The Descendants of Thor Trilogy Boxset: Forged in Blood and Lightning; Norns of Fate; Wrath of Aten

by S. A. Ashdown

  Ava peered out of the window at the gargoyles on the iron gates. ‘Five gold ones, Miss.’ She passed him a note. ‘Say hi to your mum for me.’

  ‘I will, thanks.’ She waited on the roadside while the taxi performed a U-turn and drove away. She rang the intercom. Two minutes passed. Her nerves wavered.

  ‘Hello?’ The accent was stronger than Theo’s. No turning back now.

  ‘I remember that voice,’ said Ava, ‘I think you recognise mine. I have questions, Espen.’

  ‘Ask Theo.’ Espen sounded strained, gruff even.

  Butterflies tightened her solar plexus. Steadying her breath, she pressed the button again. ‘Isobel told me to find the amulet. So unless you want me to ask someone at the Praetoriani about it…’

  Finishing the threat was unnecessary; the gates opened smoothly, the long winding driveway opening out before her. The last time I was here, Isobel had just died. Her flower-stitched boots crunched against the gravel.

  Espen was waiting at the front door. Time caught up as she set eyes on him; how gaunt he’d become, the first subtle greys infiltrating his straight, blond hair. Despite that, he was still handsome – and strong; she flinched when he shook her hand. ‘Come in,’ he said.

  The sweeping staircase with its familiar tartan runner threatened her composure. How many times had she and Theo raced up and down those stairs, playing chase or sliding down the banisters? Espen had watched them play and laughed. Ava smiled at the idea of him then, joining in the games and catching them at the bottom of the stairs. He’s so different now, she thought, he’s like a ghost.

  ‘Is Nikolaj here?’

  ‘He’s missing.’

  ‘What?’ Concern leaked into her voice. First Guillaume, then—

  ‘He often does. Elves are fickle like that.’

  Thank God. ‘Can we sit down?’

  Espen examined her like a doctor giving his patient a visual once-over. ‘I see why Theo hates me now for making him forget you.’ He smiled faintly. She followed him into a corridor near the back of the house, a door looming on their left.

  ‘An apology would be nice.’ A good dozen bookshelves towered in rows to the rafters, a long red runner dividing them in the centre. Another series of flashbacks stabbed at her. ‘You eradicated the best part of my life.’

  Espen led her over the golden-thread rug and lit the fire with a casual swish of his hand. ‘I did what was necessary.’ He sat on an armchair and gestured for Ava to take the other one.

  ‘So the ends justify the means?’ Ava wasn’t sure if it was possible to sit down huffily but she did her best impression. ‘I guess you’re aware that I’m clairvoyant.’

  Espen curled his wrist in the air, distorting the space above the coffee table between them. The image of a teapot flickered like a film reel, but sputtered back out of existence. He grunted. ‘Magic doesn’t come so easily anymore. Ironically, I’m a bit rusty.’

  What does he mean? ‘I thought Clemensens were meant to be powerful.’

  He clicked his tongue and watched her, a frown hinting at the wrinkles in his forehead. ‘Isobel always maintained there was Pneuma DNA in your blood, through your grandmother. Theodore quickly became your fool; even as a child you could anticipate his needs, intercept his little tricks before he could imagine them. Don’t toy with him now.’ Was that warmth in his voice or scorn? She was searching for those memories when Epsen added, ‘How is my dead wife communicating with you?’

  Definitely a subtle threat there.

  ‘Dreams. But she seems reluctant to reveal too much to me. I get the sense someone else is watching when she visits.’

  Espen lurched forward in his armchair. ‘Who?’

  ‘Don’t know. Nothing I ever see. Only feel. Maybe there’s rules she can’t break?’

  ‘Maybe someone else, someone with certain abilities…’ This time, when he flicked his wrist, a teapot did appear – with two teacups. Espen stood and poured out the liquid in short jerks. His powers seemed to correlate with his mood. ‘Don’t discuss Theo with her – what makes him special.’ He slid a teacup over to her. ‘Do you know what I mean?’

  Ava flinched under his scrutiny. Compared to Theo, Espen’s eyes were a duller blue, but maybe that was because of the dim lighting from the Tiffany lamps dotted around the library. ‘His DNA?’

  Espen sat back, his arms draped over the chair’s sides, stern features smoothing out. ‘Others will be keen to exploit his natural-given gifts.’

