The Banished Gods Box Set: Books 1-3

by L. A. McGinnis

  “Don’t fuck up, Father mine,” Fenrir hissed in his ear. “Fighting him right now is not going to bring your woman back. There are better ways.” As Odin’s rumbling laughter rolled down, Loki shook off his son’s arms as if they weren’t there and whirled toward the throne, forcing Odin to sit up a bit straighter.

  “Loki…” Odin warned as Loki flew toward the throne, those quicksilver eyes widening then darkening to gray.

  One moment Odin was sitting on the throne, the next he was gone. A blink later, he materialized on his feet right behind Loki, knife drawn and angled, ready for the single parry downwards that would cut through the back of Loki’s neck. Fenrir launched himself up from the polished floor and met Loki’s body with a solid crunch, before taking him down to the ground as the blade passed inches over their heads. Turning, Odin brought the blade up for another strike, only to find his forearm imprisoned in an iron grip, which slowly, inexorably forced him to his knees.

  In front of the one person he’d never kneel to.

  Loki’s eyes burned blue with fire, flames dancing along his arms, hands, torso as Odin writhed in his grasp, the flames climbing onto him, the smell of burning flesh filling the hall. Loki held him so tightly he could not break away. Fenrir rose, and towering behind Loki, met Odin’s eyes and whispered, “Do not do this, Father. We need him.”

  The grin that broke Loki’s face was grim. “Don’t I fucking know it. If I didn’t, I might send you down to my daughter’s world and let her feast on you. But Fenrir is right. For now, we need you alive.” He leaned in and hissed, “But we won’t need you forever. Which means you’ll pay, eventually.” The flames burst into blue knots on Odin’s arm and he screamed. The grin grew bigger on Loki’s face as he watched him burn.

  Fenrir put his hand on Loki’s arm, and through the flames, he whispered, “Let him go, you’ve made your point.”

  Loki dropped Odin to the ground and kicked the long knife away, where it spun across the floor to rest against the foot of the dais.

  Odin stood, slowly but steadily. “You really believe I sent your woman to her death?” He shook his head. “I found a use for her. And I never waste a good opportunity.”

  Loki’s eyes strayed to Morgane’s body splayed out on the floor. “You liar, you fucking killed her.”

  “Ah, but the dead get one wish before they cross the river, do they not?” Impassively, Odin watched the flesh on his arm knit together and grow smooth. “When she reaches the gatekeeper, I told her what to say. She will make it across the bridge, and she will make it back. I swear to you, she’ll return in a fortnight if not before.”

  Loki’s chest loosened. The bastard was lying, he had to be. What is his game?

  “Prove it.” He sneered.

  Odin thumbed the moonstone ring on his finger before answering, too softly, “Your woman and I made a deal. I needed something. She promised to deliver. If she keeps her end of the bargain, she gets to live. Once she returns, that is.”

  “No way, you lie. Morgane wouldn’t make a deal with you. She would have told me,” Loki snapped, a tight, aching pain crushing his heart.

  Pure pleasure shone in Odin’s face. “Of course she would have. Like she’s been forthcoming about who she is. And why Hel is so interested in her. But no matter. She’ll return soon enough in her mortal body. And then”—Odin looked at Loki with disdain—“you’ll have your lover back. And you can ask her yourself.”

  The ravens shifted on the back of the throne, softly cawing as Odin ascended to his chair and sat down heavily. “You destroyed our old world, traitor. Don’t destroy this one too. Now get out of my sight. If you ever lay your hands on me again…” A slow, cruel smile spread across his face. “I will kill you. Second. After the wolf. Or perhaps your woman. Do you understand?”

  Loki turned on his heel. He had no desire to hear another word.

  Why had Morgane lied to him?

  Fenrir kept a firm grip on him, all the way back to his room. “Do you think the bastard’s telling the truth?” Loki asked.

  Fenrir shook his head as he watched the fog drift across the lake and into the streets. “I think Odin uses the truth to suit his purposes, like he always has. But something bigger is happening right now, and Odin has his hands all over it. I can feel it.” Fenrir got up then hesitated by the door. “I’m scheduled to hunt tonight with Thor and Tyr. I’ll be back in a few hours. Can I trust you not to do something stupid? You know…if you text me, I could come back.”

