River of Shadows

by Karina Halle

  “I don’t know,” she says warily. “But if Kalma does something like that to you, you probably deserve it. He might think Raila is a spy behind all that’s happening, whatever this is.”

  “A spy? She’s the spy?”

  “My father has a saying, never trust the dead.”

  “I thought his saying was never trust the living? Which, by the way, he got from Beetlejuice.”

  “Never trust the dead, never trust the living, never trust a God, and never trust a redhead,” she adds, “which is all because of my redheaded mother.”

  “So basically trust no one.”

  “Bingo.”

  And as if on cue, another crash rocks the castle and both of us nearly fall over the railing of the stairs, a long way down.

  “We need to hurry,” Lovia says, reaching over and pulling me up straight. We run even faster now up the stairs, past Deadhands who are running the opposite way, their swords drawn as if going into battle.

  Hell, I have no idea what’s happening outside these walls, maybe there is some epic battle going on, an all hands on deck type of situation.

  Finally we get to the top and to Death’s quarters, a place I still haven’t been yet since it’s been forbidden to me. Lovia tries to push open the doors but they don’t budge. Panic lines her face and then she fishes out a set of skeleton keys from her boobs and inserts the key.

  The door opens, revealing a large lair that could only belong to Death. Everything is black. Everything is lush and stark and hard and soft, and a million contradictions. His private quarters are like all of Shadow’s End in concentrated form, and his essence oozes from the gleam of the dark floors, to the metallic black designs of the wallpaper.

  But while the door to the room is wide open, it’s not easy walking through. There’s a feeling of thickening air, like something solid pushing you back, similar to the feeling of walking through the tunnel under the waterfall.

  “It’s the wards,” Lovia says, her face straining as she pushes forward and finally we both go stumbling through, my ears popping as I try not to trip over a rug.

  “Father!” Lovia yells, searching the room, while I go straight to the window and peer out to see what’s happening.

  Of course I can’t see a damn thing. The world is covered in the thickest layer of fog I’ve ever seen. I don’t even know if it is fog, maybe it’s smoke. Even though he’s been avoiding me, the weather hasn’t been too terrible the last few days. Not sunny like the day he told me I was marrying him, but it’s been pleasant. But this? It’s foul and I wonder if it’s all his doing.

  “He’s not here,” Lovia says, sounding panicked. “Do you mind if I go look for him? I’ll be okay out there, and you’ll be safe in here. Just lock the door behind you and don’t leave this room. Okay? He’d kill me if something happened to you.”

  I’m not planning on leaving, but I don’t want her leaving me either.

  I swallow hard, feeling so scared I might vomit.

  Somehow I have enough courage to nod. “If you say I’ll be fine here, then I’ll stay.”

  “I’ll be right back,” she says. Then she marches over to a stand of armory in the corner, picks up a sword, twirls it around in her hand, and then grins at it in satisfaction before heading through the wards again and out the door.

  I quickly head to the door and fight through the ward again to lock it. Then I turn around and face the room, wondering what the hell is going on.

  Some fucking wedding day. The groom doesn’t show up and then the venue gets bombed.

  The little attempt at humor falls flat though when the castle shakes again, though subtle now, the boom sounding far off. Either the attack is subsiding or the wards really do have me protected.

  I sit down on the end of Death’s bed and try to think. Of course it’s bigger than king-sized and all black satin and velvet, with iron posts and skulls in the corners. Definitely didn’t get this at Ikea either.

  Another distant boom sends the mirrors rattling against the walls and I get up, wondering if I should huddle under something just in case. I’ve had my fair share of earthquake drills, but when the actual earthquakes shake up Los Angeles a few times a year, I usually spend most of the time thinking about taking shelter but not actually doing it.

  Another boom makes the walls tremble and my heart leaps in my chest. It’s been racing steadily this whole time and I have to remind myself to breathe in deeply, in case I fall victim to a panic attack. Somehow I’ve survived all of Tuonela without really having one, but now I feel utterly alone for the first time.

