by E. A. Copen
Beth opened the front door as Emma and I came down the walk under the umbrella. “About time. I was beginning to worry about the two of you. You didn’t come back last night.”
That did it. I handed the umbrella off to Emma and stormed to the door in the rain to push Beth back inside. “I’m onto your little game.”
Fear flashed in her eyes as I stepped in, closing the space between us. She tried to back up and swing to the left, but I didn’t give her any reprieve, keeping the distance close until she backed against the counter.
I stepped forward, close enough now she had no choice but to lean back to look up at me. “Let us go off alone, figuring old habits die hard. You know me so well, don’t you? Thought you could just use the woman I love against me. Throw her at me, remind me of everything we used to have and grind it in my face like dirt under your heel, promise me I can have it back. All I need to do is give up everything I believe in, right?”
“That’s not—”
I cut her off with a swipe of my hand that made her flinch. “Yes, it is. That’s been it all along, hasn’t it? I’m supposed to sleep with her, right? Because why the hell not? That’s how it’s going to wind up anyway, her and me repopulating Loki’s perfect world. Or was he planning on throwing you in with it, too? Tell me you didn’t go along with it.”
“I—”
“Tell me you didn’t know!” I barked.
“Step back from her,” Emma demanded behind me.
I turned my head to see her pointing her spear at me. “You can’t kill me. Loki needs me to complete the spell.”
“Maybe.” Emma shrugged one shoulder. “But does he need both your arms for that?”
Slowly, I stepped back. I’d gotten my point across.
Beth relaxed, but only a little. “Of course, I knew. There’s something special about you, about your magic. Loki called it an anomaly. You should be honored to be chosen.”
“Are you honored?” I gestured to her and then turned to Emma. “What about you? You honored to be chosen as Loki’s favorite breeding mare?”
They were both silent.
I turned back to Beth, waving a finger in her face. “I’m not okay with this.”
She raised her chin. “Would you rather we use Haru? That’s still an option, though a less desirable one. We know he can produce viable offspring just as easily.”
It took all my willpower not to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. “Do you even know what you’re saying? What you’re doing? No, you can’t. Maybe it hasn’t sunk in yet. You two aren’t in your right mind. You’re basically walking, talking Loki puppets. His hand is so far up your ass, it’s coming out your mouth! In my book, that makes you incapable of consent. The idea…what you want me to do? It makes me feel sick. I’m not that kind of person, Beth, and if you were yourself, you’d know that.”
She gripped the counter behind her and leaned forward. “It doesn’t matter what kind of person you are. In the end, Loki will get his way. He always does.”
“Not this time.” I shook my head. “I want that to be clear. And don’t think about trying to seduce Haru, either.”
She smiled a disturbing, dark smile. “You think we don’t have spells? And even if we didn’t, do you really think he’d resist? With his reputation—”
I punched her in the face before she could finish the thought. It’s normally my policy not to hit women, but when there’s the implied threat of sexual assault, I won’t stand for it, no matter whose mouth it’s coming out of. Threatening to use magic to seduce anyone was nothing short of rape, and I wouldn’t hear it.
Beth’s head snapped back, smacked a cabinet, and then whipped forward. She crumbled into a bleeding puddle, eyes wide, hands shaking. The point of Emma’s spear jabbed into my back, reminding me it was there and very, very sharp.
I spun with my staff out in front of me and knocked the pointed edge aside. “I’m done. We’re done. I’ve got nothing more to say to either of you two until you get some sense back.” Staff in hand, I fled to the back bedroom and locked the door behind me.
When I was sure they weren’t going to try anything, I got out my phone and called Moses. The phone went to voicemail the first time, so I hung up and tried again. A chill went through me as it rang and rang. What if Beth had gone over there while I was out? What if she’d taken by force what I asked to be given freely? She could rip out a soul just as easily as I could, and nothing was stopping her from taking his.
Relief flooded me as Moses’ sleepy voice cracked, “Hello?”