  That small offer of help made Loki’s voice catch as he called after Fen, “Happy hunting, son.” And he settled in to wait and see if, indeed, Odin was telling the truth.

  17

  Hel paced around the girl tied to the chair in her great room and fantasized about all the things she would do once she was free. She was so damn close, her fingers itched as if they could already feel the soft, silky fabric of the evening gowns at Dior on Rue Royale. Being banished to this dreary existence for the last, oh, two thousand years had pretty much leached all of her goodwill toward man, but worse than that, her memories of the outside were getting dim. She missed all the beautiful things out there, possibly because they made her feel like life was worth living.

  Not that she was, technically, alive.

  When Daddy dearest had traded her off as recompense for one of his many fuckups, she’d gotten the short stick, banished down here to the dark. Although, she thought, looking around, she’d done her best with what she had to work with. The slick rock beneath her feet hummed with the energy of billions of demons undulating beneath her, her own little army of evil dying to get aboveground and start chewing their way through the world. Bringing her back more and more souls with which to pad her domain. Too bad even that had become so boring.

  Until now. Finally, things were about to get interesting again.

  Her brilliant smile widened as she considered the blonde mortal. “Truthfully, I didn’t think Odin would give you to me so easily.”

  “I sort of wish he hadn’t. But you know what they say about wishes?”

  “So you’re the one who’s been killing my demons? A lot of them.” Something this human would pay for. Ten times over.

  “Yes I have. As many as I’ve been able to.” Even in her current predicament, the girl still seemed a bit…defiant.

  The girl seemed so…ordinary. Not special, not in the least. No indication of why Hel had spent so much effort to trap her. So much maneuvering and plotting to get this single, mortal soul entrapped in her realm. It didn’t hardly seem worth it.

  Except…it was.

  This soul was the asking price, the one thing needed to set Hel free. Forever.

  The girl tilted her head. “Can I ask you a question? What happens to this place once you’re gone?”

  “Nothing. It stays the same. My little worker bees would eventually burst through their cage and crawl up into your world and then… Well, let’s just say Armageddon would look like a picnic.”

  “And what about all the souls you keep trapped down here? What about them?”

  “They stay too. Think of me as the bright, shiny key. I open everything up and I keep it all locked away. No escape for anyone. Once you’re down here, you stay here. Unless I decide to let you go. Only I have the power to decide who stays and who goes free.” She turned hard, gleaming eyes on the mortal who was so important to her plans.

  “Oh, you never know, maybe I’m exactly where I want to be.” Even though the girl’s voice shook slightly, her eyes were determined, Hel noted, and her jaw had a decidedly stubborn set to it.

  “Odin thought he was using me, you know. As it turns out, I want something too, and I’m in a position to get it.” The girl’s voice turned flat. “So. How do you want to do this? The hard way or the easy way?”

  Hel’s laughter tinkled through the hall. “Unbelievable. I don’t make bargains with mortals, especially when they’re tied to a chair in my realm. However, I do need your soul to complete a transaction I’ve be
en working on for eons.” Hel angled her head. “Until such time, I’m locking you away for safekeeping. Maybe I’ll put you with your dead sister and mommy.”

  Hel raised her hand, but froze. “What’s that in your hand?”

  “Oh, this little thing? Nothing at all.” Pulling free of the bonds, Morgane produced the deteriorated piece of metal, which had once been a mighty dagger but was now corroded down to a rusty sliver. “This is the hard way I mentioned before. You should have picked the easy way. Although I have to admit, a part of me is really looking forward to this.”

  “That’s mine. That’s Markvordur, the Grave Keeper. You can’t possibly…” The words spluttered, then died on Hel’s tongue.

  “Why? You want it back? You know, like I wanted Loki back? How badly do you need this old thing? Let’s find out, shall we?” Morgane palmed the dagger, the one Hel had been certain was locked up in her safe under the steps.

