Norns of Fate: A New Adult Urban Fantasy Novel (Descendants of Thor Trilogy Book Two)

by S. A. Ashdown

  One of the servants shifted on his feet behind me. I stepped aside. He was holding an athamé. ‘Where does he fit into this?’ I asked, realising that I didn’t even know his name, as if by not knowing, I could deny culpability.

  Penny straightened her spine while I clutched my stomach, kneading at the knot of bubbling sickness. ‘The spell requires a blood sacrifice to gain access to the Grigori – the guardians that maintain the barriers between dimensions – the Nine Realms, as you call it.’

  I ripped the athamé from the servant’s hand. ‘Are you fucking kidding me? No way in Hel are we slaughtering this zombie-thing you created. He’s no goat to be sacrificed. This is what you meant, Penny, when you said the servants “have their uses”?’ I waved the athamé around while making air quotes.

  Malachi surged forward.

  I held the athamé to his throat, then someone snatched it out of the air.

  I’d forgotten about Michele. He broke us up. ‘Calm down, children. If you care so for one little beetle’s life, Malachi will change him into our kind. He’ll be more useful if he can fight for us.’

  The worst part was, as the Gatekeeper, I didn’t need blood sacrifices to access the Grigori, gatekeepers in their own right. I can’t tell them what I really am. These people may have suffered but they’re crazy. What they were describing, inviting Hel’s father, Loki, into Midgard, sounded just like Ragnarök, the very thing I was duty-bound to prevent. ‘There has to be another way,’ I said.

  ‘Liege,’ said Penny, ‘our blood has been united. Our aims are one. If the coven vote on this course of action and the majority agree, your own will is forfeit.’

  I stared at them. ‘Really. Because by my reckoning, you need my – how did you put it, Malachi? – cooperation. You require more than a simple union spell to tap into Clemensen magic. Otherwise you would have raised the Hordes of Hel already.’

  Malachi’s long fangs slid out, curving down to his chin. Just try it, vampire. Penny scowled. ‘You will betray us? The oath you swore to your coven?’

  ‘You’re asking me to start an apocalypse!’ I shook, furious I’d been cornered like this. ‘Something like this is bigger than us. It affects the whole world!’

  I was ready to slap Penny, except for her being a woman and all, but Michele intervened before she could speak. He held my twitching arm still, his voice calm – too calm. Stress made my ticks worse and I didn’t like Michele noticing. ‘No, it will not. The spell will be confined to Hellingstead, within a pre-defined boundary. If they stray from it, then poof! They are incinerated.’

  I removed my arm from him and, grabbing the servants, moved towards the stairs. ‘If you think you can trust the Black Widow, then you are as crazy as she is. I’ve seen her in person, but Penny knows that, don’t you?’ I glowered at our priestess. ‘I’ve seen her victims drowned in the River Lethe. I was almost one of them. By Odin, Thor, and Freyr, there’s no way any army of Loki’s will ever go quietly – or willingly – back to the Underworld. I for one am not that desperate yet.’

  Malachi blurred across the concrete but I anticipated him, unlike the first time we had fought outside the Red Hawk. That coiled snake fuelling my power flared up and a wall of fire appeared between us, and the rest of the coven. He reared back, hissing. ‘You idiot boy. This is our only chance.’

  ‘The fire will burn out the moment you calm down,’ I said, turning my back and pulling the vacant servants up the stairs with me.

  Penny screamed over the flames. ‘Hecate still has your hair! You cannot escape her webs! She doesn’t care who you are!’

  Maybe she damn well should.

  14

  Foresight’s A Bitch

  I didn’t borrow Penny’s car this time. I was too livid to touch anything belonging to her. After telling the servants to wait in the attic, protected by my boundary spell, I travelled via magic to Ava’s cottage. Ah, the head rush as the world contracted into a pressurised tunnel, sucking my soul to a different location and reassembling my body there too. How did it do that, take itself apart? Maybe it’s more like a quantum vacuum. I imagined a cosmic Hoover turning my body into a sack of quantum soup, sucking me through the empty space between atoms.

  Either way, I’d left the vicarage so quickly I’d forgotten my cloak – or an umbrella. Thunder split the sky, and lightning – its constant hanger-on – speared the rain. The white picket fence surrounded the cottage like a skull’s jaw.

  The blue front door swung open.

