The wind whistled outside her walls, buffeting the flames of her fire. That sharp, rasping hiss of a January gale.
And it was July. July fifteenth.
She turned, and stared at the black window, where fingers of Jack Frost had begun to creep over the panes. All of her muscles slowly tightened, her heartbeat thudded against her bones, and she closed her fingers into a fist.
What had happened?
Scrape…
Marina glanced over the back of the couch toward the door.
An odd, distant shuffling. Crunching.
Outside.
She swallowed.
The shuffling came closer, drawing around the corner of the house, nearing her front door.
Then, it stopped.
Her throat closed.
A gust—
Wind sucked down the flue and flared the fire in the hearth. Marina gripped the bird pendant around her neck.
Silence. She waited.
Tap, tap, tap.
Marina blinked, mentally stumbling. She stayed completely still.
Then, slowly, she climbed to her feet, and edged around the couch. Her boot soles sounded loud on the wood. She stepped down into the entryway.
The dark front door rose up in front of her. She tried to keep her breathing low, even as her heart danced around against her breastbone. A tremble shot through her.
She hesitated.
Tap, tap, tap.
She jumped, gritting her teeth.
Then, finally, she reached out and gripped the cold handle. She worked the latch. It clacked open. She tugged on the door. The hinges squeaked, and it swung open.
A blast of wind stinging with snow hit her—nearly blinded her.
Then, she opened her eyes…
And threw herself backward.
A tall, white-skinned woman dominated the doorway. Her head nearly touched the top of the frame. Midnight spilled from her shoulders and down into her skirt, flooding into the floor of the entryway like inky poison. Thick black fur lined her collar and the cuffs of her velvety coat. Luxurious black hair tumbled from her head down around her shoulders, but it did not conceal her porcelain neck and luminous, refined features…
Or the left side of her face.
Which had no skin.
Only a bare skeleton.
Her flashing black gaze captured Marina and pinned her to the floor. The half of her mouth with lips curved upward, and she inclined her head elegantly.
“Hello, Marina,” she said, her voice pleasant and cool. “May I come in?”
“Who are you?” Marina gasped.
“Don’t be silly,” the woman chided. “You know who I am.”
Marina squeezed the bird pendant so hard it cut into her hand. She nodded once.
Hel.
The other woman’s lightless gaze wandered casually through the entryway.
“Enjoying this weather?” she asked. “I am. Ever so much. It’s been so long since I got to wear my black coat.” She smiled and reached up with both hands and adjusted her furry collar. “Summer is so tiresome and hot, don’t you think?”
Marina gulped. Said nothing.
Hel sighed.
“Well, if you’re not in the mood for small-talk, I’ll get to the point.” She canted her head, and looked frankly down at Marina. “Little Bird left something here and I’ve come to get it. If you’ll just step out of the way and let me look, I’ll find it myself and be on my way.”
“He didn’t leave anything here,” Marina rasped.
“I know for a fact he did,” Hel shot back. Suddenly, she narrowed her one eye. “And you know something about it, don’t you?”
Marina’s heart stopped.
“Whatever evil thing is to happen to me,” Bird’s soft words lit her memory. “It will also twist around my brother, my mother, my father, all my friends—and my realm. And you are our only hope.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stammered.
“Oh, yes, you do!” Hel took a step inside. She towered over Marina. “He told you, didn’t he? He told you about his Tears?”
Marina stared at her.
“I don’t—”
“Don’t play with me, Midgardian,” Hel bared her pointed teeth. “He told you where they were and he told you how to bring him back, didn’t he? You’re the one he trusted!”
“What?” Marina cried. “I don’t know what you’re…I mean, no, I don’t have—”
“You’re lying!” Hel snarled, her left eye blazing red. She advanced further in, the blackness swirling around her swelling through the hall. Her hands balled into fists.
“Give it to me now, and I might let you live. Test my patience and I will kill you.”
Marina turned and ran.
She bolted down through the dark hall, frantically praying she wouldn’t trip.
Hel howled, and tore into the house after her.
Marina leaped down a short set of stairs, dodged to the left, skidded down another darkened hall and raced toward the back door.
She slammed into it.
Snow caught the outside edge.
She shoved and shoved—
Icy air rolled in.
A lamp on a hall table just behind her shattered violently.
Panting, Marina forced her way through the small opening and darted out into the snow.
The cutting blizzard whirled all around her. She staggered, knee deep, toward the shadow of the woods, then picked up her pace, running as fast as she could. Her breath shredded in her ears. She dove past the first row of pines and kept going—the snow was not as deep here. The ground sloped down and away from her.
She slapped through the tangled, crunching underbrush, sliding
through the ice.
Her back door bashed open. An inhuman roar sliced through the storm.
And a chorus of piercing wolvish howls replied.
Marina’s heart clenched with terror and she sprinted down the hill, holding her left arm tight against her, batting branches out of her face with her right. It was so dark—at any second she could tumble into a hole or fall into water or slam into a tree…
Wait.
She jerked to a stop.
