Slay
Page 34
“No. Us, Apep, the whole stupid mess.”
She clicks her phone off, finally turning to look at me. “Which is why we are here, yes? Enough power, and the spells you can access might tip the scales.”
“I’m sick of drowning in grief, though. We need something more.”
She cocks her head and frowns. “I have my organizations. You have your career. Beyond those, we have three parties upon whom to visit ruin: Apep, Finemdi, and Samantha Drass. What else is there beyond our revenge and the strength needed to realize it?”
“Hope?” I say in a lame voice. “Feeling like we’re doing something good and fun again instead of just … going through the motions?”
She glances at the stage as the audience applauds, adds a few halfhearted claps of her own, then turns back to me. “How?” she asks, seeming deeply curious. “You know what we left in that prison. How do we get it back? Is there a way?”
I pause. Not now, no. My days of raising the dead are long behind me, and even if they weren’t, if I somehow lucked into the centuries of strength I’m missing, I’d still need a body to work with that was at least reasonably whole. That said, maybe … hmm …
“A chance,” I say, some strange ideas taking shape. We’ve talked about this before (our time in the rubble included plenty of soul-searching chats), but always from the perspective of “make him live again.” Now that I think it over, there might be a different angle. “It’s all kinds of difficult, but I’m not sure I’d use an ‘Impossible’ label.”
A funny look crawls across her face, mixing sadness and surprise. “It’s strange,” she says, distant. “Part of me wants to sneer, to step back into the role of destroyer and set aside my time with—with him. It would be easier, certainly, and without this wearisome pain, this maudlin—” She shakes her head and looks away, not letting herself rehash it for the umpteenth time.
“But it would also be the same,” she says after a moment. “The same fire, the same conquest, the same … everything I was made to crave.” She looks back to me, and her voice becomes delicate. “I kill them all, and … find more to kill. That used to be enough. It still could be, I know. I’m just not sure I—” She stops, and the sense of confusion and conflict in her deepens. “What is it like, little fighter? To wage war for your heart? To rend, to flay and gorge and slaughter for a feeling?”
I watch her for a moment, wondering just how much of myself Nathan brought to her. What she’s saying might sound simple to you, but for a god so specialized, so focused as her, this is nothing short of unprecedented. For millennia, this creature has killed the deserving in the name of Ra and justice. Now, she’s actually considering a different cause.
“It’s … beautiful,” I whisper.
She nods slowly, that old, bloodthirsty half smile of hers returning. “Tell me.”
I feel myself beaming, elated to see even a spark of that familiar fire rise in her. I decide to confide in her, to ignore the nasty little voice that whispers, What will she do if those hopes are dashed?
“It’s just an idea, but, well, back at Finemdi, I met an Irish god,” I say, heat rising in my cheeks at the memory. “He took me to the Otherworld, the realm of their pantheon, and if theirs exists…? So does mine. Which means Nathan is there, right this second, drinking, feasting, and fighting beside my other Einherjar—the honored fallen. All we need is to reach those lands and find him.”
Her eyes seem to spark, and she clasps my hand in hers. “What a strange joy you bring me, little fighter,” she says in fascinated tones. “The very thought—to feel such delight for the hope of life, rather than the promise of death? A singular thing.”
And a dangerous one, the voice reminds me.
Shut up, I think back, witty as ever.
“Can we go now?” she asks, soft and eager.
“Uh. Not quite yet. See, there are two ways,” I say, leaning closer. Those enormous dark eyes of hers loom in my vision, bright and unblinking, as she hangs on my every word. “We wait until I’m strong enough to breach the divide between worlds with a gateway—a portal for all of us…”
“Or?” she presses.
“We find someone from my pantheon who’s already powerful enough to do it.”
“There are no entrances? No other doors?”
“Beyond death?” I shake my head. “I have no way of knowing where Bifröst, the rainbow bridge, connects to this world, or if it still exists. When Loki ‘faked’ Ragnarök, he somehow forced us all to believe those fated to die in that conflict are already gone. That list includes Heimdall, the guardian of Bifröst—if he is … deadish, then it may be impossible to physically walk into Asgard from here.”
