Where the other two artifacts seemed to have a singular purpose, the War Hammer seemed to be a jack of all trades, basically waiting to gobble up anything you let it gobble up. It made sense for the War Hammer to also be a container. It would be the perfect vehicle to transport Merlin’s ichor to safety—and no one would suspect it. Just in case I was wrong, I also pulled out a six-inch glass vial with a rubber stopper. I didn’t want to put all my eggs in one basket, so would put some in the vial just in case. The vial would serve as a decoy if anyone caught us. They’d see the vial and think that was it, the vial of liquid gold was obviously Merlin’s ichor.
And they wouldn’t look too closely at the War Hammer.
As I approached the Round Table, I studied the shifting stream of liquid metal that circled the center of the table. What looked like Druidic Runes and alchemical symbols floated within the golden stream like a mystical alphabet soup.
I hesitated at the lip of the Table, remembering my talk with Odin in this exact spot one week ago, before I had fought Mordred. He had given me answers, in a cryptic way, leading me down a path that concluded with me realizing that the golden metal in the Table was Merlin’s blood—that Merlin had found a way to turn his own blood into ichor—for whatever reason. Odin…had helped me. A week ago. Probably in the only way he had been able to.
Then there was Dean, also a week ago. I had returned home after my fight with Mordred to find him standing in the halls, and rather than giving me a sympathetic shoulder to lean on, he had punished me for breaking one of his sacred rules. No nudity in the main living areas of Chateau Falco. Or you get the million BB’s of shame across your flesh.
Had that been Dean or Odin’s personality in charge?
When Alex had broken the exact same rule minutes before me, Dean had given Alex a robe and hot cocoa rather than punishing him. Was there some hidden message in that, or was I simply overthinking it?
But that was the crux of the situation. I no longer knew what or who I could rely upon.
Both Dean and Odin had helped—and harmed—me in entirely different—and even contradictory—ways. Several times even on the same day. But they were the same person.
I let out a breath, telling myself I would have time to consider all these inconsistencies as I travelled in Fae. Maybe Talon and Gunnar could talk some sense into me. At least I no longer had to worry about freaking the hell out for no apparent reason. That was an unbelievable weight off my shoulders.
As I thought about the upcoming trip, I thought very hard on the Wild God, Pan. Because he, too, had lied to me about who he was. He had masqueraded as Mallory, a chauffeur and security guard for my father. Odin obviously knew about Pan—everyone did, now. But…did Pan know about Dean being Odin? My parents had recruited both of them in their bizarre spider’s web of lies, and I wasn’t sure if that meant they had been kept secret from each other or not.
Because Pan claimed to be done with secrets from me, implying he didn’t know about Dean.
We were going to see him in Fae, so I was about to find out. He was watching over—and nursing back to health—the only Knight of the Round Table we had so far found. I had yet to see him because he’d been unconscious ever since, but I was about to wake the bastard up somehow. I hoped this Knight could shed some light on exactly what Merlin had done to his blood.
I felt a slight chill of excitement. I was going to meet a real Knight. A man so entrenched in his ideals that he radiated chivalry through every segment of his armor. I couldn’t wait. I absently began murmuring names of the Knights, wondering which one Pan was looking after.
I cut off abruptly as symbols near the edge of the Round Table began to shimmer into existence at the sound of me murmuring the Knights’ names. They were strange, crude symbols, and they glowed with blue light. They faded from view after a few seconds, so I went back through the list, trying to memorize the symbols to match to each name, wondering what it meant or if it would provide some answer to finding the other Knights later.
One section of the Table remained devoid of symbols the entire time. I took a deep, hopeful breath, and murmured, “Arthur Pendragon.”
The empty space on the table flared to life with the same blue fire in a similarly strange rune. I studied it thoughtfully, making sure I had it down and shook my head as I stared at the Table in its entirety. That had never happened before, and I was sure I’d mentioned some of those names—at least in passing—while in proximity to the Table. Why react now?
I imagined what it would have been like to sit here with all of them, being all chivalrous and stuff: polishing their armor, bragging about damsels, and having arm-wrestling contests.
