‘Midgard to Theo?’
‘Sorry,’ I said, blushing. ‘I didn’t mean to stare.’
‘You don’t have to apologise. I’m your girlfriend, remember?’
‘I really wish you weren’t.’
Ava winced. ‘Huh?’
‘That came out wrong.’ Why couldn’t I think straight around her?
I brushed my cloak – which had ended up on the floor pretty fast – with my foot. ‘Shut your eyes,’ I said, ‘including your third one.’
Ava obeyed, trying not to laugh as she held her hands over her face.
I riffled through the fabric and found what I was after. ‘What I meant to say was: Ava, you have brought many shades of colour to my life since I met you again. You gave me answers when everyone else I loved lied, you gave me understanding when others pronounced judgement, you put your trust in me when I doubted myself. And most importantly, you – no peeking yet – Ava, you gave me a home and arms to cry in and a library of possibilities every time I felt lost and alone. So I guess what I really mean to say is…’
I opened the box that contained the engagement ring that had belonged to my mother.
Ava opened her eyes.
The box was empty. ‘Wha—’
Ava reached behind her back and pulled out the ring.
And then another one.
‘This belonged to your uncle,’ Ava said. ‘He gave it to Aurelia as a memento the last time they parted. It seemed appropriate, considering where we are.’
She knew I was going to propose to her.
I opened my mouth to speak but she silenced me with her fingers. ‘Theo,’ she said, grinning, ‘I can honestly say that life with a Clemensen will always be unpredictable and exciting and probably suicidally dangerous. But I’m not vanilla. I never was. For a while, I let fear hold me back. And then you stormed into my world and ripped my self-doubt aside. So yes, we will have dark days and challenges but I can promise you that life with a clairvoyant is equally surprising. So, Theodore Alastair Clemensen, what I mean to say is this: will you marry me?’
She took my hand, Nikolaj’s ancient ring – a gold band, decorated with silver, fractal flowers – hovering above my finger.
‘Why bother asking, you already know the answer!’ I laughed. ‘Odin, Thor, and Freyr, yes!’ I pinched my mother’s ring back with my free hand, and quickly slipped it on her finger. ‘This isn’t good for my man-pride. I should’ve—’
She hushed me again with a satisfied smile as Nik’s ring branded me as hers. ‘No, Theo, you may be the Gatekeeper, but you don’t get to be in charge of everything.’
‘Thank Jörð, I was getting really sick of that.’
The tears that had prickled me since Father’s death flowed again as I kissed Ava, but this time my heart had shed its load and was somewhere lost, soaring through the sky that glistened over the Isles.
We dined in the courtyard. The day was hot, hotter than expected, and truth be told I was so overjoyed with Ava’s proposal that I didn’t think about what that might mean. Aurelia had set out a feast, and I was surprised to see Malik and Sayen had stayed although the rest of the council had already left. They gravitated toward Freyr, their long-lost god and rightful ruler of Alfheim, bowing before him and addressing him formally before coming to congratulate me and Ava.
Lorenzo and Freyr had not exchanged a word.
‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ I said, kissing Ava on the cheek and catching Lorenzo’s attention with a wave.
He followed me to the fountain. ‘Everything okay with you and Freyr?’
‘He’s still Raphael to me.’ He folded his arms, gazed at his lover, and sighed. ‘I don’t know. The god isn’t as happy to be with a vampire as the sprite was.’
‘It must be a huge adjustment,’ I said. ‘His whole identity has changed. It’s not easy figuring that stuff out. Trust me on that one.’
Lorenzo shrugged. ‘Maybe. Anyway, I’m happy for you and Ava.’ He punched me lightly on the arm. ‘’Ere, when are you tying the knot anyway? I mean, you might not make it back.’
‘Thanks for the vote of confidence. To think I wanted you to be my best man.’
‘I’d love to – if I make it back.’
‘What are you…? No, no way, Lorenzo. You’re not coming. Raphael needs you.’
‘Does he? He has enough people fawning around him.’ He glowered at Malik and Sayen who were flapping around Freyr enough to rival the butterflies occupying his shoulders.
