by Susan Harris
Her father’s face was enraged as he spotted them, his anger radiating so much that thunder clapped outside the palace and lightning streaked the side.
“Odin, my love, the children were just letting off some steam,” Frigg said gently as she stepped in between her husband and us children.
“Three of them are gods and not children. The others are supposed to be warriors. Mayhap I should have a conversation with Freya in regards to their training.”
His words boomed like the thunder outside as Ever saw Erika reach for a blade that rested at her hip. She glanced at Ever, who shook her head, and while Erika didn’t withdraw her blade, she still remained coiled with tension.
“Odin.” Frigg sighed softly before she shook her head and strode toward him. He dropped the hammer to the ground with a thud that sent a crack running down the hallway, along the tiles at their feet.
Frigg placed a hand on his arm, and the thunder stopped, then Odin glared at them. For a moment, Ever thought she saw a glint of madness in his gaze. Then he pivoted on his feet, retreating into the great hall and sucking all the tension from the corridor.
Thor held out his hand to call his hammer, grunted his farewell and then strode away from them all, as perplexed about Odin’s temper as the rest of them. Loki had also vanished into thin air, leaving Ever standing alone with Baldur.
“What has gotten him in such a twist, Bal?”
Baldur folded his arms across his chest. “A prophecy has been uncovered that suggests Ragnarök may happen sooner than we expected. I asked Father for the chance to speak to the prophet, for he has indicated that my death will be the spark that ignites the flames. He denied me and said that what comes to pass, comes to pass. Our destiny is already written.”
Baldur set his hands on her shoulders. “I have not spent as much time with you as Thor or the trickster, but you are still my sister, Ever. Go back to Valhalla and train. Stay there and do not come back to this place if you can. His sons are tainted by him in ways you cannot even fathom. Do not let his only daughter become like us.”
Ever didn’t know what to say in response as Baldur kissed her forehead and then walked away from her. She kept her eyes on him as he moved, strong, unkillable.
But in the morning, Baldur was dead, killed by a poisoned arrow shot by Höðr, the blind god. Rumors ran rampant that it was Loki’s doing, and Baldur’s death ravaged Frigg.
Ever had stood beside Thor as Baldur was laid to rest upon his great ship Hringhorni, and she cried for the loss of him, as did all on Asgard. She felt Loki’s presence even if he did not appear in person, but as Ever lifted her gaze, her eyes clashed with Odin’s across the burning ship, and Odin was the only one not to weep for the loss of his son.
It made her blood run cold.
“What’s got you wearing a frown the size of Texas?”
Erika’s voice broke through her memories as Ever shook herself free of the trappings of them. She wasn’t sure she was remembering events correctly, though she knew deep down she was, for she never forgot anything.
“I was thinking about Baldur and the night before he died. It struck me that perhaps Odin’s descent into madness began before Frigg died.”
Erika glanced down the hill at the stone bandstand where they had arranged to meet a handful of gods, away from Odin’s great hall and any watchful eyes that Odin may have left to spy on them.
“She cornered me once, you know. Not long before she died.”
Ever glanced toward Erika with a frown. “You never told me. What did she say?”
Kicking at a loose stone by her feet, Erika shrugged. “Does it matter now?”
“Of course it matters. You wouldn’t have brought it up if it didn’t.”
Erika barked out a laugh. “Seems silly now, but it was strange. Thinking back now, I wonder if she knew she was going to die. I was sitting on the wall in the training arena, and she came to sit beside me. She told me she was envious of my skills, that she could barely lift a sword. I was over a hundred years old at this stage, but the pride in my chest was immense. Unexpected.”
Ever knew what she meant to be in receipt of Frigg’s warmth, because Freya, her own mother and the Valkyrie responsible for training them all was not very forthcoming with praise. It was always, “Do better next time.”
