battle. No one had died, for which she was beyond thankful, but many had been wounded or rendered delirious by blows to the head or sheer overexertion.

  Once the werewitch had acquired full control of her new powers, she had been able to use them judiciously, turning the environment of the rock giants’ homeworld against them to devastate vast numbers of their hosts.

  But her abilities had their limits, and she began to tire from the strain, both mental and physical. She’d rested near the center of the formation, helping with magic as needed but allowing the casters, Weres, agents, and Asgardians to do the bulk of the mop-up fighting.

  Then they’d met the next of the stone giant kings. Since there were several of them, Bailey didn’t bother fighting them in duels but destroyed them outright through overwhelming magic. She feared s
he wouldn’t be able to handle trying to absorb the powers of them all, so she only drained two.

  That was more than enough. She’d nearly lost consciousness toward the end of the battle, her mind spinning within her head and her body writhing and trembling. Roland and two werewolves had taken her aside and stood guard over her while the rest battled on.

  Finally, she recovered and vanquished the last of the giants with a surge of earth magic that shattered them all. Quiet then set in.

  She wondered if this were all of them—if she’d wiped out an entire species. It was a disturbing thought. None of them had tried to surrender. They had plowed dumbly ahead, seeking to do harm to her friends, her allies, her world. She hoped they had children somewhere who would live on but grow up to be smarter than their parents had been.

  Roland came up and held her. They did not speak but simply enjoyed the warmth of the mutual embrace, resting their heads against one another’s.

  After what felt like about ten minutes, a portal opened and Bailey perked up, her hand going to the hilt of her sword. She partially relaxed when she saw Loki step out, but she noted the haste in his demeanor and the nervous look of worry on his face.

  Uh-oh, she thought.

  “Bailey,” the trickster god began, “there is serious trouble afoot, and I’m not sure how much time we have to avert it. I’ve been working with the other gods, helping them put up resistance to Fenris’ assassination attempts while collaborating on the final illusions. He believes at this point that he has killed all of us save one.”

  Roland waved his hand and asked, “You mean, all but Bailey?”

  “No,” Loki went on, “all but Thor. That’s where things may have gone wrong. Fenris may succeed in destroying him.”

  Bailey stood to her full height. “Got it. How the hell did that happen? Not that it matters, I guess. Where is he?”

  Loki’s fingers twitched, and his eyes darted around. The girl couldn’t recall having seen him so flustered.

  “He is at the World Sea of Midgard, which lies at the utmost edge of the Other. Somehow, either Thor stupidly forgot to tell me that he was answering a summons from Fenris, or Fenris proved cleverer than we’d thought and blocked any message that Thor might have sent. The thunder god is a poor illusionist but a great fighter, so even without me, he might have simply overcome Fenris and driven him off. The problem is that Fenris is not his opponent.”

  Bailey’s gut roiled. She wasn’t sure why, but the ominous tone of the mischief lord’s words had evoked a primitive and superstitious fear in the depths of her being. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

  “The sea,” Loki explained, “is the home of Jörmungandr, the World Serpent, which is quite possibly the most powerful entity in existence, besides the higher gods. These species you’ve fought are as nothing compared to it in the hierarchy of monsters.”

  Roland slapped his own cheek. “Jesus H. Christ, Loki, can’t you bring us good news for once?”

  The deity paid him no heed. “Jörmungandr is another son of mine, but let’s not get into that. The important thing is that the prophecy of the End has decreed that the World Serpent’s slaying of the thunder god is one of the events that will bring Ragnarök upon us. If we make haste, we might be able to avert it.”

  Bailey lifted her sword. “Lead the way. I’ll rally the troops who are still able to fight.”

  “No,” Loki protested, “they cannot fight this creature. They’d only die uselessly, providing fodder for its hunger and fuel for its coming rampage. You must go alone. It’s risky, but you and Thor together might be a match for the serpent.”

  The girl frowned, and another shudder of primal dread struck her. “Fine, I’ll do what I have to do,” she stated. Then she thought of something. “What if Fenris is still there? Won’t it blow our cover?”

  The god of mischief closed his eyes and shook his head. “It can’t be helped. He’ll likely flee if he sees you, or lie and say he was trying to help Thor when Jörmungandr appeared or some such nonsense. If you must confront him now, so be it. We will come to your aid. But first, you have to save the lord of storms and battle. Go!”

  He turned, not waiting for a response from her, and opened a rather crude and ragged portal with a hasty swipe of his hand.

  Bailey hugged Roland, and they shared a quick kiss.

  “Come back,” the wizard instructed her.

  “I will.” She ruffled his hair, then dashed into the glowing gateway, ready to fight destiny itself.

  * * *

  The shoreline was bleak and cold. It was nothing like the sorts of beaches people went to on vacations. Rather, it reminded Bailey of the ends of the earth, which in a fashion, it was. The Other ended here. What, she wondered, lay beyond?

