Morgan's Fate td-4

by Dana Marie Bell

  She stared at Fred Grimm and swallowed hard. “No one wants to hurt me.”

  “You’re wrong, but that’s part of what we need to explain to you.” He sighed. “I wish my brother and sisters had explained all of this to you while Magnus and I were gone, but…”

  “They were grieving.” But even with all of that, one of the odd family was constantly nearby, keeping an eye on her. She’d even overheard some of them declaring that she should be moved to “their” floor. If so, she wanted her old condo back. She still didn’t believe Logan when he said that Jeff and Fenris had been living there for some time. That had been her condo, dammit. She just couldn’t prove it. Even the mark she’d left in the doorjamb was gone, erased as if it had never been there.

  Morgan looked about ready to reply but closed his mouth when Kir stood in front of the casket and held up his hands. The room went silent as the handsome blond clasped his hands in front of him. At some point, he’d taken off his sunglasses, perching them on top of his head. On anyone else, it would have looked stupid. On Kir, the effect was enough to have even a confirmed hetero looking twice.

  “I want to be the first to say a few words about Fred Grimm.” He cleared his throat and glanced at Jeanne Grimm, who gave him a shaky smile. Kir’s gaze darted toward her before he turned back to his family with a smirk. “Fred Grimm could be one huge pain in the ass.”

  Jordan groaned as Jeanne Grimm gasped.

  Kir ignored them. “He was stubborn, prideful, and loved to hear himself talk. Any tale involving him was his favorite, and the more you told it, the more he loved it.”

  Jeanne was smiling through her tears.

  “When we were younger, no one could out-drink, out-party, or out-fight Fred Grimm. He was the quintessential warrior, and there were none who could get the best of him. Not even me.” Kir’s own eyes were beginning to look suspiciously wet. “We had our differences, more than some of you could possibly imagine, but when he decided you were worth protecting, he did so with everything in him. He loved just as hard as he fought, and if you were one of the privileged few who got to see the real Fred Grimm, you’d know he would have fought the Old Man to his dying breath to protect his family.”

  Logan reached out and took hold of Kir’s clenched fist. “Go on, Blondie.”

  Kir’s answering sigh was broken. “Logan?”

  Logan nodded and stood behind Kir, clasping the slightly shorter man back to chest. “I’m here, Kir.”

  Kir nodded, his blond hair tangling with Logan’s as Logan placed his chin on his shoulder. He took a deep breath and smiled. “I never thought I’d be standing here. I never thought I’d be saying good-bye like this.” His voice broke and he cleared his throat, looking away for a moment. “He was larger than life, larger than anyone I knew. He was my big brother, and I worshipped the ground he walked on before it all went to hell, before my father broke our family apart with his lies and his treachery.”

  Logan’s eyes closed wearily as Kir almost broke down. His arms visibly tightened around Kir. “Finish it, Blondie, then let’s go home.”

  “None of us expected this.” Kir glanced around the room, the only sound the occasional sniffle from one of the women who claimed to be Fred Grimm’s daughters. “We all knew the day would come when one of us would lose our life, but not like this. It was supposed to be a war, a glorious battle between good and evil. It wasn’t supposed to be an assassination over a prophecy none of us understand.”

  Jeanne sniffled into a tissue, but Skye was mesmerized. There was something about Kiran Tate that drew her attention as no one else did, not even the man at her side. She wanted to hear what he said, wanted to bask in his smile like a child in sunlight, turning her face to the sky.

  “He was not supposed to be gunned down by the man he called Father.”

  Skye grimaced. Oliver Grimm was officially a missing person, and had been for months. No one knew where he was, but quite a few people believed he was dead, murdered by his family members for his fortune. But according to Kir and Logan, Oliver Grimm was alive and well, and the biggest son of a bitch to ever walk the face of the earth.

  He was also the man they held responsible for Fred Grimm’s death.

  Kir cleared his throat, his voice rough as he finished. “At the end, when it was too late to save him, we all knew the truth. My brother loved his family, and if he could have done anything different, I think the only thing would have been to save Jeff from the Old Man. As he lay there dying, all he could think about was saving Jamie from his father and letting his kids know how much he loved them.”

