I sighed. Then I turned to Tyr, the God of Justice. “He promised to answer some vitally important, time-sensitive questions for me. Weeks ago. Understanding that he has obligations and duties to perform, I have not pressed the issue until now. I have respected his time, but I believe it’s time for him to respect mine.”
Tyr nodded pensively, turning to Odin. “Is this true?”
Odin sighed tiredly. “Yes.”
Tyr nodded. “Then I agree with Temple, Allfather. We all know how important it is to value our oaths.”
Freya stepped forward, and I noticed that she now had a clean bandage wrapped over her arm. Alice still clung to her leg, attempting to look invisible, but not wanting to be more than an inch away from her mentor. “I wish to accompany them,” Freya said. “Tempers have flared often between these two, and I can make sure cooler heads prevail. Even though he has proven himself a friend of Asgard, and is apparently more honorable than my own sons, he is also a godkiller.”
Tyr turned to me, arching an eyebrow. “Is this acceptable?”
I grunted. “Lady just took a knife for me,” I muttered. “Of course, it’s acceptable. And for the record, If I wanted to harm Odin, I would have said so the moment I set foot in Asgard. I’m not one to bite my tongue, if you hadn’t noticed,” I admitted, smiling. “But Freya’s request is perfectly reasonable. And it’s better than a flight of Valkyries ready to impale me if I sneeze too loudly.”
Kára grinned approvingly.
Tyr nodded. “Then it is settled.”
I very discreetly pocketed the black marble I’d been palming—having fully intended to throw it at Odin before I thought to use Tyr as my secret weapon. Overall, it worked out much better than my last-resort abduction plan.
I realized everyone was looking behind me, so I glanced back to see Ragnar carrying Alucard with both arms, holding him like a baby. I had been too distracted to notice. “Little guy is all tuckered out,” Ragnar said, grinning.
“You owe me a knife,” I replied. “He definitely lasted longer than five minutes.” I ripped open a Gateway back to Chateau Falco and pointed my hand through it. “Just throw him over there somewhere,” I told Ragnar.
He arched an eyebrow at me. Then he shrugged. “He won’t feel it anyway.” And he promptly tossed Alucard onto the dark lawn outside my mansion. Alucard didn’t even flinch or groan upon impact. Ragnar held out a gleaming dagger, handing it to me hilt-first. “He’s welcome back anytime,” he said, chuckling.
I rolled my eyes and accepted the blade. It was a thing of beauty. I turned to find Odin had descended the raised dais, and was standing beside Freya and Alice, looking annoyed and ready to answer my questions as fast as possible. “Let’s go, Asgardians.”
I tucked the dagger into my waistband and stepped through, wondering how long it would take me to make Odin angry.
With what I had planned, it wouldn’t be very long, that was for certain.
Chapter 18
Gunnar, Ashley, and the pups had been cooking marshmallows over a small fire, so our sudden arrival had surprised the hell out of them, but Alice had immediately calmed them down with her terrifying war cry. “PUPPIES!”
Calvin and Makayla tackled her much easier than in the past since they were much larger now, suffocating her with slobbery wolf kisses, wagging tails, and overexcited whining sounds as they steamrolled her. I noticed gauze bandages wrapped around both of their front left legs, and shot Freya a considering look, motioning her over to the werewolf parents with a grim frown that spoke volumes—your problem.
Freya obliged, speaking to them in soft tones and showing off her own matching bandage. I watched as Gunnar and Ashley’s faces grew concerned and thoughtful.
Odin, for his part, had stared at the wolf puppies with surprise, looking confused about how much they had grown in such a short time. Hearing that his wife was lecturing the parents about the pups, he drifted closer, close enough to hear the explanation. Gunnar, although listening attentively, nudged Alucard with his boot a few times, frowning down at the snoring vampire.
Calvin and Makayla soon tired of Alice and raced over to me, hopping and whining as they attempted to lick me to death. Alice climbed to her feet, brushing the debris from her dress before walking over to me with a smile.
“How’s your training going, Bones?” I asked.
She beamed. “Freya has started showing me seiðr magic, but it’s difficult to understand.”
