Magni’s eyes danced across the faces around us as the eavesdroppers leaned in, clearly wondering what I’d meant. Seeing their uncertainty, the son of Thor threw out both hands and addressed the growing crowd like some sort of ringleader.
“Einherjar! Odin’s chosen! We have intruders among us. Two lowly creatures who were not chosen by the Allfather, himself! What say you to that?”
As if on cue, a series of cries bubbled up from the crowd of onlookers. Some were tamer than others—shouts of “kick them out” or “make them apologize” that were quickly overtaken by harsher, more aggressive suggestions like “put their heads on pikes” or “skin them alive.” Magni began pumping his arms in the air, encouraging their bloodlust. Fortunately, it didn’t take a genius to see where this was going.
So, before Magni could whip them into a complete frenzy, I did what any sane person about to be torn apart by a mob would do: I kicked their leader in the testicles with everything I had, smashed a pewter mug across his head, and pushed the nearest warrior into a crowd of unsuspecting drunks.
And, with that, the bar fight was officially on.
13
Unfortunately, the series of blows I’d landed—while therapeutic for me—seemed to have very little effect on the bearded hulk. Magni rose to his feet with a groan, shook his head like a concussed football player, groped at his crotch, and glared at me even as his would-be mob began surging in on itself.
“What have you done?” Magni demanded.
“Isn’t it obvious?” I waved a hand in the general direction of the crowd, ducking as a flagon flew past my head. “Ye got ‘em all riled up. All I did was give ‘em a push.”
Skadi laughed as a fist fight broke out between two revelers to our right, their scuffle taking them into a table full of nearly passed out drunks. In seconds, the bench was empty as more warriors joined the fray. The giantess clapped me on the shoulder.
“Well done!”
“That’s enough!” Magni bellowed, pointing at me, then Skadi. “I’ll show you what it means to insult the memory of Thor in Valhalla, you filthy—”
The giantess lashed out with one foot and sent Odin’s grandbaby soaring into the rafters before Magni could so much as utter another word. I winced as he collided with the ceiling, then crashed to the floor, squashing several warriors in the process. I turned to find the giantess grinning from ear to ear.
“Enjoyin’ yourself?”
“I love my home,” the giantess replied as she began cracking her neck and rolling her absurdly toned shoulders, “but it gets lonely. I have no one to wrestle but the bears, and they do not enjoy being pinned as much as they once did. Besides, it seems Odin’s warriors have forgotten the first rule of Valhalla.”
“Not to talk about Valhalla?” I ventured.
“No.” Skadi beckoned a small group of onlookers who’d managed to avoid the excitement, her eyes gleaming. “The rule is never to back down from a challenge, no matter what.”
“Even if that challenge could get ye killed?” I muttered, falling into a fighting stance, my pulse racing at the very real possibility of being pummeled to actual death by Odin’s spirit army. After all, I hadn’t healed before—there was no reason to believe I’d recover from injuries sustained in an all-out bar brawl.
Not that I regretted anything, mind you.
“Goddesses do not die,” Skadi replied, knowingly, before leaping into the fray.
“What about part-timers?” I yelled after her, but she was too far gone to hear me by that point; bodies went pinwheeling into the rafters as she leapt into the fray. I watched her go, shaking my head in amusement, only to feel a pair of impossibly beefy arms wrap around me, crushing the air from my lungs as they drew me back towards a chiseled body.
“Looks like she left you all alone, little mouse,” Modi whispered maliciously into my ear, the heat of his cheek against my neck raising goosebumps along my spine. “Let’s have some fun while you tell me who sent you, shall we?”
“Your father…” I wheezed, struggling to draw breath, “is...alive.”
“What did you say?” Modi spun me around.
Which was exactly what I’d hoped he’d do; I headbutted the bastard, slamming my skull into his nose with as much force as I could muster. I reeled from the experience, seeing galaxies as opposed to stars, but at least the assault had the desired effect: Modi released me, clutching his shattered nose instead of my arms. What I hadn’t prepared for, unfortunately, was the backhand that followed.
