The Banished Gods Box Set: Books 1-3

by L. A. McGinnis

  As Celine walked up the white hall to the throne, her sneakers barely making a sound, she wondered how he kept it so damn shiny. Maybe little cleaning fairies or something. Gods above. Odin loomed on that throne, five steps up, following her progress so closely she felt his gaze with every step. With a jerk of surprise, she saw Njor appear from behind the throne, looking like the cat that swallowed the canary. “What can I help you with, gentlemen?”

  “Celine.” Odin’s voice was creamy smooth, and in her experience, that tone generally preceded either death, dying, or something equally horrible.

  So she matched it with one of her own. “Odin?”

  Njor chuckled, lurking behind Odin, a gloating expression pasted on his lined face. You’re going to get yours, you piece of shit. She kept her eyes locked on Odin, a void forming where her stomach had been. “What is it that I can do for you?” When he remained silent, she prodded.

  “There’s something I need to take care of. So the faster I get back to the War Room, the faster we can come up with a plan to keep the Orobus right where he is.”

  “So it’s ‘we’ now, is it? You think you’ve somehow managed to become part of us? The Aesir? Because of your association with the wolf?” Odin said wolf like some people said pile of shit. So no love lost there, apparently.

  “No, no love lost. The bastard devoured me and helped to end Asgard as we knew it. These days, we work together because we have no other choice. Think of the wolf as a sledgehammer. You are a tool as well. One that is quite disposable unless I find you to be…useful. You do know how to be useful, Celine?”

  Njor chuckled again, shifting slightly nearer.

  Celine went very, very still. Oh yes, she knew how to be useful. Something she’d learned from her father. When she was little. The ugly, dirty things she had to do. And how he’d whispered in her ear, the terrible things that would happen to her, once she ceased being cooperative.

  “What do you want, Odin?” Survival began with bargaining. It was the first step and a crucial one.

  “I want to know about this stone. What is it and where exactly did it come from?” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Njor slink forward another step or two, listening intently. It would be suicide to give away a hint of anything of importance in front of him. So she kept her answer vague enough that she wouldn’t.

  “I have a theory. Like I said, I need to run it by Mir first.” She let her arms hang loosely at her side. Head up. Kept her body language open and relaxed. Don’t ever look like prey. “Which is exactly what I was doing before you pulled me away and brought me in here. Now you’re holding me up. Costing us time.”

  Step two, establish value.

  She had to give Odin a reason to keep her around, something tangible.

  Even if it was a lie.

  Dropping her voice, Celine murmured, “What if I told you I know what the stone is? Or better yet, I know what it does? All I need now is for Mir to confirm my theory, and we can use it as a weapon against the Orobus. With me in the picture, you’re one step closer to keeping your world. Give me more time and I’ll prove it to you.”

  Njor’s head whipped to Odin as he paused his creeping approach.

  “You have bought yourself an extra day, Miss Barrows.” Odin cut her an appraising look. “Tell me, do you know what the white door is?”

  Her brain scrambled around frantically. “No. Explain.”

  “Njor told me of a vision he had, of a white door that Orobus comes through. I wondered if you had seen anything similar in your visions?”

  “I don’t have visions,” Celine said coolly. “My understanding is that visions are the domain of the Vanir. Am I right, Njor?”

  The asshat next to her had the audacity to incline his head.

  Odin surveyed both of them from his vantage point. “A moment ago, Njor explained to me what the white door is. Or rather, who the white door is.”

  Celine had that sinking feeling again. And realized whose head was on the chopping block.

  Step three, do whatever you have to do to survive.

  “Let me guess? It’s me?” She smiled, cold and deadly and waved her hand in dismissal. “Old news. We already established that, didn’t we?” She laughed softly, turning her head to the shocked Vanir. “Bring something new to the table, old man,” she hissed. “Or get out of my way.”

  Njor fell back a step. She moved forward.