I nodded. “Practice makes perfect.” I waited a beat, speaking softly. “I’m going to need you to stick extra close to Freya for a while. I can’t go into more detail right now.”
She studied me thoughtfully. “Okay. You’ve been lying a lot lately. To everyone.”
I nodded. “Necessary, but I haven’t lied to you.”
She smiled faintly. “You can’t lie to me. You promised, and I know your tells.”
I grunted. “I already regret teaching you that. Don’t rub it in,” I growled.
She grinned, nodding as she studied the puppies with a distant look in her eyes. “They’re fine, you know,” she said. “They are more powerful than before, but I don’t sense any direct danger from it.”
I waited to make sure she didn’t see anything else concerning before sighing in relief. “That’s good to hear. It’s not some kind of infliction, then? A sickness?”
She shook her head firmly. “No. That would be like saying your magic is a sickness. This is simply a new ability of theirs. A part of them.”
I didn’t bother explaining that abilities could be just as dangerous as diseases.
“But I do see grave danger in their future. I don’t know what it is, but it’s not related to their new powers,” she whispered softly. “And it won’t happen soon.”
I shivered. Would my plan be enough to keep them safe, or did I need to go back to my original idea? “Thank you, Alice. I’ll figure it out.”
Calvin and Makayla no longer emitted fog from their paws or mouths, so it was difficult for me to see them as anything other than happy, energetic puppies. Still, with their bond to Freya, my mind was already racing with plans and ideas—any way for me to keep them safe from indirect harm.
They curled up at my feet, only consenting to remain still after I’d planted a hand on each of their heads and dutifully began petting them. Like a dead man’s switch on a bomb. Release it, and boom.
Freya was now leaning down over the pile of crushed wizard ice, and I was surprised that it hadn’t thawed or grown goopy and noxious. In fact, the cubes hadn’t melted at all. Like the pups had frozen them on a molecular level, or somehow dehydrated them into frozen jerky cubes.
I used my chin to indicate the pups as I locked gazes with Freya. “They bit him and turned him into that, freezing him with sudden mist and draining him of all his blood. Like they sucked out his soul and froze him.” I stared at them. “In related news, they are now bigger.”
Odin still looked decidedly uneasy about the whole situation. I’d only spoken with Freya about it in Asgard, since he’d been busy entertaining the godliticians.
Finally, he turned to me. “I understand that I promised to speak with you, but you’ve had weeks to meet with me. Why stir up trouble in Asgard now, and why are we here?”
His eye flicked to the pups, and the look on his face told me that he definitely considered that to be Freya’s problem—which was absolutely correct.
“I needed a Guber.”
He narrowed his eye. “What did you just call me?”
I waved a hand. “I needed a Godly Uber. You are taking me to Yggdrasil.”
“Why would I do that?” he asked guardedly, seeming as if he was searching for any excuse to get the hell out of here—one that wouldn’t result in me chasing him down and embarrassing him in front of another crowd.
“I want to see the three wells. We can go to Urðarbrunnr, first.” He stared at me flatly, entirely motionless. “You know, the Well of Urðr. I want to meet the Norns and hear my
destiny.” This time, I realized everyone was staring at me, unmoving. “But I will settle for Mímisbrunnr—the Well of Mímir—the one you threw your eyeball into so you could learn a thing or two. We can save Hvregelmir and its resident dragon for last,” I said, grimacing. “Really, it doesn’t matter which one we visit first. I want to see all three of the wells, eventually.” Dead silence answered me, so I shot Odin a sober look. “I won’t leave you alone until you take me. I’ll follow you to the end of the Nine Realms, chasing you down like…say, a giant wolf,” I said, winking at him. “You’ll have to kill me to get rid of me.”
He stared back at me, looking stunned at both my request and my instant descent into threats. That I was willing to die for this when I’d never expressed an interest in the wells before now. That was exactly what I wanted him thinking about. “Yggdrasil doesn’t exist in the physical realm,” Odin finally said.
I shrugged. “I’ve Astral Projected with Shiva before.”
He grimaced. “Why the sudden interest in Yggdrasil?”