  ‘Hi,’ I said to the woman behind it, ‘I’m…Theo.’

  Her eyes widened slightly. ‘One of Ava’s boyfriends, I suppose? And I thought the last one was a hopeful contender.’

  My tongue twisted; I’d never needed to impress a girlfriend’s mum before. She doesn’t remember me. A twang of sadness killed the anger her remark sparked. ‘Tall, dark, and annoyingly broody?’

  Lolita folded her arms and leaned against the doorframe, keeping me shivering in the rain. ‘A professor too,’ she said.

  I flashed my best smile. ‘That would be my cousin – I think.’

  Her face fell.

  ‘Is Ava in?’

  Lolita wriggled out of the way as I stepped onto the doormat, dwarfing her petite frame. ‘In her room.’

  I stooped to avoid the low beams running along the ceiling. It hadn’t changed since I was a child, popping in for a cuppa with Mum after a trip to town. ‘Thanks,’ I said, holding out my hand. She sighed and took it. ‘It’s nice to see, I mean meet you again. I mean, for the first time.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you’re a professor too?’

  No, just the Gatekeeper of the Lífkelda, no biggie. Oh, and coven leader to Italian witches who want to resurrect the Hordes of Hel. ‘I guess you could say I’m in the family business.’ While she puzzled that out I pointed up the tiny staircase. ‘Up here? Great meeting you.’ I took the steps two at a time to Ava’s room.

  I found her on the bed, staring at a burnt photograph. She jumped up, tucking it in her dress pocket, face flushing. ‘Theo, I wasn’t expecting you. You’re soaked. I’ll get you a towel.’

  ‘How did the job interview go?’ I asked, intercepting her as she walked towards the airing cupboard in the corner.

  She kissed me on the cheek. ‘Oh…good. Think I got it.’

  I watched her dig through the cupboard. A few moments later she chucked me a towel.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Listen, Theo—’

  ‘What were you looking at when I came in?’

  ‘Nothing, well, just a lead I’m working on. Look, I wasn’t…I didn’t…well I did have an interview but it wasn’t…okay; I went to see your dad.’

  ‘So you lied to me.’ I rubbed my face dry, hiding my expression.

  Her fingers curled around it and tugged it away. ‘Let me,’ she whispered, patting my hair dry. ‘I didn’t want to upset you. And it wasn’t a complete waste of time.’

  I pulled off my shirt, listening as Ava recounted her conversation with my father, while she worked my back and neck.

  ‘Haven’t I warned you? He’ll have you eating out of his palm, thinking you need him—’ I batted the towel away from my chest, wishing my pecs would stop juddering. Sooner or later, I’d have to explain to Ava about magical discharge. It’s not all blue sparks.

  ‘I have no intention of inviting him to dinner, put it that way.’ She placed her palm on my chest. It didn’t seem right to kiss her, somehow. ‘According to Espen, Elspeth is dead. She killed herself shortly before you were born.’

  ‘Fuck, no…’ I pulled away and hit my head on the beam behind me. ‘Gods! I…that’s my aunt.’ I rubbed my head, the sharp pain reminding me of the hair I’d lost to Hel, and everyone I had loved and lost too. ‘Right?’

  Ava gritted her teeth. ‘He confirmed Menelaus is Elspeth’s child. I still don’t know who the father is.’

  ‘Julian? He was Elspeth’s Guardian.’ Each time I pictured her, I saw my mother’s face.

&nb
sp; ‘Maybe. Do they look alike?’

  Julian, with his long face and oriental eyes. ‘Not really.’

  Ava lead me to the bed. Jörð, I couldn’t help but let the tears come. Ava said nothing. I held her and cried into her rainbow hair. Time seemed meaningless. My Scottish grandfather, Alastair, had been right; his daughters had left the Highlands to go with Espen, and both had ended up dead. Yet in all the letters I’d sent him over the years, he’d never mentioned Elspeth. Why was he keeping this secret too? Who sent me Mum’s dairy? My family kept her a secret. Maybe…

  Maybe…

  Julian wanted me to know about Menelaus. Could that be it? I wiped my nose on the towel and prodded Ava, who seemed lost in thought, as well. ‘You said something weird was going on with the Praetoriani. Someone’s gone missing.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Ava said, snuffling, and I realised she had been crying too. ‘Why?’

