by Jo Carlisle
“You said I couldn’t see him now. Does that mean there might be a later?” she pressed.
“I’m not committing to anything until we see the gods.”
Stubborn asshole. “So, is this where you tell me why we’re going to see them?”
He shook his head. “It’s far better if you don’t know; that way they can’t accuse me of influencing your answers.”
“You suck.”
“I sincerely hope your opinion is different after today.”
“I’m going crazy here, Odin! I can’t stand not knowing what’s happening to Luc or how his recovery is progressing,” she said in a tortured voice. She wasn’t above begging when it came to her vampire. “Can’t you at least give me something? A tidbit of information to keep me going? Anything at all.”
He studied her, clenching his fingers on the desktop. “I’m not sure it will do you any favors to hear what you can’t change.”
Dread coursed through her body. “He’s suffering, isn’t he? I need to go to him! How in fucking Hades did it do any good for me to choose the short life thread if he is the one who will suffer the most for it?” She was shouting and couldn’t help it.
“Because his suffering is finite, Kassandra.” Rising from his seat, he made his way around the desk and stopped before her. “That is the sacrifice you made—for his suffering to have an end, while yours goes on forever.”
Dread became gut-clenching fear. “So he’s not really going to be all right? Luc wasn’t supposed to live in pain! I was tricked into making a bargain for a different outcome than the one I wanted!”
“You were not tricked,” he said gently. “You just made the bargain without totally understanding all the possible outcomes.”
Desperately, she grabbed his hands. “I consigned myself here to an eternity of loneliness so he would have the chance to find happiness with another mate someday. Please, fix this.”
“His pain is not the doing of the gods, or of the Fates. You made the bargain without considering what would happen to your mate’s heart should you choose this path. You failed to consider his perspective. His loss. You gave him life, but you left him without hope. Without love.” He paused. “Without you.”
She stared at the god, and what he was saying penetrated her thick skull. Her hand came over her mouth, and the tears welled. They overflowed, trickling down her face. “What have I done?”
“You acted with a woman’s heart, not a warrior’s—that’s what you did. And now we must appeal to the rest of the gods and see if there’s anything to be salvaged of this situation.” He sighed. “Damnation, that was more than I should have said. Take some time and calm yourself. I’ll be out to fetch you soon.”
Woodenly, she nodded, then turned and left the office. Hardly paying attention to where she was going, she headed outside to the pretty gardens and seated herself next to a fountain. Knowing she hadn’t achieved what she’d bargained to do after all—restore Luc’s life and give him a chance at happiness—filled her with sorrow. How had she managed to screw everything up so badly?
This is what you get when you tamper with fate. There is no escaping destiny, and you should know that by now.
Kass wasn’t certain how long she sat waiting for Odin to appear. Time ran together, and it could’ve been minutes or hours. All she knew was the endless misery of being unable to get to Luc to beg him not to give up, as well as the agony of knowing that to be a selfish request—to live for her when she had broken his heart.
Sometime later, footsteps approached, and she roused herself to see Odin coming toward her, his face not revealing any more than it had before. The god held out a hand for her, and she understood that he was doing more than offering her a hand up—he was silently asking for her trust.
She’d give it to him, just this once more.
The moment the god wrapped his fingers around hers, they disappeared from his garden. Almost instantly, she found herself standing with him in a huge hall that resembled a court of law. In fact, that was exactly what it was, though not like those found in the earth realm.
No courtroom on earth was fashioned from white marble veined with real gold. A throne was the obvious focal point of the room, and it was the spot where Zeus would reign supreme. It sat in the middle of a row of seats—six on the left side of him, five on the right—where the other eleven gods would be situated. The gods’ places were on a platform raised about twenty feet off the main floor to emphasize that whoever faced their judgment was little more than a pathetic bug to either be set free or squashed, as they decided.
Before them was a marble bench for either the accused or the petitioner to sit with his counsel, facing the gods. Spectator seats were located behind the bench.
Where Kass stood gazing at all of this from behind the spectator seats, round columns supported the vaulted ceiling, giving the space a sense of vastness, as though one could be swallowed whole and never be seen or heard from again. That was probably closer to the truth than she wanted to know.
“Relax, Kass,” Odin said, giving her hand a last squeeze before letting go. “You’re going to be all right.”
“I wish I could be so sure about that. I’ve been here plenty of times in those seats,” she said, pointing. “But never on the bench. I never imagined a time when I’d be the one directly facing the gods for what I’d done.”
“Try not to worry. Be honest in your answers, and everything will be fine.”
“I don’t see how, but there’s no reason for me not to tell the truth.” One didn’t lie to the gods, ever. She had far too much to lose by risking another stupid move.
“That’s my warrior. Keep the faith, because things may get rougher before they improve.”
“Well, thanks for the fucking ray of sunshine,” she muttered. “Rougher in what way?”
Just as he opened his mouth to reply, there was a loud pop, and all twelve of the Olympian gods were standing in front of their chairs. The sight was intimidating, to say the least, and her heart began to flutter in nervousness. The most forbidding of all, though, was Zeus, king of the gods. He was tall and broad, sporting white hair and a trimmed beard gracing an ageless face. He was neither handsome nor ugly, but simply hard. He was intelligent, with a certain magnetism that drew women and caused other men to shit their pants. His sharp gray eyes found Kass immediately, and he motioned her forward.
