“What is the fastest way to get downtown?” Oona asked, but I didn’t answer her right away. I stared down at the water, which looked dark and red from the reflection of the tumultuous sky, and I watched as every last bit of the skeleton swirled and disappeared into the water.
“Preferably with the fewest number of skeletons,” Asher added as he warily looked up at the buildings around us.
“We should go…” I trailed off, because the truth was that I had no idea where to go.
I knew the building wasn’t safe. I knew that Odin’s spear was locked up in Samael’s office, and Samael was the only being I knew and trusted who would have any idea how to handle what was happening.
But that was it. Once I’d killed the skeleton, I’d felt paralyzed by intense doubt. I didn’t know what to do or where to go, and it left me so stricken with uncertainty that I could not move.
“Mal?” Oona asked, pulling me from my panic. “We have to go. We can’t just stand here, or the skeletons will come for us.”
“I know. I—” I stopped short when I heard a familiar sound.
Even through all the noise and chaos, I recognized that particular cawing, and I knew it was meant for me.
“This way,” I commanded. “And we have to hurry.”
I grabbed Asher’s hand, in part because he seemed too dazed and I didn’t want to lose him, but more because I knew that touching him would ground me back here in reality, with him, where I knew exactly what to do.
The buzzing intensified around my heart, and the world seemed to slow down, falling into hyperfocus as I concentrated on the sound of the bird cawing and the flapping of its wings. I couldn’t see it, not yet, not as I raced around the buildings, dodging between skeletons and slicing them down when they got in my way.
It wasn’t until we were away from the flooding sewage and attacking skeletons, when Oona was panting at me to stop or slow down, that the raven finally showed itself.
I didn’t know how long we’d run, I’d lost all sense of time and place as I chased after the bird. It had stopped cawing after we had followed it into a narrow gap between rundown tenement buildings. The space was barely wide enough for me to stand next to Asher, and Oona leaned against the brick wall as she struggled to catch her breath.
Then the giant black bird settled on the cracked concrete in front of us. It was a massive raven, at least as big as a bobcat, and it held a cloth bag in its beak. Its beak was broken at the tip, a jagged crack that zigzagged through black keratin, and a scar ran across its eye, leaving it glassy and dull.
This was not the raven that I knew. This wasn’t Muninn.
It was his brother, Huginn.
He dropped the bag at my feet and ruffled his feathers.
“Where is Odin?” I asked, but the bird didn’t—couldn’t—answer. He merely cocked his head so he could look at me with his one good eye. “If Odin can hear you, if he can hear me, he needs to know that we need him. We can’t fight this on our own.”
The raven nudged the bag toward me. Asher bent down and peered inside.
“It’s a sword.” He reached in and pulled out a stubby blade of teal, with a handle that appeared to be made of a swirling blown glass. “I think it’s a Valkyrie sword.”
“The raven was gathering the swords,” Oona said softly. “Do you think this is how Marlow got her swords?”
“Why would the raven be helping her?” I asked as my heart thudded coldly in my chest.
Oona looked at me, her dark eyes meeting mine evenly. “Why would the raven be helping us?”
A loud squawk interrupted us, and I looked up to see another large raven landing on the streetlight in front of us. This one was unmarred by scars, and when it looked down at me with its big black eyes, I knew that it was Muninn, the raven I’d met before.
“What is going on?” I demanded. “What do you want from us?”
“Malin, I think we should take the sword and go,” Asher suggested uneasily. “The streets aren’t safe, and once we get somewhere that is we can spend time debating what this all means.”
“Fine,” I relented, but there was still one more thing I had to try. I crouched in front of Huginn so that we were at eye level. “Please,” I pleaded as I stared into his good eye, hoping that wherever he was, Odin could see me. “Tell Odin that we need him. He needs to return.”
The raven blinked, then flapped its wing and took flight, disappearing into the sky.
“Should we go after him?” Oona asked.
“No.” I stood up. “He’s not the one we follow now.” I looked back at Muninn, who squawked loudly before flying off. He went slowly at first, circling around us, before heading toward the heart of the city.
“That’s the one we follow,” I said as Asher hid the new Valkyrie sword in the messenger bag with the rest of the weapons, and then the three of us gave chase, letting Muninn lead us away.
SEVENTY-SIX
Despite the fact that the Riks building was on serious lockdown—one that took far too long for me, Oona, and Asher to get through all the security checks—we finally made it inside.
The one thing that I had to say for the Riks security protocols, though, was that they had piped in soothing classical music through the speakers instead of the intermittent air raid sirens going on outside. It gave my eardrums a welcome respite as we rode up the elevator to the twenty-ninth floor.
When the doors opened, the long hallway spread out before us, and at the end was the door to Samael’s office—unguarded for the first time that I’d ever seen.
I pushed it open without knocking and found Samael, Godfrey, Valeska, and Quinn crowded around a large television. It was a massive screen, usually hidden behind a classical painting, but the artwork slid up to reveal the TV.
The screen showed frightening images of the city under siege. Skeletons attacking innocent people, cars on fire, rioting in the streets. It looked like a war zone, with the police and the National Guard ineffective against such an unrelenting supernatural enemy.
