Brimstone Kiss: Phantom Queen Book 10 - A Temple Verse Series (The Phantom Queen Diaries)

by Shayne Silvers

  Fortunately, according to Freya, there was a path that led directly from the edge of Fólkvangr to the gates of Helheim, reserved for Valkyries and their freshly collected souls. Apparently—assuming they weren’t chosen by Odin or Freya—the leftover spirits were escorted to either Niflheim or Helheim, respectively. Neither seemed like a punishment in the strictest sense of the word—nothing like the fiery pits of Hell I’d been threatened with as a child. And yet, neither had sounded particularly appealing, either.

  “And now ye get to experience both firsthand,” I muttered, chastising myself as I stood before that wall of writhing mist. “And ye always did say ye wanted to travel to new and exotic places, didn’t ye, Quinn? Ye damned idget.”

  Before I could talk myself out of it, I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and marched into the mists the way you might leap into the deep end of a swimming pool.

  Geroni-freaking-mo.

  26

  Perhaps only a few minutes—but what felt like at least an hour—later, I caught my foot on an outstretched tree limb, stumbled, and crashed to the ground with my pulse beating in my ears. Shrieks and howls followed me like some demented laugh track, playing over and over again as I scrambled back to my feet, searching desperately for the path Freya had urged me to find and stay on. The path I’d been looking for since I first arrived and been set upon by the horrific monsters which hunted me. If I could only locate it, I thought, maybe I would be safe, or at least able to make a break for the relative safety of Helheim.

  Anywhere was better than here.

  How had things gone so wrong? The answer was simple: I had no fucking clue.

  It had all begun the instant I cleared the wall of mist, after which I’d been immediately tracked and hounded by terrifying beasts of unimaginable size and speed, surviving only thanks to the integrity of my armor and my improved reaction time. Since then, I’d been swatted and gnawed on, slashed and smacked around—forced to flee before I became some bugaboo’s permanent snack. At first, I’d assumed I must have stepped into some Niflheim nest full of revolting critters, but the longer I ran the more of them I saw. Indeed, between them and the haphazard pockets of mist, it had quickly become all I could do to stay one step ahead of my assailants. Now, it felt a lot less like I’d upset Niflheim’s ecosystem and more like I was being herded.

  Like I was being led somewhere.

  Somewhere that rhymed with water.

  I panted heavily, sprinting between two sickly looking trees weighed down by thick, mossy vines just as an enormous snake-like monstrosity curled its massive body around the nearest trunk. It saw me and reared back to reveal a muck-covered, white-scaled belly complete with chitinous legs. I dove instinctively, rolling to my right as the beast struck the tree, barreling into the rotten trunk with enough force to snap it in two. I leapt to my feet, immediately aware of a sense of movement beneath the creature’s flesh as though its insides were trying to emerge. A second glance revealed dark, man-like shapes writhing beneath its skin, their mouths open in silent screams.

  Disgusted, horrified, and verging on exhausted, I took off once more, this time moving towards the chill that lingered in the air; Freya had mentioned something about the heart of Niflheim being more of an icy wasteland than a terrifying jungle, with Helheim at its center. If I couldn’t find the path, I decided, perhaps this was the next best thing.

  Unfortunately, as the air grew colder, the landscape grew more bleak, leaving less cover for me to duck behind and catch my breath. I began to see shadows flit across the ground as beasts from above wheeled in mid-air, flinching every time I heard one of their ear-splitting shrieks.

  Why hadn’t Freya’s blessing worked? I asked myself that question over and over again as I bolted from tree to boulder to bush, skirting patches of mist that hovered like a poisonous fog. But the answer eluded me. It was possible Freya had betrayed me, of course, but unlikely. She’d gone through too much trouble to outfit me and extract a promise. Skadi, too, might have done something to negate the Vanir’s power, but why? If she wanted me dead, all she had to do was step on me and claim it was an accident. That left the possibility of either a defective blessing or a rule change even Freya hadn’t known about.