“So we find this missing god. Or break the trickster’s spell.”
I dip my head. “Exactly. We bring my pantheon back, Sekhmet, and we can do the same for Nathan. The myths are very clear: Einherjar are able to return to the mortal world with a god’s intervention. Usually it’s to, um, hunt giants, but if I’m the god who’s intervening, I think I get to make up whatever damn quest I want.”
Sekhmet’s smile widens, almost turning ghastly. “Done,” she says, doing her best to keep her voice low. “I will … try this new war. I do not abandon my hunt for those who have wronged us, but to it I add another, a cause beyond vengeance.”
“Love,” I say with a grin.
“Feh, how saccharine,” she says, scoffing. “No. A boy. My foolish, delightful mortal. And your foolish, delightful friend. He can be a cause.”
“I think he’d be pleased to know it,” I say.
“We shall ask him,” she says with a contented twitch of her eyebrows, then settles back to enjoy the rest of the event, slipping her phone into her bag.
I glance at her, drinking in the reborn sense of confidence and glee I’d been missing, and allow a similar stirring of my own to rise. We’re doing something right again. Finally. My eyes rove past my ally to scan the crowd, settling for brief moments on the friends I made while filming Switch, then searching for other familiar faces. Kirsten’s seething expression makes for a wonderful counterpoint to her father’s bemused one. There’s a fun assortment of producers, power brokers, and executives, as well as local celebrities, media professionals, and way, waaay in the back with the other associates … Harv. He notices me immediately, of course, those superhuman senses bringing me to his attention the instant I focus on him. He tilts his head to me in a little salute, letting his eyes swim with shadows for a split second before he smirks and returns his attention to the show.
I nod and turn back, grinning at the weirdness I’ve already added to the Hollywood scene and feeling like my plans might not be so hollow after all. This can still work. I mean, if Sekhmet can find the fun in all of this, so can I. Just one more goal at the end of the road, right? Drag my peers from the fog of myth and forge a new Valhalla for the modern age? Why not? Add it to the pile! We’ll fit it in, right beside my need to reclaim my humanity and give Sara a voice again. I can handle all that, can’t I?
I was betrayed. My friend died and a living nightmare wants to replace him—right after it torches the planet. I am weak, hopelessly outclassed, and, save one conflicted cat goddess, alone in this world.
And I’m going to win.
* * *
I stumble into my hotel bed an hour or so before dawn the next day, barely remembering to kick off my heels. They clatter to the floor, and some strange part of me hopes I didn’t wake my downstairs neighbors with the noise. I roll over with a groan, hands fumbling with the zipper on the back of my dress for five highly ineffective seconds before I give up with a sigh and start trying to burrow into the blankets. The gala, its inevitable after-party, and the brain-melting after-after-party have left me in dire need of sleep and probably a bottle of mouthwash.
I fly back soon, headed for Los Angeles and whatever else the Fates decide to toss my way. “Bwing it onnn,” I slur into my pillow fortress. I have nothing to lose and a world to gain.
One of my clip-on
earrings catches a pillow. I curse and pull it off, gathering up its twin while I’m at it, and try to toss the pair onto my bedside table. Soft clinks from the nearby carpet tell me all I need to know about my current aiming skills. Whatever. I’ll find them in the morning. Probably with bare feet.
I roll back, trying to arrange the bed to my liking, and let out a pleasant sigh as slumber starts creeping in. Everything’s going to be fine. I mean, I may not have a clue how I’m going to deal with most of my current problems, but—
Swish, swish.
Light thumps whisk across the carpet, and this time it’s not my earrings. My party-addled mind starts screaming with the revelation that they’re footsteps, drawing nearer. A stranger. Someone’s in the room with me.
They’ve been here the entire time.
The footsteps stop beside me, and I thrash around in my bed, flipping myself over. There’s a presence just to my right, looming above me, a tall, terrifying outline in the darkened room. Then it leans to one side, and there’s a click as it taps the bedside light switch with a casual flick of one finger.