An explosion flashed on the screen, and we felt the rumble inside the Riks, causing Oona to let out a surprised yelp.
Everyone had been so glued to the violence and anarchy unfolding on the news that they hadn’t noticed us come in, but now they all turned to look at us.
“You’re here! Thank the stars above!” Samael rushed over and pulled me into a clumsy hug, made more awkward by the anxious wolpertinger fidgeting on my back.
Over his shoulder, I saw Quinn step toward me, like she meant to greet me the way Samael had, but then she stopped short. She stared at me for a moment longer, then she looked back at the TV, where Ellery Park was futilely attempting to convince everyone to stay calm as the world fell apart.
“Is it safe here?” I asked once Samael had released me.
“It’s as safe here as it is anywhere in the city,” he replied carefully.
“Good enough.” I slid the carrier off my back and set it on the floor before unbuckling Bowie. He immediately scurried off, running under the sofa to hide, but I didn’t blame him. He’d had a very terrifying day so far.
Oona and Asher were with the others, standing in a semicircle around the screen and watching NorNewsNow, but I put my hand on Samael’s arm, stopping him before he went over to join them.
“Have you heard from Odin?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
He grimaced sadly. “No, nothing yet.”
“Really?” I asked in dismay. “I thought for certain he’d return with the ravens.”
“You saw his ravens?” Samael asked, doing his best to keep quiet despite the obvious shock in his eyes. “Are you positive they were his?”
“Yeah, I’m positive.” I nodded. “They helped me on the way here, but they took off the second I didn’t need them anymore.”
He furrowed his brow as he considered the implications of the return of Muninn and Huginn.
“There have been many reports—” Ellery stopped short and put her hand to her ear
, pressing on the earpiece to hear better. She nodded, then began speaking to the camera. “We’re getting word that Gugalanna, the Great Bull and one of the apparent leaders of this invasion, is holding an impromptu press conference in Skarpåker Park. We’re joining them live now.”
The news immediately cut to the park, where Gugalanna stood on the highest part of the rocky outcroppings. Behind him were a small legion of skeletons, standing in attention in front of the overgrown wooded garden.
To the left of where the bull centaur stood was the old mossy gazebo, covered in dying vines and orange leaves. It was the Place for Dreaming, a popular destination for weddings, but now it housed the throne of bones, where Ereshkigal sat, watching silently.
“… violence is, unfortunately, the only thing this world will respond to,” Gugalanna was saying, his smarmy grin barely hidden under his false solemnity. “This is not how we wanted to do it, but it is the only language that works, as it has been for thousands of years. One thing you learn about living as long as I have is that not much ever really changes, not deep down at the core of things.”
A dark plate of armor covered his chest, but from the human waist down—where the bull part of his body was—he was naked, save for the black fur that covered his four hulking legs and animal torso. Two horns curved out from his dark curls of hair, and his bronze eyes flashed as he surveyed the crowd of immortals, skeletons, and media that had gathered in the park.
“When last I walked the earth and breathed this air—it was much sweeter then, I will say that has been an unpleasant change—there were those that ruled, and those that were in chains,” Gugalanna continued. “It has been that way since the beginning of time. You are either the hunter or the prey, the captor or the captured.
“Right now, because we’ve had to use violence and force, I know we’ve been painted as the aggressors. As terrorists,” he said with condescension dripping from his words. “Conquerors. And I know you must all be so very afraid, but let me assure you that we are not here to take over your world. On the contrary. We are here to free it!”
He raised his arms into the air, and the skeletons followed suit. The camera was fixed on him, so I couldn’t see the crowd that gathered, but I heard some of them—too many of them, really—shouting out in agreement.
“Throughout history, the ruling class has gotten even better at enslaving you all,” Gugalanna said. “They trick you into believing it’s for your own good. They keep you safe, they promise. This is what you need, they guarantee. And now they’ve done such a wonderful job I doubt most of you even realize that you’re caged.
“Those with all the power have always hidden away from those they oppress, and none are as far away or as powerful as those that hide in Vanaheimr, far removed from the mess that they’ve created.” The Bull stopped speaking long enough to cast a disparaging glare toward the sky, toward the legendary home of the Vanir gods and goddesses.
“It wasn’t until I was trapped in the underworld that I began to see the earth for what it truly is: a cage,” Gugalanna explained. “A place to hold you, to keep you busy, distracted. So you don’t realize what they’re doing to you and everything around you.
“Look at this!” He gestured wildly around. “Look at the sky and the air and the water! The world is all but destroyed! And to what end? Where will you go next? The doors to Kurnugia and Vanaheimr will not open for most of you, and even if they do, you are only exchanging one cage for another.
“But no more.” He motioned back toward Ereshkigal, who finally rose from the throne and with slow, deliberate steps walked toward him as he spoke. “I have brought you a queen and an army to set you free. I invite you to join her, to fight by our side and free yourselves of the shackles.”
