An abominable sound came out of Hel’s throat, and she stamped her rotting feet. “It isn’t fair, Father,” she said.
“Kindly remember that you almost lost everything to these rebellious dead of yours,” Loki said. “I got you out of it. If you fight Mist over this, you’re on your own.”
“I would not advise it,” Dainn said dryly.
“Take him, then.” Hel shoved Ryan, and he stepped out of the gloom into the breaking moonlight. He breathed deeply, and the color came back into his face.
“Thank you,” he said to Mist, his eyes bright with tears. He turned to Mother Skye. “You’re going?” he asked.
She reached out to stroke his hair. “You know I must. But as nothing lasts forever, neither is anything lost forever.” She kissed his forehead. “You are free. Farewell.”
Her round form faded and winked out. Ryan scraped his face with his palm.
“Shit,” he said. “Does it ever get any—”
A girl’s voice shrieked somewhere behind him, and his face lit with a grin. He turned and ran toward Gabi, his arms outstretched.
“I have seen enough,” Hel said sourly. “I shall be waiting for my new home.”
“Wait,” Mist said. “You haven’t let the others go.”
With a sharp sigh, Hel opened her robes. Men and women began to emerge, still in their torn and dirty clothes … mortal and Alfar fighters who had lost their lives to the Einherjar and fallen to Hel’s grasping hands. They staggered and stumbled as they found their bodies again, laughed and cried and embraced. Rick stepped out of the shadows and felt his chest, grinning broadly.
One man came last.
“Geir,” Mist said, pulling away from Dainn.
He gave her a faded grin. “We tried,” he said. “We almost took her out this time, too.”
Grabbing him by his frayed collar, Hel reeled him back in. “You will suffer, rebel,” she said. “There are torments even you—”
“Geir!”
Anna crept into their strange circle, still draped in half-ruined armor, her eyes haunted with memories she couldn’t erase. “Papa,” she said in a little girl’s voice. “Don’t leave me.”
Mist searched for a sword, but Dainn caught her wrist. “She was in Odin’s thrall,” he said, “but she is no more. Look at her.”
Mist looked more carefully. She saw nothing of Horja’s strong-boned face, no fanatical warrior willing to protect and serve her lord at any cost.
What Mist “saw” was a little girl and a young woman, still intertwined. But Rebekka, whose body Danny had so briefly borrowed, was fading.
“She was ours, once,” Geir said to Mist. “I loved her, as I loved you. But now it is time to let go.”
“Oldefar,” Anna whispered. “Grandfather.”
“Enough!” Hel said.
But Geir fought her pull with all the strength Mist remembered from the war. “You are free, lille,” he said to Anna. “Let Rebekka return to the past. This is your world. Take it, and live.”
Anna smiled through her tears. “I will, Oldefar.”
“Let him go,” Mist said, facing Hel again.
The goddess laughed. “Never.”
“He was a brave soldier. If he had been taken to Valhalla, I know he would never have fought for Odin.”
“No,” Geir said, “but there are other battles.” He winked at Hel. “Perhaps one endless day I can convince our mistress to improve conditions in our barracks.” He reached out as if to stroke Mist’s cheek. “Farvel, Mist.”
With a last glance at Anna, Geir began to fade. He was still smiling when he vanished.
“Admit it, Daughter,” Loki said, reminding everyone that he was still there. “Life in Niflheim is deadly dull. You like a little conflict now and then.”
“Father…” Hel twitched her robes around her legs, stuck her tongue out at Loki, and slowly sank into the earth. Anna began to shed her armor, and when she met Mist’s gaze there was only a single young woman in her eyes.
“You have won again,” Dainn said softly, turning Mist in his arms.
“It doesn’t feel like a victory,” Mist said, tracing his lips with her fingertips.
“There is always sacrifice,” Dainn said. “Let us be sure that none of them were made in vain.”
36
Mist pulled his head down and kissed his forehead, his eyelids, and his lips. “I’m so sorry, Dainn. For so long, I didn’t really understand what Danny really was, that he and your ancient powers couldn’t be separated.”
