No Earthly Treason (The Necromancer's Daughter Book 2)

by Genevra Black

  Indriði turned, eyes shining with triumph. She took the paragon around her neck in one hand, tracing its edges with her thumb.

  Dread tickled Edie’s innards. Indriði wasn’t stupid—she knew that you couldn’t kill a valkyrie by conventional means. But Edie remembered something the Norn had said to her: If someone’s fylgja died, they died, too.

  The paragon had never been for Edie, or to add to her collection. It was for Astrid.

  The ambient hum in the room became louder as Indriði took the paragon from around her neck and opened her palm. The prism floated as though it were a balloon she had set free, then stopped between the Norn and Astrid, rotating slowly.

  Indriði closed her eyes, and her chanting began. What sounded like a hundred voices around them chimed in, invoking the names of the runes. The strange energy in the room surged until Edie’s skin was buzzing with energy and even kneeling still was difficult. Beside her, Satara wept in frustration, writhing and straining against her bonds as well.

  A streak of midnight blue burst from behind Astrid in a flit of wings. Edie squinted until she could make out the shape of an eagle with a fluffy crest, its form filled with twinkling stars, its eyes electric. It fluttered frantically for a moment, movements perfectly matching Astrid’s own desperate thrashing.

  Then, Indriði stretched a hand out toward the keeper paragon, and the eagle seemed to almost be pulled into a whirlwind. It could only resist the pull for a moment before it was forced to soar in circles around the ritual room, tighter and tighter, closing in on the prism. Edie shouted as if to warn it, but her voice was drowned out by the chanting.

  With an eerie screech and a flash of light, the paragon swallowed Astrid’s fylgja whole. The crystal glowed pale blue.

  The chanting became faster and deeper, darker somehow. They were no longer just invoking runes, but using other words, too, stringing the ancient language into complex sentences. Astrid’s anguish echoed in Edie’s ears as well as through her body and soul, turning the room cold as ice. Edie could see Indriði’s breath as she continued to chant.

  The Norn slowly began to clench her outstretched hand into a fist, and as she did, the light emitting from the keeper paragon changed. Deep scarlet began to bloom and spread, whirling, the crimson eddies blotting out every trace of blue until the entire paragon was glaring red. A horrible shriek built up in the room, seeming to come from the very foundations of the earth itself. The prism shook where it floated in mid-air. Then, suddenly, a blazing crack formed. Then another, and another, until it seemed like the crystal was about to explode.

  Astrid struggled harder than before—frenzied, pitching, animal. She beat her wings harder, her feet finally leaving the ground. Her spectral chains squealed like thawing ice as she writhed, her form bursting with light again and again. The wind, the screaming, the light … it was overwhelming. It was happening so fast, and Edie could do nothing to stop it. She rocked hard against her chains, crying wordlessly.

  Astrid rose higher even though her beating had weakened, wings shuddering. Her bindings strained; the iron rings that attached her to the floor groaned. The valkyrie threw back her head and emitted one last, distant wail as holes began to form in her skin, like paper eaten away by flame.

  Eventually, there was nothing left for the chains to hold. They fell to the floor with eerie silence instead of a crash.

  What was left of Astrid—nothing more than flecks of ash—dispersed. Soon, the flakes lost their glow and melted into oblivion.

  The chanting subsided, but someone was losing their mind, crying and screaming at the top of their lungs. In Edie’s dazed state, she couldn’t tell if it was her or Satara. If she wasn’t screaming, she certainly wanted to. Her ears rang, and the noise became fuzzy as she lurched forward and vomited onto the stone floor in front of her. Her throat burned. She wanted the bright lights and the loud noises to stop. She needed this to be a nightmare.

  But the nightmare wasn’t done with them. When she finally opened her eyes—puffy, wet, impossibly hot—she came face to face with Indriði.

  The Norn sat on her haunches just out of Edie’s reach, smiling serenely. “You’ll thank me for that someday.”

  In reply, Satara spat at her feet. “Fúna í Náströnd, filthy sow bitch.”