A pack of feet pattered through the snow behind her. Huffs of lathered panting surrounded her.
She rammed a shaking hand into her hip pocket and pulled out a stone. She had no idea which one it was—it was almost pitch black.
“Get me out. Get me out of here,” she hissed. Nothing happened. She stuffed it back in and pulled out another one. “Get me out of here!”
A sharp growl.
She spun around.
A massive black wolf, the size of a bear, galloped down the hill straight for her.
She put the stone back and yanked out the last one.
“Get me out of here!” she cried.
Snap!
A gunshot of bright light.
A wrenching sensation in her chest—
She fell forward.
Crashed down onto stone, and ice…
And her hearing flooded with the chilled, indifferent song of rushing water.
She did not move for a long moment—but her breathing still rattled. She shivered hard. Gradually, she realized that she sprawled face down on black rock.
She lifted her head, and glanced around.
A stream. A thin, ice-choked stream. It ran by her feet. She lay on the slick, jagged bank. Leafless trees crowded in around, and darkness hid everything beyond them. But the moon peeked down through thready clouds, flooding the space with white, stark light—making the rippling water to glimmer like liquid obsidian.
She shivered and crawled to her feet, letting her breath out in a puff of vapor. She stuck the Wishstone back in her pocket and wrapped her arms around herself.
She had no idea where she was. But, if the silence was any clue, she was at least far away from Hel.
She shivered again.
And caught sight of something. She
frowned upstream, listening.
The little trickle of water spilled out of the mouth of a very tall, broad, toothy hole in the side of a cliff. The abyss echoed softly with dripping…
And something else.
Breathing…?
And…
There.
A low, grating moan.
Marina’s eyes went wide.
Someone was inside that cave.
She quickly pushed her numb fingers into her pocket again, and fished out that same Wishstone. She opened her mouth…
The voice lashed out in a cry of pain. Then, a shuddering, keening groan.
She paused.
That someone was also hurt.
Setting her jaw, she slipped the stone back into her pocket and picked her way forward across the black, slippery rocks.
When she reached the mouth, she hesitated, then hopped over the bit of water and edged inside the cave. She slowed, trying to make her eyes adjust…
Strange.
Just a few paces in, there was apparently a hole in the ceiling—moonlight filtered down into a small portion of an inner chamber. She started toward it.
Her footsteps scraped and rang as the water jingled coldly. She pressed her hand against the frozen wall, biting the inside of her cheek. Then, at the edge of the pool of light, she dared to open her mouth.
“Hello?”
Her voice echoed. The rippling water replied.
And then…
A chain—heavy, rugged and wet—slithered across the surface of an uneven floor.
A terrible tremor raced through her blood.
And suddenly, as if a curtain had drawn back, she could see him.
He sprawled in crucifix, feet toward her, on a broad slab of stone. His feet were bare, but he had torn black trousers and a ripped, ragged, long-sleeved black shirt that lay open, exposing the whole of his muscled, pale chest—the skin of which had blistered and broken. Shackles gripped his ankles, and their short chains bit into the cave floor. His arms, pulled out to either side of him by suspended chains, hung just inches above the floor. His fists glistened with blood.
And his head, half in shadow, rested back against a pillow of rock.
His face was white, his lips gray. Straight ebony hair stuck in strands to his head and neck with sweat.
And his eyes burnt like red coals—no pupil.
Burnt a hole straight through Marina.
“Well,” he said hoarsely—and the small comment resounded like clanking metal. “If it isn’t Bird’s little pet.” And a smile flickered across his marble features like a dying candle. Blood showed on his lips and teeth. He had bitten himself.
Marina instantly recognized his voice.
“Loki,” she breathed.
He cleared his throat, shifted his left shoulder uncomfortably, then sighed.
“I know. It’s a bit hard to recognize me at the moment. Don’t look quite as dashing, I’m afraid. Forgive me. Didn’t know you were coming.”
Images darted through Marina’s head—illustrations from old manuscripts, library books and documentaries; carved idols…and descriptions from the Edda…
Her eyes darted up above him, searching for a writhing body, the gleam of scales…
She saw nothing.
“So,” Loki said, lifting his left hand. All the muscles in his torso strained, lifting the heavy manacle. He winced, and forced his fingers to open and close twice. “Why do I deserve the honor of your visit upon my dying day?”
Marina blinked. He looked at her, and barely lifted an eyebrow.
“Or have you come to spit on me?”
“Spit on you?” Marina repeated, hardly able to make a sound.
“Thor’s cousins have had a go already,” Loki added. “Very well-aimed, too.”
The edge of Marina’s heart panged.
“Why would they spit on you?” she asked, drawing her arm close.
“Oh, haven’t you heard?” he asked, looking at her evenly. “They tell me I’ve killed a prince.”
Marina stared at him.
She curled her fingers around the pendant, her gut turning to lead.
“No.”
Loki said nothing. Just held her gaze with his glowing scarlet one.
A low gurgle issued from above him.