“She held my hand,” Erika continued, chewing on her bottom lip, “and told me that she was happy her son had chosen well and that I shouldn’t let the easy smile fool me. Her boy was kind of heart and loved harder than anyone even knew. She asked me to take care of him.”
Erika laughed. “You know how I was then. I laughed and told her she was mistaken, for my life was sworn to another and my sword was the only companion I needed. Frigg smiled and said, ‘Wait and see.’ Then I thought I heard her mutter ‘Just like her father’ before she walked away.”
Ever glanced at Erika. “She knew you were Tyr’s daughter, and she never told Odin.”
“She protected us all from him.”
Erika straightened suddenly and inclined her head. “They’ve arrived.”
They headed down the hill, pursuit in their stride as they reached the bandstand and jogged up the steps to the great Lady Sif. She was as Ever had always remembered her, a warrior who had once knocked her brother to the ground while sparring and Thor had been in love with ever since. She inclined her head to Ever as she folded her arms across her chest.
“Would no one else come?” Ever asked at the sheer lack of gods following after Sif.
Lady Sif shook her head. “They have sent me to hear you out, but after Odin killed Thor and Tyr, even the gods are afraid to stand against him.”
Erika spat on the ground. “Fools. They dishonor the memory of those who gave their lives to stop Odin.”
Lady Sif sighed. “Those who are predicted to survive do not wish to tempt fate.”
“Yet the humans fight harder against Odin than those who have power. It is not right, Sif, and Thor would not have stood for it.”
Rage flared in Lady Sif’s eyes. “No, he would not. My spear is yours once the battle begins. My sons too. I did what I could by giving the nightwalker the compass. It is up to Tyr’s chosen to find his path now.”
“Why Donnie, though?” Erika asked, a slight edge to her tone. “Why send a stranger in search of a weapon to stop Odin and not his daughter? Why did he overlook me?”
Ever made to speak, but Lady Sif cut across her. “Tyr did not overlook you, child. He said you were exactly where you should be, standing beside your queen and leading an army. I know not why the nightwalker was chosen, but Tyr had his reasons, and I have faith in them.”
“And there is no chance of the rest of Asgard fighting beside us?”
Lady Sif sighed again, and her shoulders sagged. “I will try and convince them in the little time we have left. I will do all I can.”
Then her sister-in-law took off with a jog and left them standing on the bandstand. Ever shook her head as Erika hissed out, “Cowards.”
“Fear is a powerful emotion, Erika. Freya taught us not to be afraid of war or death and, in a way, of Odin. We stand against him because we do not fear death, and that will keep us in the path of victory.”
“You sound confident. Arrogant even. I must be rubbing off on you.”
Ever laughed at Erika’s words. “That is very true. But with you at my side, just like it was always destined to be, I can feel it in my blood that we will be victorious.”
Erika clasped her on the shoulder. “Hell ya. Now, let’s go home so your mate can stop worrying about you.”
As Erika finished her sentence, Ever flashed back to the warehouse. The team turned in her direction as she came into view, and then Erika appeared beside her, the general’s eyes seeking out Loki.
Loki strode over to them, disbelief in his eyes. “They would not fight.”
Ever shook her head. “Fear is a powerful thing.”
“Cowards,” Loki growled, and Ever laughed.
; “That’s exactly what Erika said.”
Loki beamed at Erika, who rolled her eyes as Derek came to wrap his arms around Ever’s waist.
“I’m sorry they would not stand with you against them.”
Ever leaned into him, allowing her muscles to relax. “Thor would have made them. Tyr or Baldur would have convinced them. But I was never fully one of them, so it’s hard for them to buck against everything they believe in. To them, Odin is the center of the world, and they revolve around him.”
Before Derek could answer, there was a commotion at the door that had them all rushing to the window. Ever could not believe her eyes as vampires stretched out for miles, some armed, some not, but the hum of magic was in the air.
Caitlyn leaned over the ledge, her eyes wide as a vampire dropped the hood of the cloak he was wearing and looked up.