The blow sent me flying across the room to crash headlong into a gaggle of rumbling drunks who broke my fall with all the comfort of a concrete slab. I groaned, they groaned, we all groaned as the collision took its toll. Eventually, I rolled away, flopping onto my back to stare up at a gap in the rafters from where Magni had hit, just in time to watch the last light of day dwindle and cease. The stars came out, accompanied by the pounding of Modi’s footsteps and the wheeze of his threats. Of course, I wasn’t listening; I had far more important things to worry about.
Like how I’d gotten here in the first place.
14
The ugly face of a demigod obstructed my partial view of the night sky, its bulbous-nosed, broad jawed mashup caked in blood that seeped from each nostril like a leaky faucet. Hairy, calloused hands reached for me as though to draw me to my feet. I cringed at the thought of being touched by such dirty fingernails and slapped them away with disdain, glaring at the figure hovering over me, irked by his presumption.
“Can I help ye?” I asked, forced to speak up to be heard over the din; wherever I was, it seemed a fight of some sort had broken out. Even now I could hear guttural shouts, the occasional crow of victory, and the splintering of wood.
“You can die!” the demigod snapped, abandoning all pretense of civility as he lunged for me.
“Oh?” I flicked my wrist, and a ribbon-like tendril of shadow answered; the dark shape flew towards the demigod’s throat and encircled his flesh like a lasso, yanking him backwards like a dog hitting the end of his leash. The oafish creature groped at his neck, fingers passing right through his shadow collar, his unfortunate face purpling so quickly it felt like I was staring up at a grape about to burst.
I sat up and flung the demigod sideways so he wouldn’t obscure my view. Scowling, I took stock of my surroundings, noting the beer-soaked floor and my blood-stained shirt with equal disgust. I pawed at myself, aware that even my mouth tasted of that coppery substance. Had some pious soul offered me their blood as a sacrifice, or had I torn out some mortal’s beating heart and eaten it? Neither notion appealed to me, but I knew there had to be some explanation. Unfortunately, judging by the melee raging inside what appeared to be a massive wooden hall, anything was possible. As I watched, a swarthy, bearded man began pounding on a red-haired giant with a series of hammerfists, beating on him in fits and spurts to form some sort of primal language that defied translation.
Norse Code.
That voice again, tinged with amusement. Still, I supposed it made sense: the brawlers looked like vikings with their animal skins and vibrant fabrics. They also fought like what you’d expect from a race of plunderers—albeit more ferociously than I would have thought possible. No mortal, after all, should have been able to take a dozen blows to the head from an attacker and keep drinking, or get body slammed into a table only to leap to their feet a moment later. And yet, these improbable things happened again and again.
“Where am I?” I wondered aloud.
Valhalla.
The answer slid across my mind like a caress, and with it came the faintest memory. I suddenly remembered where I was and how I’d gotten here, though the latter was a bit murky. Another goddess had sent me to...spy for her? That couldn’t be right. Why would I have agreed to something like that?
I’d only just risen to my feet, prepared to find answers, when the blonde demigod I’d dismissed moments before came hurtling between two tables and barreled into me, wrapping his arms about
my legs and lifting me off the ground like a child. I ended up half over his shoulder, staring down at his rippling back as he slammed me against, and then through, the nearest wall. The demigod slipped as his feet hit a plot of slick grass, and within seconds the obscene weight of his body fell on top of me, his shoulder goring into my stomach with the full force of his momentum.
The experience as a whole was...unpleasant.
I grunted, raised a hand, and punched the demigod in the ear before he could think to try anything so foolish a second time. The angle was awkward, but the blow landed well enough; the blonde reeled, rolling to his side and cradling his injured organ, whimpering like a whipped dog.
“Not goin’ to do that again, are ye?”
