Forged in Blood and Lightning: A New Adult Urban Fantasy Novel (Descendants of Thor Trilogy: Book One)

by S. A. Ashdown

  Something isn’t right here. Something… am I imagining it?

  No, the Gatekeeper replied. Look harder.

  I stepped out of time, scanning for the anomaly that evaded me. I blinked as a few spatters of rain fell in slow motion, plopping onto the pavement, a cosmic fist unfurling a shower of coins, dropping them one at a time. Each raindrop that hit my hair and splashed down the side of my face shattered like falling mirrors, bursting in fragrant puffs. They seemed to glisten in the moonlight, reflecting Raphael and that little girl in fat, wet globs. Raphael knew those photographs meant a great deal for my future. Standing in the rain, cold on the outside, but with the Gatekeeper’s fire raging within, I felt that future arrive with a splat. I turned and stared into the clear window of the restaurant.

  She lazed in a high-backed chair at a table for two, a single red rose in the centre acting as a delicate veil between them. Between her and that man, the man that must be him. Must be the professor. I picked apart Lorenzo’s description of Menelaus, but it was a spark of recognition, of déjà vu, which made me certain. Dissecting the source of this feeling was impossible, a path that led only into obscurity. The sensation doubled as I stared at her again, avoiding the eye of another patron who noticed me peering in.

  There was no mistaking who she was. She was the solo violin in an orchestra, centre stage, capturing my attention completely. She eradicated Menelaus, as if he were of no importance, a single note on the music sheet. Oh, I adored the natural pout of her full lips, the shapely eyebrows that swept over those soulful, brown eyes, maturing her appearance by imbuing her with a bodily wisdom. This was my little girl, the angel that had accompanied me through my early years, vanishing into the mists of time, leaving nothing but mystery behind. This was Ava Wallace.

  And Menelaus was touching her, toying with her upturned palm as if he were reading it.

  The truth slammed into me and I gasped, clutching at my abdomen, twisting away from the scene. I had loved this woman from the second I had seen her in the Red Hawk, strumming her guitar. It wasn’t love at first sight, I had known her all this time, but I had forgotten. How? How had my friend been parted from me? Why had no one even causally mentioned her in these last eleven years? Was she, like me, ignorant of our past? Even now, the memories were buried deeper than the cells under the Praetoriani headquarters.

  Do you believe in soulmates, Theo? Raphael had asked me that. He was the only one I was sure hadn’t lied to me. I spun around again, watching as a waiter served the pair dessert, watching as my Ava’s shoulders jiggled up and down in laughter. I was entranced as she gathered the rainbow-tinted waves from her neck, holding them in sleek fingers. I noticed too that she had a tiny tattoo on her wrist.

  Jörð, it’s an ouroboros. Jormungand. The Midgard Serpent. Like the one on the handle of the mirror. Here she was with a symbol of my fate – the world’s fate – inked onto her skin.

  Yes, Raphael, I believe. She’s mine.

  I couldn’t stand to see them together; as innocent as it might be, my mind imagined the worst. That they were lovers, engaged, living together. But by now I was attracting the attention of the waiter, so I stormed away from the restaurant, hardly able to contain my elation at discovering her again, and fury that she was in Menelaus’ company, a man clearly despised, or at least not trusted, by my family. Was it possible they had forgotten Ava too?

  I stamped against the pavement, irrationally angry that Menelaus was so handsome too. I’d have to be blind not to notice. The element of competition stirred up an ancient hatred stewing in the heart of every jealous man. I was halfway up Limes Avenue – avoiding St. Michael’s, just visible to the west – when I changed my mind and stomped back down the row of houses, resolving to march into the restaurant, break up their little date, and force my existence on them both. To resolve something, to accuse Menelaus of so many nameless things, to plead with Ava to remember me. I felt sure her amnesia was as total as my own, so strong was the burning in my heart. There was no other way we could be parted.

  Trembling, I neared the crossroads, the park, and the restaurants beyond. But the tarmac began to shake, and a curling crack, like an unfolding whip, tore the clouds apart in a flash of light. The rain became a torrent, so violent I stopped, burned by Jörð’s angry tears. Lost in awe at this power – my power – I didn’t hear the engine humming a few feet behind me until it was too late.