  The waters stretched past the horizon, deep, treacherous, and as blue-black as a clear night’s sky in summer.

  The girl looked around. There were footprints in the sand, but nothing else. Fenris was nowhere to be seen; that, at least, was a relief.

  But Thor was not in sight either, nor was there any sign of a giant sea-snake.

  “Dammit, Loki!” The werewitch sighed. “Did you finally crack under the pressure and make a mistake? Am I in the right goddamn place?”

  She hoped not.

  The other possibility, of course, was that she was too late. That Thor had already been devoured and the sated serpent had moved on, pursuing whatever unholy business came after its killing of the thunder god in the sequence of the prophecy.

  And she was tired. She’d recovered somewhat from the lengthy struggle against the stone giants, but she needed a proper day off. Still, there was nothing she could do for the moment.

  She tried to draw energy from the realm as Coyote had taught her, but the section of the Other beside the World Sea had hardly any vitality to offer. It helped a little, but not much.

  There was a splash far out in the ocean. Bailey squinted. The waters were roiling and bubbling about half a mile in front of her and off to the left. Rolling waves appeared at the spot and moved toward the shore. Bubbles rose to the surface, and whitewater crashed into the air.

  The girl hoisted her sword and levitated twenty feet into the air, intuiting that she’d need to be mobile.

  “Shit,” she groaned.

  The sea split and erupted. A colossal black shape, serpentine and hideous, burst from the waves, its size momentarily confounding Bailey’s ability to perceive what she was seeing.

  Jörmungandr looked somewhat like a typical snake, somewhat like a limbless Chinese dragon, and somewhat like a nightmare abomination that had no analog in anything she’d encountered. The sky was half-filled by its head and neck alone, so the creature had to be miles long.

  It whipped its head around and opened its jaws, revealing a throat like a cavern and fangs the size of trees. From its mouth, an object emerged as if thrown or spat. It spun toward a lumpy promontory above the beach, and it took Bailey a second to realize that it was a humanoid figure.

  Her eyes bulged, and she jetted toward it. As it drew closer to land and she drew closer to it, familiarity set in. The figure was a burly man with salt-soaked red hair and beard and armor stained with brine and blood. A short yet mighty hammer was clutched in his fist.

  “Thor!” Bailey cried, picking up speed as she flew laterally toward him. She couldn’t tell if he was alive or dead, conscious or not.

  Behind her, the World Serpent let out a deafening, air-splitting, and disturbingly high-pitched roar, the kind of earth-rending shriek she associated with kaiju films, though stripped of any semblance of charm or camp. Here, with the world’s most powerful monster right before her, the sound was terrifying.

  Bailey conjured a lattice of thin strands of moving air and shield matter, making a magical net where Thor was about to land. He plowed into it and slowed but still crashed into the ash-colored cliff with more force than she would have hoped.

  The girl halted her advance, allowed her feet to touch the ground, an
d ran to the thunder god’s side. “Thor! Are you all right? Talk to me!”

  The red-bearded deity twitched and rustled, spitting water out of his mouth. “Yes! Bloody hell and damnation. Is that Bailey? Curse Fenris for this! Help me stand.”

  Bailey put her arms under his shoulder and slowly raised him to his feet. She examined him at the same time, grasping that he had nearly drowned, been severely banged up, and had taken a further battering from his impact with the cliff, though not as bad as it would have been without Bailey’s net.

  As the thunder god regained the ability to stand, both their gazes drifted to the ocean. Jörmungandr was swimming toward them, its tunnel-like maw hanging open and its flat, cold, hideous eyes staring at them with hatred and hunger.

  Bailey asked, “Can you fight? I can, but—”

  “Yes!” Thor growled. “Not as well as I’d like, but that drooling worm hasn’t beaten me so quickly. Side by side! We should have rid the universe of this beast long ago, I say.”

  Staring at the abomination bearing down on them, Bailey wondered how many gods would have been a “safe” number to attack it.

  I’m guessing about a dozen, she surmised, as a conservative estimate. But we’ll have to make do with two, or more like one and a half.

  Then again, is this fucking thing really any worse than an entire army of smaller critters? Hundreds of elves, trolls, and giants are nothing an H-bomb-style explosion can’t solve.

  “Okay,” she told Thor, “shield your eyes and yourself.”

  She thrust her hand toward the serpent and nuked it.

  The air, land, and sea all turned white as a sphere of pure fiery death erupted at the point of Jörmungandr’s upper throat. Together, Bailey and Thor conjured an intensely powerful shield around themselves as shockwaves of force, heat, and overtaxed sound rippled past them, devastating the area. They closed their eyes.

  When they opened them again, much of the land had turned black, and the sea was a couple of feet lower. So much of the water had evaporated that the brief slope-point between land and water’s edge was gone; there was now a lip of land that plunged into the watery abyss.