  Jamie curled into Travis, hiding her face in his suit coat. Jeff was holding on to Fenris’s hand so tightly the poor man’s knuckles were white. Jordan was comforting her mother, stroking her back and speaking quietly in her ear.

  Morgan and Magnus sat side by side, their heads held high, but Skye could see the tears they were fighting.

  “There isn’t anything more you could ask of a man, of a father or a brother, than to know he’d been trying to right his wrongs, to make amends for the mistakes he’d made. Mistakes that weren’t even his, but the result of someone else’s greed.” Kir shook his head, his grief overwhelming his expression. “We’d been fighting for so long I’d forgotten what he was like. I’d forgotten how he would fight, always, for those he loved.”

  Logan pressed a kiss to Kir’s forehead as Kir’s eyes closed once more. Jordan reached out from where she was sitting with her mother and snagged Kir’s hand, holding tightly to her lover. Kir placed his free hand on Logan’s forearm, connecting the three in a way that anyone looking at them could tell was meant to be. Skye saw it then, the way the other two held Kir, gave him the strength to continue. But it worked both ways. Kir was giving vent to all their grief in a way they couldn’t.

  Kir looked up, and something in that bright blue gaze held her spellbound. “I always thought the comics and the movies got it dead wrong.”

  “Comics?” Skye whispered to Morgan.

  “Shh. Later.”

  “Thor was no hero. He was not the god Marvel made him out to be, ready to sacrifice himself for the greater good. I always thought that, when the time came, he would fight at Odin’s side as he always had, and that I’d have to face my brother on the battlefield. I always thought he would die as he’d lived, a great warrior in service to his lord.

  “But I was wrong.” Kir’s gaze raked the room, and Skye could have sworn she saw clouds scuttle across the brilliant blue of his eyes. “I was wrong. The comics, the movies? They were the ones that got it right.” He closed his eyes and slipped his sunglasses back down his nose, despite the fact that clouds seemed to have covered the sun, darkening the parlor of the funeral home. Off in the distance, thunder sounded as a single tear escaped from behind those dark glasses. “My brother was a hero, and nothing, not Grimm, not lies, not even death, can take that from him.” His voice took on an odd, echoing timber as Logan’s eyes opened. She would swear up and down that flames danced in the foxy brown of his eyes as he gazed at Logan. “Remember that. Remember the man who tossed you in the air, who defended you against the ones who should have loved you most.”

  Beside her, Morgan’s breath hitched.

  “Remember the man who defied his father to marry a human despite the influence of Idunn’s apples.”

  Jeanne broke down and sobbed.

  “Remember the man who wasn’t ashamed to ask for forgiveness.”

  Jeff nodded sharply.

  “There are few so deserving of Valhalla as my brother, but deep inside I hope he does not go there.”

  Travis gasped, looking shocked. Morgan twitched, his brother grumbling under his breath.

  “I hope with everything in me that he does not go to where my father rules the dead. I hope he does not have to look his murderer in the eye for the rest of eternity. I hope my brother goes safely into the embrace of death, that he sits at the side of my lover’s daughter. I hope that when Grimm’s Ragnarrok finall
y comes, my brother will be at the head of the army that will ride from Helheim and finally take him down.”

  Lightning flashed, followed swiftly by thunder as Kir’s voice rang out, echoing through Skye. She had the strongest urge to bow her head to Kir, the power in his voice almost too great to withstand. She’d been drawn to him from the start, but not like this.

  Skye knew if Kir asked her to join that fictional army, she’d sign up in a heartbeat. And that frightened her more than anything else that had happened during this insane week.

  Chapter Three

  Morgan sat at his stepsister’s dining table and stared at Skye. He burned every time he was near her. He hadn’t been able to leave her side, even at his own father’s funeral.

  How fucked up was that? He bet Frederica would be cackling over her cauldron right now if she knew.

  “Thinking about bedding your Fate?”

  Morgan resisted the urge to punch his twin. “Shut up.” He managed to drag his eyes away from Skye long enough to shoot Magnus a dirty look. “I’m just fascinated by her face.”

  “And her cleavage.”