  What if everyone dies? What if this is part of the uprising?

  What will the Old Gods do to me if they find me? Gouge my eyes out like the old believers? Will I be sent to Oblivion? Or to Inmost for eternity, to be turned into a Deadmaiden for them? What horrors do they inflict on mortals engaged to Gods?

  Okay, now I’m having a panic attack.

  Suddenly there’s a tapping at the window.

  I can’t help but scream.

  I whip around and look, terror seizing me, expecting to see the eye of a giant at the window, saying “Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum, I smell the blood of a social media manager.”

  But no.

  It’s Rasmus.

  I don’t know how, but it’s fucking Rasmus.

  He’s sitting outside the window, a window that’s hundreds of feet up in the air. His red hair is tousled by the high winds and he’s waving at me, like he just stopped by after dinner to see if I was home, wanting a beer and a chat.

  “What the hell?” I say, rushing over to him. I fling the window open, careful not to hit him with it. “Rasmus?” I cry out, blinking fast at the wind in my eyes.

  “Hanna,” he says, flashing me a triumphant smile. “You knew I was coming back for you, didn’t you?”

  I stare at him. This can’t be real. I have to be hallucinating.

  “How are you even…?” I begin, and then I realize he’s crouched on a gargoyle of a wolf just below the window. My fear of heights kicks in and I have to grab the window frame to steady me.

  “Are you ready?” he asks, then he frowns at my dress. “You look ready for something else. Catch you at a bad time?”

  I shake my head, trying to form the right words, the right questions. “I don’t understand. How are you here? How did you get up here? There are wards, aren’t there?”

  “And shamans can break through wards,” he says with a cocky smirk. “The right shamans anyway. Like me.”

  “So, what, you can fly now?”

  He frowns, his blue eyes turning glacial. “For some reason I thought you would be a lot happier to see me. I’m rescuing you. And before you try and tell me that you didn’t need rescuing, you’re wrong. You do, and it looks like just in time. I’m here and I’m getting you out of this castle, out of this land, for good.”

  “Are you doing all of this?” I ask, gesturing to the air around. “The attack?”

  He gives me a secretive smile. “There will be plenty of time for questions later. If you want to leave, we need to leave now.” He clears his throat. “Come with me if you want to live,” he says in the world’s worst Arnold impersonation.

  “But how?” I ask, peering out into the thickening fog. “You got wings?”

  “Just trust me,” he says.

  But that’s the thing…can I trust him?

  I don’t have a lot of time to figure that out, because he turns his head and lets out a piercing whistle.

  Suddenly a dark shape comes flying out of the mist, right at us.

  I scream again. I can’t help it. My nerves are shot.

  It’s a massive unicorn like Sarvi, silver-colored, beating the air with its long wings, my hair flowing back from the draft.

  “You have a unicorn too!?” I exclaim.

  “Actually it’s your father’s,” he admits. “He’s the one who learned how to master them while he was here.”

  I gasp, clutching my chest. “My father! Where is h
e?”

  “He’s waiting for you. Now come on.” Another sharp look. “Don’t tell me you want to stay here with Death. This isn’t your world, Hanna. It never was. You belong with us. With family. Back home where you belong.”

  He’s right. Of course he’s right. This is all I ever wanted. This was the whole point of it all, so my father could be free, and so that I could escape. And now Rasmus is giving me the opportunity to do so, right here and now.

  So why do I feel guilty? Why do I feel like I’m leaving Death when he needs me? And when did I start caring about his feelings like that?

  “Hanna, please,” Rasmus says. “You have a choice. Make the right one. Make the smart one.”

  I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Okay,” I whisper. “Yes, of course I’m going. You promise you’re taking me to see my father?”

  “I am,” he says, motioning for the unicorn to come closer. “We just have to get out of Tuonela first. He’s just on the other side of that waterfall, waiting for you.”

  Rasmus holds out his hand for me.

  I put my hand in his.