  Again, Ava tried to decipher whether his comment was meant for her, or a general indictment of the human – and non-human – race. ‘What’s so important about the amulet?’

  ‘That’s a presumption, isn’t it?’

  ‘If you don’t know anything, why let me in?’

  ‘Perhaps I’m keen for news regarding my son.’ He waited. She didn’t reply. This wasn’t a negotiation. ‘Fine,’ he hissed, ‘clearly my wife trusts you.’

  Ava struggled to keep still. Finally, some answers.

  ‘It prevents Theo from being killed or having his…special powers stripped.’

  Ava paused, drawing in a long breath. ‘Let me get this straight – while the amulet exists, Theo can’t die? Is that right?’

  Espen nodded. ‘You see why it troubles me that other people covet it? What reason can they have but my son’s destruction? You’ve seen his power, imagine that in the wrong hands. Anyone who possesses it, holds a gun to Theodore’s head. They can make him do anything they wish.’

  ‘Do you know Raphael?’

  The little colour in his cheeks drained away.

  ‘I’ll take that as a yes.’

  ‘I know of him. I’ve read about him in my ancestors’ diaries.’ He held his teacup to his thin lips, but Ava wasn’t sure if he drank any. ‘He’s in Hellingstead?’

  Ava gazed out of the mullion windows, catching sight of the fountain dominating the middle of the broad pathway. ‘He was.’

  ‘And he stole the amulet.’

  How did he guess that? She was about to ask when he said, ‘It makes sense. Raphael is the only one capable of passing through my wards undetected. I assumed he must be dead by now. I’ve never seen him.’ Espen picked up the teapot and leaned over to fill her cup. In one quick motion he grabbed her wrist and shouted something in an unrecognisable language. Ava reared back, her spine arched in spasm. Every glimpse of Raphael, every time his name had been mentioned, rushed through her mind. She writhed in pain, trapped under Espen’s grasp.

  He let go.

  Ava gasped, drawing in ragged breaths. She clamped her hands on her head, but it still hurt. ‘How could you?’ she sobbed.

  ‘Sorry my dear,’ Espen said, springing up and striding to his study. He pulled a notebook from his desk drawer and started scribbling. ‘Thought the boy had died. Thought I’d killed him. Survive avalanches, can we?’ His muttering degraded into scrambled whispers, a mix of Norwegian and possibly Latin. Ava wiped her eyes.

  ‘I can see why Theo hates you.’ Walking down the gold-embossed rug took all of her concentration. If it hurt this much to have a few memories extracted but left intact, how much pain had she been in when she’s had years of memories obliterated? I would’ve just shown him, if he’d asked. But as Ava reached the door, she stopped. No, what has he given me in return? I’m no wiser than when I walked through the gates.

  This would cost her.

  Ava forced her legs to turn round and carry her back to Espen. Her hand shook, aching to slap him. Thanks to Espen, she didn’t have the energy to be delicate. ‘I’m not leaving until you answer me – you owe me that. Is Menelaus Elspeth’s child?’

  Espen threw his notepad onto the desk. ‘What bloody difference does it make? He still killed Isobel.’

  ‘By accident. He’s your nephew.’

  ‘He’s no relation of mine!’ He closed the gap, his scarlet face inches from hers, though at six foot, he was five inches above her.

  ‘He’s Theo’s cousin.’

&nbs
p; ‘I don’t care!’ he shouted. ‘The damn kid was cursed right from his conception.’

  Ava hopped back. ‘Where is Elspeth?’

  His voice dropped, flattened out. ‘She killed herself just before Theodore was born.’

  ‘Why? And why did she abandon Menelaus? Why didn’t you help her?’ Ava felt a dark rage rise in her gut, and she suddenly understood Theo’s relentless fury towards his family. He had lived like this, alone with Espen and Nikolaj, for eleven years. She twisted away from Espen as he started dragging her to the door, but he was far too strong. ‘Get off me! I can leave myself!’ Her shouts echoed in the corridor and the expansive hallway. He let go suddenly, and Ava almost lost balance.

  She was beyond huffy now. She undid the latches on the front door – all four of them – with angry efficiency, pounding her boots into the gravel as she stormed down the driveway, ignoring the drizzle. Espen slammed the door shut behind her but she didn’t care. ‘The bastard, the bloody bastard!’