  “Whatever you say.” Indriði’s smile became tighter, and she stood, gesturing for four veiled figures to collect the prisoners.

  Zaedicus approached. “Take them back to their cells. The Wounded Lord will be here soon to retrieve the hellerune.”

  “What are we to do with the leftover, my lord?” one of them asked with a voice like whispering cloth.

  “He will find some use for her.” The high-wight waved a hand dismissively. “Get them out of my sight.”

  Edie and Satara were hauled to their feet once again, and soon enough, the darkness of their cells swallowed them up.

  Edie laid her head down on the stone floor and stared into the void, feeling weightless. This wasn’t real. She had to keep telling herself that—because beyond that possibility lay an abyss that would devour her whole.

  She closed her eyes. Eventually, Satara’s steady weeping lulled her into a fitful sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Ghost’s movements were jerkier than usual as she cruised toward Alderdeen, and Cal couldn’t blame her. It wasn’t often she had to cart around so many strangers and people she didn’t like in one day. He rubbed the wheel as he navigated through the city, teeth perpetually gritted, trying to reach their destination as fast as he could.

  Like the car, he was tense, too. Tilda was in the passenger seat for the first time in ten years, tucked up against the door with her legs tightly crossed so she wouldn’t have to touch him, even by accident. Not that he wanted her to. But still.

  Her boy-toy and the fish stick were both brooding in the back seat, and Cal glanced into the rearview mirror to examine them. Fisk was just coming off a near-fatal sickness, and Antoniu looked like a strong wind would snap him in half. Tilda could hold her own, but she was still only one person.

  Cal was starting to wonder if there was any chance they’d make it out alive, but it was too late to turn back now. He’d already told Marius where to meet them, and if one thing could be said for that vivid, it was that he didn’t waste any time.

  As they turned into the neighborhood at last, a strange thumping noise from Ghost’s rear caught Cal’s attention. He was running through a mental list of broken parts that made a sound like that when, suddenly, Ghost pulled herself off the road and popped the trunk.

  Dread and anger throbbed through his shoulders and up his neck. Cursing, he kicked the driver’s door open and got out just in time to see someone climbing from the trunk.

  Sissel. Of course.

  “For fuck’s sake, get in the car,” he snapped, eyes darting around the street. It wouldn’t be much of a stealthy rescue if they were spotted before they even got there.

  The kid practically dove into the back seat, sandwiching herself between Fisk and the wraith. Her cheeks were flushed, but she flashed a shit-eating grin at Cal when he climbed back in and turned to look at her.

  “What the flame-roasted fuck do you think you’re doing here?” he demanded.

  She fiddled with the sleeves of her oversized hoodie. “I wanted to come, but I knew you wouldn’t let me. Soooo, I hid. It was kinda getting claustrophobic back there.”

  Cal turned forward and glared at the steering wheel, addressing Ghost. “Were you in on this?”

  She rumbled underneath him.

  “Bitch.”

  “Soooo,” Sissel said, looking around at everyone. “Can I come?”

  Tilda gave her a deeply disapproving look. “We asked you to stay behind for a reason. It’s going to be very, very dangerous. You could get hurt. You could die!”

  The teen shrugged. “I mean, I’m already here. You can’t just take me back, right? This is all kind of time-sensitive.”

  Cal groaned and rest
ed his forehead on the steering wheel. “Why are you like this? Fuckin’—” He raised his head and looked up at the rearview mirror, fixing her with a glare. “You’re staying in the car. No fucking way I’m letting you step foot in there.”

  Sissel crossed her arms. “Come on, bro. You keep Edie alive on the regular, and we all know I’m more useful than she is.”

  He couldn’t argue with that. But then again, he kind of had to keep Edie safe. Sissel wasn’t his responsibility, and he didn’t want to make her his responsibility. He pulled back onto the street, mumbling, “It ain’t my fault if you end up dead.”

  Beside him, Tilda sighed and shook her head.

  The street was quiet as they pulled up to the Norn’s townhouse, but bright yellow lights flashing in the vestibule windows betrayed the fact that Marius had arrived before them. Cal pulled the car to the curb and stormed out and up the front steps. As he yanked the double doors open, he could hear the others following.

