by Nora Ash
“Blast it! How are we supposed to find that cursed Norn if we can’t get to her?” Bjarni growled, smacking his palm against the wood hard enough for it to creak in protest.
A small flicker at the edge of my magic made me freeze, eyes trained on Bjarni’s large hand. “Do that again.”
“Do what?” He frowned, looking from me to the others.
“Hit it,” Modi said. “Hard.”
Bjarni arched a brow, but gave the beam a slap hard enough to make the veil shake. And again.
The flicker turned to a buzz tainted with… irritation.
“Here we go,” Magni murmured just as the buzz turned to a physical press against my skin.
Bjarni’s next smack against the wood sent a squeal through the old beams and made him stumble back a few steps. The veil whipped wildly before white light flashed, momentarily blinding us all. When we could see again, Verdandi stood in front of the portal.
“What?” The Norn hadn’t bothered with the more human disguise she’d worn for Annabel, and I suppressed a shudder at the sight of her pointy teeth as she glared at us.
Modi didn’t manage to hide his shiver, but he steeled himself and bowed deeply. “Wise one, we are here to seek your aid.”
Verdandi tsked and snapped her fingers in his face. “You come banging down my door for help? Modi Thorsson, it is the end of all that is. I am busy!”
“Please, Verdandi,” I said, stepping forward to rescue Modi from the Norn’s terrifyingly wide glare. “Our mate is lost, and we don’t know where else to turn. Trud Sifsdottir believes you will be able to help us find her.”
Verdandi snapped her head around to me. “I know she is lost! She is gone, and there is no stopping Ragnarök now. So many years I watched over her, so many years I protected her. All for nothing.”
“No. It was not for nothing,” Magni said, his voice hoarse, but determined. “She is not dead. Not truly. My sister believes she is stuck in Hel, but she cannot be dead or we would be too. Blessed Weaver, you must help us find her. It is not too late. Not yet.”
“Not too late?” she barked. “Not too late? Ha! The sky is literally falling, and everyone—everyone—is dying! Go home, godlings, and spend this finite time we have left with those you love. We lost. We all lost.”
“You wove our life threads with this mortal,” Modi said quietly. “You spun our fate. You should know that we will never, ever give up on her—not until the universe implodes into atoms and we cease to exist in this world or the next. So long as she breathes, there is hope, wise one. I will implore you one more time to help us. Do not deny us, sacred being, because there is nothing I will not do to bring my mate back. Nothing.”
Verdandi snorted, her neck wrenching unnaturally as she stared him down. “You think to threaten me, godling?”
“To be fair, it’s Ragnarök and our mate is gone. Even if you snip our threads, you won’t bring us more misery than what we already carry,” Bjarni rumbled.
“They are right,” Magni said. “We have nothing to lose without her, wise one.”
Verdandi looked at all of us one at a time. She shook her head and tossed her hands up, the movement making my stomach clench from the way her elbow joints popped the wrong way as she did.
“Fine. Fine! If you wish to see for yourself why I cannot help, by all means, come on through.”
Without another look at us, she spun and disappeared back through the veil.
To Bjarni’s credit, he didn’t even hesitate before he followed her.
The rest of us took a half-second before we followed in his footsteps.
The second I passed through the veil, pressure gripped my ribs and squeezed, and I experienced a moment of blind panic before I smacked my knees into dusty soil, and the sensation of having the life squeezed out of me eased.
I coughed and rubbed at my ribs as I looked around.
My brethren all knelt around me, also gasping for air as they took in our surroundings. We were in a large earthen cave with roots growing through the crumbling walls and high ceiling. Shimmering threads in earthy tones of greens, browns, silver, and gold hung from them, millions of them interwoven in intricate patterns, but there were large gaps between them and piles of what looked like ashes on the ground beneath them.