I grinned at a new thought. “Merlin,” I murmured, knowing I had certainly said that name near the Table, and not even a week ago. I wondered if it was because I was entirely alone this time when I usually had someone else here with me. Maybe it had something to do with Odin getting rid of my Fae block, or something else had changed about me. Becoming a Horseman?
Or…maybe it was because I had adopted some of Merlin’s blood into my Horseman’s Mask, and the Table now saw me as part of the old crew.
But nothing happened when I said Merlin’s name. I said it again, two more times to be sure.
At the third repetition, something happened alright. The circle of flowing metal in the center of the table suddenly pulsed and churned violently, glowing brighter and brighter until I feared it was going to splash all over the Table. Not knowing what else to do, and not wanting to risk spilling any of it…
I shoved the corner of the War Hammer into the liquid., and…
Chapter 20
I was suddenly forced to hold on for dear life as the War Hammer began to quiver violently, seeming to want to come apart at the seams as it gobbled up the ichor. I gripped the hilt with two hands, trying to hold the Hammer steady as it devoured the ichor and finally stilled.
I let it go, panting hoarsely. I clenched and unclenched my fingers repeatedly, trying to get some feeling back into them. The War Hammer rested halfway inside the empty chasm where the ichor had flowed, and it throbbed steadily with golden light. The stone itself wasn’t gold or anything, but it was almost like a dimmer switch turning off and on—glowing gold from within, and then dimming back down to the plain stone. Birthright was carved into the side, seeming to shine brighter than the rest, since it was carved into the surface, closer to the ichor now trapped within.
The strangest part was that I felt my coin necklace—my damaged Horseman’s Mask—now throbbing in time with the Hammer, also glowing. The Hammer really had been a container, exactly like the Hand of God. I’d wondered if the Hammer would stop absorbing the ichor after a dainty sip, but it seemed to have a very healthy appetite. And it had only stopped because it ran out of ichor to drink. I wondered exactly how much it could hold…
And grew a little bit nervous at the thought.
I’d heard the three artifacts my parents left me described as Keys by Anubis, and was now even more curious what they might open. Why Anubis had wanted them in the first place.
I reached out and lifted the Hammer, surprised to feel that it now felt lighter than before, even though it had just consumed what had to be pounds of liquid metal. I leaned over the Table and noticed a thin sliver of liquid gold still inside the crevice, so I scraped it into the vial, popped on the rubber stopper, and shoved it in my old Fendi satchel—nowhere near as cool or light as my Darling and Dear satchel, but that’s what I got for being a big, stupid idiot. I shoved the War Hammer into the thick metal ring I had attached to a sturdy leather belt designed for just such use and felt satisfied that it wasn’t going to fall out. It might make running a little awkward, but I could live with that. I also had a Velcro strap I could wrap over it to make it more secure but judging by how it felt right now, I didn’t see that becoming necessary. I placed my hands on my hips, feeling like a total badass.
Like the Knights who had once set out for the Holy Grail, I was now
setting out to find the pieces of Excalibur. If Pandora’s silence meant what I thought—which was in no way a guarantee—I now had the Blood. One of the parts was within the Armory—likely the beautiful sword I had seen long ago—the Blade, as she had called it. And she had said the other pieces were finding their way to the Armory, as they usually did. If I was on the right track, I still needed the Name, the Power, and the Soul.
Once I found those…well, I guessed I would hide it. I sure as hell wasn’t going to FedEx it to Camelot for Mordred’s Yulemas present. My only real goal was to keep it out of Mordred’s hands, because he wanted to destroy it—or use it for himself.
I turned at the sound of footsteps to see Gunnar and Talon stroll in with Achilles on their heels. The Greek hero had returned to Chateau Falco after the bar fight, probably very interested in the protection the house had to offer one who may have been recognized by Thor at a rowdy brawl last night.