  Marius stood in the center of the sleek lobby, in front of a security desk. His glittering half-plate was splattered with blood, and in his left hand, he clutched a dying security guard by the collar. The bodies of a couple others littered the floor, singed and thrown in awkward positions.

  When the vivid noticed them entering, he turned and dropped the security guard at his feet.

  “Started without us, Sparky?” Cal asked.

  Marius rolled his neck. “I figured you’d be joining me soon enough.” He gestured to the guards. “I was able to take them out before they could sound an alarm, but more may come if there are monitored cameras.”

  Tilda came to stand next to Cal, looking up at him. “Can you get a bead on Edie?”

  He closed his eyes, trying to focus on the connection. It was much stronger now that he was inside the building. She was cold and wet, her brain throbbing. Pain, confusion, anger all mingled with a gut-wrenching sense of loss.

  It was a bad feeling. Raw. Cal wasn’t a praying man, but he hoped to all the gods that they were all still alive and in one piece, ’cause it sure didn’t feel like it.

  After a moment, he exhaled slowly and opened his eyes. Their connection was tugging him downward. “She must be in a basement or something.” He pointed to the spotless white floor. “Down there somewhere.”

  Marius nodded and wasted no time, turning to jog to the shining elevator on the left-hand wall. The others watched as he lingered in front of it, waving his hands like he could feel something in the air. After a few moments, he turned back again with a noise of frustration. “The elevator is warded. I’ll need the skjǫld-lykill to break it without alerting anyone.”

  “In English, please?” Sissel said from somewhere behind Cal. “Literally?”

  “I told you to wait in the car,” the revenant snapped.

  She shook her head. “Nope, you said it wasn’t your fault if I ended up dead. I’m cool with that responsibility.” Before someone could protest, she added, her tone more agitated, “And I don’t need to be parented. I’m here to help, so let me.”

  “A ward key,” Marius clarified as he eyed Sissel, clearly growing impatient.

  Cal crossed his arms. “We haven’t gotten it yet, but apparently the Norn’s steward is in charge of all the wards. So, I guess we find him or wherever he keeps his shit and we’re gold.”

  “Fine.” The vivid counted heads. “We need to split up into groups and try to find either some stairs leading to the dungeons or a ward key. Which of you have combat training?”

  “I’ll go with Antoniu,” Tilda offered crisply. She probably wasn’t the biggest fan of having an Auroran calling all the shots, and Cal couldn’t say he blamed her.

  Sissel scooted toward Fisk and linked arms with him. “I’m going with the Shape of Water guy!”

  Oh, brother. That meant….

  Cal cringed and glanced at Marius with a huff. The vivid was eyeing him similarly. “I guess that means it’s me and you.”

  The groups dispersed. Once he and Cal were alone in the foyer, Marius turned toward the staircase. “I doubt they’ll find any stairs to the dungeons. That isn’t really something you want guests wandering into.”

  “Where were you thinkin’, then, smart guy?”

  “I think we should go up there.” He pointed. “Better chance of finding the steward’s room, and while we’re up there, we can look for an office or study. If we don’t find the Norn herself, we might find some valuable intelligence.”

  Cal didn’t particularly want to run into the Norn, if he was honest. He didn’t want to tussle with anything that had managed to capture both Astrid and her shieldmaiden, but snooping around sounded fine. He followed Marius silently up the staircase, thankful that the guy at least had a good head on his highfalutin shoulders.

  The two were quiet as they roamed the halls, giving every room a cursory glance. On the second floor, they didn’t find anything that looked like a study. Most of the doors were warded, or else the rooms plain and desolate; in fact, it wasn’t until they reached the fourth floor that there were any signs that this place was actually lived in.

  The set of back stairs they had been using led straight to a hallway with a tidy bedroom at their end. Tidy, but odd. Most of the furniture seemed to be made of stone, the fireplace more a reservoir for coals than a traditional hearth. Cal could feel the heat of the glow from here.