  Huffing out a satisfied chuckle, Morgane continued, “Told you I used my wish. Modgud gave me what I requested. And I asked for this dagger. The one that bequeaths the power of the Underworld to whomever holds it. Which means I’m in charge now. I’m the big, shiny key. So, what do you say?” As her bonds melted away completely, Morgane’s question echoed around the wet stone walls as she rose. “I’ll bet you’re itching to find out what I want.”

  Hel was pissed. More pissed than she could ever remember being. This little shit comes down into her world and starts making the rules? Reaching for the dagger, Hel’s hand burst into flames.

  “This belongs to me, remember? So...” Now the girl spoke deliberately, as if her words held some sort of power down here. Hel decided she wouldn’t listen. Until the girl flicked her finger toward one of the prison doors and it swung open, the metallic grinding a good indication of how long it had been closed. As the dead, some less than moldering bones, poured out into her hall, Hel gaped at Morgane, who flicked her fingers again. Another door grated open.

  And another.

  The stench of rot and putrid decay filled the chamber. And Hel, to her horror, felt a force push against her chest, shove her toward that gaping doorway. As she was forced across her own hall, her shoes dragging across the rock, toward her own dungeon, the girl stood there, a savage intensity on her face.

  Hel had to throw both arms out, gripping the edges of the opening to prevent herself from being pushed all the way through. Panting, she gasped, “Enough.” The pressure eased up slightly.

  “Thank you for explaining how this all works. Since I’m the key, I can imprison you in any of these cages. For as long as I wish. Forever. If I wanted to.”

  “Fine,” Hel said, straightening up, her eyes riveted to the sliver of metal in the girl’s hand. “Tell me what you desire.”

  “You’re going to release someone.”

  “Give me a name.”

  “Balder.”

  Hanging onto the edges of the doorway, Hel threw her head back and laughed. Laughed until she had tears in her eyes. “Oh, no. That one’s mine. You can’t have that one. You’ll never have him.” Her mocking laughter crashed up and over the dripping, damp stone.

  “Never is a long time. Even for an immortal.” Morgane told her coldly, and brandished the sliver between two fingers. “Especially for an immortal.”

  Before Hel could respond, Morgane plunged ahead with another set of demands, even more ridiculous than the first. “But wait, there’s more. I want my mother and my sister too. And you’re going to give everyone to me.”

  Listening to the mortal’s requests, Hel suddenly saw the part Odin played in this travesty. And fury coursed through her anew. “Damn you both. I already told you, no. I won’t give you Odin’s favorite son. Nor your family. They are mine. All of them, and I intend to keep them.”

  As Morgane squeezed the rusty relic between her fingers, they both watched as it bent slightly in the torchlight. “Fine. Then I’ll use this thing to lock you up forever.” Hel felt the unseen force press her through the doorway as her fingers slipped their hold on the jamb. “I’ve got time. Maybe I’m sick of hunting demons and getting my ass kicked every night. And as you were kind enough to point out, my family’s down here. But you…” Morgane’s eyes raked Hel, top to bottom. “Think of it. No little excursions. No shoes. No manicures. No nothing. I’ll empty out your prisons, open every gate, all of your subjects will be gone. And you’ll be alone.

  “What will it be like, I wonder? No one to torture? To torment? Seriously, what kind of life is that?”

  Morgane’s gaze drifted over the dress. The shoes. The nails and hair and makeup. “I wonder how long you can tolerate it? Because since I have this”—she slowed the spinning of the blade, letting it lie still in the palm of her hand—“I can hold you prisoner. For as long as I want. Until the clothes rot off your body and those fancy shoes fall to pieces.”

  The urge to scream ripped through Hel. “Odin set this up, didn’t he, you little bitch? She was putting together the pieces quickly now, about an hour too late, but at least she was getting caught up. “He fucking set me up.”

  “You could say that,” the girl answered. “Oh, and I have a name, it’s Morgane. Feel free to use it.” The mortal straightened her shoulders and closed a fist around the remains of the dagger. “All I want is what I came for. You give me what I want, I give you this shitty hunk of metal back, and we go our separate ways. And that’ll be the end of it.”