Talon and Gunnar dipped their heads at me and made their way over to the fountain, ready to leave. Gunnar was walking stiffly, making me assume he probably felt embarrassed about his lack of assistance during the fight with Thor. He was touchy about personal failures. And Talon was quiet because I had tasked him with keeping a close eye on Gunnar, since he was acting like a nut-job ever since finding out he was going to be a dad.
They were both quiet for another shared reason. I had very briefly told Talon about the night’s events, and he had made Gunnar promise not to change our plan of going to Fae before passing on that information—because I had been confident Gunnar would instantly freak out and want to get Ashley out of danger, or spend a week fortifying his pack, or any other number of totally logical decisions, rather than leaving for Fae as planned. We couldn’t—I couldn’t—afford any speed bumps in my trip. The Allfather had made that very clear.
If we didn’t hurry, Thor, or the rest of the Aesir Gods, would pay us a visit and, if history was accurate, I’d heard of very few locals who ended up appreciating a visit from Norsemen.
So, Gunnar and Talon were both up to speed, and were equally unhappy and nervous about it all. They were also brimming with questions for me, but I hadn’t given them the time to corner me. We would have plenty of time to discuss that in Fae if necessary. And sitting around playing what if wasn’t going to help me fix my Fae Magic. The only way to put a stop to this was to stick to the original plan of fixing my memories so I could repair the Bifröst.
But…I needed someone here at Falco to know about the potential shitstorm heading our way. My eyes latched onto Achilles, and I pursed my lips. He was a tough, hardened, capable warrior. He would be able to handle it. He was friends with several gods and didn’t scare easily.
Achilles was also the only other one who had seen Thor in person, and probably wasn’t too keen on leaving the protection of Chateau Falco.
I pulled him aside and caught him up to speed on events from the parking lot and, after hesitating for a moment, I told him the truth about Dean actually being Odin. Achilles, the legendary Greek hero, almost crapped his pants. He stiffened like a board, and almost fell over before I gripped his forearm. “Play it cool, man!” I hissed low enough for only him to hear, because Alice and Alvara had just sauntered into the room with Tory and Ashley.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he whispered. “How the hell did you just happen to find Dean in the parking lot near the strip clubs of East St. Louis?”
Tory was speaking softly with Alvara and Alice, but Ashley had made a beeline for Gunnar, kissing him on the lips and hugging him close. I turned back to Achilles. “Well, Grimm kind of broke the Bifröst—”
“He did the fuck what?!” Achilles choked, his voice growing high pitched.
“Keep it down!” I whispered angrily. “This isn’t a High School Musical tryout! Thor was upset about Grimm breaking his rainbow, and then Odin…Dean appeared. He stood up for us against Thor, banishing him somewhere cold and dark. I have no idea where, but Thor probably isn’t going to be too happy about it when he gets out.”
“I don’t even know which part to start screaming about!” he hissed. “Let me come with you to Fae for crying out loud. I’d rather end up in an ogre’s cookpot than let Thor find me!”
“No. I need you here, keeping an eye on the gang, on Huginn and Muninn, and if Dean shows up, keep an eye on him, too.”
“No way! I’m not going to spy on Odin, you fucking lunatic!”
“He might be on our side.”
“He might not be on your side!”
Gunnar cleared his throat behind us. “You ready, Nate? I was woken up early believing it meant we needed to leave early…” he said in a low growl. He had worn sweats and a plain tee, knowing that he would likely shift into his gargantuan werewolf form once we crossed over—but he didn’t necessarily have to change if he didn’t want to. After you came to grips with your Wild Side, you could kind of turn it off and on at will. I’d told everyone else to dress Fae-Casual—something you could easily run in and didn’t mind getting blood on. And to bring backup clothes just in case.
I knew it wasn’t the lack of sleep annoying Gunnar, but the fact that he had lost his marbles at the bar, and then been useless to keep us safe from Thor after. Or some of his crazy other baggage.
I nodded. “Just giving Achilles a quick update. We’re almost finished.” Gunnar grunted and made his way back over to the waterfall, waiting silently. Talon was studying me out of the corner of his eyes, his tail swishing back and forth behind him.