  A hand, a rag drenched in potent chemicals, clamped over my nose and mouth. I gasped in shock, choking as I grasped my mistake. The last thing, the falling back like a felled tree hit by lightning, the dream of Ava playing on the marble fountain, the sounds of water spewing from Neptune’s trident in a perfect arc. She was standing, short arms cast out like wings. I waited on the ground behind her, her glossy hair catching the water’s refracted rainbow light, and protecting my pale eyes from the glaring sun. I was blinded as she fell back into my arms, shrieking with glee, but I caught her, her heels still resting on the marble fountain. I would always catch her.

  Always.

  29

  Agony

  Flickering lights – the first thing to penetrate the fog. That and the smell of damp. I shifted, groaning against the weight of my muscles, which were curiously limp and unresponsive. I was sure I said, ‘What the fuck?’ but my ears heard only a jumbled gurgle.

  As my sight adjusted, I attempted to wipe the water from my bleary eyes, and discovered my wrists and ankles were clamped to a steel chair. ‘He’s waking up,’ said a voice colder than the metal on the backs of my legs, made harsher by a thinly veiled East End accent, ‘monitor the drip.’

  I looked in horror at the needle that was taped to the crease in my arm. A machine beeped loudly near my ear but out of reach, beside it a Mayo stand, chock-a-block with drugs and needles, taunting me at my periphery. If I thought I was scared during my Assessment, it was time to redefine my understanding of fear. I burrowed down, feeling out my hidden companion, ready to whip my Gatekeeper powers into action, to escape in a puff of smoke. No dice. Nada. Nothing.

  ‘What have you done to me?’ I sputtered, a feat that took me several long breaths.

  A gentle sigh tickled down my neck, followed by the stench of rotting teeth. A figure appeared from behind, a wiry man with a chin full of stubble, his clothing stained and wet from the rain. ‘Ah, nothing to worry about. A few sedatives and… special concoctions. Our secret recipe, you understand. To level the playing field.’

  All I could do was glower and utter a growl like grinding pebbles. My skin stung, as a reed in a lab coat injected me with something else. The substance crawled in my veins, and I gagged.

  ‘Try not to vomit, I hate vomit. But blood? We’re quite partial to that, aren’t we?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Are they vampires? The man with the stubble seemed to be in charge. His knuckles were raw, as if he’d been in a fight. If he were a vampire, his skin would heal immediately. He looked much too human, anyway. I looked at his knuckles again, trying to think where I’d seen rough hands like that before. But my mind was far too foggy.

  He noticed me staring and smirked, drawing a cigarette from a packet on the stand, his chair creaking as he leant back and began smoking. ‘I’m going to make this very simple for you, Theodore. You’re quite the dandy, aren’t you? Walking around in silk shirts and cloaks. So reliant on magic to protect you. Without it, you’re nothing. You know nothing about true pain—’

  ‘I prefer the term agony, sir,’ interjected the reed.

  ‘Agony. I like the way that word sounds, don’t you, Theodore? Ag-o-ny.’

  He waited, smiling from his chair. He could see it coming, as I gathered up the energy to spit on the floor. ‘My point exactly,’ he continued, ‘without magic, you can do no more than piss against the wind. You won’t be so haughty after I get you acquainted with some of my toys.’ He picked up a knife and fondled it in his hands. ‘You’ll soon spill your guts. Maybe literally.’

  His friend
laughed behind me and grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking it back so I was staring up into the bright spotlight shining into my face. Despite my total confusion, I recognised the signs of a classic interrogation, and for the first time in my magical life, I was completely powerless. If I hadn’t phoned Father, he’d be out there looking for me by now. Now? When was that? How long had I been underground? Jörð, I hate it underground.

  ‘What do you want?’ A wave of fatigue dangled me by the ankle over the precipice of sleep, and the thought of finding the energy to lie to these men caused an ache so deep in my bones I slumped forward, stopped from slipping out of the chair by the restraints.