  ‘No one in my family admitted to Elspeth’s existence, or a child. The only one who has anything to gain by sending me Mum’s diary is Julian, so I would figure out my relation to Menelaus. Following?’

  Ava nodded.

  ‘What if Julian wants me to know Menelaus is my cousin so I will protect him from whatever is going on at the HQ?’

  ‘But why wouldn’t he just tell you?’

  I shrugged. ‘There could be a reason.’

  ‘Your father warned me not to share any sensitive information with Isobel in my dreams; I often felt that we were being watched. Is it possible that I’m not the only one under some kind of psychic surveillance?’

  ‘Can’t rule it out. But my father is paranoid.’

  ‘We need more information. I usually have more of that than I can handle. But since I’ve met Pneuma, nothing seems certain anymore.’ She walked over to the mirror near the window. ‘Whatever god gave me the gift of foresight is an expert in smoke and mirrors.’

  Watching Ava peer at her reflection, talking about her gift, lit some fuse in my brain. ‘I must know what will happen if I don’t act, if I don’t make some kind of decision before my trial. The coven has something big planned, and I can’t afford to let it explode in our faces.’ Ava had some hair ties on her bedside table. I picked up a black one and tied my curls back. ‘In the Northern Tradition, Odin’s wife, Frigg, is a seeress. She has the gift of prophecy.’

  Ava watched in the mirror as I approached. ‘Where are you going with this, Theo?’

  ‘Do you want to do some magic, Ava?’

  ‘Like the other night?’

  I smiled. ‘No, not like that.’ I hugged her from behind, her breasts nestled above my hands. ‘I want to petition Frigg to show us our future as it stands now. Maybe the path to take will become clearer.’

  Ava wriggled a little. ‘That frightens me. A goddess? Can’t we just wait and see like everyone else?’

  ‘If something is happening inside the Praetoriani, I must know. This isn’t a game, Ava. The outcome of the trial has major implications for the whole Pneuma community.’ Understatement of the Eon. If anything happened to my powers, sayonara universe. Who knew what they were capable of doing?

  ‘Fine,’ she said, twisting round. ‘What do we do?’

  I nodded to the mirror. ‘We use that to amplify your gifts and send our petition to Frigg.’

  ‘Have you done anything like this before?’

  Ava squinted her eyes when she was worried. Despite my own fears, the excitement had stirred the Gatekeeper energy. It was looking for a target and if I didn’t give it one, it would fire by itself. ‘Trust me, it’s in the gods’ best interest to answer.’

  ‘Salt?’

  ‘Check,’ Ava said, drawing the curtains while pointing to her dresser. ‘Himalayan pink – does that matter?’

  ‘It’s fine. Mirror, check, obviously. Candles?’

  ‘In my bedside table. I’ve only got tea lights.’

  ‘That’ll do. Matches?’

  ‘On the shelf.’

  ‘Perfect.’ I opened the packet but it was empty. ‘Never mind, I can light them. You might want to roll up the carpet.’ Ava arched an eyebrow. I made a rolling motion with my hands and the carpet mimicked the action, depositing itself under the dresser. ‘There. Now it’s time to give you a little haircut.’

  She arched the other brow.

  ‘Trust me. We’ll make a Celtic knot with it. A trick Mum taught me once.’ Ava opened the dresser draw and extracted a pair of scissors. ‘I’ll do it,’ I said, taking them from her. ‘Need the right length.’

  Ava tilted her head. The Celtic knot required enough hair to make three intersecting loops, threaded through a circle. It was fiddly business. I lifted the longest strands of Ava’s hair and snipped them off, crouching on the floor to complete the design. ‘At least your hair isn’t curly. Is your mum likely to disturb us?’

  ‘No, it isn’t her style. But I’ll lock the door.’

  It slammed shut, the key turning in the lock before she’d taken a step in that direction. ‘No need to thank me.’ I smirked.

  ‘Well, if you fail at being a coven leader, you can always join the prison service.’

  ‘I’ll keep that in mind.’

  Leaving the Celtic knot on the floor, I moved the full-length mirror to the centre of the room and arranged the tea lights in a large circle, filling the gaps between with salt, which Ava had pinched from downstairs.

  ‘Hold this in your palms, like you’re cupping water,’ I said, placing the colourful knot into position. ‘Face the mirror and repeat my words. Keep gazing at your reflection. I’ll hold your shoulders. You’ll probably feel like you’re vibrating but don’t worry, it’s just my magic working to amplify your gift.’

