by Nora Ash
I quickly averted my gaze back to the flames, trying my best to fight the heat in my cheeks when a pair of linen breeches came into my field of vision draped over a couple of sticks.
He sat down with a grunt a few feet away from me, and from the sounds of it, began wiping down his blades. I had the idle realization that metal could rust in Hel, but pushed away the metaphysical implications of the concept.
“No? So… Maybe we shouldn’t spend the night by her pond? I don’t particularly want to be drowned again.”
“She won’t dare return. I will guard you while you sleep,” he said.
“Oh. Okay. Thank you.”
I wasn’t really sure why I was thanking him—it was a purely selfish offer, like saving me from the troll and pulling me out of the lake had been. Me dying would ruin his plans. It didn’t change the fact that he would leave me to fend for myself the second he thought he could sever my ties to my mates.
And yet, as I lay down next to the fire to let sleep whisk me away, a small thread of guilt wove through my wavering consciousness. Because I knew that while he would and had risked his life to keep me safe in Hel, I would leave him behind without a second through the moment I got the chance.
Eight
Annabel
“Wake up, plum.”
The whisper threaded through my dreamless sleep and pulled me back from blissful oblivion. I forced my eyelids open and stared into a charcoal sky. Only the faintest trace of lighter gray suggested that dawn might only be a few hours away.
“Wake up. We need to leave now,” Mimir whispered.
I rolled up on one hip and looked for him. He was still perched on his stone by the mostly dead embers of our makeshift fireplace. He raised his bushy eyebrows at me in what I assumed was his way of tilting his head, indicating for me to get a move on.
I got to my feet as quietly as I could and turned to see what had happened to Grim. I’d half-expected to find him missing, but he was on the other side of the fireplace sprawled on his back, seemingly lost in sleep.
I spun back around to grab Mimir, but before I could reach the prophet, my gaze locked on a shadowy figure among the line of trees bracketing our campsite.
I froze, my body going numb as naked fear crawled down my spine.
Long, tangled hair swayed as the figure moved toward us, its gait awkward and halting. It was a woman, I realized when she got close enough for the shape of her breasts to become obvious. A naked and rail-thin woman.
“Mimir?” I whispered, forcing the muscles in my throat to work.
“She’s not here for us,” he answered, his voice still soft and quiet. Whether it was to not disturb the woman or Grim, I didn’t know. “I invited her here.”
“You invited her?” I croaked, swallowing thickly when my voice carried across our camp. Thankfully, neither Grim nor the woman heard me. Her sole focus seemed to be on the alpha on the ground.
“In a manner, yes. She will give us the time we need to flee this place.”
“So she’s a good… creature? Person?” Even as I said the words, every cell in my body screamed in denial. Whatever she was, she wasn’t good. I’d faced a lot of horrors since I’d left Iceland and the human world behind—Nidhug, the well creature, a humongous sea serpent, a troll, a murderous water nymph—but this woman? She set every instinct in my being alight with terror, as if my most primordial self recognized the danger she represented.
Possibly drawn by my panicked thoughts, the woman stopped her approach a few steps from Grim’s unconscious body and looked up. At me.
Where her eyes should have been, only black, empty sockets stared at me. Her face was as thin as the rest of her body, her cheekbones as prominent as her ribs. Her skin was as icy pale as Grim’s, but where his glowed softly, hers was dull. Like dead flesh made animate.
She tilted her head, thin lips drawing up in an unpleasant smile.
“It’s time to go, Annabel,” Mimir murmured. “Now.”
His use of my name as much as the note of urgency in his voice finally snapped me out of my panic. I took a step back, scooped up Mimir, and continued backing along the shoreline and away from her, never taking my eyes off her. My throat was tight, and my fingertips frozen around the head in my grasp as I willed the monster not to take up pursuit.
She watched my retreat with her hollow eye sockets until I was several yards away. Only then did she snap her head back to look down on Grim.
