by Susan Harris
Odin didn’t even flinch as he lifted his eyes up to look at Ever. “I can always make more children.”
And then Ever knew her father could never be reasoned with, that his need for power, for control would always outweigh his love, if any, for his children. There would be no reasoning. There would be no peaceful resolution. Odin would never sing for absolution for his sins.
The descent into hel was truly this easy for him.
“Dressing up as a queen does not make it so, daughter. No more than when you were a toddler playing at being a warrior.”
Ever chuckled as her horse snorted. “I am not playing at being a queen, Father. I am one. I have always been so. It is in my blood, in my soul, and no matter what happens this day, I will stand beside those who choose to stand beside me. You, on the other hand, have only hounds of madness to use as your weapons. The gods you claim to be a father to, do not stand by your side. That is what you have been reduced to.”
Ever pulled gently on the reins of the horse and flew back to where the supernatural community of Cork and Ireland stood, warriors all ready to fight a war that should never have been theirs. She was proud to call this place home and even prouder to fight alongside them.
“On this night,” she shouted, so that every single person with feet on this street would hear her, “we go to war to right the wrongs of a man who has too much power and craves more. I stand with you, brave warriors, and when we are victorious, we shall celebrate like the feasts of old. I am honored to lead you. I fight with you. I will be your sword and your shield.”
She was making a vow to them all, right here, right now, and she meant it.
“When you feel weary, I will be beside you, holding you up. If you fall, I will help you to your feet. And if death comes to claim you, I will hold open the door to Valhalla for you, where you will be welcomed as the warriors you are.”
Ever landed on the ground, unsheathed her sword and lifted it to the sky. Her heart pounded in her chest as Erika took a step forward to stand beside her on her right and Derek took up a position on her left.
And fate smiled upon them, for destiny was firmly taking hold as the Valkyrie queen lifted her sword higher, her general and her champion by her side.
She had one last trick up her sleeve, one that she had kept secret up until the last second because she wanted to see Odin’s face as she finally fulfilled part of her destiny.
Raising her sword higher, she uttered the names of the runes on her sword, in the pattern in which they were always meant to be read. The sword glowed, a light emanating from her right as she opened the doorway from Midgard to Valhalla and called forth the worthy to fight alongside her once more.
Thousands upon thousands of slain warriors filled the streets, sending the berserkers back a couple of meters. The specters flickered to solid. Thor stood with Heimdall and Baldur. Tom came to stand beside Derek. And her fallen Valkyrie sisters charged to the front with a battle cry to join those who they had loved.
Odin’s eyes were unreadable as he blared the horn once more, staying where he was as he ordered his berserker army forward.
The sword in her hand glowed, then the gateway closed as Ever roared, “For Valhalla!”
Then Ever lowered her sword and squeezed her legs around the waist of the horse, her Valkyrie answering her cry as she surged forward and into battle.
Odin watched as his daughter unleashed a battle cry to those that stood with her and his slain sons answered her cry also, charging into battle like the true warriors they were. He looked down on them, unrepentant, unapologetic, for he knew that all of this … all of this death and war was to right the wrong he had done, all those years centuries ago.
His mind cast back to his beloved Frigg as they stood arguing about Baldur, that Odin had not done enough to stop his death, that he, the Allfather, could have stopped it. He had already slipped into the first grip of madness, having sent Tyr to lock up Fenrir, for the prophecy foretold his demise at the teeth of the monstrous wolf. They spoke of Tyr being instrumental in his defeat, and even his son Thor would side against him.
Tyr’s death had been an accident, yet it served its purpose, and Odin had not needed to end his life behind closed doors. He had enough death staining his hands that whenever he looked at them, all he saw was the day Frigg died, not slipping into a peaceful death sleep like everyone believed.
She had screamed at him that day when he told her of his plans to take back control of Valhalla from the Valkyries and Freya, to convince her to lay with him again and replenish the ranks of the female warriors. He wanted to wed Ever to Loki, despite the fact they were as close as siblings, yet Frigg had told him that he could not do it.