  He helps me through the window, onto the gargoyle, and then we’re slipping down until we’re on the unicorn’s back.

  I grab the mane for dear life, and Rasmus holds me from behind.

  The unicorn flaps its wings and we take off like a rocket through the fog.

  Leaving Death and Shadow’s End behind.

  But they aren’t the only things that are being left in the mist.

  A part of me is left behind too.

  * * *

  Not the end…only the beginning.

  * * *

  Flip the page to read the prologue for

  CROWN OF CRIMSON (Underworld Gods #2)—coming May 2022

  * * *

  Need to vent about that cliffhanger? Bug me about the next book? You can always find me on Instagram (@authorhalle)

  * * *

  There is also a novella prequel called GOD OF DEATH (Underworld Gods #0.5), which showcases Death’s life in Tuonela far before the events of River of Shadows. It will be releasing February 2022.

  * * *

  Crown of Crimson (Underworld Gods #2)

  A sneak peek at the prologue

  Death

  * * *

  “Have you gotten cold feet?” the deep voice of reckoning booms across the walls of the cave.

  “That’s a rather modern phrase for someone so old,” I respond, adjusting the blind mask. I wish I didn’t have to wear this ridiculous thing every time I seek out the giant, but because I can see in the dark, Antero Vipunen takes no chances. They say there’s no way to kill the God of Death, but there is…and he’s in the cave with me. Sometimes I think that Vipunen’s power rivals that of the Creator, and he could destroy this whole world if he wanted to.

  As such, I wear the blind mask so I don’t piss him off. Part of me feels badly that both my children had to train in combat with him, wearing this heavy bronze and iron mask the entire time while wielding the sword. But at least they’re the finest warriors now.

  I also used to think that there would be no day where their training would be put to use, but I feel that day creeping ever so closer, like the snakes do if you stay too long in the crypt.

  “Then what is it that has brought my counsel again?” Vipunen asks, louder now. In the background I can hear stalactites fall from the ceiling and crash onto the cave floor, splash into the underground lake. As it always happens when I’m in the caves, I’m brought back in my mind, eons past, to when I was just a young little shit, thrown here on my first day on the job as God of Death. I felt so vulnerable, naked and helpless then, and I despise the fact that today I feel the same.

  It’s a most unbecoming feeling.

  “It’s the girl,” I tell him.

  “The mortal Hanna,” Vipunen muses. “Is there a problem?”

  I let out a breath. Fuck. I hate how uneasy I feel. “I have some…fears about the marriage.”

  Vipunen lets out a low, rumbling laugh. More stalactites fall to the ground, one sounding too close for comfort. “Fears about marriage? Did you not learn your lesson the last time?”

  He can’t see the fuck you smile on my face but I hope he hears it in my tone. “Apparently not. I’m concerned that she may not be the one you prophesied about. Any chance you could, you know, clear that up a little bit? Give me something a little more to go on?”

  Instead of being so fucking annoyingly vague from day one?

  “To give you more information would be to interfere with your life and the natural order of things and that I cannot do,” he says.

  “Cannot or will not?” I ask.

  A cold blast of air comes rushing at me. I’m not the only one who can influence the weather and temperature with my moods. “You dare have contempt for me?” he bellows.

  “No contempt, Antero, only frustration.”

  “Is it not your wedding day?” he asks after a moment.

  “Yes, in fact she might be at the altar right now.” No doubt looking beautiful beyond words.

  “Then you’re cutting things a little close, don’t you think?”

  I sigh, adjusting the mask again. “I’m not asking if she’s the one, I just need to know if I’m making a mistake. What if I marry Hanna and the one I’m supposed to be with, the one that is supposed to save my kingdom, comes along?”

  Another laugh. “You think that another mortal girl will come strolling along into Tuonela like that?”

  “So then Hanna is the one…” I surmise, trying to bait him.