“Come, Valkyrie, and bring your pet god with you.”
Beside her, she felt Odin tense, but to her relief he held his peace. Odin was a god in his own right, but he wasn’t stupid. Pissing off the king of the gods was never a good idea. They approached, and Zeus flicked a hand at the bench.
“Sit, both of you.”
Kass knew the reasoning behind sitting before the gods rather than standing—to remain on one’s feet would give that person a measure of control. Sitting so far below them, like a child called to the headmaster’s office, made one feel even more small and insignificant than one already did. She had to admit the tactic worked, now that she was in a position to experience it firsthand.
She sat to the right of Odin, sparing him the merest glance. She didn’t dare appear inattentive. The king returned her regard, brows raised. Then with a flick of his hand, he gestured for his eleven subordinate gods to sit as well. Zeus would allow no one to remain standing over him, and he kept to his feet a few heartbeats longer to make his point before sitting as well.
The weight of the twelve gods’ collective stares pressed down on her as if she were being buried under the rubble of Mount Olympus itself. A horrible punishment Zeus could make reality if he didn’t like what she had to say.
“These proceedings are to remain private,” the king said, his deep voice thundering through the cavernous hall. “Kassandra, Valkyrie warrior, do you know why you’ve been summoned before us?”
Stunned, she threw a look of disbelief at Odin, who had the grace to flinch. He’d led her to believe this meeting was at his request. He had not told
her she’d been summoned by the gods themselves. Looking back to Zeus, she answered as honestly as she could.
“I have some idea that it pertains to my situation with Luc Fontaine, but I don’t know exactly why you’ve brought me here, no.”
“You’re correct, but I would say we have much more than a situation here, wouldn’t you?” His eyes pinned her to her seat.
Keeping her voice strong under that awful regard was difficult. “Yes, I would.”
“That brings us to why you’re here. Kassandra, you are being charged with dereliction of your duties as a Valkyrie. You have flouted our rules, defying the gods and our traditions. You ignored your duty when you chose to save Luc Fontaine’s life rather than escort him to Valhalla as ordered. Is this true or not?”
“But, Luc is—”
“Did you or did you not ignore your duty?” he asked patiently, as if she were a slow-witted child.
“Yes, my king,” she said softly. “I did as charged.”
“Your confession is noted.” Zeus looked to his left and right, taking in the nods of the other gods before continuing to address her. “And it is recorded. Now I would hear your defense of your actions, should you feel you have due cause to justify them.”
Kass sucked in a breath, intending to tell him that Luc was her mate. That she’d been unable to give up the love she’d waited for all of her existence, to make him one of Odin’s warriors, where he would be eternally close but forever out of her reach.
But then she’d have to admit that she’d brought Luc to ruin with her selfishness. that all she’d accomplished was leaving them both brokenhearted, that he might, even now, be ready to go into the fade. And, worst of all, that she could do nothing to stop him.
Tears clogging her throat, she whispered, “I have no defense. My actions were selfish and cruel, taking no one into account but myself.”
“This is your final word?”
“Yes.”
He studied her for so long, she wanted to scream at him to go ahead and fry her on the spot, imprison her in ice, banish her to Hades. Anything but this cool silence. Assessing. Judging.
“All right, then. Odin, take her into the waiting chambers while we discuss the Valkyrie’s punishment. You will be notified when we’re ready to convene.”
So that was it. Numbly, she allowed Odin to escort her into the adjoining chambers and lower her to a plush, tasseled settee. All around were tasteful furnishings. A nearby table was laden with fruits, cheeses, and a carafe of red wine—a subtle demonstration of the rich freedoms the accused was about to lose because of her crime. It worked. She hadn’t the stomach to eat a bite.
Blankly, she looked at Odin. “My punishment was supposed to be working for you for an eternity. What happened to that?”
“I was overruled,” he said simply. “Zeus stated he would hear you and assess your crime for himself. I had no choice.”
“What will he do to me?” She was afraid. Wildly, she wondered if there was a place in Luc’s world where she could hide from the gods’ wrath. But there wasn’t. Running would do no good.
“I don’t know, Kass.” He sat beside her, put an arm around her, and pulled her close. “I wish I did, but I learned long ago not to second-guess Zeus.”
Whatever the king decided, Kass knew she deserved it.
Silently, she sat and grieved for her lost lover, the mate who needed her so badly.
And now there was no saving him.
Luc surfaced again, his mind clearer than the other times before. He blinked and found that the hazy fog that had greeted him when he’d awakened last time wasn’t quite as bad. He could make out a shape nearby and recognized his big brother before he spoke.
“Luc!” Aldric rasped. “Gods, it’s good to see you awake. You can hear me, right?”
His voice emerged as a croak. “Yeah. I can see you a little bit.”
A hand landed on his arm. “That’s good. The doctors said there was no physical cause for your earlier blindness. It was a product of the—the shock you’ve been through. If you’d been human, it might not have restored itself so quickly.”