“What’s she going to do to him?” I whispered, the horror in my gut mixing with another thread of guilt.
Before Mimir could answer, the woman stepped over Grim and sank down on his chest, her bony hands weaving through his dark hair.
The alpha jerked underneath her, and she leaned forward to press her full weight down upon him.
That’s when I saw her back. Or what should have been her back.
Instead of skin and muscle stretched over bone, the creature straddling Grim was hollow. I slapped my free hand across my mouth to quell my horror at the gaping, deep wound that let me see into the monster’s body. No organs resided within, thank God, and no spine—just rotted, black flesh carved out like one would treat a holiday turkey.
“She will ride his chest, twist his mind, and suck his essence from his lips,” Mimir said, his voice once again soft.
“What the hell is she?” I whispered, taking another involuntary step back.
“A Nightmare, a creature who feeds off our most private, most deeply buried fears. And one of the only things capable of weakening a god as powerful as Grim Lokisson long enough for us to get to where we need to go. Come, Annabel. We must make haste.”
I cast one final look at the monster straddling the sleeping god. He was twitching underneath her, grunts escaping his lips until she lowered her mouth to his and swallowed them up.
Forcing myself to push the guilt down, I finally turned around and ran, leaving Grim behind with the Nightmare.
My legs ached as I passed through the thinning underbrush. I’d been running through dense woodland for what seemed like hours, every step seeming closer and closer to impossible. I was already so weakened from healing Grim’s shoulder, and by the time open sky started to peak through the trees ahead, my vision was swimming.
“Keep going. We’re almost there,” Mimir urged from under my arm. “Just a little bit longer.”
I bit back on a groan and pushed forward, my gait stumbling and uneven, but all that mattered was that it was forward. Toward freedom. Toward my mates.
I broke through the tree line and stumbled onto what turned out to be rocky cliffs. The swirling funnel cloud of souls on the horizon seemed so much clearer from here. We were much closer than we had been when we first set out, I realized.
“Toward the ocean,” Mimir said, drawing my attention back from the sky. “Keep moving.”
The ocean.
I could hear it: the rolling sound of waves just beyond the dunes. No scent of salt water or seaweed reached my nostrils, but nothing else in Hel had a scent. Why would the sea?
I dug deep and found the strength I needed to keep moving over the rocky ground. The aching hollow behind my ribs pulled me forward even as stones rolled underneath my feet, making each step harder.
“Hurry, Annabel,” Mimir said, urgency coloring his voice. “Hurry!”
I forced my legs to push harder, throwing myself forward and up over yet another rocky hill, until finally—the sea.
Past a stony sliver of beach, a small rowboat was tethered to a rocky outcrop. Behind it, unfriendly waves rolled onto shore, frothy and dark.
And I… I had seen this place before.
I paused, dread and déjà vu flooding my body.
“To the boat, girl,” Mimir said. “Across the sea lies Asgard.”
The boat.
“Something’s wrong,” I croaked. “I’ve been here before.”
“Wrong?” The prophet rolled his eyes up to mine. “This is our way out, plum. Take it. Before it’s too late!�
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Too late?
I had dreamed of this place. So many times I had dreamed of this beach, this boat. The shock of memory made me spin around on my heel.
And there he was.
Grim.
He came from the trees like dark vengeance, running across the rocks with the agile ease of a panther. Even from this distance, the rage on his pale face was palpable.
The dread turned leaden in my gut.
You’re already dead, Annabel. You’re already dead.
With a croak of horror, I turned back to face the ocean and threw myself onto the beach. The jagged rocks under my feet made me stumble with every step, but I kept pressing forward. The boat was my only hope.
Power knocked against my back, sending my forward with a scream. Mimir slipped from my grasp and tumbled to the side as my knees connected with the rocks. I bit my lip to try and contain the agony, focusing on the rowboat once more. Crawling on bleeding hands and knees, I pushed forward, knowing I had to get to it. Had to.