“It is fortunate that we now have healers among us,” Konur said, coming to join them. “We will need much of their skill, for body and soul.”
“This city will need a lot of healing,” Mist said, shaking off her sadness. “And explanations. The whole infrastructure Loki built is about to implode.”
“You do me far too little credit,” Loki said. “It runs like a well-oiled machine. A few adjustments here and there…”
“Not by you,” Mist said, grabbing at her belt for the sword that wasn’t there. “You’re going to find somewhere to put all your Jotunar, as far away from any mortal habitation as possible. I don’t care if it’s the Sahara Desert or the Antarctic, but I want them gone. Then you’re going to let us in on all your little secrets, including who’s in charge of what and which leaders we need to topple.”
“You’ve stacked your plate rather high, haven’t you?” Loki asked. “Why should I help you at all?”
“I have the Eitr,” Mist said. “Dainn has the Eitr. Do you really want to find out?”
Loki raised his hands. “This subject obviously requires further discussion.”
Mist turned her back on him. “Thank you, Konur,” she said. “You and Taylor both, for reminding me who I am.”
“We did very little,” Konur said, “and too late.” He bowed. “The victory was all yours. And Dainn’s.”
Shaking her head, Mist watched Gabi and Ryan talking animatedly to each other, gesticulating and laughing. The recently dead were sitting quietly, absorbing their return to life, while the Alfar gathered the wounded for the curanderas.
“We’re going to have to get all these people back to their homes and jobs,” she murmured. “They might find it difficult to return to their normal lives, and they’ll never be able to tell anyone what they did here tonight.”
“Homo sapiens has proven to be a remarkably adaptable species,” Dainn said. “What of the Einherjar?”
“There are a lot less of them now than there were when this battle began,” Mist said, “thanks to Hel. But we can’t just let the rest of them run loose in human society. They may have no purpose without Odin, but they’re still by and large an arrogant bunch of pricks.”
“Then we must consider their fate most carefully,” Dainn said. “Perhaps the safest bet is to open a bridge and return them to the Shadow-Realms, where they can do no harm. That is well within your capability now.”
He fell into a brooding silence, and Mist punched his shoulder gently.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I think of the Alfar who must also adapt to this world,” he said. “They must have quiet, untouched places with forests and rivers in order to thrive.”
“They’ll look to you for guidance.”
“No. I left them long ago. I am no longer one of them.”
“Someday you’ll have to tell me what it means to be the First Elf and a Rune-bringer.”
“Even I do not remember. I think it was a deliberate choice to forget, as was my refusal to face the darkness that lies in all of us. I could not tolerate the idea of being less than wise and good, so I created a being to hold that darkness apart from me.”
“Psychiatrists would have a field day with that one.”
“I do not think the mortal medical establishment is ready to psychoanalyze an elf.” He glanced at the sky. “How long can it be before mortalkind realizes that they are not alone in this universe?”
“Not very long, I’m
afraid. Especially with other gods flying around. I have a feeling this war has stirred up more deities than Koji’s kami and Eir’s desert spirits.”
“Indeed. And what of the Aesir? You will have no difficulty in opening the bridges now. Will you let them cross?”
“Loki’s—” She glanced in Laufeyson’s direction and grimaced. “Sweet Baldr, I don’t know.”
“Eventually, they will require the Apples of Idunn if they are to survive.”
Mist chewed on her lower lip. “That could be a problem. But if any of them have ambitions like Odin’s…”
“Indeed. Thor comes to mind.”
“This is my world now. I intend to protect it.”
“No one could have done better.”
She touched his chest. “You’re wrong, Dainn.”
His smile was melancholy. “It is good to be arguing again.” He looked down at her hand and took it in his. “Your wrist,” he said.
Mist knew what she would see before she followed his gaze. The tattoo was lifeless, a pale gray pattern of numbness that would never burn again.
“The thing was always about keeping tabs on my Eitr,” Mist said. “But I haven’t lost anything.”