His mind told him she was working against him, conspiring with their children to overthrow him. His hands were at her throat before he could stop himself, her eyes bulging as he lifted her off his feet, and as he felt the life drain from his beloved, he pulled back.
But it had been too late. Frigg had died, and it was by his hand.
Now, now, he would right his wrong and wipe the murderous stain from his mind and his hands, even if it was his children who bled so Frigg could be reborn.
And they would never know … they could never know …
Ricky
* * *
“This is a bad plan.”
Ricky shoved his hands into his pockets as Donnie and Fenrir looked at him, having explained their half-assed plan to him for the third time. They both had expressions like they expected this stupidity to work, but Ricky was a little bit more pessimistic about their chances.
“And how do you expect us to get that close to Odin so that this ludicrous plan of yours can work?” Ricky asked Fenrir, the teen grinning in that psychotic way that he tended to do.
“I will bite him and hold him in place while you both do your part.”
There was a hint of delight in his tone that Ricky did not like one bit.
Donnie lifted the chains that once bound Fenrir and hoisted them behind his head. “This is why we came here, Ricky. Fenrir was the final piece we needed. The battle has already started. We don’t have time to work out every intimate detail.”
“You and I both know that this could go horribly wrong.” Ricky said.
Ricky knew his fear, knew what his part could mean and what would happen if it all went horribly wrong. If this had been two years ago, he would have thrown every single bit of sense into the abyss, but now, now he had Zach and Lanie to consider. The two idiots would just have to wait while he had a crisis and deal with it.
“I will flash with Donnie to Midgard and then come back for you. We need to catch Odin off guard. We will have seconds before we lose the upper hand.”
Fenrir didn’t give Ricky any more time to debate as he flashed away with Donnie, leaving him standing at the mouth of the cave for a couple of heartbeats, then the son of Loki was back, grabbing his arm, and then Ricky was standing in the middle of complete and utter chaos.
Cork’s Patrick Street was as packed as it was for Paddy’s Day, but instead of joyous revelers, the swords of fighting echoed in his ear. He heard the sound of metal banging, cries of pain, grunts, and he could smell the blood and sweat in the air. His eyes darted toward the street, looking for a shock of red hair, but he couldn’t see her.
His eyes landed on where Ever was astride a horse with gigantic wings, slicing a path toward her father, who was standing in the middle of the fray, toward the back of his berserkers. He watched with eager eyes, and Ricky sucked in a breath as his eyes focused on a dark-haired form, brutally taking down berserkers left and right, his face streaked with blood and gore.
Odin lifted his spear and aimed at Derek. As Ricky made to call out for his best friend, Fenrir gripped his shoulder. “Wait.”
Erika pulled a shield in front of Derek and deflected the Godbolt, nodding at Derek as she kicked another berserker in the shins as it approached. A rumble in the air sounded as the heavens opened, gods of Asgard f
inally joining in the fray, led by Lady Sif as she dropped down into the middle of the berserkers, sword in hand.
Ricky heard a sharp whistle, jerked his eyes up to see Donnie standing across from him, his brown eyes determined as he motioned toward Odin. Ricky moved when Donnie did, felt Fenrir at his back as they darted down the city streets. He caught flashes of supes he knew, from Chester to Greg Saunders and Arthur De Valera.
A berserker broke from his fight and lunged at Ricky.
Fenrir unleashed claws and ripped the monster’s throat out, blood gushing from the wound as he fell. “That feels even better than I remember.”
Ricky wasn’t even going to touch that statement with a barge pole.
Donnie had gotten himself into position, ready to do what he needed to do, and then it was all on Ricky, and his heart dropped to his stomach as he wondered why the fate of the world was left to him.
He was not like Derek or Ever or Caitlyn, hell, even like Donnie. He was not a hero. He was flawed and a little broken and battered. He had fallen, and it had taken others to hold him up. He was not the right choice to play the hero …
He wasn’t brave. He was scared shitless.