  “I will tell you no such thing. This has nothing to do with me. This is your future, Tuoni, laid out in front of you. You either take it or you don’t.” He pauses. “You really do have cold feet, don’t you? You want a way out. An easy way out. Well, no one told you to propose.”

  He’s right. That was all my own doing.

  I just couldn’t help it.

  After what happened with Surma, everything changed. Hearing his intentions, his work for the Old Gods, it made me realize that the uprising wasn’t just a rumor. It was real and at our doorstep. I needed to do something about it and fast. I needed to marry Hanna in hopes that an alliance somewhere would form. Perhaps just the act of marriage itself, signaling to Louhi that I have moved on, that she is no longer the Goddess of Death, would do it, or telling the realm that I am part of a unit again would make them fall in line. Either way, it was time to act.

  But then there was the surprising thing with Hanna herself.

  I’d been so impressed by her, in awe of her, yet I did all I could to keep distance between us. The less distance, the less control I had. The more distance, the more my power remained firmly in check.

  But when I saw Surma put his skeleton hands on her, I felt a protective beast rise up inside me, one I’d rarely felt before. I wanted to kill Surma more for that than for him being a traitor to the kingdom. I realized the lengths I would go to for her, and that scared me. Moved me.

  As was the way she looked when I fucked her, when she was able to look at me, all of me, just as myself. No mask. No hiding behind anything. Just me, as I am. It’s not that I didn’t think she’d be enthralled, it’s that I didn’t think I’d feel so much warmth from her. Like she was baring herself to me at the same time, like she finally fucking trusted me.

  And so, after spending all night thinking about her, about my future, about strategies, I realized the time was now. We had to get married, and maybe, if we were lucky, it would be something we both wanted.

  CRASH

  Suddenly a loud muffled noise comes from outside the cave, parts of the ceiling crashing down.

  “What was that?” I yell, nearly falling over.

  “Your keep is under attack,” Vipunen says simply.

  Another loud explosion rocks the ground beneath me and I press my gloved hands against my mask to hold it on.

  “By who? Do you know?”

  “By Louhi’s son,” he says.<
br />
  My son? Tuonen? That doesn’t make any sense, the boy’s ambitions are ridiculously low. All he wants in life is to watch porn, ferry the dead, and be the referee for the Bone Matches.

  “The shaman,” Vipunen adds. “Rasmus.”

  My fist clenches. Fucking redheaded weasel. How the fuck is he attacking Shadow’s End right now?

  I turn to run out of the cave but the giant calls after me. “There is no use in hurrying,” he says. “By the time you get there, it will be over. The attack can’t do any major damage, it is only a diversion.”

  I come to a stop, my blood going cold. “A diversion for what?” I ask, even though I know the answer.

  “Rasmus is here for Hanna,” he says. “He is taking her with him.”

  It’s like all the rage in the world starts to build inside my veins, growing tight and molten hot, ready for implosion. “Kidnapping my bride on my wedding day?” I grind out.

  A pause hangs in the air, followed by a distant boom.

  “She has not been kidnapped,” Vipunen says after a moment. “She was given a choice. She chose to go willingly. She chose to leave you. On your wedding day.” He adds that last part as if he has spite for me.

  I still. My heart lurches against my ribs. The rage inside me ebbs and flows, changing and morphing. The anger goes from Rasmus, to myself, and then to Hanna.

  Hanna.

  “She left me,” I say, practically stuttering. “She can’t. That shouldn’t be possible.” Now my rage is directed to Vipunen. “If you knew this was going to happen, why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I can’t affect what is already in motion.”

  “So what the fuck do I do now?”

  My bride. My ex-wife’s son has my fucking bride.

  “I believe you know what to do, Tuoni. You do not need my counsel on that.”

  He is right. Hanna is mine, no one else’s, whether she likes it or not. She entered into this bargain with me and it was a fair trade. She offered herself up to me in countless ways, and I was a gentlemen enough to not take her up on all of them. She is supposed to be with me, as my bride, for eternity, and she’s gone back on her fucking word.