  Could Ryan have done something to upset the balance? The thought made me sick to my stomach; if Ryan had enough influence to do this, I wasn’t sure I stood a chance against him no matter which version of me was steering the ship. Worse, if this was the fallout from his mere presence, I doubted there was anything left of my friend to save.

  Before I could dwell on any of that, however, a pair of glowing eyes emerged from a nearby bog, attached to the seething silhouette of what looked like a gigantic wolf. I recognized the bastard immediately as one of the first monsters to find me, recalling how its canines had crunched against my armor as it flung me about like a rag doll. Realizing it would be futile to hide, I made a break for it, charging in the opposite direction even as the dread wolf loped towards me, its ragged panting growing louder and louder, until I thought I could feel its fetid breath on my neck. Seeing a cave entrance looming in the distance, I changed direction. But there was no way I was going to make it.

  This was it.

  The second it caught me, the others would catch up and pull me apart by my limbs, armor or no armor. Which meant I would never save Ryan. I would never find and save Max. I would never see my friends or loved ones again. Indeed, at that moment, it wasn’t my life that flashed before my eyes, but the life I would have had.

  The dread wolf pounced.

  And suddenly a bigger creature appeared, spiking the dread wolf’s head like a volleyball before snatching its torso up in jaws that could easily have clamped around an apartment building. Perhaps three times as large and twice as wide as its opponent, the hairy monstrosity snarled and snapped, tearing the dread wolf to pieces before my very eyes. I had perhaps a second to admire the ferocious creature, to realize I was looking at a jötunn wolf that made its prey look like a cheap, dime store knock-off by comparison, and to wonder at the collar around its thick neck before a hand clamped over my mouth and someone snatched me up by the waist and drew me back into the recesses of the cave.

  27

  The hand pressed against my lips fell away before I could so much as utter a muffled scream or—even more likely—lick the offending palm; few things weird people out as thoroughly as sliding a sloppy wet tongue across their skin without their permission. The arm around my waist followed suit as the person it belonged to backpedaled deeper into the cave, his hands held out to either side, fingers splayed as though assuring me he meant no harm. Which was good, because as abductors go, something told me he wasn’t the sort I’d have wanted to square off against.

  Several inches taller than I was, with lean, ripcord muscles on display beneath his shabby, tattered clothes, the man who’d snatched me up—if only for a moment—reminded me of a wild animal, though I wasn’t entirely sure why. Perhaps it was his crazy mane of dark, curly hair or the fluid way he moved as he leaned to look past my shoulder at the fight raging outside, or perhaps it was the feral grin that tugged at his pouty lips. Either way, I found myself on edge as the madman, with a movement so slow and sinuous that it became mesmerizing, brought one of those spindly fingers to his lips, his pale grey eyes flicking meaningfully to the sounds of the dread wolf being ripped to shreds and devoured.

  He beckoned me to step further into the cave, then retreated as though I’d have no choice but to follow. Of course, he was right; at least in here I could catch my breath and hide out from the beasts who’d been after me up to this point, maybe even get some answers. Still, I knew better than to trust some madman in a cave in a realm that was supposed to cater exclusively to dead people. I grabbed a flat rock big enough to clock my abductor upside the head with and crept forward, prepared for whatever shenanigans he might have in store.

  Fortunately, the madman seemed to have gotten it out of his system when he abducted me; nothing untoward happe
ned until I was another twenty feet further in, and—when it finally did—all that came of it was a fire being lit in the recesses of the cave. I hid my face from the sudden blaze, but lowered my arm once I saw that it illuminated what remained of the cave’s interior with its flickering light. The madman squatted beside it, poking the flames with his bare finger.

  “Who are ye?” I whispered once I reached the fire. “And what is this place?”

  “You can speak freely,” he replied without so much as a glance in my direction, waving his hand idly at the cave ceiling. “We won’t be overhead, here.”

  I looked up and gasped, marveling to see so many runes carved into the stone. No, not carved, I realized. Branded, their designs burned into the stone itself. The stone bore scorch marks elsewhere—evidence of past fires. Oh, and bones. Lots and lots of bones.