Gugalanna dropped to his knees—bending his front two legs to bow before her. Ereshkigal wore a long gown of a strange black fabric that seemed to move on its own, swirling around her feet as she took center stage. She stood regal and poised, holding her head high under its intricate crown of bones, and the crowd fell silent.
“We will win this war,” Ereshkigal declared. Her words were sharp but quiet, and they carried clear and loud throughout the park. “We will gladly give it all back—your freedom, your lives, your earth—to all of you, to every single one of you. All we ask is that you fight with us.”
She paused as she surveyed the crowd, then she issued her order: “We must kill all the Valkyries and the Eralim that control them.”
SEVENTY-SEVEN
I didn’t need to hear the crowd erupt into cheers, many of them already chanting their new queen’s name. Nor did I need to hear the pundits on the television telling me what this all might mean or wondering whether or not we should give Ereshkigal a chance. I grabbed the remote and turned off the television.
“Hey!” Valeska shouted in irritation and glared at me. “What’d you do that for?”
“Nothing good ever comes from giving evil a platform, especially when they’re advocating genocide,” I replied.
“They might have more information,” Valeska argued.
“What could they possibly know that we don’t?” I shot back. “We know that Ereshkigal and Gugalanna are taking over the city, and they’re currently staked out at the park. We know that they want to kill us. And we know about the prophecy that might be able to stop them.”
“You found out more about the Drawing of the Nine?” Samael asked.
I took out my phone and quickly pulled up the photos I had taken. As I scrolled through the snaps of the yellowed pages, looking for the best one, I realized with dismay that I had only taken these pictures this morning.
It had only taken a matter of hours for the whole world to go mad.
“This is the best I could find,” I said as I handed Samael the phone.
He zoomed into the picture, and his lips moved as he read to himself. Valeska snuck up beside him, leaning over his arm to get a better look.
“Bloodied blades of Odin’s maidens fair,” Samael repeated to himself.
“The swords of the original nine Valkyries,” I said. I took the messenger bag from Asher and walked to the coffee table in the center of Samael’s office.
I glanced over at Oona, who dutifully recited the nursery rhyme: “Eir, Göndul, Hildr, Mist, Ölrún, Róta, Skögul, Thrúd, and Sigrún.”
As she spoke, I pulled out my blade of purple and set it on the table, then beside it I set the one of teal that Huginn had dropped at my feet. “I have Sigrún and Mist.”
“And I have Eir.” Quinn unsheathed her sword, setting it on the table beside the other two. When her blue blade touched the others, they all glowed dully, but only for a second before returning to their usual darkened state.
“My grandma still has my mother’s sword Hildr at home,” Asher added.
“And Marlow has four swords in her safe,” I said.
Marlow’s swords only mattered if they were the right ones that we needed. I couldn’t guess now, but I was certain that I would know when I touched them, the same way I had known that the sword Huginn had left for me was Mist. The same way I knew who to kill and how to kill.
It was in my blood.
Valeska did a quick count on her fingers. “That’s only eight. We’re short one.”
“No, we’re not.” Samael finally looked up. “I have my mother’s sword Róta. That’s nine.”
“But what do we even do with them?” Quinn chewed her lip as she stared down at the swords. “We have nine swords, but then what? We all take turns stabbing Ereshkigal with them?”
“The sun now shines by the drawing of the nine,” Samael said, quoting the poem, and cast his eyes toward the ceiling. “I’ve done enough ceremonies in my time. We need to get the blades together and get them up where the sunlight can hit them.”
“So we need the swords?” Valeska asked. “Does it matter who wields them?”
“I’ve been thinking about it, and I think we’re the ones that are supposed to do this,” Oon
a said. “It says, ‘Now do I see heroes anew. The motherless children rise together.’” She motioned around to us. “That’s us. We’re all powerful in our own rights, most of us with Valkyrie parentage, and all of us have dead mothers.”
Oona’s birth mother died in childbirth; Valeska’s was murdered by her grandmother; Quinn’s was executed by a vengeful widower; Samael’s mother had died centuries ago; and Asher’s mother and my mother had both been killed by Tamerlane Fayette.
Outside of Samael’s mother, all of them were relatively young and died in tragic circumstances.
“But there’s six of us,” Quinn said. “Where do we get the other three?”
“My great-grandma died many years ago, so I think my grandma would qualify,” Asher suggested. “I have to go back home to get Róta anyway, and she would want to help.”
“Minerva will help us,” Oona said, referring to her cousin/sister. “And if I qualify, she qualifies.”
“We only need one more. Can any of you think of anybody that might be able to help?” Samael asked, looking heavily at all of us. “We only have eight bodies, and we need one more motherless child to draw in the light.”
“I know someone,” I realized. “Sloane Kothari.”
“Do you really think she’ll help?” Oona asked.
I nodded. “What choice does she have? The world’s going to end if we don’t do something to stop it.”
SEVENTY-EIGHT
The plan was simple:
Quinn would take Oona in her car to get Minerva as quickly and safely as possible, while Valeska would fly Asher down to his house, where they would pick up his grandmother Teodora, her car, and the sword. Samael would stay behind with Godfrey (and Bowie) in hopes that Odin would finally return.
From the Earth to the Shadows Page 31