I collapsed on the bed. “Man, is it good to hear a friendly voice. I’ve had a hell of a day.”
“Laz, if this is a social call, can it wait? I’m due downtown in three hours to help with the emergency evacuation points. I’m doing crowd control.”
“With your knee?” I frowned. “They’re really going to make you stand out in the rain?”
He sighed. “I volunteered. I’ll be one of the last ones out of town. You seen the news?”
I searched the rumpled blankets for the remote, found it, and clicked on the tiny television tucked in the corner of my bedroom. The weather was on every channel. Albus had gotten bigger and meaner, upgrading to a category five with winds over a hundred and sixty miles per hour. It was scheduled to make landfall inside forty-eight hours. “Watching it now.”
“It’s big. You might be right about it wiping New Orleans off the map.”
“Did you reconsider my request?” I lowered the remote to my lap. “All I need is to talk to someone higher up, Moses.”
The power suddenly flickered, and the cable went out. I pulled the phone away from my ear a second to listen to thunder boom outside.
“...there? Hello? Laz?”
“I’m here,” I said, putting the phone back up to my ear. “Maybe this is a conversation best had in person.”
Moses sighed again and grunted as if he were sitting up. “I suppose so.”
“Mind if I come to your place?” I asked. “There’s kind of a hostile work environment thing happening here. Maybe the ladies will behave if I’ve got backup.”
“Sure thing. I’ll put on the kettle.”
“Hold off on that, Moses. I’m beat. I need at least an hour or two of sleep. I’ll be over an hour before your shift downtown starts, though. How about that?”
“Sounds like a deal to me. See you then.”
I said my goodbyes and hung up. Red numbers flashed on the face of the alarm clock next to my bed and the time ticked over. One more minute lost. I should’ve gone straight over, but I couldn’t even think straight. If I could’ve, I never would’ve hit Beth. She didn’t know what she was saying. Loki had gotten to her, scrambled her brains until the sweet, kind, smart Beth I knew was gone. Or mostly gone. I had to believe that part of her was still in there, that she could be saved. Maybe I could strike another deal with Finn. If he could undo what Loki did to Emma, he could do it for her too.
I stretched out on the bed, arms folded behind my head, listening to thunder roll. One hour, maybe two. That’s all I needed. And then I’d get up and save the world one last time.
Chapter Twenty-Three
A loud sound woke me, a metallic clang like one of the garbage bin lids had slammed into the side of the house. I sat straight up, back rigid. Inky darkness filled the room, so thick and humid it almost felt alive. Magic buzzed in the air too, ebbing and flowing like ocean waves, rising and falling, crashing into me.
I lifted my hand and ran my fingers through the wave of power. Like water, it passed between my fingers, untouched, unharnessed, unspoiled. This power wasn’t meant for humans. It was for something…greater.
This was the same power I’d felt before, the last time I’d died. Loki?
Angry, I pushed out of bed and marched for the door, except the door seemed to get farther away with every step. No matter how fast I ran, it kept moving toward the horizon. The room stretched to an unnatural length everywhere but the ceiling which tore a
way to reveal a strange night sky. In place of stars, there were galaxies. Where the moon should’ve been shining, a silver giant rode his chariot through the sky, driving his horses on with the snap of a silver whip.
Two ravens flew, weaving back and forth in the pattern of a double helix. Their flight path was marked behind them in threads of gold that fell from the sky and caught fire, burning to ash before they hit the ground. I extended my hands and watched the ash collect in my palm.
“Knowledge,” spoke a voice that was both everywhere and nowhere at once.
I turned a full circle, searching for the source but only found it once I turned back the way I’d been.
He was a big man wrapped in a loose cloak that obscured his face. His clothes were worn, the kind you’d expect a homeless man to be wearing, but his shoes were too nice for that. He clutched a walking staff in one hand. No, not a staff. It looked like one, but the end of it had been broken off. If I looked closely, it resembled the spear Emma had been carrying around.