I huffed as I found my feet, forced to brush off more dirt and grime from my ruined clothes. At this rate, I’d have to steal an outfit from those vikings—preferably something befitting a goddess of my stature. I eyed the writhing demigod. Too big. Maybe there would be someone my size inside?
Before I could find out, however, a body came careening through the mead hall wall, thrown so hard it blasted shards of wood everywhere and ended up bouncing across the lawn like a skipped stone. A figure stepped through the gaping hole she’d created, her body bathed in moonlight and roiling with power. I took an inadvertent step back, wary of the newcomer; her power lashed at the very air, tasting of ice and bone-chilling cold. And yet she kept it contained, somehow, refusing to let it loose on this place, perhaps aware that—if she did—she’d be dooming us all to a blizzard the likes of which I could only imagine.
“Who are ye?” I called.
“I see you are still figuring things out, child,” the blonde goddess replied, grinning wolfishly. “Come find me when you have finished with those two.”
I followed her gaze, realizing the demigod who’d tackled me had wandered off to help the hapless soul she’d sent hurtling through the wall. Together, leaning on each other for support, seething with anger and wounded pride, the two figures rose. I turned to ask a follow-up question, but the blonde goddess had retreated back into the mead hall.
“Now you’ve done it.” The demigod I’d punched stepped forward, threatening me as though he hadn’t been whining like a child only a few minutes ago. “Separate, my brother and I are stronger than any mortal.”
“But together,” his companion continued, his rusty beard comically askew, “even gods bow down before us.”
“Not this one,” I drawled.
“Magni,” the blonde demigod said, throwing out one arm so dramatically that I’d have thought they were trying out for a play.
“Modi,” replied the other, mimicking him.
Power began to build as the two locked hands, their energy shifting from one to the other and back again with a rocking sensation—like the tide rushing in and out. With every oscillation, the power grew. The two demigods began to glow with it; the blonde’s hair seemed to catch fire, his eyes burning golden beneath the night sky, while the ginger’s skin became a canvas of swirling blue light. I watched with interest as they began hyping each other up, shouting their names like berserkers.
“Magni!”
“Modi!”
“MAGNI!”
“MODI!”
Just as their voices reached an impossibly loud crescendo, their combined luminescence enough to make me squint, I caught sight of a dark figure lurking behind them. A serving girl, judging by her attire. I thought to warn her to step away from the crazy bastards before they erupted, but she didn’t give me a chance. Instead, the girl spread both arms wide, holding them outstretched like wings...and slapped the shit out of both demigods from behind.
Their combined light went out like a snuffed candle as the two brutes toppled to the ground, limp and unmoving. I blinked away spots in my vision and cocked an eyebrow as the serving girl approached, moving more sinuously than I’d have expected given her slim body.
“Who are ye?”
“You know, I knew there was something special about you the moment we met,” the serving girl replied, her eyes gleaming yellow in the moonlight. “Asking about these two, badmouthing Thor. And in Valhalla, no less. So risky.”
“We’ve met?”
“Of course we have. I see I must not have made enough of an impression.” The serving girl pouted, though the expression failed to account for the amusement twinkling in her otherworldly eyes. “That’s alright. I’m sure you won’t forget me after tonight.”
She raised a hand to her face as if to pull away a mask, pale yellow smoke trailing from her fingertips. I caught the barest glimpse of another face lurking behind her own, the briefest sense of a power that rivaled—if not surpassed—my own. But then, like a faucet being turned in the opposite direction, the sensation fled, and the serving girl’s pout returned.
“Looks like Freya sent her pet pigeons to ruin the fun,” she said, her arm falling limp to one side as she studied the night sky. True to her prediction, a flock of winged creatures soared towards us, their silhouettes visible across the face of the moon. “Such a shame. Things were just getting interesting, too. Oh well, I guess it’s time to go.”
“I don’t t’ink so” I said, throwing out a hand, binding the serving girl’s limbs with chains formed from shadow. “Tell me who ye are.”