I gripped Lorenzo’s arm. ‘Listen to me, Dark Elf. If I’m too late, Surt will breach Alfheim and do what he’s destined to do – kill Freyr. You’re the only one I trust to protect him. You must be his sword – and his bow and his arrow. Capisce?’
‘It’s capisci actually but yeah, I get it.’
‘Good. Now give me a hug, best man.’
‘Can’t I punch you instead?’
‘Tell you what, you can punch me when I get back. Give you something to look forward to.’
He smirked and treated me to a man-hug, mostly made up of pats on the back. ‘Hurry up already,’ he said. ‘It won’t be much of a speech if you’re not at the wedding.’ Lorenzo shook his head at Raphael. ‘Better go.’
I held his arm. ‘And take care of Ava.’ We watched Ava, laughing and chatting with Lolita and Aurelia like she didn’t have a care in the world.
‘I think she’ll be the one taking care of us,’ Lorenzo said, straying like an alley cat back to the table.
23
Truffles
Lorenzo kept his sharp vision trained on Ava and Theo as they embraced and smooched each other goodbye on the rope bridge above the pool to Jotunheim. He swore the sun had tilted a few degrees by the time they stopped. It was both painful and fascinating to watch them physically express their love when Freyr – no, Raphael – was perched on the rocky ledge right by Lorenzo’s boots, so close to his touch and yet as distant as the horizon.
The worst part had been watching Freyr kiss Theo goodbye on the cheek, snipping off a lock of his hair to bless the warlock’s journey. Lorenzo would literally kill for a kiss and a lock of hair.
It’s as if he’s only putting up with me because he thinks he owes it to me.
Was that fair? Theo had a point: Raphael or Freyr or whoever the heck his boyfriend was must have a million things going on in his mind. Lorenzo could deal with that.
He couldn’t deal with Raphael not sharing those thoughts with him.
Give him a break, Lorenzo. He just watched his sister die.
He wanted to kneel down, to wrap his arms around Freyr and whisper in his ear. Everything will be alright. I’ll take care of it. But Freyr had made it clear he expected Lorenzo to keep his distance.
Not that he’d said as much. But when Lorenzo stepped forward, Freyr stepped back. He was not shy of Lorenzo as Raphael had been. He was unwilling.
Lorenzo swallowed the lump in his throat. No way, after all the things he’d watched his mum suffer, would he ever, under any circumstances, lay a single finger on Freyr without his permission.
There was just a slight problem.
Raphael had been feeding him, but Freyr had yet to offer his blood.
The hunger was hell. Lorenzo’s veins tingled, desperate for sustenance. I promised Raphael I wouldn’t feed on anyone else. I promised.
He would just have to ask. If Freyr refused, then there could be no doubt about his feelings.
Maybe he could put it off for a few more hours.
‘I should return to the Elves,’ Freyr said, as soon as he and Lorenzo had reached the forest island. ‘They will be expecting me to reclaim the throne.’
It had been Lorenzo’s idea to explore and Freyr had readily agreed. As his bare feet touched the forest floor, the critters and creatures that always accompanied Raphael flooded towards them, a tide of sound and scents breaking against the shore that was Freyr, Nature God. Within moments, ants crawled up Freyr’s legs, and a parrot-like bird was resting on his sho
ulder.
‘You’re the outdoor type, not a king holding court, Raphael.’
‘Being that sprite was an enforced childhood. Now I have grown up again.’ Freyr stood a little straighter, taller and stronger maybe, yet still slight and delicate. The sapling had become a stalk.
‘I see it differently. Raphael was your heart, your true self. Freyr is the front.’
‘The heart can make silly decisions. Like my sister. She was born first, did you know? Only by a minute but that was enough. I should’ve predicted she’d sacrifice her last breath to awaken me.’
Lorenzo held out his hand, waiting for Freyr to take it. ‘I can’t imagine your pain,’ he said, ‘but I’m ’ere for you.’
Freyr nodded but pretended he hadn’t seen Lorenzo’s offer. ‘I want to go this way. I planted a tree much like an oak eons ago. It produces wonderful truffles. Aurelia will love them.’ He wandered off, leaving Lorenzo to follow.
‘Aurelia isn’t the only one that needs feeding,’ Lorenzo muttered. If Freyr heard him, he didn’t let on. He let Freyr roam ahead, debating how to proceed.