“Who are you?” I asked.
The man lifted his head, revealing a full white beard and an expressive smile. “I have many names. Ancient One. Spear God. Hanged One. Foe of the Wolf, Ruler of the Gallows—”
I raised a hand. “Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons? You look a little old for that. And male.”
His grin widened. He pulled back his hood, which did little good considering he was wearing a wrinkled wide-brimmed hat underneath it. When he lifted his head again, he peered at me from behind one glassy eye. “You may call me Odin.”
“You know how to make an entrance.” I gestured around me.
“I’ve had many years to practice. It’s a pity, you know.” He gathered some ash in his hand and smeared it with his thumb. “Once, the gods passed knowledge to man. It was slow, painful. But you learned. Now, you have knowledge at your fingertips, and you know nothing.”
“I know I need help.”
Odin turned his palm upside down and let the rest of the ash fall. “You seek knowledge. It’s a dangerous thing to look for. Much easier to find glory with a sword or spear in your hand. Those who seek knowledge are, more often than not, disappointed by what it costs to obtain. What price are you willing to pay, Lazarus?”
“I haven’t even told you what I want.”
He leaned on his stick. “Nevertheless, you must pay for it first.”
I shrugged. “Okay, what do you want?”
Odin threw his head back and laughed. It sounded like thunder. “That’s not how this works. There is no set currency, no exchange rate. All that exists is value and want. What value do you place on what you want, Lazarus? Think carefully.”
I frowned and looked around. I was strapped for cash, but I was pretty sure Odin didn’t want money. There were things I might’ve bartered with, things with sentimental value lying all around me, but they were all out of reach because of the state of the room. All I had was me.
I looked down at my hands. They were precious. I couldn’t do my magic without them, couldn’t hold souls, couldn’t function. The same could be said for most of my body. I couldn’t just give up parts of myself for knowledge. That was crazy. And yet it somehow made sense in the context of the dream.
My eyes fell on the floor where my shadow pooled in the moonlight, and suddenly, I knew what to give. “My shadow.”
Odin chuckled. “It’s not as small a price as you think. Your shadow follows you wherever you go. It is as much you as the fingers on your hand or the hairs on your head. A man who casts no shadows has an incomplete soul.”
I shuddered at the thought of surrendering my soul to a god, and not just any god, but Odin. He was better than Loki, but still one scary dude. And I’d seen what happened to people who were somehow separated from their soul for any length of time. They wasted away, unsatisfied by any of life’s pleasures. But I wasn’t giving up my whole soul, just part of it. How much of a difference could that make?
“How much of my soul are we talking?” I asked the god.
“Enough,” he answered simply.
Wasn’t like I had much of a choice unless I wanted to give up digits or limbs. I was talking to a guy who’d given his eye for knowledge. He knew the price better than most.
“Okay, do it.” I closed my eyes, winced, and braced for something painful to happen. In my experience, magic and pain often went hand in hand.
Power rose around me as if I were standing under a giant magnet. I cracked open my eyes and stared up at the spinning sky, brightly colored nebulas and whole galaxies speeding by. The two ravens I had seen before spun, tightening the circle of their flightpath with every pass. Black specks flew up around me, sucked into the invisible vortex they created. The magic brushed against my skin, no more painful than a gentle caress, but vibrating with raw electric power.
Then Odin tapped his broken spear against the ground, the sound a resounding thud that shook the air. My legs wobbled and gave out, all the strength suddenly sapped from my body. I fell to the floor, which had turned to black, sparkling sand. It rolled gently over the backs of my hands in the dying wind.
A gnarled and wrinkled hand appeared in my vision, Odin offering me his hand.
I looked up at the smug, knowing grin on his face and took it. “That wasn’t so bad.”
He grunted and pulled me to my feet. “We never truly know the cost of something until we’ve paid it, power most of all. And make no mistake, Lazarus. Knowledge is power in its rawest form. Now, you wish to know about the Gjallarhorn.”