  The gates, at least, opened for her. She glanced at the gargoyles, noticing a metallic glint in their eerie eyes. Surveillance? She flipped her middle finger as she walked past them. It had ended so quickly she didn’t even have a taxi waiting. She shivered and trudged down Market Road until she found a bus stop.

  13

  A Touch Undead

  One good thing about vampires – they don’t need a lift home; Lorenzo could beat me back to the Old Vicarage on foot. Technically, I didn’t need to borrow Penny’s car, thanks to my new teleporting abilities (or reverse astral projection as Father called it), but I enjoyed the narrow medieval streets of Hellingstead, the rise and fall of the roads criss-crossing the fir-lined hills.

  Penny was outside the front door, her umbrella held in a vice-grip. Maybe I should’ve asked to borrow her car. ‘Where have you been, Theo?’ I tried not to smile at the way she dropped the letter ‘h’.

  ‘Worried about me?’ I handed her the keys. ‘I was at the Red Hawk.’

  ‘I don’t care,’ she said, but her nonchalance was unconvincing. Maybe I should’ve invited her. No. My business with Menelaus didn’t require the coven’s attention. ‘There’s something I need to show you.’

  ‘What?’ I said, stepping under her umbrella and pulling the hood of my cloak down.

  ‘Not here. In the basement.’ She touched the wet curls on my shoulder. ‘Tell me, what made you visit the Underworld?’

  How in Jörð’s name does she know that? I doubted Lorenzo had told her; they didn’t exactly click. She read the bewildered expression on my face. ‘I’m glad you did; Hel needs quality hair to spin her webs. Your fate – and mine – will always be closely bound, thanks to your gift.’

  She brushed her painted nails across my cheek. I guess this means I can take her car without asking. ‘She can spin her webs in any direction,’ I said.

  Penny leaned in closer as she unclipped the umbrella above my head. ‘We better not disappoint her then.’

  I followed Penny inside, hanging my cloak on the hook above Arabella’s leather jacket. Lori popped her head through the kitchen door, manicured eyebrows pressing in a point at the top of her nose.

  ‘Okay, Lori?’ I said.

  She glanced at Penny. ‘Yes. I’ll meet you in the basement.’ Without waiting for a reply, she disappeared, leaving us to catch up. The stairs to the basement were at the back of the kitchen, concealed behind a cupboard.

  The whole coven, Malachi and Michele included, greeted us – the witches and warlocks stood in a circle, while the vampires remained in the corner, near motionless. I turned round to find the servants close behind.

  The atmosphere was a coiled viper: poised and ready to strike. The air chilled my lungs. Lori stood near the wall of bottles and jars, filled with every herb, dried flower, and distilled ingredient known to man. Bark from a variety of trees, salt grains from the Red Sea, nail clippings from magical creatures, lumps of gold and copper, rocks collected from each continent, some from volcanos. Whatever spells the coven needed to cast, they had the ingredients necessary.

  Except, as it turned out, one.

  ‘Please tell me we’re here for yoga and meditation.’

  No one laughed. It’s going to be like this, is it? ‘Get on with it.’ I said.

  Penny broke rank and prowled into the informal circle’s centre. I was tempted to join her but reluctant to commit.

  ‘Regardless of the outcome of Theo’s trial, we need to be ready to strike. The Praetoriani are thirsty for our power. Michele has his ear to the ground. What it is that he listens to? Talk. Key agents in the Praefecti’s hierarchy will be attending our liege’s trial, keen to exploit the fall of a Clemensen.’ Penny spun in the circle, arms outstretched, palms beckoning. ‘We will disappoint them!’ The Donne di Fuori fluttered into view. Penny might as well have opened her cape and let out the bats. The fairies hummed, a high-pitch tune that sounded similar to a drill.

  Faflon slung his tattooed arms around Ricarda’s waist as she clapped and jeered. The group joined in, although Maria leaned quietly into Arabella, who mimicked Faflon’s embrace. ‘But we must be ready to complete our victory.’ Penny walked backwards to the edge, inviting Malachi into the circle.

  His honeyed eyes didn’t leave my face, his lips twisting into a wrong kind of smile. The streghe witches couldn’t match his height, though after my recent growth spurt, he didn’t match mine either. Dressed in a linen shirt, open halfway down his chest, pale-skinned and hair ruffled, Malachi dripped Renaissance sensuality. ‘When the streghe want anything done, they turn to the Tuscan vampires. It has been so for centuries – at least the last five or six.’ He counted his long fingers and smiled. ‘Our intentions – our survival – align perfectly, and rely on our cooperation with each other. Diana’s will has manifested in your generation. We are her limbs on the earth, and we are under attack.’