  ‘Where’s the amulet?’ He folded his arms and stared above my head, as if bored by the question, having asked it a thousand times to a thousand victims already. It was at that point my heart stopped, feigning a mini-death, as if by doing so I could avoid further torment. It was that look, which convinced me this man wasn’t bluffing with his threats. I was another potential casualty in a very long list. This was why Father hadn’t told me about the amulet. If I didn’t know, I couldn’t spill the beans. There was no taking back my knowledge, no way to suffocate the cat once it was out of the bag.

  Mum, help me. As usual, there was no reply, and I felt truly alone, vulnerable. He was right, behind the bravado, without my family to back me up, without my powers, I was a scared little boy. But I had this lingering hope: if he was asking about the amulet, he didn’t have it, and couldn’t kill me.

  Somewhere, locked away in a prison of sedatives, lurked the Gatekeeper. Otherwise, our cosy little threesome wouldn’t be having this conversation. We’d all be plunged headfirst into the Apocalypse. Unless it’s already started outside this fucking basement. I didn’t believe that, somehow I’d know. I was sure I’d feel it, the fabric of the universe ripping apart. What did that mean? It meant the bastard couldn’t kill me as much as he tried. Great, he can torture me for eternity instead. One point to me.

  ‘What’s this obsession with an amulet?’ I asked. ‘Are you working with the Praetoriani?’ My mind flashed back to meeting Isaac and Julian at the gate, the bodyguard-chauffeur at the wheel, his hands… Can it be? A fist smashed into my jaw and my lip burst, spraying blood out like rain. I howled.

  ‘Wrong answer. That’s me playing nice.’

  So that’s why his knuckles are shredded.

  ‘Where’s the amulet?’

  ‘Like I told the magistrate,’ I said, assuming if it wasn’t just a coincidence, and he really was the same man who drove the limousine, he would know what I was talking about, ‘the Kvinneby amulet is in some museum in Sweden.’

  The blows shattered bone, and I twisted my face away, trying to bury it in my lap, to no avail. The damp air took on the tang of blood. Apparently, they had medicated away my self-healing ability as well. On a level pinned under pain, I recognised a truth that they must be working with a lab to come up with drugs that could do that, a process nearly identical to stripping powers away for good. In this case, it had to be reversible. How was I supposed to do that? I blinked, dark spots flickering in front of me.

  ‘You don’t know… what… you’re doing!’ I stammered. ‘I can’t… give you… what you… want.’

  He flopped back in his chair, sweaty from exertion, and groped around for a bottle of water behind his leg. He unscrewed the cap and took a long drink, and my mouth burned like sandpaper. I was so thirsty, and although I didn’t feel hungry, I knew that I was. The lack of nourishment was hindering my chances, big time. If I had any hope of summoning the Gatekeeper, I needed energy. ‘Who are you protecting?’ he asked.

  I thought of Father and Uncle Nik, what would happen to them if I admitted to being the Gatekeeper. If I told these men about the Clemensen burden, and that we possessed the amulet. They wouldn’t be so stupid. They wouldn’t be kidnapped because they were too busy pining after a woman.

  Oh, gods, Ava. What if these men had seen me with her? What if I had actually barged my way into the restaurant? Thank Jörð I never got there.

  ‘Wakey, wakey!’ He snapped his fingers in front of my face. ‘I said, who are you protecting? Daddy? What makes you think he didn’t murder your mummy, Theodore? A coincidence he found her smashed to bits on the rocks, huh? Tell me, what bullshit has he fed you?’

  Lies, I thought, but how did he know about how she died? He must be working for the Praetoriani, have access to the case files. No, it had been all over the local news too. Maybe that’s where he got his information. Either way, I was ashamed that it struck a chord, the great holes in the saga of my mother’s death waved before me like a blanket half-eaten by mice, a blanket I had used to swaddle my memories in, my grief. ‘Fuck you,’ I spat.

  We continued, going down every avenue, the beatings increasing in intensity. Finally, he unrolled a kit of nasty-looking implements. Agony. They were deathly silent as they worked, slicing off strips of skin as if they were kebab meat, that machine beeping in time with my screams, until my lungs failed, until my abdominals could no longer knit together to form the breath. I began to believe I’d be trapped forever, unable to die. Tortured until I finally broke and gave up the amulet, choosing potential death for billions, trillions of life forms, only to end my own suffering.