But the girl’s body simply dissolved, turning into yellow smoke that coiled into the air, leaving only a floating head to speak three solitary words before it, too, faded like a mirage.
“See you around.”
15
I found myself surrounded by armored women with their weapons drawn, their metal wings tucked out of sight beneath the folds of hooded cloaks the color of arterial blood. I studied each in turn, struck by a nagging sense of familiarity that left lingering impressions of hands braiding my hair and smiling faces leering over my shoulder as I studied myself in the mirror. Only it wasn’t my reflection I saw staring back at me, and there was no way I could have spent time with these mortals without knowing it; I couldn’t even recall their names.
Valkyries.
Before I could locate the source of that voice, a Valkyrie with a crude lighthouse etched across her breastplate stepped closer than the rest, dragging the two unconscious demigods across the lawn by their wrists. She dumped them at my feet like discarded trash and threw her hands up into the air, clearly irate.
“What were you thinking?” the Valkyrie demanded. “You were supposed to spy on these idiots, dammit, not incite a riot!”
“I was spyin’ on these two?” I arched an eyebrow, bent down, and snatched up both demigods by their tunics. I lifted them up high overhead, studying their slack faces and wondering what could possibly make them worth my attention. Finding nothing of note, I began looking for traces of whatever magic the serving girl had used to short circuit the meatheads. I didn’t find any; whatever she’d done, it had been too quick, too subtle, for me to follow. I grunted, annoyed—between her and the blonde goddess with literal ice in her veins, I was beginning to feel a little outclassed.
“How the hell are you doing that?”
I craned my neck, looking past the demigods to find the Valkyrie who’d accused me of starting the brawl in a fighting stance, the razor sharp prongs of her trident pointed directly at me as though I’d threatened her with some form of violence. I gave her the look that deserved and swiveled to face her directly.
“Doin’ what, exactly?”
“That.” She tilted her chin towards the demigods, jabbing her glorified pitchfork in their general direction. “Lifting them over your head. When did you get that strong?”
“When?” I echoed, frowning. I shrugged, confused by the question, and dropped the bodies. They landed with a thud, sprawled across each other like exhausted lovers. “I’ve always been like this.”
“Not always,” the Valkyrie countered. “When we fought, you weren’t capable of that.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. We’ve never fought.”
“Did
you hit your head, or something? Of course we did. I sliced your wrist. Look!”
I glanced down at the wrist she indicated, saw the grubby bandage binding it, and began immediately tearing the wretched thing off; blood and beer were one thing, but any material stained that particular color could only have revolting origins. Fortunately, once removed, I found the flesh underneath as pale and unblemished as ever.
“Lady Freya’s magic must have healed you,” the Valkyrie muttered, dubiously. “I’m telling you, we fought, and you were barely able to pin me.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Why impossible?”
“Because,” I replied, exasperated by her insistence, “if we’d fought, you’d be dead.”
The Valkyrie’s mouth fell open, then clamped shut, her jaw clenched so tight I could practically hear her teeth grind. She narrowed eyes of two different colors, shaking her head.
“I don’t think so.”
“No? Well, you’re welcome to prove me wrong. Otherwise, I suggest ye drop it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. We came to retrieve you, not beat you senseless.”
The first rule of Valhalla.
“I challenge any one of you to try.”
The Valkyrie’s two-toned eyes widened at the challenge, her trident dipping several inches as though she’d expected me to back down. Realizing that wasn’t the case, she tensed, her grip tightening perceptively around the shaft of her chosen weapon. I flashed her an inviting smile, daring her to make the first move.
But then a hand landed on her arm.
“Allow me, sister.”
“Róta?” The trident-wielder flinched, startled to find another Valkyrie at her side. “No, this is my challenge to answer. Lady Freya asked me to look after her...even though kicking her ass probably wasn’t what she had in mind.”
Brimstone Kiss: Phantom Queen Book 10 - A Temple Verse Series (The Phantom Queen Diaries) Page 8