“No, we are not almost finished,” Achilles squealed in a whispered hiss.
“You’ve got this, Achilles. Just put two pairs of socks on, and you’re invincible,” I teased, kicking his heel with the toe of my boot.
He glared at me. “Not against Odin, you half-wit!”
I waved a hand and told him about Alex and Grimm hunting rainbows to restore the Bifröst, but that they were traveling the Night Currents.
Achilles promptly passed out, crumpling to the floor in a sad heap. I stared down at him, blinking a few times. Well, that had been entirely unexpected. Maybe he hadn’t been as equipped to handle the news as I’d thought. Tory glanced over and froze upon seeing Achilles unconscious, or that I was nudging him with my boot and whispering his name not-so-discreetly.
Tory rushed over, scooping up Achilles like he was a toddler who had fallen asleep in the car on the way home, and then she carried him over to a couch near the fire in the center of the massive space. I watched her warily, thinking, and finally made a decision. Rather than risk the same result as Achilles, I leaned in close to give her a hug goodbye.
“Don’t react,” I whispered into her ear. “When he wakes up, tell him that you know about Dean, the Bifröst, and that I give him permission to tell you and Ashley everything. He passed out before we got to that part. But no one else can know, okay?”
She squeezed back in acknowledgment, but it felt stiff and awkward as she no doubt reeled from my cryptic goodbye. She pulled back and gave me a fake smile, but her eyes were full of questions.
“Thanks, Tory. Keep everyone safe while I’m gone. I hope it won’t be long, but you never know in Fae.”
She nodded woodenly, her eyes drifting to Achilles with a pensive frown. She looked a hell of a lot more motivated to wake her patient than a few moments ago. I made my way over to the waterfall to find Ashley happy crying, and Gunnar holding a beefy palm over her belly. Alvara looked on the verge of her own tears, and Alice looked as excited as ever.
I stared at Ashley’s belly and made a silent promise. I’ll keep your dad safe, guys. Or I’ll break the world getting him back to you. I may not be much of a father figure, but I’ve got the wrath of a god burning inside me, and that will keep you plenty safe, no matter what.
I looked up to find Ashley and Gunnar both staring at me curiously. I blushed. “Thought I saw a stain on her shirt,” I said hurriedly. They narrowed their eyes in unison, but it looked more heartfelt and amused than anything.
> “Can we go, now?” Alice begged, hopping up and down on her feet, her blonde, braided ponytail rising up and down along with her. She gripped the straps of her small backpack eagerly, Ready for her adventure in a wondrously terrifying new land.
I nodded and stepped up to the waterfall, holding out my hands to form a chain with them. “Go, go, gadget-Fae.”
Chapter 21
We stepped into Fae about thirty minutes away from the cave I had been born and raised in. I hadn’t wanted to go directly there so as not to terrify Pan with my small army. Also, I wanted to get a feel for the place, get everyone acclimated to the strange nature of Fae—especially since I had no idea what it would do to Alvara and Alice.
I hesitantly turned to the two, fearing what I might find and…
They hadn’t changed.
I let out a breath of relief. I had been concerned they might become trolls or some other strange creature that would give Pan pause when we finally ran into him. Alvara had tears in her eyes as she spun in a slow circle, staring up at the sky in awe. I knew what it was like to return home after a long journey, but I had never come back home after being banished. Maybe it was like stepping out of prison after serving what had originally been a life sentence, only to be released a decade later when the true criminal was found, and they let you go with a bureaucratic whoopsies.
Alice let out a squeal of excitement, running her tiny fingers through the tall glass grass, grinning as it chimed back at her. I couldn’t help smiling as I watched her—admiring that look of wonder on her cheeks and wondering myself if I would ever get back that childhood sense of joy for the world. Because I’d learned the hard way that life wasn’t always that carefree and joyful.
I sensed Alvara watching me watch her daughter, and I smiled back at her. She mouthed thank you, and I shrugged it off humbly, waving a hand.
Gunnar and Talon both took deep, calming breaths, smiles slowly creeping across their faces.
Legend Page 11