  “For when my son grows hungry,” the madman went on, gesturing to the pile of discarded remains.

  “Your son?”

  “Yes, he’s the one making all that noise outside.”

  “He…” I drifted off, realizing the madman was talking about the ginormous wolf that’d inadvertently saved me. “Ye can’t mean…”

  “I hadn’t planned to stay here very long, you see,” he continued as though I hadn’t spoken. “But Fenrir is so fond of hunting down those creatures outside, how could I deny him?”

  Fenrir. The name instantly struck a chord; I took a halting step backwards, my skin crawling with the knowledge that I’d been saved by the wolf prophesied to kill Odin and kick off Ragnarök...after he devoured a good portion of the earth and sky, of course. Worse, if the madman was telling the truth, that meant I was talking to Fenrir’s father.

  Loki, the Norse god of mischief.

  “Relax,” Loki insisted, turning to stare at me, the firelight bathing half his body, the other lost to shadow. Except it wasn’t Loki lookin at me; a single yellow eye danced with amusement in the socket of a serving girl’s familiar face. “I did say I would see you around.”

  “It was ye! You’re the girl from the mead hall!”

  “Allegedly. You know, I do love that word. Also the phrase ‘innocent until proven guilty.’ And rumors! All those tools of misdirection making equally useful tools out of people...and gods, of course. Let’s not forget those preening fools.”

  “Why were ye there?” I asked, unable to let go of the deception even after his face shifted back to normal. “And why d’ye hit on me?”

  “Curiosity, mostly. I’ve never lain with a woman pretending to be a man while I pretended to be a woman. It was all so...meta. Another great word.” Loki leaned back, his lean muscles bunching as he looked to the ceiling. “And I was there for the same reason as you, obviously. Though I confess I make a much better spy. It’s all in the body language. And, well, the body.”

  “Ye were spyin’ on someone? But who? Wait…” I drifted off, sensing the answer before he could respond. “Magni and Modi. They were talkin’ about Mjolnir, and they said somethin’ about ye…”

  “I know.” Loki’s tone was displeased to the extreme, and the fire seemed to react to his displeasure; it flared up for a moment, forming a brilliant column of flame. “Those imbeciles. They had one job, and they couldn’t even do that right.”

  “To kill Odin?” I asked, tentatively.

  “Those morons? Kill Odin? Of course not. They weren’t ever going to lay a hand on the Allfather. They were simply meant to keep him busy. Preoccupied. Distracted.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s my business. And I’m much more interested in hearing about yours.” Loki swiveled, produced a rocking chair out of mid-air, and plopped down with a sigh. “What brings you to Niflheim, my little imposter?”

  “What d’ye call me?” The nickname sent a shiver up my spine, reminding me of the private conversation between Freya and me. Or what I’d assumed had been a private conversation, at any rate. Had Loki been listening in, somehow? But then, why hadn’t either of us noticed him? For that matter, why couldn’t I sense him, now? I scented the air, trying to determine the flavor of Loki’s power, but found it masked by the odor of burning wood and the vague sensation of warmth.

  Loki’s grin simply widened in response.

  “I came here to find someone,” I replied eventually, breaking the awkward silence, my voice barely carrying over the crackle of the fire. “Well, not here, exactly…”

  “Helheim,” Loki supplied.

  “How d’ye know that?”

  “Educated guess. Tell me, do you know what that thing out there chasing you was? Ah, I can see that you don’t. Allow me to share.” Loki rocked back and forth in his chair, his fingers steepled at chest level. “Those, my little imposter, are souls. Spirits sewn together by foul magic that is not of this realm.”

  I scowled, baffled as to why Loki would freely share this much information with me, but also caught up in the content of what he was saying. Those were souls I’d seen swirling beneath that creature’s flesh? It was the word “sewn” that I kept coming back to, however; I only knew of one asshole who used magic to create monsters.

  Frankenstein.

  “Now that you know something about,” Loki said, leaning forward eagerly.