Then he heard Caitlyn’s voice in his head, as she had told Kenzie once, and he listened to her, for she was one of the bravest people he knew.
“To be brave does not mean you are fearless; to be brave means being absolutely terrified but doing something anyway.”
Beside him, Fenrir growled, his skin splitting as he changed, matted gray fur covering his body as he grew and grew and grew, then bolted across the street toward where Odin stood. He dove for the god, who let loose a shout and staggered, his horse rearing up and dumping the god onto the street.
Donnie stepped out of the shadows, the chains around his neck as Fenrir circled the person responsible for imprisonment Steam dripped from Fenrir’s mouth as Donnie began to speak.
“Last chance, Odin. Call off the battle or it will be your undoing.”
Odin laughed right in Donnie’s face, the sound bringing a streak of lightning through the night sky. “What can you do, vampire? You have no power here. You cannot read my mind or walk in my dreams. Those chains you hold cannot hold a god like me. Your defiance is admirable yet completely misplaced.”
“I wouldn’t say that, and I brought some friends to help me.”
Fenrir growled, and Odin went white as a sheet as the wolf leapt forward. Odin fired off a Godbolt that rebounded off the monstrous wolf and almost hit Ricky in the chest, had he not dived out of the way. He stayed where he was, heart in his mouth, as he waited for the signal for him to go.
Fenrir and Odin faced off against one another, Fenrir lashing out with a massive paw to swat Odin back before he lunged. This time, his teeth sank into the god’s legs. Odin screamed in pain as steam seared his skin, and despite the fact that Odin tried to fry Fenrir with lightning, the god was unable to dislodge the wolf.
Donnie stepped forward to try and attach the chains, yet Donnie was no match for the god. Donnie crashed backward, slamming into a wall with a grunt, the grunt letting Ricky know that he was okay.
“Let me go, son of Loki. You alone cannot hold me forever.”
Fenrir snarled as Donnie got back to his feet. “That’s why we brought him.”
Donnie pointed in Ricky’s direction as fear grasped its fingertips around his spine. His heart was beating so fast and hard, Ricky thought he might be having a heart attack or an anxiety attack or both and it would just stop.
“To be brave does not mean you are fearless; to be brave means being absolutely terrified but doing something anyway.”
Ricky pushed down all of his reservations and stepped out from where he was hiding, letting his magic flare in his eyes as he crossed the road and faced Odin, who laughed at him.
“You are nothing but a mere warlock. You cannot stop me.”
Ricky quirked a brow. “You say mere warlock like it’s a bad thing. Like I have no power. Everyone has power if they believe it enough. Have you ever wondered what it’s like to be powerless? To not rely on what you were born with and be completely and utterly human? Let’s see how that feels, shall we?”
“I am the father of all, the beginning and the end. You cannot stop me.”
Ricky reached for the hunger inside him, letting loose the noose of control he had since he became a vampire. His magic licked at the magic that was Odin’s, liked the taste of it and wanted more of it. It was not willing to wait any longer.
“Pucker up, motherfucker. This is gonna hurt.”
With Fenrir still holding Odin in place, Ricky reached out and dragged Odin down to him, kissing the asshole smack on the lips, and then he fed.
Ash and Loki had been fast food compared with the immense magic reservoir inside Odin. As Ricky drank, he saw the dawn of time, the creation of the realms. He saw life and death and gods and monsters. He learned Odin’s greatest shame, and he continued to drink and drink until his own skin felt as if it would burst from the magic contained inside him.
Ricky wrenched his lips from Odin’s with a groan, his hands going to his head as magic pressed against his skull, trying to find a way out. He dropped to his knees, flames erupting over his skin, the scent of burning flesh making him want to be sick.
Or maybe that was because he was trying to contain a god’s power in a body not meant to wield it.