“Come on!” Verdandi called from deeper in, impatience coloring her sharp voice. She twisted to eye a tangle of what looked like a few thousand threads, sighed heavily, and pulled a pair of golden scissors out from a fold in her clothing. With as much care as a low-grade gardener, she chopped several bunches in a few brutal hacks. They all withered to ash and trickled to the floor in another large pile.
“Tidal wave,” she explained at our dumfounded stares, pointing at us with her scissors. “You see what I have to deal with?”
The Norn didn’t wait for a response before she swung around and continued stalking through the multitude of threads, snipping off clumps left and right as she walked.
By the time she stopped at a fine tangle of four golden threads, I was pretty sure she had culled a few hundred thousand lives.
“You see the problem?” she asked, voice clipped. She poked one of the golden threads with the tips of her scissors. Magni shuddered, his face taking on a green tinge.
“This is us?” Modi asked, his eyes trained on the strands. They were woven together with knots and braids at different intervals, but toward the bottom they all coiled together, as if swirling around an invisible core. “Where is Anna’s thread?”
“And Grim’s?” Bjarni added as he too leaned forward to examine them closer.
“That’s just it—they are simply gone.” Verdandi threw her hands into the air again. Her scissors brushed against another of the golden threads in the process, and something twanged deep in my gut and in my spine. I croaked before I could steel myself.
My eyes immediately dropped to the floor, my heart lurching, but there was no hint of ashes below our tangle.
“How is that even possible?” Magni asked, his brows knitting into a deep frown. “Where is our mate?”
Verdandi bared her too-many teeth in irritation. “I have no idea! My threads don’t just get up and go walking about. The only way out of my cave is if I snip them. But these two just… poof! And if there is no thread, I cannot find the soul. I told you—I cannot help you, godlings. Not this time.”
I turned to my brethren, trying my best to keep a hold of the fissure of despair threatening to split me apart from the inside. “This changes nothing. She is still out there, somewhere.”
“So we still go to Hel,” Magni said, his lips pinching as he stared at our web of threads with its missing core. “And we keep searching until we find her.”
“Hel is vast, young ones,” Verdandi said, and for the first time I could almost make out a drop of empathy in her voice. “If she is truly there, you will not find her in time without knowing her approximate location.”
“Perhaps we can help with that.”
I jerked upright at the voice creaking right next to me and spun around, but I saw nothing.
“What in Ymir’s armpit is this?!” Verdandi shrieked behind me. “No. No! I do not care if this is Ragnarök—I will not allow pests in my house! Shoo! Psst! Out!”
“Who are you calling pests?” another voice squawked, and though its hollowness rang through the air around us like a bell, I recognized its haughty tone.
“Magga?” I spun around again, trying to catch sight of my old raven companion. “Show yourself!”
“Now where is the fun in that?” the other voice asked.
“Arni!” Bjarni gasped. “You’re alive!”
“Well, technically…” Magga muttered.
“They are wayward spirits,” Verdandi broke in, disapproval clear on her face as she stared at a point above our heads. “Misplaced souls who have decided to break out of Hel and come wreak havoc with the natural order of things. Your kind is not welcome here. You’re disturbing my threads!” She snapped her long, bony
fingers in the air.
Perching on a root a couple yards above our heads, two semi-opaque ravens came into view, their matted feathers outlined by a shimmering green.
“Well, that’s just petty,” Magga huffed.
“You say you can help us?” Modi asked. If he had any reservations about the ghost ravens, he didn’t show it. “You come from Hel. Is Annabel Turner there? Do you know where she is being kept?”
Arni looked to Magga, then to us. He set off from the root and swung through the air, landing on Bjarni’s shoulder with an echoing caw. Magga followed, but when her claws gripped my shoulder like she had so many times before, I only felt a gentle chill.
“We were sent to you with a message,” Arni said.
“From the human girl you so love,” Magga added.
“She resides in Hel. She bids you to come to her side.” Arni nodded at Modi. “Most urgently.”