Loki’s head jerked and his attention twitched upward. His body twitched also, and he bared his teeth. He tugged against the chains—they chewed into his wrists. He pulled hurriedly back, pulled…
Water trickled out from a hole in the rock near the ceiling. It dripped down, sparkling in the moonlight—
Splattered across his chest.
The drops hissed like scalding tar—steam shot up. It ate into his flesh—turned it red, split it open.
Loki screamed.
He arched his back and thrashed. His shrieking howl ricocheted through the cave, shocking Marina back against the wall. The scream broke into choked, panicked cries. He spasmed, his muscles shivering. He tugged uselessly on the chains, contorting half into a sitting position…
The steam calmed.
His frame released.
His heels thudded against the stone. He fell back against his rocky pillow, gasping. He blinked his eyes open.
Tears trailed down his face. With an effort, he focused on Marina again.
“Forgive me,” he swallowed. “I’m in no fit state to entertain.”
Marina’s insides churned—blazes of furious heat tore at her while the echoes of Loki’s shriek turned her blood cold.
“You…You killed Bird?” she gritted. Loki swallowed again. More tears tumbled, ran down and dripped from his chin. His expression didn’t change.
Marina felt a tear of her own escape. It wandered listlessly down her cheek.
“Why?” she mouthed.
“Hm,” he chuckled blackly. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Suddenly, he smirked as his eyes sparked. “And you never did like me, did you little twig?”
Marina couldn’t answer. Her head reeled—she felt as if her legs might give out…she wasn’t getting enough air…
“Not that it’s…any of my business…” Loki sighed again, leaning his head back and gazing up at the ceiling. He blinked slowly. “But…if you didn’t come to throw rocks at me…What are you doing here?”
“I…I didn’t come here on purpose,” Marina answered sharply, through trembling lips. “I had a Wishstone—”
He frowned, wearily tilted his head. Considered her.
“A Wishstone?”
Marina shut her mouth. Loki shifted his right shoulder this time.
“Where did you get one of those?”
Marina’s fingers curled tighter around her pendant. Loki watched her movement…and his look intensified. He met her gaze.
“Running from something?”
Marina didn’t answer. More sparks crossed Loki’s eyes.
“From someone?”
Marina’s mouth worked, but she still said nothing. He gave her a narrow look.
“You’re being chased.”
“I’m leaving,” Marina snapped, feeling sick. Unsteadily, she started for the mouth of the cave. “I didn’t want to come here, and I’m not wasting time talking… talking to you, you...You deserve to…You... Go ahead and die.”
“Anyone I know?”
Marina jerked to a stop. Clenched her quavering right hand. Slowly, she turned her head, and looked back at him.
Loki watched her gravely, eyes like flame.
“It’s my sister.”
Marina shivered.
“It is,” Loki realized. “Fenris, too? Both of them?”
“I…” Marina tried, shaking.
“Why? What do they want?” Loki demanded.
“I…I don’t—”
“They must want something, or you’d already be dead,” Loki went on, lifting his head off the stone. “And you probably have it. Don’t you?”
“No. Not that I…” Marina shook her head. Couldn’t finish. Lo
ki arched an eyebrow.
“They will kill you if you don’t give it to them. You know that.”
Marina locked in place.
The chains clanked. Loki moved his feet—halfway sat up.
“Look…”
Marina jerked her attention back to him. His blazing eyes cooled to deep maroon. His eyebrows drew together.
“Let me go.”
“What?” Marina whispered, baffled.
“Get me out of these.” He tried lifting his hands again. The metal clinked. His imploring look sharpened as sweat trickled down his forehead. “Bird is dead, Thor is in Asgard and the Aesir will not help you. Hel and Fenris and their pack are coming after you and they will find you. Get me out.” His voice lowered. “I know you can.”
“And why…” Marina bit out. “Would I do that?”
“Because,” he replied. “I’m the only one who can keep you alive.”
Marina said nothing for a long moment. Loki held her gaze…
Then winced and glanced anxiously upward. Turned back to her.
“Why would you care about keeping me alive?” Marina demanded.
“Look, it’s an exchange,” he said, looking up again. Marina stared at him. He started to breathe faster, and sat further forward, even though it strained his arms. His shredded shirt began to come loose.
“You see what they’re doing? They’re poisoning me. They’ve executed me. My brother and sister and my friends. I tried to tell them. None of what happened—none of it—is as it appeared.”
“What do you mean?” Marina wanted to know.
His gaze cut into her.
“Let me go and I’ll tell you.”
She said nothing. Loki twisted his left wrist.
“A life for a life, Marina. I’ll owe you my life—you’ll have me in slavery. Please.”
The gurgling sputtered through the upper cave. Loki jerked on the chains.
“Marina, I beg you, please,” he gasped, his wide eyes searching her face. “Please, please, let me help you. You don’t know them—they fly over the ground at night, like they have wings. They’ll catch you and kill you and eat you and they won’t…Marina,” He made fists. “They think you have something they want and they will not give up until they have it or you are dead. Trust me.”
Marina stared at him.
Loki held her gaze in a vise.
Bauldr's Tears Page 11