This can’t go on. Confront him.
Lorenzo sped up and found Freyr elbow deep in soil, uprooting the precious truffles. ‘Smells nice,’ Lorenzo said, startling him.
’I once saw Nikolaj grate them into butter. Now I can enjoy them again.’
‘I wasn’t talking about the truffles.’
‘Oh.’ Freyr sat back on his heels. His voice was birdsong. That hadn’t changed, at least. Lorenzo felt his anger softening like Nikolaj’s truffle butter.
‘I know things have changed,’ Lorenzo began, ‘that you’re not the same anymore, but I’m looking forward to acquainting myself with you.’
‘I’m…’ Freyr wiped his dirt-stained hands on his knees and bit his lip. Lorenzo commanded every muscle in his body to freeze, to not bite that lip for him. God, he ached for his boy. ‘I’m not sure if it’s appropriate.’
Ram a stake through my heart, why don’t you?
‘But I don’t really want you to leave either.’
Lorenzo shuddered with relief, his breath catching a whistle as he released it. He stepped forward slowly, like he was stalking a deer. ‘Theo ordered me to stay with you no matter what. Because of Surt.’ Freyr’s eyes – Raphael’s eyes – widened. Lorenzo squatted down next to him. ‘Apparently destiny doesn’t think your Elvish subjects can protect you. But destiny didn’t count on a Dökkálfar. It didn’t count on me.’
‘Lorenzo…’
‘Say what you like. Hate me, loathe me, deny me your blood, send me away from your bed. Whatever. But I’m your shadow until you’re safe.’
Freyr closed his eyes and lowered his head, pretending to sniff the truffle, but Lorenzo could smell the tears he was trying to hide. The wait agonised him.
Freyr held up his arm to Lorenzo, turning it to expose his wrist. He looked away. ‘You’ll be no use as my bodyguard if you’re deprived of blood,’ he said.
Lorenzo’s fangs shot out before Freyr had finished his sentence. He didn’t need telling twice.
24
Word on the Vine
Nikolaj zigzagged across the vineyard, though the grapes had shrivelled on the vine. Getting to Italy had been a problem; the weather had grown as unpredictable as his own mind, grounding airplanes worldwide.
It took him near a hundred attempts to reverse astral project though Europe and cross the Alps. Focusing on any one location had been a nightmare with his sprites trying to steer him back to their homeland – homelands that reached every point on the compass.
‘Why can’t anyone tell me exactly where my son is?’ Julian.
‘He’s my son!’ Michele.
The arguing floated out of the farmhouse, mingling with the unbearable heat.
‘Oh, did you change his nappies and check his milk? Did you deal with his toddler tantrums and help him with homework? Where were you when—’
‘Here! Because I didn’t know he existed!’
‘You didn’t want to know!’
Nikolaj broke out of the vines near the ancient stone farmhouse.
Theo’s witch-vampires were sitting outside under the pergola, as lost and miserable as his sprites. Empty wine bottles cluttered the terracotta table, Strix, in owl form, perched on a toppled bottle. Nikolaj growled at him, forgetting he was no longer Fenrir the elkhound.
The little dark-haired woman he recognised as Maria reacted to Nikolaj’s arrival like she’d received an electric shock. That roused the others from their waking slumber, and Strix flew towards him, transforming back to his human form and landing naked at Nik’s feet. ‘Fenrir?’
’Nikolaj.’
‘I know, but…you’re a protean?’
‘No.’ He smiled. ‘But I am a Clemensen.’
Michele appeared in the doorway, careful to stay out of the sunlight. ‘It’s you.’
‘Is it?’
Julian barged past Michele and charged – sans walking stick – over to Nikolaj. ‘Has Menelaus returned from Hel?’ Ah, the coven must have informed him about what happened on the battlefield.
‘What’s going on with weather?’ Lori.
‘Why hasn’t Theo come for us?’ Carlotta.
Nikolaj covered his ears and yelled. That shut them up. Shame it didn’t work with his inner companions.
‘Julian, Michele. Theo would’ve told you if you’d phoned.’
‘We have – no one is at Hellingstead Hall. Alastair’s clan has gone to ground too. And we were a little busy being chased by Akhen’s mercenaries across Europe.’