  “That’s right, you lying piece of shit. You think you can come here and rattle my cage? Screw you. If he”—Celine jerked her thumb over her shoulder at Odin as she spoke in a fierce whisper—“wants to buy your story of how you channel the gods voices into visions, or some such horseshit, then he’s free to do so.” Her voice narrowed down even further. “But you and I know the truth. You’re here for another reason entirely. You know it. And I know it.”

  She spun on her heel and glared up at Odin. “He’s a spy and a liar. So either he leaves, or he can stay, you can kill me, and close your white door. This Orobus thing will find some other colored door and good luck locating that one. There was only one thing this asshole was right about.

  “The Orobus has been in my head. I’ve felt the power of this thing. I’ve felt its hunger. And I can assure you, once he crosses over, it will be too late for all of us.”

  Without a word, Odin surged to his feet and pointed to the exit. Once Njor had disappeared through the doors, Celine turned her speculative gaze on Odin.

  “So this is the deal.”

  “You do not dictate to me, mortal.”

  Celine crossed her arms. Oh, we’ll just see about that.

  “There’s no good reason for me to keep you alive. I will close this door, and the next one, and the next one after that. In fact, I’ll do anything I have to, to ensure this god will not destroy my world.” Turning, he flung his gorgeous self onto the throne in a sprawl of perfect god-like manhood that would make most women swoon.

  Celine was not most women.

  “Yeah. So… I don’t think you fully understand my position. You kill me, you lose two things. Opportunity and a tool. Two tools, because you lose me and you lose the stone.”

  “And if I kill you and take the stone?”

  “Still not going to work, I’m afraid.” She chewed her lip, pacing, and working out her comparative value, relative to her perceived liability in Odin’s eyes. She came out ahead every possible scenario. Reasonably satisfied, she pressed on. “Orobus talks to me, not you. I took the stone from him, which means it’s mine. Not yours.”

  “I’ll…”

  “No.” She shot him a smile even colder than his. “No, you won’t. You won’t be doing a thing without my cooperation.” When he rose, she simply widened her stance, practically inviting him down. “I’ve had this thing in my head for months. I’ve been dragged through the Otherworld and back too many times to count. I’m not afraid of you, not after what I’ve been through. You lost my cooperation when you said you’d kill me. Now you get a chance to earn my loyalty back. And it’s going to cost you. Your only opportunity exists inside my dream world, so if you kill me, you lose that as well.”

  Odin slowly descended, a predator closing in on his prey. “Aaah, so the rabbit thinks she has teeth? How charming.”

  “No, the eagle has talons. And they can do some serious damage.” She waited until he towered over her, until he was so sure he had her. “You won’t kill me because you need me. Tonight the Orobus will appear in my dreams. I’m the only one who has direct contact with him. You’ll know where he’s going to be. Consider it a lucky chance. Maybe we stop him before he ever comes through. Run through the scenario, you’ll find it’s your best option at the moment.” She turned and began to walk to the doors. “Or don’t, and kill me now.”

  A bitter chuckle escaped her mouth. “But know this. You touch a hair on my head and whatever Fen did to you last time? It won’t hold a candle to the damage he’ll do this time.”

  Chapter 23

  “Well that t
ook freaking forever.”

  Celine blew a strand of hair off her face. “Dude can really go on and on, can’t he?” She conveniently left out the part where she’d blatantly lied to him about pretty much everything.

  Mir met her eyes with the ghost of a smile. Tyr shook his head, probably knowing she was full of bullshit. Morgane shot her look of sympathetic understanding. She couldn’t quite meet Fen’s eyes. She settled into his lap, so she could feel that warm, big body of his next to hers. He was rigid, a tightly strung drum beneath her. But somehow, his nearness made her feel less…reckless. “So what did you guys figure out?”

  “Nothing much. Waiting for you.”

  She leaned in and picked up the stone. “Okay, this is all I know so far. The markings on the stone, I figured they were a labyrinth, but see this pattern? It’s not round, it’s more oblong with no discernable pattern. At first I thought they were random, but then Njor mentioned something when we were in the car…” She pulled the laptop over and clicked through a few links, pulled up a website, and pushed the device over so everyone could see the screen. “This is what I’m thinking.”