“Gjallarhorn?” I repeated, testing the word. It was foreign, but it did contain the word horn, so I figured he meant the weapon I was after and nodded. “I need it to stop Typhon.”
“I presume you have the souls you need? It’s useless for that purpose without that kind of power.”
“Almost.” I shrugged. “I’ll get the last one.”
“That you will.” He extended an arm and one of the two ravens swooped down to land on it, clutching a black ring in its mouth. The bird dropped the ring in Odin’s outstretched hand, and the god reached into his pocket to draw out some crumbs. He let the raven pick some from his palm as he spoke. “The ritual for infusing souls into silver is familiar to you. The Nephilim taught it to you?”
“He did,” I confirmed with a nod.
Odin lowered his arm and the raven took flight, fluttering back into the sky to circle. “Then you need only remove the rings you’ve already enchanted and place them on the horn. Once you do, you’ll need blood, one drop from each of the Four Horsemen. That will seal the spell much the same way you’d seal one of your circles. Then all you have to do is sail into the heart of the hurricane and blow the horn. I’m sure you’ve been advised doing so will kill you?”
I nodded again. “Loki said as much.”
“Loki.” He sighed and shook his head. “One of my greatest failings.”
“So, you regret the awful punishment you put him through?”
“Not at all.” Odin stepped a few paces to the right and paused, looking out over the empty landscape. “A parent must have a firm hand when dealing with unruly children. Violent tendencies must be culled with extreme prejudice.”
“You mean you thought you could deter violence with more extreme violence.” I dusted off my hands, rubbing them together. “Didn’t work so well for you, did it?”
“I would say that I could not have foreseen how these events would play out, but that wouldn’t be true strictly speaking. These days were written about long ago in the halls of prophecy. But prophecy can be…enigmatic. To be told that the son will rise to overthrow the father… I was a god. The Allfather. That means father to all. I expected the challenge to come from elsewhere. Instead, I made my own monster and spelled my own doom.”
“It doesn’t have to be doom and gloom. This war Loki wants, I’m going to stop it.”
Odin smiled. I didn’t think there was anything amusing about what I’d said, but he sure did. “Of course you are,�
�� he said, “but it will be too late for me. I made a choice, and I must face the consequences of that choice.”
He turned back around, and when he did, he held a huge, curved horn in his hands. It was made of polished white bone or an antler maybe, though I had no idea what kind of creature would have a bone that big to carve. The horn was so large it stretched from the top of his head to his knee in a graceful curve. Several rings had been carved into it, each surrounded by more carvings of runes. Odin shifted his hands, and a leather strap dangled.
“You must bring the horn before Loki,” he said, offering it to me. “Let him hold it.”
I accepted the horn and nearly fell over from its sudden weight in my hands. “What’ll happen when I do?”
“The cycle will begin anew.” He smiled again, but this time it seemed sad. “I wish you success, Horseman. It would be a shame for Ragnarök to consume your world. I do enjoy your creative inventions. Like those little yellow cakes with the filling.”
“Twinkies?”
He snapped his fingers. “That’s the one!”
Odin was skipping Ragnarök because he was a fan of packaged snack cakes. Who would’ve guessed? I certainly wasn’t going to complain.
I cleared my throat. “So how close do I have to be to Typhon, exactly?”
Odin swooped in to lean closer, moving so fast I didn’t have time to react until he was already in my face, pointing at his cloudy eye. “Blow it when you see the whites of his eyes,” he said and then cackled like a madman.
Thunder answered his laughter and lightning flashed, despite not having any clouds to flash from. The sky spun faster, suns, galaxies, and things I had no name for raced by at a breakneck pace. The ground rumbled, and the sand parted. A fissure yawned between my feet, spreading too wide. I lost my footing and tumbled into darkness, clutching the magic horn, Odin’s mad laughter booming in my ears.
Chapter Twenty-Four