That was one thing to be grateful for, if nothing else. Later, when his watchdogs had left to eat or rest, he’d be able to leave unassisted.
It was very important they believe he was healing, inside and out.
“Yes,” he forced himself to say, “that is good.”
“Luc, I know you remember what happened on that battlefield. I want you to also know we’re going to do everything in our power to help you recover not just physically, but to heal your heart as well. We feel your loss and we grieve with you, but we’re not going to let you give up. Do you understand?”
“You feel my loss?” He coughed a bitter laugh and winced at the pain searing his chest. “I don’t think so. Kass was my mate, and you don’t know what it feels like to watch yours murdered before your eyes.”
I can’t lose it. If the doctors sedate me again, I’ll never get out of here to do what I must. I have to hold on. Make them think they’re helping.
“No, but I know how I would feel if anything happened to Jordy. I’d tear the enemy apart to avenge his death. And don’t forget what Soren went through when he lost his first mate.”
How could he have forgotten that Soren had lost Helena, almost losing his mind in the aftermath? His brothers did understand.
Aldric went on. “Soren found happiness again, and you will, too,” he said gently. “Don’t give up.”
He knew that wasn’t true but avoided saying so.
“Did you avenge my Kassandra after she…” He choked on the words, and his brother’s face softened.
“You bet we did. We slaughtered the rest of those bastards and burned the bodies. A handful of them had left the fighting and sneaked to the resort to try to carry out their plans to kill everyone, but the demons Valafar had assigned to the property were watching. They killed the wolves, and nobody was hurt.”
“Thank the gods,” he said with feeling. “What about Legion? Where is he?”
“Your friend has been here to check on you several times. He was invaluable to saving all of our lives.” Aldric gave a small smile. “I guess it goes without saying he has a free pass to stay at the resort whenever he wants.”
“I’ll let him know.”
“I already did, but I know he’s anxious to see you. He should be here soon.”
Luc took some comfort in his family and friends being safe. This would go a long way to shoring him up until after he left here. “I want to see him, talk to him. Tell him to wake me if you see him first.”
“I will. You get some more sleep, huh? It’s going to be fine.”
He knew that wasn’t true, but he tried a small, fake smile. Aldric was normally so perceptive, but he didn’t seem to notice. Perhaps it was because he wanted so badly for his brother to be okay that he didn’t register that Luc’s smile and eyes were hollow. That had to be, because Luc had never felt more empty than at this moment.
“I’m so lucky to have you for my brothers,” Luc told him. “Always remember how much I love you both.”
Luc must have said the right words. He was speaking the truth, and it wouldn’t be until much later that Aldric would know them for the good-bye they had really been. But as it stood, Aldric hugged him fiercely and clung to his belief that his little brother would come around and that he was already healing.
When in fact he was bleeding inside. Dying a slow, agonizing death.
Aldric left, and Luc couldn’t sleep. He focused his still somewhat blurry vision on the stark white wall past the foot of his bed and tried to think how he could’ve possibly changed the outcome of the battle. In his mind’s eye, he’d turned in time to kill the wolf before it had a chance to impale him. Then Kass wouldn’t have been distracted. She would have been all right. They would have fought side by side to defeat the rest of the wolves together.
And they would have celebrated their victory by making love all nig
ht long.
Luc would have introduced her to his brothers, to friends. They would have taken long walks around the resort, gone clubbing in New Orleans, danced the night away and sipped on the finest hurricanes concocted anywhere. Would have…
But she was dead.
“Oh, Kass. No.”
Grief twisted his heart, and his throat ached. His eyes burned, and, no matter how hard he tried to hold them in, the tears came, sliding down his cheeks until the pillow under his face was soaked. The bed shook with the increasing force of his silent cries, and it wasn’t until a hand began smoothing his hair that he realized someone was sitting with him, on the edge of the bed.
Whoever it was didn’t speak. Didn’t tell him to hush or get a grip, or give him false words of hope. His visitor simply was there, letting him expend his pent-up emotions while offering silent support, for which Luc was grateful.
Finally his tears stopped, and he lay still for a time, exhausted. The hand continued to stroke his hair until he fell into a deep sleep.
When he awakened next, the presence was still there—not on the bed but nearby. His vampire senses were gradually returning, and with them his sharpened sense of smell. This one teased his nose as it had since they’d met. It was earthy and like rain. The being nearby was a bit naughty, but not evil.
Rolling onto his back, he opened his eyes. “Legion.”
The demon was sprawled in an uncomfortable-looking vinyl chair, black and silver hair falling around his shoulders, wings draped over the back of the chair to rest on the floor. He sat forward, his violet gaze worried.
“You slept for about an hour. I don’t have to ask a stupid question such as how you’re doing.”
“And I appreciate your refraining from telling me how it will all get better when we both know it won’t.”
The demon nodded. “I’m grieving her, too, you know. She wasn’t my mate, though at one time I would have loved it if she had turned out to be.”
“I know you’re mourning, too. I’m sorry.” He forgot that Kass had family and friends of her own. He wasn’t the only one suffering.