  “Ye—what were you doing looking?”

  Magnus chuckled. “Why not stamp mine across her forehead?”

  “Or her cleavage?” Morgan’s frown turned into a scowl as his brother laughed harder. “You are such an asshole.”

  “Yeah, but I’m an asshole staring at a pair of truly magnificent—ow.” Magnus rubbed his shin and glared at Jamie, who was seated across from him. “What?”

  She glared at him for a second before Travis got her attention by nodding toward Skye. “Sweetheart, I think she’s ready.”

  Whatever reply Jamie gave her fiancé was lost as Morgan’s attention was once more captured by Skye. The Norn cleared her throat as she rapped against her glass with her fork. “I’m sorry, but I can’t stand it anymore. Could someone please explain to me what’s going on?” She stared at each of them in turn. “Fred Grimm couldn’t be your dad. He’s too damn young! And the crazy lady is a grandmother? And why can’t I go home?”

  Silence greeted her shouted question, but then Kir sighed and also stood. “What do you know about Norse mythology?”

  “Oh, here we go,” Jordan muttered.

  “It worked on you, didn’t it?” Logan kissed her cheek as she grumbled into her Sprite.

  “What bit of Norse mythology?” Skye was watching them all like she’d stepped into a loony bin and all the loonies were loose and having a tea party with the white rabbit.

  “I’d start with the bit where Loki was directly responsible for the death of Baldur.” Logan winked at Kir, who smiled back.

  “Plan A-1, here we go.” Jordan chugged the Sprite and ended up choking on the bubbles.

  Skye inched toward Morgan, making him insanely happy. It was as if she expected he’d protect her from the insanity going on around her.

  If only she knew the truth. He was just as crazy as the rest of them.

  “I’ve heard of Baldur and Loki. I think I remember the myth. Hodr was tricked into killing Baldur with an arrow made of mistletoe, right? The one thing that could kill Baldur, like he had a massive allergy or something. Then Odin got it on with his mistress and created a child that killed Hodr in retaliation.” She frowned and rubbed her temples. “I don’t remember the rest.”

  “The myth is a giant lie.” Kir grinned at Logan, but there was pain in his expression too. Now that Morgan knew the sacrifice Logan had made for Kir, he understood that pain all too well. “Most of it anyway.”

  “Uh. Okay.” Skye scooted closer to Morgan. When she was within reach, he tugged her down beside him.

  “Think about this. Baldur was invulnerable to all substances, save mistletoe, which was, at the time, too young a plant to give its word not to harm him. Loki supposedly discovered this, handed the blind god Hodr a dart or arrow tipped in mistletoe, and guided his hand. Baldur died as the mistletoe pierced his heart. Loki fled as the gods killed Hodr for Baldur’s death. Hel claimed she was willing to release Baldur back into the world if every living being cried, mourning him. But the gods found one holdout, a witch named Pokk, who was supposedly Loki in disguise. Pokk refused to weep. Hel held Baldur in her grasp and refused to let him go. When the gods realized they’d been tricked, they returned to the cave, determined to exact revenge. Pokk fled into the back of the cave, turned into a raven, and flew off into the night. Eventually the gods tracked Loki down, tied him to a mountain with the entrails of his own son, there to writhe in torment until Ragnarrok.” Kir grimaced. “The goddess Nanna, on hearing of Baldur’s death and the failure of the gods to bring him back to life, committed suicide.”

  The familiar lie, spoken by the same man who was supposed to have died that day, had everyone’s attention. Even Jeff was sitting still, watching raptly as Kir spoke.

  Kir fingered his necklace. Gungnir, the Godspear, was shrunk down to the pendant Kir never went without. It glowed at his touch, once more acknowledging that he, not Grimm, was now the leader of the gods. “If you’re familiar with Loki then you’re familiar with his ability to shift shape.”

  “I know Loki gave birth as a horse, so yeah.” Poor Skye looked so confused.

  They all ignored Logan’s pained grimace. All except Jordan, who rubbed his arm. Logan was devoted to his children. All of them, even the ones Grimm had destroyed in his effort to get to Loki. The fact that he’d been separated from them for so long pained him deeply. It was one of the reasons he was so overprotective where it came to Jordan and her pregnancy. Logan would allow no harm to come to the woman he and Kir had claimed as their own.