  Marius looked back at him, brows knit tightly. “Does a dwarf live here, by any chance?”

  “Uh....” A sudden memory; his spirits lifted. Yes! “The kid said her steward was a dwarf. Roggvi.”

  “Perfect.” Marius slipped inside.

  Cal glanced down the hallway, feeling exposed now that he was the only one standing there. “I’m gonna look for a study,” he mumbled, then slunk off, one hand on his shotgun.

  Turned out, this stupid place was insanely confusing. It was as though it had been designed to turn people around, and he almost found himself lost a couple times before he finally located more rooms. At the end of the dim hall, the familiar platinum elevator stood between what looked like a lounge and a study.

  Jackpot. These rooms were empty of people, like the rest of this damn house. He was beginning to wonder what the deal was with that. If it was some kind of ambush, they were really biding their fuckin’ time. But if it was an ambush….

  Antoniu wouldn’t let Tilda get hurt. Cal had witnessed Fisk biting a guy’s actual head open, once. They’d all be okay.

  He took a deep breath and slipped into the study.

  It was a surprisingly modern room for someone who was a billion years old or whatever. He was used to ancient pricks like Zaedicus who liked writhing around in animal furs, caressing antique chalices and wingback chairs. For some reason, the stark difference in Indriði’s style—not to mention the spider tanks around the room, fuck—made him nervous. Now he wasn’t sure what to expect from her at all.

  Carefully, Cal crept over to the desk. Seemed like any information worth having would be there. A state-of-the-art desktop computer gleamed back at him, and he felt weird clicking the mouse to wake it up. It didn’t ask for a password, just opened onto a screen full of documents. But, hell, he’d never used a computer before. Even if he knew what he was looking for, he probably wouldn’t be able to find it.

  He ignored the computer for now, focusing on the desk instead. The papers resting on top of it were financial documents of some kind, like Indriði had been doing taxes or something before deciding it would be fun to kidnap a valkyrie. He rifled through the drawers, but it was more of the same—miscellaneous papers having to do with assets or whatever the fuck.

  The last drawer, though … something was off with the last drawer. He took all the papers out, frowned, then glanced at the front of it again. It looked way bigger on the outside than it did on the inside. Either it was a big empty space in there, or….

  Cal set the papers aside and peered into the drawer again. Pushing on the inside of the drawer caused the bottom panel to rock an
d thump quietly as it shifted. Gotcha. False bottom.

  He grabbed a letter opener from the desk and pried it open.

  Inside was a mess of papers, mostly handwritten. They were in a weird language—Icelandic, he thought—but if they were hidden, they had to be important. He leafed through them, trying to see if he recognized any names, but most of them were unsigned.

  Scarlet. Seeing her name made him stop in his tracks. That bitch. If there was info to be had about her, he was definitely taking that shit. He pulled the paper out, scanning the lines of gibberish. The name Zaedicus popped out at him, too, and—

  And a third name. One he hadn’t heard in a long time. Daschla.

  “Astrid’s shieldmaiden?” he mumbled to himself.

  Movement in the study doorway caught his eye, and he looked up to see Marius slipping inside.

  “Any luck?”

  The vivid shook his head, expression twisted with frustration. “Only personal effects. He must keep the ward key on him.”

  “Guess we’ll just have to find him, then.” Cal took as many sheets of paper as he could comfortably fit in his jacket’s inner pocket, folded them, and tucked them away as he stood. Sparky might be able to read them, but he wasn’t about to drop info in the Aurora’s lap. Best to take them along. Astrid or Satara could translate it for him.

  Hopefully, they were still alive.

  Marius gave him a once-over. “What did you find?”

  “Nothing important. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  “Couldn’t agree more.” The vivid turned and left the room.

  They navigated the dark halls, Cal taking up the rear, and between the two of them managed not to get lost on their way back to the servants’ stairs.

  But as they rounded a corner, Marius stopped abruptly and dug his heels into the floor. Cal cursed, barely side-stepping him before they collided. “What the hell is your problem?” the revenant began.