  “An FBI database?” Morgane asked.

  “Well, just fingerprints actually but yes.” She nodded vigorously. “When Njor was explaining in the car about the Orobus, something jogged my memory. He said this god originated from dark matter. Some even believed he was the original fingerprint upon which all life was based. What if the Orobus is the original Fibonacci sequence? A pattern that continually crops up in nature, replicating itself everywhere. Except this thing has a definitive identifier, which we currently possess. Etched into stone.”

  “Even if you are right,” Mir interrupted, “how are you planning on using it, Celine?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “It’s just a theory, and the stone is still a mystery, I guess. But I was thinking… What if I followed him in the Otherworld? Back to where he came from?” She indicated the locked door to her right. “He has to go someplace when he’s finished with me. I follow him, and then when I wake up, we’ll know the location of this door of his.”

  “So you’re planning to track this thing in your dreams, back to wherever it originated from?”

  Fen’s voice was so smooth she missed the dangerous edge to it. Or maybe she just didn’t want to hear it. So she answered happily, easily, stupidly. “Exactly.”

  There was a dangerous vibration coming from his body, one that no longer felt warm or comforting. Laying a hand against his chest, she felt fury churning beneath her touch. She slowly raised her eyes to his and couldn’t bear what she saw there. “It’s only a plan, Fen. I wanted to see what Mir thought about it first.”

  “But not me? You didn’t ask me what I thought about it, did you?” His voice was silken, velvety soft, and she realized she may have made a mistake.

  “Look, I didn’t have time to run it by you. We…” She fought her own anger, working its way through her. “We came straight down here then Tyr pulled me away to chit chat with Odin, and then I just…you know what?” She snapped. “Never mind. I did what I had to do and didn’t have time to run it by anyone, Fen.”

  “You mean you didn’t tell me because you thought I’d stop you.”

  Well, she realized, yeah, there was that. But that wasn’t the only reason. She’d spent her whole life looking out for herself. Only herself. She’d never had anyone to bounce ideas off of, or listen, or watch out for her. Her life was not ruled by a committee, and she was loath to start now. But she sure as hell wasn’t going to discuss any of that in front of Tyr and Mir and Morgane.

  “No.” Unthinkingly, she blurted her next words, as much out of anger as frustration, and regretted them the second they were out of her mouth. “Because I knew you would.”

  Instead of arguing, Fen turned accusing eyes on her before silently walking out, leaving her alone to face the others. She felt like screaming, throwing things. But she squeezed her eyes shut and counted. Breathed. Thought about Odin’s threats. Survival. Opened her eyes and raised a determined gaze up to Mir’s. “Could my plan work? Can I follow him, once I’m in there? I don’t know how any of these other realms work.”

  “Maybe.”

  “It could also get you killed,” Morgane pointed out. “Fen has valid concerns, Celine. He’s worried about you and with good reason. How dangerous is this thing, even in your dreams? Does it have form? Has it ever hurt you in any way?” She sat down next to Celine, flicking a worried look up to Mir.

  “I’m not sure,” Celine admitted. “It’s only ever spoken to me, and I hardly ever see it. Not really.” She left out the part about pain. The mind-numbing agony it caused, implanting its consciousness into her while she fought.

  Mir turned his steel-blue gaze to Celine. “It looks like there’s another problem. With all of this talk about this Orobus coming over, everyone’s assuming it will come through a door. Njor named a white door or a portal. Odin concurs. And now, even I have to agree.”

  Celine’s voice was thick when she added, “According to this most recent conversation, they both also agreed I’m the one who will open up this portal.”

  “I’ve considered all the possibilities but come to the same conclusion.” Mir cleared his throat, reached out, and took her hand. “Shit, I’m fucking sorry about this, Celine.”

  She fought back the tears in her eyes. “It’s okay, I know Fen’s pissed. He has a right to be. I should have told him what I was thinking. I’ll find him and apologize right away. I shouldn’t have said…”

  “No.” Mir waved his hand in the air. “Not for that. For this. You’re the portal. You are going to become the opening. You are, quite literally, the door.”