  The candles flickered to life. I turned off the lamp on the dresser. ‘Don’t leave the circle until I say so, okay?’

  ‘Famous last words,’ she muttered. ‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing?’

  ‘In theory.’

  A reflection doesn’t lie; the tension showed around Ava’s mouth, O-shaped as she breathed out. ‘It’ll be fine,’ I said, to myself as much to her. Gripping her shoulders, I closed my eyes and stoked that magical fiery beast I’d inherited with concentration. My innate powers weren’t strong enough to do this. The confidence I portrayed was as flimsy as a cardboard cut-out, the only thing fuelling my gonads was the fact I had the Gatekeeper to back me up – witches and warlocks rarely petitioned gods like this.

  If ever.

  I huffed, dispelling doubt, and let that fire build up, rolling through my chest and down my arms and legs, infusing Ava and the salt-circle around us. Ava trembled, a murmur building in her throat. ‘Keep looking at the mirror,’ I said, forcing the words out. The next bit would take some work, then.

  I retreated into my Father’s tongue, the accent found near the fjord-lands of Norway. ‘Mother Frigg, the Gatekeeper beckons you from Fensalir, your wetland Halls, to hear our petition.’ I cleared my throat as acid rose from my stomach, the alien energy inside hissing and expanding like the unfolding of molten wings. ‘Mother Frigg, accept your seer-daughter’s tribute, and share the path woven for us by the Norns of Fate.’

  ‘Oh God,’ Ava said, almost dropping the knot; the mirror warped as the Lífkelda’s power climbed up the glass, melting our reflections in smokeless fire.

  ‘Not God,’ I said, ‘but something just as old.’ I slipped my hands down her shoulders and supported her cupped hands. Our heads both jerked towards the window at the front of Ava’s bedroom, the panes wobbling as eight lightning-shaped prongs scattered across the floor. ‘Hold on.’

  For what? I thought. We waited in this flux. Frigg needs more encouragement. ‘Mother Frigg, hear the plea of Thor’s descendant, wielder of lightning and son of your husband, Odin!’ Without thinking, I’d shouted in English.

  ‘Thor’s your ancestor? Are you kidd—’

  Something surged out from the depths of the mirror. The air hissed as a dark cloud exploded from the glass, sending us flying backwards.
We hit the barrier of the circle and fell onto the floor, Ava crushed beneath me.

  She screamed.

  I clambered off her. ‘Are you okay?’ I had to shout over the hissing as it whipped up the air in the room, heightening into a wail. Ava nodded, scuttling backwards into my bare chest.

  We watched the cloud approach us, tearing itself apart as it spread above the salt-circle. I pushed away the hair that had blown into my face; half of it had been wrenched out of the hair tie.

  The cloud descended into a 3D cylinder, spinning two feet from our faces.

  Our prophecy came in the form of a hologram.

  The figures loomed above us, playing out like actors in a film.

  It’s me, I thought, unused to this angle of myself. Me, caught up in a passionate kiss…with Penny.

  I felt Ava stiffen. ‘That’s never happening,’ I whispered.

  We were confronted with our next scene: Lorenzo, snarling and curled over the edge of the witness stand in the Praetoriani courtroom, chin smeared in blood and holding the severed head of Praetor Cullen.

  Oh fuck.

  Raphael. Amethyst eyes brimming with tears.

  In a cage.

  Surrounded by implements I recognised from my own torture. What kind of cage could hold Raphael? What kind of knife could cut his flesh?

  The images swept past, like a camera moving over an open field. Except this field contained a trench full of bodies, some dismembered, some frozen into a tableau of death, others cast in stone. In a snap Menelaus appeared in the trench, throat slit, hazel eyes keen and petrified as blood soaked his clothing.

  Cold. And white. Lips blue now. It was in that moment I realised I didn’t want to kill Menelaus. Our mothers were identical twins – that made him, for better or worse, as good as my brother. If Julian had sent that letter, it had paid off.

  ‘No,’ Ava said, turning her head away.

  Me again. This time I was sprawled over the reception floor in the Praetoriani HQ, glass everywhere. In the scene, Ava was screaming, livid like I’d never seen her, crouched next to my crumpled body.