Bjarni swiveled toward the Norn. “Can you help us get there? Or do we need to get there the old-fashioned way? If the ravens can come back after what Loki did to them, so can we.”
She sucked her teeth at my brother and gave Arni a displeased look. “You do not wish to share their fate. An afterlife as a spectral may suit the Masters of Whispers, but it is a miserable existence for any creature who wishes to feel another’s touch ever again.”
“But can you help me?” Magni insisted. “Because if you cannot…”
He didn’t finish the thought, but we all shared it. If she could not, then eternity by Annabel’s side in Hel was a far better fate than staying here without her.
The Norn fell silent as she stared at the two ravens, her lips pinched in thought. After some time, she hummed and cocked her head, eyes narrowing.
“Perhaps… Perhaps there is a way. Your familiars may be little more than spirit vermin, but… they are still souls, of a sort. If there is enough left, mayhaps I can… borrow a connection.”
Arni and Magga looked at each other, then at her. “Borrow a what now?”
“A connection. If I can reach back to the place you exited Hel, perhaps I can create a portal.” Verdandi gave her cave a long look before she turned her attention back to us. “It is not a safe passage, young ones. If the cretins have too little spark left, there is every chance you will all be lost in the in-between for eternity. But I see your devotion to the girl I tied you with. Your determination. Perhaps… Perhaps it will be enough to bring her back. Enough to save us all. But it is your choice. I cannot weave this destiny for you.”
“There is no choice,” I said. “We will go.”
“Good.” She nodded, and without warning, reached for both Arni and Magga.
They shrieked and flapped their ghostly wings, but Verdandi held firm, her fingers plunging through their semi-opaque bodies and making green sparks fly. Slowly a flickering, obsidian rectangle specked with emerald rose from the cave floor. Up and up it stretched, until it was as tall and wide as a doorway.
Verdandi released her grip on the birds, who both flew back up to the root above our heads, slinging several hollow curses at the Norn.
Verdandi ignored them, her expression grave when she looked at us. “You must be careful on your journey, godlings. Things have shifted. Fates have been rewritten without the guidance of me or my sisters. If you are to succeed in saving us all, there will have to be a sacrifice.”
“Whatever sacrifice is needed, it will be given,” Modi said, voice gruff as he looked at the portal. “You have our eternal gratitude, wise one. You and the birds.” Without another look at the cave or our golden life threads, he stepped through the dark portal.
One by one, we followed him.
Twenty-One
Grim
Annabel seemed fond of the glade, or as fond as my despondent mate could be of anywhere in Hel.
She didn’t speak to me, nor did she smile or seem to listen much when Mimir prattled about some story or other, but she didn’t attempt to leave, either.
She spent most of her time lying on the grass and staring into the sky. I had to restrain myself not to lower the wall I’d erected between us to reach through our bond and sense what she was thinking. I had a fairly good idea that I didn’t want to know her thoughts, even if my instincts were itching to sate my curiosity.
What good would it do to probe for how to make my mate feel better when I was the reason behind her sadness?
So instead I spent my time patrolling the woods surrounding the glade, ensuring nothing crept up on us. But nothing did. There was no trace of any of the foul creatures that haunted the rest of Hel—only songbirds and small mammals scuttling across the forest floor. It was entirely… peaceful.
Perhaps it would be worth the effort of setting up a more permanent base here until Hel took her army and left, and I could begin my plans to put Annabel on the throne.
I let my gaze sweep over my mate as she sat on the grass with her arms around her knees. My would-be goddess.
She had the strength. It had taken all I had to restrain her after she’d found Freya’s body, and she was not even at her full power then. With my help, she would be capable of ruling the underworld. She might not like it, but it would keep her safe.
Until then, I would build her a cottage here, in this glade. Somewhere she would feel more comfortable and secure, with a roof that might break her endless staring at the churning soul siphon high above. As if she sensed my attention, Annabel turned her head and looked at me.