Light bathes us from just over my head, and I groan and throw up a hand, trying to decide if this is worse than being menaced in the darkness.
“Harv?” I croak.
“Who? No,” a cold, wretchedly familiar voice says.
Oh gods. Even through the haze, I know exactly who this is.
I peek through my fingers, not wanting to be right. The outfit is the same since we last spoke, all tasteful black and hidden ordnance. Those deep brown eyes, that dark, rusty hair, those sharp, pinched features … it’s him. The only thing that’s missing is the sickly little smile he loves; a look of contempt and pain has taken its place.
“What the hell did you DO?” Garen shouts, eyes flashing with fury.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
They let me write a second one! Praise Freya!
I love this world and these characters (yes, even the ones I crush with rocks), and I want to thank you once more, awesome reader, for following the adventures I’ve found for them. I owe it all to you and hope you’ve had as much fun riding this roller coaster as I’ve had building it. You are the real magic. Never forget it.
To Erin Stein, Nicole Otto, and your amazing teammates at Macmillan, your boundless professionalism and experience is a thing of beauty. You know your books, and the fact that you’re willing to lend your time to mine is the highest of compliments.
Christopher Cerasi, you remain an absurdly talented editor with all the good ideas. Seriously, folks, think of something you liked in this book—it was probably him. High-five, my friend.
To my Finnish friends, Laura Nevanlinna, Ilona Lindh, and your fantastic compatriots at Kaiken Publishing, your phenomenal enthusiasm and excellent feedback have shaped this series since the beginning, and I couldn’t be happier to know you’ll be a part of its future, too.
Salla Hakko, thank you for your excitement to see what comes next and for helping me make a sad moment even sadder.
And finally, Danielle, you were there for me every step of the way. You made me write even when there were shows on Netflix to watch and games to play, and you were probably right to do it.
Probably.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A designer and writer for over ten years, Matthew Laurence is consistently delighted that people actually pay him to make games. His career has taken him from Orlando and San Francisco all the way to Finland and now Munich, Germany. Besides playing games of all kinds, Matthew writes and cooks for fun, travels with his wife whenever (and wherever) possible, and maintains an unhealthy relationship with Netflix. You can sign up for email updates here.
Thank you for buying this
St. Martin’s Press ebook.
To receive special offers, bonus content,
and info on new releases and other great reads,
sign up for our newsletters.
Or visit us online at
us.macmillan.com/newslettersignup
For email updates on the author, click here.
CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Chapter 1: Burning Bright Freya
Chapter 2: Once Upon a Time Freya
Chapter 3: Embers of War Nathan
Chapter 4: Chasing the Sun Freya
Chapter 5: Star Power Freya
Chapter 6: Glitz in the System Freya
Chapter 7: Fun and Games Freya
Chapter 8: Take One Freya
Chapter 9: Third Wheel Freya
Chapter 10: Starry-Eyed Nathan
Chapter 11: See the Light Freya
Chapter 12: Sweet Dreams Freya
Chapter 13: In a Fog Freya
Chapter 14: Exhibitionism Nathan
Chapter 15: Trick Shot Freya
Chapter 16: Crash Freya
Chapter 17: Thunderstruck Freya
Chapter 18: Home, Sweet Home Nathan
Chapter 19: Friends in High Places Freya
Chapter 20: Fork in the Road Freya
Chapter 21: Fool’s Errand Freya
Chapter 22: Best Served Cold Freya
Chapter 23: Till the End Freya
Chapter 24: Tumbling Down Freya
Chapter 25: Fate’s Call Freya
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright
Copyright © 2018 by Rovio Entertainment, Ltd.
A part of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010
fiercereads.com
All rights reserved.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2017945054
Our eBooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at (800) 221-7945 ext. 5442 or by e-mail at MacmillanSpecialMarkets@macmillan.com.
Imprint logo designed by Amanda Spielman
First hardcover edition, 2018
eBook edition, March 2018
eISBN 9781250088208
Bookish burglars, stay your hands,
resign yourselves to safer plans.
Take not from gods the spotlight,
lest you become the next they smite.