  At last, my abuser began to tire. His stomach growled and the guy in the coat, who remained a shady figure throughout the proceedings, suggested they eat. I can’t describe the elation I felt at the mention of food but I was careful not to show it. ‘Fine,’ he shrugged, ‘the supplies are upstairs.’

  For five minutes, we were alone, and there was a pause in the cycle of endless injections. I wished he’d left too, so I could cry in peace. So I could sob. It built up inside my chest, all the sadness, the giant burden of my secret mingling with the pain. Instead, I imagined being a normal, regular guy, partying at university and messing about with mates, dating random girls with blurry faces. I couldn’t think about Ava. Not now.

  The reed fed me a sandwich, held a cup of water to my lips, if only to keep me conscious. My humiliation was subsumed by awakening hunger as the first crumb hit my tongue. Like an animal, I growled, and probably to shut me up, cold cheese and tomato came next, cooling my feverish anguish. When I was eight, I had the flu and the hallucinations had lasted for days. Mum held a wet flannel to my forehead, all the while promising me that the things I saw were not real, that the monsters would soon die in the fire of fever. I wanted it to be like that again. Mum, I need you, Mum. I really need you. I can’t do this alone.

  For the first time since she’d died, I heard her voice rattle in my head. I froze, trying not to disturb a single molecule of air, straining to listen. Had I dreamed it? No, her compassion overflowed, spilling from her heart into mine, an empty chalice transformed into a womb of motherly love. They don’t want to kill you, Teddy, she said, amongst other things that are for my knowledge alone. Use the tics. It will be enough to wake it. Do it now.

  Her instructions arrived with a package of images, like a movie unfolding in my mind’s eye. As she promised, my cheek began to tic again. I focused on it, trying to Anchor it in place, as a starting point to send my energy into Jörð, and draw the power I so sorely needed from her. It wasn’t enough. I had to wait.

  I listened to them talk about inane things as I digested my meagre meal, willing the calories into my bloodstream before the break ended and they started again. Slowly, I noticed twitches spreading down my neck and over my shoulders, testing my biceps and forearms. I tuned out the noise and drew the spasms together like beads on a fragile string of concentration, and I pushed, forcing the blob of energy into my feet and through the floor, the effort making me woozy. The conversation was unwinding, their attention reverting to me, their latest project.

  I trusted Mum. Although I couldn’t find a trace of humanity in them, I had to believe they didn’t really want to kill me. Maybe they were hired guns. Maybe this was the next level of Assessment by the Praetoriani, because I had mes
sed up and mentioned the amulet. No, I thought. It isn’t their style. But then, what had Father said? They drove your mother to her death. I just didn’t know what to believe.

  ‘Back to work.’

  Believe Mum or be at their mercy.

  I had one chance. I could channel only a little power, a little fireball from Earth’s core. It would be enough for one quick action, enough to affect one person. I could reach only one. Mum, I hope you’re right about this. There was no point eliminating my torturer when his pal was beside me, ready to send me into an eternal coma. Likewise, taking out the reed would be pointless while his crony had me strapped to the chair.

  My fingers twitched. Let’s hope this amulet is really what it’s cracked up to be. A single spark flung out, lassoed a slender blade on the Mayo stand, and boomeranged it straight into my neck, lodging it deep in the flesh. My eyelids fluttered. I smiled, the last thing I did, as my captives roared. ‘Get him on the ventilator now!’

  ‘I’m trying!’

  ‘Do it, or I’ll have your nuts.’

  ‘Then get the fucking van!’

  MIDWAY BONUS CHAPTER: https://dl.bookfunnel.com/twrzvdfrrp

  30

  Smile Between Friends

  The pendulum veered to one side, then waited. It waited for the decision, for me to choose life. A dim awareness that I didn’t really exist here itched like rough fabric. Where is here? A ball of light, suspended over creation. Other than that, I recalled two things. My mother – and Raphael.

  Her open arms extended out of a dancing cloud, caught by the vibrant sun. She held me, and we waited together in the mist. He came after, his eyes wide, startled like a fawn, as if he had dipped his head in a stream, and found me staring back up at him like the drowned victim of some nymph. ‘Breathe, Theo,’ he said, but his staccato chirp made me want to let go and float to the bottom of the ocean. ‘Now!’