I steeled myself against the fire snapping up my spine as our eyes connected and held her gaze, willing her to speak.
She didn’t, unsurprisingly. She just kept staring at me, through me, as if she was looking for something in my eyes.
If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought she might be searching for some sign I wasn’t the dark monster she now knew me to be.
A pity we both knew there was no such sign to be found.
Annabel shifted on the grass, and I expected her to simply lie back down to continue staring at the sky. Instead she got to her feet, swaying a little as she found her balance.
She was too spent. Weakened. I had told myself she had enough strength still. As I watched her now, struggling to get to her feet, I knew I had been lying to myself.
Lead settled heavily in my gut and I closed my eyes for a moment, letting my inner chill swallow anything and everything. But when I opened them again, Annabel was walking toward me.
“Grim,” she said, hesitance lining her voice. “I need… help.”
The way she grimaced as she said it, one hand flailing vaguely for demonstration, I didn’t have to ask what sort of help she had in mind. Eyebrows high on my forehead, I asked, “You come to me willingly?”
Annabel grimaced again. “I suppose that sounds sexier than I’m here because I need an energy boost.”
I would have laughed if it wasn’t for the relief easing the dread in my gut. At least we would be spared that.
I sucked in a breath through my nose. Unsurprisingly, no touch of desire flavored her pheromones. As happily as she had given herself to me since the troll’s cave, I knew she hated me too much to desire me now.
It didn’t matter. I was obligated to protect her, and ensuring she was not drained of power was of the highest priority. Before Annabel, sex had been nothing but a transaction, and now it would be again. I would endure that a thousand times over. For her.
She made no move to undress herself, or me. She simply stood in front of me with her gaze locked on my chest, refusing to meet my eyes. That was fine; it would be easier this way.
With mechanical movements, I undid the straps of first her leathers, then my own, until we both stood naked in the silent glade.
“Down,” I rasped, clearing my throat to combat the unexpected hoarseness. “Hands and knees.”
She darted one look up at me at the command—just a swift glance before she knelt on all fours in front of me. My cock, subdued until now by the awkwardness of the encounter, surged at the sight
of her surrender.
I strode around her, coming to a halt between her slightly spread knees. Her pussy sat so prettily between her soft thighs, a thatch of dark hair covering closely sealed lips, calling to me despite her unaroused state.
I knelt down, forcing her stance wider with the pressure of my own knees inside hers, until she went down on her elbows in picture-perfect submission.
I hauled in a ragged breath and placed a hand on her hip, steadying myself as much as her. I ached for her—in body and soul. Memories of being inside her, of losing myself in her cunt and spirit, welled up, and I dug my fingers into her hip to rein myself in.
It wouldn’t be like that this time. Or ever again.
Every other time she’d been on her hands and knees, her pussy had been open and slick for me.
Sucking in another breath, I pressed my free palm between her spread thighs, cupping her small sex.
Annabel gasped and shivered when I dipped my middle finger in to press it against her still-hooded clit.
Over and over, I rocked my hand back and forth, stimulating her where she would feel me the most. It didn’t take long for faint notes of awakening pussy to hit my nostrils.
I had no control over the growl that escaped me at that scent. Everything in Hel was deprived of sensory stimulation: no warmth, no cold, no color, no smell, except the raw, tantalizing scent of Annabel’s sex readying her for penetration. It was little more than the lightest of hints in the air, but it was more than enough.
She mewled in response to my growl, and syrupy slickness seeped into my palm. Even now, even if her heart despised me, her body still craved mine. It was an unexpected comfort.
I raised up higher on my knees and released her hip so I could lean over her with my knuckles on the ground next to her elbow, never stopping the rocking motion of my palm against her nether lips.
She wasn’t warm underneath me like she should have been, but it still felt good to press my chest and abdomen against her back and feel her shiver at the contact. When I dug my teeth gently into her nape, she whimpered, “Grim,” so softly it felt like a velvet caress.