  Murmurs of approval rippled around the room. I wondered for whose benefit Malachi’s speech was for. ‘Don’t you agree, Theo?’

  The coven – and the fairies – fell silent. ‘If you’re implying I don’t have loyalty to the goddess Diana then you are wrong. She has protected my ancestors.’ She gave them the amulet, I thought, remembering what Uncle Nikolaj had taught me during our sword fight in the temple. ‘But I know her as Freyja, sister of Freyr.’

  Malachi seized upon this admittance as proof. ‘The gods themselves are in agreement for once! Our mission is blessed.’ Getting a motivational speech from Malachi was like filling a balloon with lead and expecting it to fly. But it turned out Malachi didn’t need to fill St. Michael’s with a congregation in order to preach to the choir; my coven filled the pews quite nicely.

  ‘What do you propose?’ I asked.

  Penny joined Malachi. ‘We need Hecate’s help. She wants the hair of dead Pneuma. In exchange for sending our enemies her way, she is willing to provide the cavalry.’

  I stormed into the circle, holding up my hands. ‘Hold your horses. You’re talking about mass murder? In exchange for what, exactly?’

  ‘Death to those who wish us so; what is wrong with that? This is war, Theo. While you were dining on golden goose eggs and playing tea parties, our families were being hounded across the continent. The Praetoriani drew first blood. Even in Hellingstead, Menelaus got away with manslaughter at best, right under the noses of those supposedly there to protect you. Yet they punish us for what they do too. They’re everywhere; every day we receive new warnings from our shadow friends.’ She curved her hands, and a frosted-winged fairy appeared within. ‘You have only seen the tip of the iceberg.’

  ‘What do you intend to do?’

  ‘We, Liege, are going to resurrect the Hordes of Hel.’

  Soon after I’d become the Gatekeeper, I had dug out the Poetic Edda – and a few other texts unknown to sapiens – to learn about Thor, one of the early Gatekeepers, and my ancestor. While in Alfheim, the Sarrow Chief and his daughter, Sayen, had taught me about the origins of vampires, so I knew tha
t Hel and Hecate were the same goddess. I looked at Malachi and Penny and the dots joined together just like that. ‘You’re asking me to resurrect a bunch of dead vampires and Jörð knows what else, and release them into Midgard under the control of the Black Widow?’

  One of the servants shifted on his feet behind me. I stepped aside. He was holding an athamé. ‘Where does he fit into this?’ I asked, realising that I didn’t even know his name, as if by not knowing, I could deny culpability.

  Penny straightened her spine while I clutched my stomach, kneading at the knot of bubbling sickness. ‘The spell requires a blood sacrifice to gain access to the Grigori – the guardians that maintain the barriers between dimensions – the Nine Realms, as you call it.’

  I ripped the athamé from the servant’s hand. ‘Are you fucking kidding me? No way in Hel are we slaughtering this zombie-thing you created. He’s no goat to be sacrificed. This is what you meant, Penny, when you said the servants “have their uses”?’ I waved the athamé around while making air quotes.

  Malachi surged forward.

  I held the athamé to his throat, then someone snatched it out of the air.

  I’d forgotten about Michele. He broke us up. ‘Calm down, children. If you care so for one little beetle’s life, Malachi will change him into our kind. He’ll be more useful if he can fight for us.’

  The worst part was, as the Gatekeeper, I didn’t need blood sacrifices to access the Grigori, gatekeepers in their own right. I can’t tell them what I really am. These people may have suffered but they’re crazy. What they were describing, inviting Hel’s father, Loki, into Midgard, sounded just like Ragnarök, the very thing I was duty-bound to prevent. ‘There has to be another way,’ I said.

  ‘Liege,’ said Penny, ‘our blood has been united. Our aims are one. If the coven vote on this course of action and the majority agree, your own will is forfeit.’

  I stared at them. ‘Really. Because by my reckoning, you need my – how did you put it, Malachi? – cooperation. You require more than a simple union spell to tap into Clemensen magic. Otherwise you would have raised the Hordes of Hel already.’