“He has,” Dainn said. “His bond to you is broken.”
“So now I can go back to having one father, and part of another, if you consider that Taylor is really only the descendent of—”
Jerking up his head, Dainn looked to the west. Sleipnir was trotting toward them, Hild beside him … and a dozen or so very fine-looking horses ambling along in her wake.
Hild waved. “What did I miss?” she asked, her usually phlegmatic demeanor unexpectedly cheerful.
“Where did they come from?” Mist said, gesturing at the horses as Dainn made his way toward them.
“Oh, they’re Sleipnir’s get.” She glanced at Dainn, who was murmuring to the horses in what sounded suspiciously like baby talk. “I intended to get here a lot earlier and have them ready for the war.”
“I think the Alfar will be glad to have them now,” Mist said. “In fact, it would be a good idea to have a few elves take these horses out of the city as soon as possible.”
“How many did you lose?” Hild asked softly.
“Too many.”
Sleipnir tossed his head. Hild laid her hand on the side of his neck. “There’s someone he’s missing pretty badly,” she said.
“Danny’s gone,” Mist said, glancing away.
“I’m sorry,” Hild said. “He was the one who showed me how to open the portal to the steppes again, before he died in the stable.”
Mist considered explaining that Danny had never “died” at all … until he had finally given his whole being to Dainn.
“Hild—” she began.
“I won’t trouble you further now,” Hild said. “I’ll find a place to put the horses until the Alfar are ready to take them.”
Leaving Sleipnir behind, she led the horses away. Sleipnir rubbed his chin against Dainn’s shoulder as if seeking comfort, and Dainn kissed the broad nose.
Mist swallowed, thinking of Danny. It was going to be very hard to go on without him. He’d been very real to her, even if he had turned out to be a kind of manifestation of Dainn’s connection to the Eitr. If he’d been allowed to grow up as a normal child …
“Curse it,” she said, catching sight of moving figures out of the corner of her eye. “Just what we need.”
Sleipnir wheeled around with a challenging snort. Dainn’s nostril’s flared.
“Berserkir,” he said. His voice dropped low. “Edvard.”
Behind Edvard padded a few dozen men and animals—bears, wolves, and boars. Edvard most resembled a sheep, at least going by his expression. He approached Dainn and Mist at a shambling walk and stopped, lowering his shaggy head.
Dainn stared at him. “You should not be here,” he said sternly.
“We, uh…” Edvard shuffled his feet. “I’m sorry about everything that happened. I actually thought we could get here sooner and help you fight.”
“Funny how that happens,” Mist said flatly.
“Uh, yeah.” He risked a glance at Dainn. “But I need to tell you … You see…” He cleared his throat. “The herb … it was our cure for a disease among the berserkir. The disease was making us into things we couldn’t control, like your beast did to you. But we have this legend … The herb was a kind of test…”
“Not again,” Mist groaned.
“Uh, we had this legend about a kind of berserkr different from all the others, the first of our kind. He would find our cure for us, and bring us out into the light. When I met Bryn, I knew we’d find him if he existed anywhere on Earth. And we knew he’d be the one if he could use the herb to control his beast.” He shot Dainn a nervous look. “It didn’t look like you fit the bill.”
“And so you went to Loki,” Mist said.
He cleared his throat again. “It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. I thought he could help my people if he won. But when I saw what happened in the garage, I was pretty sure we’d found the first berserkr after all.”
“I think you got a lot more than you bargained for,” Mist said. “And you put Dainn through Hel because of it.”
“Not entirely,” Dainn said. “I learned a great deal from the experience.”
His voice was too flat to convey anything but disapproval, and Edvard dropped his gaze.
“Do you still think you can help us?” he said in a very unbearlike voice.
“You can hunt any Jotunar who have escaped our nets,” Dainn said, “and hold them until we are ready for them. But I would suggest you remain in your human forms.”
“Yes. Of course.” Edvard backed away as if he had just been to an audience with a king.
“Isn’t it nice to be wanted?” Mist asked.