“I did not expect him to come. After Kenzie, I had not expected them to come,” she whispered as the vampire with dark skin smiled, his fangs unleashed.
“I will always come when you call, Lady Caitlyn, my queen. No matter what.”
Caitlyn vaulted over the window ledge and landed on the ground with a feline grace that should not be possible for a vampire.
“Bonjour, Marcel.”
“Hello, Caitlyn.”
Lurking in the shadows, Marya raised the bone knife in her hand, ignoring the slight tremble that betrayed her calmness and showed her true feelings about her mission. She was utterly conflicted, killing her kin, but she wanted what Odin promised her. She wanted to be powerful and worshipped, not dismissed and forgotten by those who were supposed to be her family.
They were distracted now, all eyes on the army of vampires who had somehow managed to slip into the city and were now bowing to a vampire queen. Erika was in the embrace of the god of mischief, and Ever had just stepped away from her mate as he took a phone call.
It would be easy now to slip out from the cloak of invisibility she wore and slide the blade into Ever’s spine. The bone knife was coated in Odin’s blood and would kill Ever before anyone realized she was struck. She would be rewarded even more so by ending the life of the daughter who caused him so much strife.
Marya took a step closer to Ever, her heart beating wildly inside her chest. She dropped her arm, tightening her grip on the knife, and moved forward, her hand angling the blade to strike the moment she was within reach.
Odin had promised to make her queen, adopting her much like he had Loki, and she would become famous in the new world, when Odin remade it anew.
Marya exhaled as she paused inches from Ever and readied herself to strike.
Ricky
* * *
“If you don’t mind me saying, but we are a handsome bastard, aren’t we?”
Ricky looked at himself across Caitlyn’s driveway in utter disbelief. This version of himself seemed amused by Ricky’s reaction, his green eyes blazing with power. The alt Ricky wore the same leather jacket, a distressed black tee with Black Sabbath on it, and black jeans and boots. His black hair was cut tighter than Ricky had it now, clipped at the back, but still had height at the front.
“Why the hell are you here?” Ricky growled, feeling like a fool for arguing with this version of himself.
“I’m who you are afraid of most in this world. I’m what you can become if you lose control. Or if you submit to the growling power in you. It keeps you awake during the day, this newfound power, as you hold Lanie in your arms, knowing you could suck her dry in seconds. For someone who never wanted magic, you now crave it more than you ever wanted those little pills.”
Ricky growled, letting his hands clench into fists as his alt self had a destructive glint in his eyes.
“You spent all those hours talking about your feelings,” Alt Ricky taunted him, “and yet you kept this little golden nugget to yourself. You don’t end up like your father. You become so much worse than he ever was.”
Ricky shook his head. “That’s not true.”
“Then why don’t you seem convinced?”
Ricky clamped his mouth shut, shaking his head as if that would push down the fear inside him that his alt self was right—he was never meant to carry such power inside him, and what if it did twist him into a monster that he no longer recognized?
Alt Ricky snickered. “There it is … the doubt … the PTSD from when you burned down that hotel. When you first popped a pill. Every time you look at our kid and see the magic in him, different, and you fear he will end up just like you.”
Flames erupted in his palm as Ricky took another step toward his alt self, who grinned like a maniac, unleashing his own more controlled ball of blue flames.
“There he is. The reckless warlock who acts before he thinks. Who thinks he can stand beside gods and queens and fight alongside them. Will Lanie have to save your ass because you leapt before you could walk? A liability who refuses to accept that he could be a power, a god himself, if only he let the power he so desperately needs into him. I was never weak like you.”
Doubt crept into his mind, sending a barrage of thoughts to torment himself with. Despite the fact that Ricky knew this version of himself was here to do just that, torment him, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was right, if the magic in him was too much for him to handle and he would hurt those he loved. He felt tense when he held his Lanie in his arms, felt the rush of his new vampiric magic hunger for her energy.