Lifting his head, he watched as Donnie clanked the chains around Odin’s ankles, the god laughing as he said, “Those old things cannot hold me. They can only be activated by the blood of Tyr. I do not think the Valkyries will make it before my powers are reborn and I make you wear your innards.”
Donnie chuckled, then he sank his fangs into his wrist, letting the blood drip into his palm. Then he clasped his hands together, letting blood smear both hands. Donnie placed them on the chains and growled, “Gleipnir.”
Fenrir let go of Odin as the chains flared, then Ricky heard a snick as the locks engaged and Odin was trapped in chains that suppressed his magic and could only be unlocked by the blood of Tyr. The god tried to pry his legs free, staggered and went to his knees on the ground, his eyes wide as he regarded Donnie.
“Looks like we didn’t need Erika this time, for I am the grandson of Tyr and one of two people who can unlock the chains.”
Ricky sagged, letting his ass hit the ground as the magic waged its own war inside him as it tried to get free. Hands to his head, Ricky tried to stay calm, to control it, but when he placed a hand on the ground to brace himself, the concrete cracked under his touch, fracturing the road and leaving a serious fixing job for the council.
“He was not built to contain the power.” Smirked Odin. “The blood of the gods does not run in his veins. Release me, and I will take it back before it kills him.”
Donnie crouched down in front of him as the berserkers, realizing that Odin had been defeated, began to retreat, running down alleys and streets to flee from the war. A victory cry sounded as Ricky scooted away from Donnie.
“Mate, I don’t think this is gonna end well.” Ricky scoffed.
Donnie glanced at Fenrir, who had changed back to his teenage self and was quite content to simply walk circles around Odin.
Ricky blew out a breath, and thunder rumbled above him. “Well, that’s new.”
“My magic will flay him alive, boil his organs to ash,” Odin said. “You must give it back and release me.”
Ricky let a burst of magic out, and it hit just shy of Odin’s feet. “No can do. Looks like I die and take the magic with me.”
Ricky heard footsteps behind him as he let loose a scream, the magic infusing every part of his being, an undiluted source as thunder roared and lightning ripped apart the skies. He heard Donnie telling people to back away as Ricky felt his toes curl as if the magic was a pleasure in itself, at the feel of unnatural power in him as it sought destruction and death.
Ricky got to his feet slowly. Then reached for the spear that Odin once wielded. T
he power in him made him a god amongst men, one who should be bowed before and worshipped. Lifting the spear into the air, he called forth the lightning, and it came to him, tickling his skin as bolts hit him like a shock to the system.
And he felt himself smile.
It reminded him of the way his alt self had smiled, that smug smile that said Ricky was not strong enough to withstand the storm, but Ricky had weathered many a storm, and this was a piece of cake compared with everything else he had been through.
And he knew deep down he would put his gun to his temple and pull the trigger before he became anyone’s bitch.
He wanted to expel it, to rid himself of this power, but he wanted to keep it all to himself as well. It was his now. He had claimed it. He had taken it, and it was his.
The age of the new gods was upon them, and he would rule them all.
Ricky shook his head, fighting thoughts that were not his as Odin smirked.
“You cannot wield my powers, boy. It will be the death of you.”
Ricky staggered forward, his hand at Odin’s throat, the touch singing his flesh as he leaned in and whispered, “My da used to call me boy too. He was also an asshole. Tell me, Odin, how did it feel when you wrapped your hands around your wife’s throat and strangled her? Did it make you feel powerful, to take another’s life that you claimed to love like a mere human would? How does it feel to lose, knowing that everyone will know your secret?”
“A man cannot tell secrets if he is dead, and you will be soon.”
Ricky dropped Odin and pressed his fists to his temples, the pressure building again. This was way worse than the time he went self-destructive and blew up a hotel. It was worse than coming down from a high and jonesing for a fix. This was like his insides were being ripped apart and he couldn’t stop it.
Turning away from Odin to where Donnie was looking at him, Ricky gritted his teeth as he grunted out, “I told you this was a bad plan.”
“You can do this. You know you can.”