  “That’s me business,” I retorted, spitefully.

  “Ordinarily, I might agree. Not that it would stop me from flaying you alive to find out what you knew, but I respect the commitment to one’s secrets. In this case, however, I think it is also my business.”

  “Why is that?” I asked, my mouth dry after having processed Loki’s not-so-idle threat.

  “Because Niflheim is considered the outskirts of my daughter’s realm, and I know my own flesh and blood perhaps better than they know themselves. Hel is a gloomy, depressing creature, but she was never cruel. What animates those beasts out there are hundreds of tortured souls, and I am a god.”

  Struggling to put the pieces together, I found myself recalling not what Freya had said about Loki back at the tower, but how she’d said it. She hadn’t spoken of him in glowing terms or anything like that, but she had seemed to respect whatever Loki brought to the proverbial table. Which meant the question wasn’t whether the god of mischief was lying to me, but whether he thought telling me would serve his agenda.

  “What’s bein’ a god got to do with it?”

  “When souls are in pain, they pray to anyone who will listen. Which means I can hear their screams.”

  A shiver ran up my spine.

  “Why are ye tellin’ me this?”

  Loki reached out to touch the fire with his bare hand, letting the flames lick his immortal skin as he adjusted a log about to tumble and collapse into the ash. The fire grew hotter, chasing away even the faint chill from outside, and I realized the sounds of Fenrir’s chomping had died away, leaving a stillness in the air that made me want to squirm.

  “What if I were to tell you that my daughter is no longer running Helheim?”

  28

  Despite knowing the trouble Ryan’s arrival could mean for this realm and its inhabitants, the news that its ruler had been supplanted came as quite the shock. So much so, in fact, that I had to spend at least a minute processing Loki’s pronouncement. Of course, the next logical question was the obvious one.

  “Then who is in charge?”

  “The individual responsible for those malformed monsters that hunt you, I expect. I haven’t been able to sneak past my daughter’s guard dog to find out for myself.” Loki pinched his shirt between his fingers. “Illusions are one thing, but getting the smell of dog out of your clothes? Good luck.”

  “That’s why you’re tellin’ me all this,” I said, clapping a hand to my head for being so dense. “Ye want to know who it is.”

  “Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong.”

  I lowered my arm, slowly.

  “You see,” Loki continued, “I don’t much care who it is. I just want them stopped. Murdered, actually, assuming they’re alive. Oh, but also tortured, if y
ou can manage it.”

  “Would ye like me to make ye a cup of coffee while I’m at it?”

  “No thanks. I’m stimulated enough as is.”

  I rolled my eyes. “And what makes ye t’ink I stand a chance against him if he managed to overthrow your daughter? Isn’t she one of the jötunnar?”

  “So it’s a him, then?” Loki pursed his lips, amused to see me squirm with the knowledge that I’d given him a clue. “Hel is very powerful, it’s true, but also easily fooled. She gets that from her mother, obviously.”

  “Obviously,” I drawled.

  “It’s quite possible she was taken in by this usurper. Tricked, somehow. Helheim has been her home for a long, long time. Few gods ever visit who aren’t already dead, and Valkyries make for poor company.” Loki eyed me up and down with disdain. “Anyway, she makes an easy mark.”

  “So ye want me to, what, rescue her? After I torture and murder the person responsible, of course.”

  “I’ll leave that bit up to you. Keep in mind, however, that Helheim without Hel would be a lawless wilderness full of abandoned souls with no one to shelter or guide them. If you can live with that on your conscience, then far be it from me to try to convince you otherwise.”

  So, that was his plan: use me to do the dirty work and help his offspring, aware that the only way to right the wrongs that had been done here was to see order restored. Of course, that meant he was relying on my altruism—my sense of justice.

  “So, what’s in it for me?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Well, it seems to me ye get to see your daughter returned to her throne, these beasts returned to their less horrifyin’ states, and all ye have to do is sit on your ass in some cave, keepin’ your son as far away as ye can from an old, one-eyed man and his stick.”