  “What do you mean, the door?” Morgane blurted out. “You aren’t serious, are you?”

  “I am. Celine would turn into a living door, a place in the veil so thin, an entity would be capable of passing through, from one plane to another.”

  “But something so powerful, moving through a living organism, that would…” Morgane’s statement tapered off as her voice wavered, horror lacing every word.

  Celine ran it through in her head again. And then again, for the thousandth time. Until she sat in the spinny chair, alone in the room. Morgane had left, murmuring something unintelligible, minutes after Mir had made his little prediction. Mir laid a heavy hand on her shoulder, whether in pity or solidarity she didn’t know, and followed a few minutes later. He was wrong. He was fucking wrong, and there had to be a loophole of some kind. But try as she might, she couldn’t come up with one. She was, quite literally, the white door. And Njor, the lying son of a bitch, had been right all along. She didn’t want him to be right.

  She sooo wanted him to be wrong.

  But it made sense. Except she was this flawed, frail human, which seemed hardly even worth the effort. Wouldn’t a dark god want someone stronger to open up a doorway between worlds? She was damaged from beginning to end, an imperfect, lacking shell of a human being, and this thing had picked her, out of the eight billion or so souls he might have chosen.

  Why hadn’t he picked someone big and powerful? Like Njor, who seemed quite eager for the honor. Or any of them. They were the ones who were gods. And to top it all off, she’d opened her big mouth and put her foot in it and pissed off Fen. Hurt him, more likely.

  Something inside her shivered, as if it were tired of waiting. Soon. It would happen soon, and then when her task was finished, this thing would tear her apart. Scrubbing her face hard, she tasted the tears washing down her face, fully intending to find Fenrir, to explain, to grovel, if necessary, until he understood everything. Instead, her feet wouldn’t move.

  She really should just go and explain. And say what exactly?

  Oh hey, your boss wants to kill me, but I might get an extension for a day or two because I lied and told him I’d figured out a way to use the stone to save us all. Or how about, Hey, I’m going to turn into the doorway that lets a monster in to consume our world, and
then I’ll probably die anyway when the thing comes through. Gah.

  Perfect. Her day was swiftly turning to complete shit.

  Spin, spin. Think, think. Obsess, obsess. Repeat.

  An hour later she was still dithering and no closer to a decision. Feeling caged. And somewhat peevish. Not a good combination when night was coming, and soon she’d have to face a monster in her dreams. She glanced through the hallway through the window. A good hour left of daylight. Fresh air would help her perspective. And she loved the city. At least she had, before what had happened in that alley, a night that still remained strangely fuzzy. But she’d be back in an hour, way before dark. Way before anyone missed her. Snatching Fen’s jacket off the back of his empty chair, she threw it over her hoodie, cut across the hallway, slipped unseen through the door, and was gone.

  The air was still freezing, as it was for four months out of the year. In the summer, the miles of Chicago concrete baked in the sun, heat rose in ribbons from the asphalt with only the wind off the lake cooling anything down. The other four months? It was perfect. But Celine loved this place. It swallowed her up, reminded her of valleys and mountains stretching to the sky. She’d given the Tower one final glance over her shoulder before heading down Michigan, intending to turn around at the river.

  Sheesh, who would have ever thought gods existed on earth? Pondering the sheer absurdity of it, she headed farther north, deciding to grab a coffee, sit in a café, and stare out the window, if only for a little while, before heading back to the strange un-reality she’d been living in these past days.

  Immortals and deities and wolves, oh my.

  God, she regretted lashing out at Fen. He’d been... Well shit, he meant everything to her. And she’d screwed that up. But once she told him about Odin, he’d just go and try to kill the white-haired god. And if she told him about what Mir thought, well he’d just try to lock her away and what then? Was she never supposed to sleep again? He’d accompany her into the Otherworld every night? He couldn’t protect her forever, even though his intentions were good. Celine dodged through the packed sidewalks, while all around her, the honking and yelling and sounds of humanity rose, and she was profoundly grateful for all of it. She belonged somewhere.