I smiled. “I want to carve my name into the trunk, of course.” Freya cursed under her breath—an instinctive response to my sacrilegious comment. I waved off her concern. “A joke. Seeing Yggdrasil is on my bucket list.”
Odin frowned pensively. “No. We never agreed to that. It is a sacred place, and you are obviously lacking in respect,” he said, turning his attention to Freya as if hoping she could speak some sense into me.
“You know, I figured you would say that,” I said calmly. “How about this. If you ever want to see Gungnir again, you’re going to make this a fun field trip for me.”
He stiffened, slowly turning his head back to face me. “You said that you lost Gungnir.”
I shrugged, grinning back at him. “I’ve found it. Or maybe I never lost it. Or maybe I’m lying right now.”
Alucard surprised us all by groaning musically, but it was obvious that he was still unconscious—like he was singing in his dreams. The best part was that he was humming Kenny Rogers’ The Gambler.
Gunnar scoffed incredulously, covering his mouth to stop from bursting out laughing. That was the definition of a wingman. Even black-out drunk, Alucard was backing me up.
I turned to Odin. “So, do you know when to hold ‘em and when to fold ‘em?” I asked in a sing-song voice.
“Where is it?” he hissed, taking an instinctive step closer.
I shook my head. “It’s safe. I’ll decide when you get it back. You already offered it to me once. I’m keeping my options open.”
Odin shuddered, gritting his teeth. “You’re doing this just to vex me. With Fenrir unbound, I must have my spear!”
“Whine all you want, but I’m not handing it over until things are a lot more stable in Asgard. That’s like handing over a nuclear bomb.”
“There is unrest specifically because Gungnir is missing!” he seethed.
I shrugged. “You know how stubborn I am, Odin. I’ll happily carry the secret to my grave, so your only chance at getting it back is to calm the hell down and work with me. Trust me. Because if you challenge me, you will lose and Gungnir will be lost forever. Also, Fenrir will have a much easier time without me around to keep you safe.”
“You intend to keep me safe from Fenrir?” he asked, sounding shocked.
I shrugged. “Not sure yet. Things have changed. Maybe he doesn’t want to eat you. We will never know if we don’t find him first, because Mordred was working with some bad people.”
He studied me warily. Then he let out a deep, resigned breath, and drew a vertical line in front of him from the ground to up over his head like he was unzipping a tent.
The air shimmered slightly, but that was about it.
Then Odin walked through what looked like a gossamer, translucent curtain, and into a much greener version of…Chateau Falco.
“Fuck me,” I breathed in disbelief, hopping to my feet to follow him through the opening. “Yggdrasil is here?”
I stared at the raw land where Chateau Falco had first been constructed—as if we had gone back in time a thousand years. If the slopes and valleys had changed in any way, I wouldn’t have even noticed it, but the land was surprisingly identical, and I saw shimmering holograms of Chateau Falco flickering into hazy existence before evaporating again—as if showing me what would one day be built here. What was being built here. What had once been built here.
Future, present, and past.
Odin grunted indelicately, shaking his head. “Yggdrasil is everywhere. And nowhere. It is at the beginning and at the end. If I stepped over from a Hooters restaurant, you would see the land as it was before Hooters was ever constructed. And as it would be thousands of years after the Hooters restaurant had disintegrated to dust. Yggdrasil is in the spirit realm. Your mind is simply processing it over our current location, and removing all modern civilization from the depiction.”
I grunted, feeling deflated. “Oh. Well, that’s not as cool.” Internally, my thoughts were racing. The Alpha and the Omega—as the world was in the beginning, and as it would be at the end.
He rolled his eye, pointing ahead of us.
An ash tree, seemingly made of white light and shards of crystal, stood before us. And when I say before us, I mean that it stood where Carl’s tree now stood at the real Chateau Falco.
Exactly where Carl’s tree stood.
Even creepier, this tree was slightly smaller and oozed blue blood…
Exactly where Carl’s tree oozed red blood at the real Chateau Falco.