‘We think Menelaus is still alive, in a way, but I don’t know if Theo has saved him yet,’ Nikolaj said. He pointed at Lori. ‘Akhen has murdered Freyja and Midgard is grieving her. And you, Carlotta, is it? Why did you leave Theo to bury his father alone?’
‘Espen is dead?’ Julian asked. So the coven hadn’t told him that but Theo might not have shared his news. Details. Details. They were missing the bigger picture.
’Stop asking inane questions! Don’t you understand? I’ve seen the Craven! The end is nigh! You idiots managed to get my nephew killed, Menelaus lost to the Underworld, all the while pledging your souls to Loki and Hel! Yet you are but bugs they will shake from the carpet of the universe!’
When he’d stopped raving, he heard the familiar sound of a popping cork. His throat was parched. He licked his lips. Michele poured the wine – no doubt made from the grapes in this very vineyard – into a glass. ‘Nikolaj, come in and have a drink. I think you need one.’
Nik examined the desolate expressions of Julian and the coven – minus Penny and Arabella. Can they help save us?
I’ve never seen a bunch of witches and warlocks look so useless. What choice did he have? His magic had become too unstable to create another portal back to Alfheim. He was trapped in Midgard until he found another Elf to hitch a ride with.
He sighed, and walked past them into the cool kitchen. ‘Keep the vino flowing, Michele. We have much to discuss.’
‘How is it that Julian Knight and Michele De Laurentis inhabit the same house?’ Nikolaj chewed on the stale bread left over from the coven’s breakfast.
They exchanged glances like old lovers. Nikolaj almost laughed at the thought. There was no love lost between those two, but they were held together by Menelaus – and his mother.
‘We think it’s possible that Elspeth is still alive.’
‘Right, and I thought I was light on marbles.’ He swallowed the remainder of the bread. ‘You’re serious? She committed suicide.’
‘Did she? Did she really? I don’t remember seeing a body,’ Julian said, scratching his white beard. ‘A death certificate, yes.’
‘How did you find out, Michele?’ Nikolaj asked.
‘She came to Tuscany. But I kept my distance to protect her from further punishment at the hands of the Praetoriani. For years she tried to track me down. Then one day, she stopped searching. By the time I heard of her death throu
gh a local contact, she had already been cremated.’
‘Ah,’ Nikolaj said, ‘you didn’t see her body either.’
‘No,’ Michele said. He paused, tapping his fingers on the table. ‘Her magic is being stored in Cairo’s holding facility, to be recycled upon her death. According to the Archives, it has not been recycled.’
‘We’re hoping her magic will lead us to her,’ Julian added.
‘You’re telling me,’ Nikolaj began, ‘that just when the Midgard Serpent is about to strike, you’re going to break into one of his most heavily guarded facilities to find Elspeth’s magic in the hope she might be alive?’
‘Exactly.’
Nikolaj grinned. ‘When do we leave? Don’t looked so surprised! We’re talking about Theo’s aunt and Isobel’s twin. That makes her a Clemensen.’
Julian sat back in his chair. ‘Travelling is difficult right now so you have arrived at the perfect time. But you can open a portal and—’
‘No, I can’t. Did I forget to mention that I’m possessed by land-sprites? My magic is unreliable.’
Michele licked his long teeth with his tongue. How was it possible for a vampire to look exhausted?
‘Maybe the coven could help?’ Nikolaj suggested. It would be risky but—
Lorenzo came running into the kitchen. ’Nik! Hey, he’s in ’ere!’
Followed by—
‘Redheart? Is that you?’ Nikolaj sprang to his feet.
‘Queen Aurelia and His Highness King Freyr request your immediate repatriation to Alfheim,’ Redheart announced.
Nikolaj whooped. ‘Aurelia? Aurelia? She wants me back? Of course, let’s go!’
Julian grabbed his arm. Michele blocked his path to Redheart. ‘Nikolaj is happy to return to Alfheim,’ the old vampire said through his bared fangs, ‘via Cairo.’
25
Mummy
The Descendants of Thor Trilogy Boxset: Forged in Blood and Lightning; Norns of Fate; Wrath of Aten Page 83