Another wave of power, this time grabbing me around the waist, flipped me to my back, pressing me into the ground until I was pinned, immobile.
I stared up at Grim as he approached, his charcoal hair spilling over his face, hiding his features. But I knew him. Like I’d known him those hundreds of times we’d been here before.
He lifted his hand to push his hair out of his eyes. Rage. He bared his teeth and snarled, “There is no point in fighting me. You’re already dead. You know there’s no point in fighting me!”
“I will fight you until the end!” I spat. “I will never stop fighting to save everyone from you!”
He stepped closer, looming right above me. There was such darkness in his eyes, it crushed against my sternum, making it hard to breathe. “No. You will not. We have been here so many times before, Annabel. So many nights. And every time, I win.” With that, he raised a hand. Darkness shot from it, followed by a splintering of wood.
Somewhere off to the side, Mimir cursed.
The boat. Our means of escape. Gone.
I screamed in impotent rage, fighting with what remaining strength I had left against the invisible bonds pinning me down. Only this time, the power constricting my limbs wavered.
I didn’t pause to wonder why. Quicker than should have been possible for my weakened muscles, I kicked up, planting the bridge of my foot right between Grim’s legs with all my strength.
He grunted, the fury etched on his pale face morphing into agony. And then, like timber, he fell to the ground.
An alpha god, conquered by his biology’s greatest weakness.
I’m not going to lie, every part of me relished his pain as I pushed myself up to my knees, the vestiges of his power gone from my body.
The ring.
It was my one chance.
I threw myself forward on hands and knees. When I reached his side, I thrust my hand into my pocket, fumbling for the ring I’d taken from Loki’s finger.
My fingertips brushed against the metal, and I yanked it up and grabbed for Grim’s hand.
His muscles were stiff, resistant, but he was too weakened to fight me. With more force than finesse, I slipped the runed band over his thumb and wedged it down past the joint.
Grim groaned, a pained protest, but it was too late.
I sat back on my heels and looked down on the immobilized alpha.
Slowly he managed to open his eyes, locking his gaze on mine.
“What did you do?” he rasped. There was still anger in his voice, but it was not nearly as terrifying now that he was defenseless.
Perhaps I should have felt pity, but I didn’t. He’d ruined my best chance at returning to my mates. I felt nothing but mild satisfaction that he got to experience what it was like being as helpless as I had been since we came to Hel.
“What did I do? What did you do?” I snarled, looking back over my shoulder toward the sea. Pieces of aged timber lay scattered in a semi-circle where the boat had been moments ago. “You ruined our way back!”
“For the last time, you are not going back!” He managed to roll up on his knees, fury once more overtaking his drawn features. “Never! Get it through your skull, Annabel. You are never leaving this place! No matter how many Nightmares you send at me, no matter how you kick and scream and play foul tricks. Never!”
“Er, the Nightmare may have been my doing,” Mimir interjected, but if Grim heard, he ignored him.
“If you weren’t such a coward, if you’d dared to accept Fates’ plans for you, you would understand that nothing and no one is going to stop me from returning to my mates, Grim Lokisson!” I spat, turning back around to face him. My own temper eased the innate fear at his fury as he glared at me with hatred strong enough it could have made a flower wither and die. “I took away your magic, and I will escape this wretched place. You aren’t nearly strong enough to stop me!”
Grim’s eyes widened at my challenge, then narrowed into slits. Faster than I could follow, he wrapped his icy fingers around my throat, squeezing.
“I don’t need magic to hurt you. Remember that, omega.” He spat the last word out as if it were a curse.
I stared silently up at him, defiantly, willing him to follow through with the threat. After five long seconds, he pulled his lip up in a snarl and shoved me away, releasing my neck.
“You’re not going to hurt me,” I said, suppressing the need to swallow. I kept my eyes locked on his, refusing to submit. “You won’t risk the harm it would cause your brothers.”