The tree didn’t quite seem real, and it was slightly smaller than Carl’s tree. It flickered with veins of rainbow sap across the aged white bark, zaps of every color slowly coursing down or up the trunk like a mouse down a snake’s digestive tract. I watched as a yellow orb drifted up the tree towards an intersection where a blue orb would cross its path. The two collided at the intersection, and a new green orb branched off into a third vein as the yellow and blue continued on their initial paths—as if they hadn’t just created a new blossom of life.
White flowers grew from the bark, waving in a wind that I couldn’t feel. The air was pregnant with crisp life, an aromatic perfume of wildflowers, and I heard a faint chiming sound coming from the upper branches.
Crystal and bone wind chimes hung from the branches, and they were decorated in painted whorls and runes. Some of them glowed, and some of them shone with dark light, if that made any sense. Or maybe they just projected shadows.
Faint curls of bark peeled off the tree trunk, drifting up into the air like dandelion puff, making the tree look as if it was disintegrating before my eyes. But at the same time, I watched as new bark grew across the surface, rejuvenating even as it died.
Although the tree itself seemed slightly smaller than Carl’s tree, there was also a hulking, ominous strain to the air, as if it couldn’t quite be constrained to one particular size. To that effect, I noticed a faint hologram around the tree—stretching thousands of feet higher than the physical tree, as if the tree’s spirit or soul was simply too large to be contained in any physical manifestation.
And that soul stretched so high that it appeared to reach the moon, with ephemeral branches stretching across the sky for miles.
I slowly turned to stare at Odin, hoping for answers. But…he looked just as enamored as me. Noticing my attention, he plastered on a faint smile. “It is a mesmerizing sight to behold, no matter how many times I see it. Tied to each of the Nine Realms, it often reflects them at various points, shifting from one to another as it so chooses.” He frowned slightly at the oozing trunk. “Although I will admit I’ve never seen it bleed before.”
“Ragnarök…” Freya whispered, her voice sounding haunted. I glanced over to see her clutching Alice close to her hip. Gunnar had apparently hopped through with us and was also staring at the tree, his mouth hanging open wordlessly. I could see Ashley and her pups on the other side of the shifting curtain. Alucard was still unconscious.
I frowned u
neasily as I stared back through the curtain. The pups went from moving in slow motion to suddenly racing around Ashley’s ankles at the speed of light. Then back to moving slowly, and then fast again, switching back and forth in no discernible pattern or logical rhythm.
Odin waved a hand unconcernedly. “They are perfectly fine. Yggdrasil is, in essence, time—both past and present. It is also every location and no location. It is a spear stabbing the wheel of time, if you want to think about it that way. The axle that lets time spin. The spokes are each of the Nine Realms.”
He stared up at the tree wistfully, breathing deeply.
“Do the gods still come here every day to discuss stuff?” I asked absently, also staring up at the tree, realizing just how small I was in the larger scope of things.
Odin scoffed. “No. The lazy bastards—when they can be bothered—always vote to stay in Asgard. We only come here for War Talk. It’s more ceremonial than anything.”
I nodded. “Just curious. It’s too beautiful to ignore.”
Three roots as thick as the physical tree stretched out across the earth before sinking into the ground. Near each root, an earthen tunnel led deeper underground, parallel to the root, allowing one to walk under the world to see where the root led.
I already knew the answer to that.
The three roots led to the three famous wells in Norse mythology:
Urðarbrunnr, or the Well of Urðr, as it literally translated, was where the Norns lived. They were three powerful women who controlled the destiny of all creatures of the Nine Realms, and their names roughly translated to past, present, and future.
Hvergelmir stretched all the way to Niflheim, where a serpent-like dragon named Níðhöggr gnawed on the roots of Yggdrasil.
Mímisbrunnr, or the Well of Mímir, stretched to Jotunheim, the Realm of the giants. It was where Odin had chosen to offer his eye in exchange for prophecy and knowledge, proving his belief that no sacrifice was too great for wisdom.
“What are we doing here, Nate?” Freya asked, holding Alice close. The small blonde child was staring at the tree with eyes as wide as saucers, murmuring wordlessly under her breath. From here, it reminded me of a GPS unit endlessly saying recalculating…recalculating…recalculating…
Ascension: Nate Temple Series Book 13 Page 11