  Morgan couldn’t be happier about it despite their rocky start. “Did you know that the only form Loki can’t shift into is a bird?”

  Skye looked thoughtful. “No, I didn’t know—can’t?”

  “Caught that, did you?” Jordan held out her glass for more soda, and Logan obliged. “He had to borrow Freya’s cloak to do it. So if Loki couldn’t turn into a bird without Freya’s cloak, how did he, as Pokk, turn into a raven in the back of the cavern and fly away from the gods?”

  “I have no idea, but I’m certain you’re going to tell me.” Skye was looking more and more confused.

  Morgan couldn’t help it. He stroked Skye’s arm, gaining her attention. “It will all make sense soon, I promise. Just…listen, and keep your mind open. All right?”

  She sighed. “All right, but you understand this all sounds nuts.”

  “We know, and I’m sorry about that.” He’d dearly love to find out why she didn’t seem to know any of this. Hell, she’d lived through most, if not all, of it. The myths should have started bringing back her memories, but her confusion told him otherwise.

  “Skye?” Kir had taken hold of Jordan’s outstretched hand. “Whose bird is the raven?”

  “The All-Father.” Skye blinked, a frown crossing her face. “You’re saying Odin framed Loki.”

  “Yes. Odin is a shape shifter too, and he’s called the Father of Lies.”

  Skye tilted her head, her gaze narrowing on him. “Is?”

  “Is.” Kir tugged, and Gungnir came loose in his hand. “I am Baldur.” The spear grew, the tip burning brightly. Instead of the intense blue it had burned for Odin, Kir’s love for Logan and Jordan caused it to burn bright red, like flame.

  “And I’m Loki.” Logan grinned cheekily at Skye and waved his hand. “Hi.”

  “And I’m the Tooth Fairy.” Skye stood. “Also, I’m outie.” She started to head for the door. “Y’all are nuts.”

  Kir laughed. “Maybe, but we can prove it, you know.”

  Logan grimaced. “Time for Plan A-1?”

  Jordan laughed, her expression fond. “No one is ever ready for Plan A-1, Logan.”

  “You certainly weren’t.” Logan’s answering wink was wicked.

  Skye turned and glared at Kir. “You can prove he’s a fire giant and you’re an invulnerable god?”

  “Yup.”

  “Just
because you grab your spear and make it grow—”

  “Hey, now.” Jordan stood and wagged her finger. “I like his spear.”

  Logan’s grin turned wicked. “I’m rather fond of it myself.”

  “Can we not discuss Kir’s spear?” Magnus shuddered. “I still have nightmares about that elevator ride.”

  Kir sighed and grabbed the bridge of his nose. “Children.”

  While Logan, Magnus and Jordan were playing around, Skye had backed toward the front door. Morgan jumped up and blocked her exit, holding out his hands when she tried to move past him. “Wait. Hear the rest of it.”

  She glared up at him. “Let me go, Mr. Grimm.”

  Ouch. She was pissed. “Please.”

  She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Fine. But only because you asked nicely.” She rolled her eyes and turned back to the table. “Even if you are…all… Holy shit.”

  Morgan glanced over to the table to see what had her all pale and wide-eyed. “Oh. That. Yeah, he does that sometimes.”

  “Morgan.”

  “Hmm?”

  “He’s made of fire.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “He’s not screaming in agony.”

  “No, of course not. Why would he?”

  “He’s eating pancakes.”

  Morgan shrugged. “He’s hungry.” She stared up at him. “What? It’s been a long day.”

  She sat down abruptly. Unfortunate, the Tate-Saeters didn’t have chairs by their front door, so Skye wound up on the floor, bouncing a little as her ass made contact with the maple. “What is he?”

  “Logan is Loki, a pure-born fire Jotun who became blood brothers with Odin after saving his sorry ass, something I’m sure he still regrets.”

  “Nah,” the man of fire responded. “If I hadn’t I wouldn’t have become immortal and I wouldn’t have Kir and Jordan.”