“Even if I don’t, others will,” he growled. “You have seen the dangers here. You have drained your own powers. You need my protection—and I need my magic to protect you.” Grim held his hand out toward me. The iron band on his thumb gleamed dully. “Remove it.”
“No.”
“Enough!” he barked. “You are not stupid enough to risk your mates’ lives on this folly! You cannot best me in a game of wits, Annabel. I know you far too well to fall for this nonsense!”
I know you far too well.
Something he’d said before flickered in my mind. Something he’d said only moments before: “We have been here so many times before, Annabel. So many nights. And every time, I win.”
Understanding yawned like a heaving chasm in the pit of my stomach.
He… knew me.
“I claim my second truth,” I said, setting my jaw to steel my resolve.
“What?” The darkness in his eyes deepened.
“Now. I claim it right now.”
He only glared at me, and I was fairly sure he was imagining my head exploding.
“You said we have been here before. So many nights,” I said slowly, trying to find the right words to put the puzzle together from the multitude of pieces suddenly appearing for my mind’s eye. “You say you know me, but how could you? We hadn’t exchanged more than a few words before you killed me.
“I… remember you. I recognized you the first time I met you on your farm in Iceland. I have dreamed about you. Had nightmares of you. As a child and young girl, I saw your face in the shadows every time I was scared. And yet… I could never put my finger on it. I could never truly remember. Not until now. Until this place. The place you say we’ve been before.
“Tell me… Tell me why you were in my nightmares. Tell me what it means. Were you haunting me? Did you… Did you try to kill me then too? When I fell through the ice, was that you? Did you want to kill me before I could bond with your brothers?”
Grim sneered. “I am not a ghost. I don’t haunt little girls.”
“What, then? You don’t deny you shared my dreams. Why?”
He breathed, deeply, finally moving his eyes from mine to stare at the angry sea beyond. “I should never have accepted your help to mend my bones.”
“Grim. Tell me. You swore an oath.”
“The day you fell through the ice, I felt your fear. It was… so intense. So painful. It pulled on me—yanked my soul across the distance to you. I saw you i
n the water, fighting like a lioness for survival even though you were so… weak. Small.”
His words came slowly, reluctantly. “After that day, the connection to your magic must have been opened. Your visions of me would summon me to you. Your fears. When you were scared of the monsters under your bed, I was pulled across the ocean. I watched your father tell you no such things as monsters exist. I watched as you cowered under the sheets during thunderstorms. Watched you run from drunk groups of men shouting after you on the streets. But this place, this moment in time… this is where you brought me the most. I suppose I should have recognized it for what it is—perhaps then I wouldn’t have lost enough strength to that Nightmare that you could put this cursed ring on me.”
“I… I don’t understand,” I said. “Why would you watch me?”
Grim scoffed, finally turning his gaze from the ocean back to me. “It wasn’t my choice. You called me.”
“Me? I didn’t even know you existed, let alone that I had any sort of magical powers!”
“You are so blinded by this supposedly sacred purpose some low-grade prophet spewed during a mead-induced stupor, you still don’t understand,” he said, the anger in his voice laced with a rare softness.
“Just who are you calling low-grade?” Mimir barked. Grim ignored him as he continued.
“Your birth was a curse, for me more so than my brothers. My father sired me to fulfill the prophecy. Verdandi claimed he would need a Mistborn son to claim this prophesized omega if he were to save his own skin once Ragnarök struck.
“I sometimes wondered if Verdandi tricked him. If she knew. If my bond to you is her creation, forged for her own devious schemes. Not that it matters. I care little for Fate’s ties.”
“Grim, I… I don’t understand.” My voice was hoarse, my throat tight. What he was saying… It was like staring into a kaleidoscope and desperately trying to hold on to some semblance of form, find some truth in the swirling myriad.
“I suppose you don’t,” he said, the softness waning for cold indifference. “You gave in to your supposed Fate without question. You accepted four mates for the sole purpose of fulfilling a prophecy that was doomed to fail from the start.