Dainn only shook his head. “Edvard mentioned Bryn,” he said. “Do you still…”
Mist showed him the feathered pouch. “I don’t know how to restore her,” she said.
“Nor I,” he said as he stepped back. “But we still do not know the limits of your power. And do not forget that she, too, made her choice, to serve Freya even if it meant surrendering her body.”
“Maybe someday she’ll get a chance to tell us why.”
“I’m certain she will,” Loki said, reappearing in front of them. “Now, if we may resume our discussion…”
“Oh, yes,” Mist said. “The question about what the Hel to do with you.”
Loki smiled. “Since we have been allies, it obviously goes without saying that we should divide this city between us.”
“Only this city?” Mist asked sweetly. “That hardly seems fair to you, after all the work you’ve done.”
“True, but I am willing to compromise.”
“Your idea of compromise,” Dainn said, “is complete chaos.”
The two men stared at each other, and for a moment Mist thought that Dainn was going to slug Loki. But Dainn unclenched his fist and let his hand fall to his side.
“My idea of compromise,” Mist said, “is that you go straight back to the Shadow-Realms and stay there.”
Loki sighed. “I really am fond of San Francisco.”
“Get unfond of it, fast,” Mist said. “Maybe I’ll let you join your Jotunar in Antarctica, where you can contemplate your sins.”
“Some sins, unfortunately, cannot so easily be forgotten. But restitution might be made.” He opened his palm to reveal the unhealed scar of the blood-oath he’d made with Dainn nearly a year ago. “Will he permit it now, Dainn?”
“Who?” Mist asked. “Permit what?”
Dainn’s face turned to stone. “I will kill you for that, Loki.”
“Do you think I’m mocking you?” Loki said, both brows rising. “Can you truly not feel him?”
“Let me have Loki first,” Mist said to Dainn.
“I … felt him before, when I set the beast free again,” Dainn said.
“He is still there,�
� Loki said, stepping back. “Look inside, Dainn.”
Blank-eyed, Dainn turned inward. Mist held her breath.
“Ymir’s blood,” Dainn whispered. “I do feel him.”
“Sweet Baldr,” Mist said.
“He can be restored,” Loki said, “the way I suggested before. If Danny will agree.”
“I … cannot reach him,” Dainn said, every muscle in his body tense with anxiety.
“Then we must simply try, and hope it works,” Loki said.
“Try what?” Mist demanded.
Without looking away from Loki, Dainn told her what he and Loki had discussed before the battle.
“I know that Loki and Freya stole your Eitr in Asgard,” she said.
“How do you know?” Loki asked.
“Danny told me,” Mist said.
“They took far less of it than they believed. Loki still possesses a fraction of it,” Dainn said. He displayed his own slashed palm. “He believes that this bond may be the key.”
“Yes,” Loki said. “But as with all great magic, there is danger involved. Creation and destruction are finely balanced, and one cannot take place without the other. As Dainn now holds all but a little of the Eitr, it is his life most at risk.”
“Forget it,” Mist said. “Dainn, you know Loki can’t be trusted. Whatever he’s got in mind—”
“It could work,” Dainn said, real hope in his eyes. “With the proper spells, the precise Runes…”
“I won’t lose you, too.”
“Mist.” Dainn cupped her face in his uninjured hand. “Would you rob me of my chance to have my son again?”
“At the cost of your life?”
“Perhaps at the cost of my access to the Eitr. That is a price I am willing to pay. I will never again be what I was when I first came to Asgard, no matter what ancient power I hold.” He smoothed back her hair. “Will you wish me luck?”
“Only if I can stay right here beside you.”
“You can prevent anything from disturbing the ritual,” he said. “Will that be acceptable?”
In the end, Mist knew she had no choice but to agree. After Loki and Dainn had discussed the procedure—as coolly and clinically as two doctors reviewing a difficult pregnancy—they found a small, undamaged grove of trees and sat in a rough triangle. Dainn removed his shirt. He held his wounded hand out to Loki, watching Laufeyson’s face.
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