Even when he allowed himself a little taste of her delicious energy, he always wanted more, craved it like a vampire craved blood. He could not keep feeding from gods because the high wore off too quickly and it left him hungry still.
“I can see your mind twisting and turning there, Ricky. Do you remember dying? Do you remember what haunted you while you died?”
Ricky spun on his heels and collided with another woman, heard the sound of her hiss of pain as she fell to her knees. He dropped to his own knees, reached out and helped the woman up, scolding his carelessness as she struggled to stay upright.
“Gods, I’m sorry. I should have been watching where I was going.”
“It’s okay. I’d joke and say I was visually impaired, but it wouldn’t necessarily be a joke.”
Ricky chuckled, his breath hitching as eyes of green held his own. He knew this woman. He knew her. He remembered the teasing conversations, the feeling in him when he was with her. He knew the press of her lips against his. He knew the feel of her body against his.
“Have we met before? I feel like we’ve met before.”
Her red hair glinted in the dying sunlight, a smile curving her lips, and Ricky, damn him, felt the urge to press his lips to hers. He stumbled back, earning a frown from the beautiful woman.
“Nope. Don’t think so. I sat in on your magical physics class last semester for fun. But us mere mortals have no place attending magic classes. I’m just here for the techy stuff.”
The young woman smiled as she nudged her laptop bag. Ricky returned her smile, and the urge to kiss her and hold her in his arms grew stronger as his headache punched louder in his head.
Brushing the dirt off her knees, she gave him another breathtaking smile. “Well, I gotta go or I’ll be late for class.”
“Again, I’m so sorry for running into you … Ms. …?”
She held out her hand, and Ricky took it, his brain telling him that her hands were normally not as warm as they were now. “Melanie. Just call me Melanie.”
Lanie ... she’s definitely a Lanie.
Ricky held on to her hand for a moment more, then released it reluctantly. “Well, it was nice running into you, Lanie.”
The girl blinked at the nickname, then her lips twitched into a smile as Ricky felt a small pang of guilt for being flirty when he had a wife and kid at home. He stood as night fell upon them, watching the girl walk away from him and wondering why every instinct in him begged and pleaded with him to go after her.
Mate.
Mate.
Mate.
Ricky scold
ed himself, thinking of his wife back home, turning to walk in the opposite direction of the girl when a bloodcurdling scream from the direction Melanie had gone rendered the air.
Ricky bolted toward the scream that had now gone silent, crossing through the quad, his mind screaming that he was in danger, to call for help, but he could not stop from rushing forward. He rounded a corner, standing in the archway that led to the main building, a cry of anguish in his throat as he spied a mass of flame-red hair sprawled against the reddish-brown brickwork on the ground.
It took Ricky a moment to see the pool of blood staining the ground. He screamed for help as he lunged forward, dropping to his knees and taking the bleeding girl in his arms.
A memory washed over him, a nightmare quite like the real-life one that he was living now, of him holding Melanie in a similar way, close to death but not entirely so. He smoothed her hair like he did in the memory, promising to look after her, but his promises were empty, as empty as the green eyes that looked blankly at him.
He felt the crowd gather around him, but he would not relinquish his hold on the dead girl until a hand fell upon his shoulder, and Ricky dragged his eyes from Melanie and landed on a stern face with eyes of hazel. A sense of unbreakable trust filled him.
“You need to let her go, buddy. We have to pronounce her and try and see if we can catch the monster that did this.”
One of the most beautiful women Ricky had ever laid eyes on crouched down in front of him, her face a mask of cold that had him shivering. She didn’t so much as look at him when she uttered something beneath her breath in French as Ricky laid Melanie down on the ground. His head ached, and he stumbled.
A strong hand steadied him. Ricky glanced up to thank whoever it was that had held him up.
“Donnie?” Ricky mumbled, his legs trembling as he tried to concentrate and figure out what was going on.