  18

  Hel was about to implode.

  Odin, the lying bastard, had screwed her over. She’d used him to get this mortal’s soul down here, and he had turned around and used the worthless human to steal back his dead son.

  Backstabbing, betraying, duplicitous bastard. Good thing mortals were so easily manipulated

  “You know what? Forget about Odin,” Hel crooned smoothly. “What do you say we strike our own bargain? There are many things I desire as well.” Something churned in her gut, demanding this little human pay for her insolence. “And there is so much I can offer you in return.”

  “Nope, he said you’d try that. There isn’t a single thing I need from you except what I’ve asked for. Give me that, you get this thing back. And we all go home.” Morgane leaned forward with a grim smile. “Back to the land of sun and blue skies, while you get to stay here in the cobwebby dark. Forever more, as far as I care.”

  Damn it, damn it damn it. She’d been stuck down here for too long, and now Odin was using this little nobody to take away her entire future. She should have this girl’s soul locked up now, nice and tight.

  “I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you one or the other. You can choose. Balder? Or your mother and sister? Your choice. Makes no difference to me.” She couldn’t lose her precious souls, not three of them. And certainly not Balder.

  The girl squeezed the metal sliver until it squeaked. “All or nothing. That’s what I came here for, that’s what I’m leaving with.”

  This pitiful human was about to get her way, spoiled little bitch.

  Hel considered her choices. She’d kept Balder longer than anyone else. Once, he’d been the centerpiece of her entire collection, the shiny, golden crown jewel. The only thing Odin had tried to get back and failed. The one thing she had denied him, over and over again. But… The poor guy was probably one apple short of an orchard by now, all locked away. Maybe she should give him up. Wasn’t like she’d miss him or anything. She hardly even got him out to play anymore. “Prove to me Odin sent you here for him.”

  “Prove to me you have him,” the girl countered.

  Morgane. What an idiotic name.

  “Fine.” Hel ground out. The force released her and she stepped away from the prison door, practically tripping over her stilettos in the process.

  Hel gestured and a ghostly figure drifted through the stone, a pale imitation of his former self, which had been all shiny and golden blond and all that shit people used to love to sing about. Not so godly now, are you? Hel gloated as the bent figure took a fe
w halting steps toward the girl. “Here he is, Odin’s oldest kid. Now. Give me what you stole from me.”

  Morgane shook her head. “My mom and sister too, then you get this back. You do want it, don’t you?” Morgane dangled the relic between two fingers.

  Heartless, spineless little bitch.

  She was going to tear the girl’s spleen out and feed her to the demons. Or rip her head off and shit down her throat. She couldn’t decide. Seething, Hel waved again and two more shambling figures appeared. Hel gritted out, “There. Now give me my dagger back. I swear, mortal, I will get ahold of your soul, if it’s the last thing I do.”

  As the weak, pitiful human gathered her ghostly entourage about her, Hel pondered the next few hours. They’d never all make it across the bridge. They’d be lucky if they made it past her walls. So this could very well turn out to be a win-win after all. She’d still end up with the prize at the end. And then she’d make this human pay for her little act of defiance. Besides, it would feel so good to take something else away from her father.

  He did stew about things forever.

  As if thoughts had the power to summon, she felt another presence in the room, and Loki materialized in front of Hel with a faint bow.

  “Daughter.” The second he straightened up, his eyes flashed over to the girl, flicking over her top to bottom as if to make sure she still breathed. Hel swore she heard a sigh of relief escape him.

  Loki, God of Fire, had brought that damn wolf with him, she groused, already itching at the thought of all the dog hair she’d be cleaning up once they were gone. Well, she’d have her minions clean it up, but still, there’d be work to be done.

  “Father.” He didn’t even have the decency to leash the beast, who was dripping and snarling at her like she was dinner. “Fenrir.” With a wave of her hand, a thick, iron chain sprang out of the dungeon floor and lassoed around Fenrir’s neck. “Keep your beast on a leash for the gods’ sake.”