The news hit me like a sledgehammer right in the solar plexus.
“Wait, what?” Time blurted, just as shocked.
“Death is fortunate, for she is tied to the living realm. Yes, she has her own, but it’s merely a sheet of space riddled with Reapers and ghouls and souls to reap. She has power in the living realm, and she has power in her domain, too. The Word, on the other hand, has no say in Death’s world. And no say in Purgatory or in the afterlife, either. To each, more or less his own, if you know what I mean,” Edda said.
“But Death once accidentally created a bunch of Hermessi,” I reminded her.
She shrugged. “Consider that a fluke. The forces of this universe may cross paths in one sense or another, but we don’t know the exact conditions required for something like that to happen. We don’t know how Death acquired the authority to eliminate that much life energy to create Hermessi. Then again, death and life have always been intertwined, in a sense. Order and the afterlife, in general, were always beyond and separate. My point is, Death cannot dictate in the Word’s realm, and the Word cannot dictate in Death’s realm, either. Hermessi exception aside, please. The same applies to Order. She has all the power here. Beyond, she is but an entity with no place of her own.”
“Hold on. Why is Death so special?” I heard myself ask, fascinated by the discrepancy.
“Not that special. Life is death, and death is life, if you think about it. The two are bound forever, intertwined, like I said just now,” Edda explained. “But in Purgatory, neither Death nor the Word function. Likewise, Order is—”
“Powerless in the realm of the living,” I finished her sentence, the gravity of this truth sinking in so fast that I worried I might come apart at the seams.
“She cannot help you. She would like nothing more than to go after Hrista, but she cannot tell you that,” Edda sighed, lowering her gaze.
Time scoffed. “She’s ashamed.”
“What can we do?” Thayen asked, joining the conversation along with the others. Brandon remained at a slight distance, though I could feel his eyes on me. I couldn’t just brush off the truth of his past life. It had to be reckoned with. Maybe it didn’t define him anymore, and maybe he’d paid the price, like Myst had implied, but… I’d have to address it and deal with it. “We cannot go back empty-handed. If we do reach The Shade when Astra gathers her strength and opens another shimmering portal, I’m sure we won’t have an easy time. Hrista might have it locked down, thus making it impossible for any of us to communicate with our superiors.”
“That restriction will apply to me, too,” Time interjected.
“Either way, we don’t really know what we’re walking into,” Thayen continued, giving Edda a pleading look. “If you could help us with anything at all…”
Myst took Edda’s hands in hers. “Mother, please. We cannot let Hrista do this. It’s not just Purgatory magic she’s using against the living. It’s death magic, too. The Spirit Bender taught her some dangerous tricks, and I worry we won’t get to Death herself in time.”
“Or, even worse, Death might not be enough to take Hrista down,” Edda replied, offering a possibility we hadn’t yet considered. Now that it had been voiced, however, it was a terrifying realization.
Brandon came over. “Can we talk?” he whispered.
“Now?”
“There is no better time,” he replied bluntly and dragged me away from the group, giving Edda an apologetic smile. “Sorry, big mama, we’ll be right back. You all talk, we’ll catch up in a second.”
His demeanor stunned and irritated me but not because it was out of place. No, it was because he wanted to get this big issue between us out of the way, and I didn’t feel ready for such a heavy talk. It would’ve meant bracing for some kind of disappointment in my weary mind, and what Order had just done to us had emotionally drained me.
He walked us both about ten yards to the left of Edda and my crew, placing his hands on my shoulders as we stopped. Hammer had stayed back, too, watching us with his head cocked and blue eyes burning curiously. “You need to understand something,” Brandon said. “I meant what I said in there. I don’t even remember my life. Most of it is just a blur. I might see my mother’s smile sometimes. Or I might hear her voice in a distant dream. Or the laughter of a brother, perhaps, I’m not sure. But the murders I committed… while I do not doubt them, I cannot recall them.”
“What am I supposed to do with this information?” I asked him, my voice trembling slightly.
“I don’t know. It’s just… I’ve been punishing evil people for as long as I can remember. My darkness is pain and vengeance, and it seeps into the souls of those who feel guilty,” he said. “I know how I came to be, I understand the process. Needless to say, I am deeply ashamed and regretful, which is part of the reason why I didn’t bring it up before. I most likely did some truly awful things. I wouldn’t be able to explain why anymore, but it’s unforgivable either way. Evil and murder are unforgivable. So… I don’t expect you to just brush it off.” Brandon stopped himself, closing his eyes for a moment. When he looked at me again, I had the distinct feeling that he was baring the most vulnerable part of his soul to me. “I have never met anyone like you before, Astra. Your light used to put me on edge, but I can no longer exist without it, somehow. It’s hard to explain. You’re far above my level. I’m just a Berserker, a former killer who’s been paying for his crimes in Purgatory. In a sense, I think you saved me, Astra. That’s why Order’s decree doesn’t faze me as much as it should. It’s okay. I’m fine, because I’m hoping you’ll allow me to stay by your side.”
I stared at him for what felt like forever before I found my words again. “Part of you, you said. What about the rest of you? Why did the rest of you keep this truth away from me?”
“Because I was ashamed,” Brandon sighed. “I cannot say that my past defines me, but I’m certain I’ve carried a few traits over from that life. Whether they’re positive or horrendous, I don’t know… I only know that when I’m around you, Astra, I find myself striving to be better. Wishing I could be someone worthy of your attention. And your affection.
This wasn’t the time or the place I’d thought I would hear such words, yet hearing them filled me with a strange, warm light, nonetheless. It stemmed from the compressed energy between Brandon and me, a vibe we’d been quietly carrying since we’d first met. Neither of us had tried to name it, though we’d both known it was there, growing, feeding on the stolen glances and the affectionate nicknames and the fleeting touches. It had gotten too big and too bright to ignore, and Order’s revelations about Brandon had pushed him. He’d feared losing me, and the thought made my heart sing. It was just a tiny song, a murmur of hope and forgiveness.
How could I send him away? How could I hold such a distant past against him, when he couldn’t even remember it? Granted, his deeds, whether remembered or not, had still happened. He’d done them. But the person I was clearly falling for had not been defined by them, in the end. I wasn’t sure what any of this would mean for us in the long run, but I was certain I did not wish to fight this war without Brandon by my side.
I brought a hand up, ever so slowly, and touched his face. The blue fires turned a brilliant white beneath his long, black eyelashes, his gaze softening on my lips. The kiss he’d given me earlier had realigned everything in my head, switching the order of thoughts, making me dizzy and delighted at the same time. I didn’t dare return that kiss now, here… not when I felt so many eyes on us. But I gave him a warm smile. I put every emotion I had in it, and I said things with my gaze, hoping he’d receive the message.
He did, much to my relief. “We’ll continue this later, then…”
“We most certainly will,” I replied.
“You two done?” Jericho called out, prompting Brandon to stifle a chuckle.
He cleared his throat and gathered his composure, then motioned for me to walk back to the crew, with him by my side. Where I hoped he would always be. �
��You’re an outcast,” I said, with still a few yards between us and the others. “What will you do now?”
“Leave Purgatory. But I won’t leave you.”
“Good.” I took a moment to breathe, my pulse still galloping. “What about Hammer? Will he follow you?”
“That will be his choice,” Brandon sighed. “He wasn’t banned. He cannot choose another Berserker, but he can ask Order to send him into the great beyond, if that is his wish. If Order separates us, we will both be fine. Never whole again, not really, but it’ll spare me the fate of a shadow beast.”
“Or he can come with you, right?” I asked, looking at the Aesir as we approached him.
“He can, but I dare not get my hopes up.”
Dafne shot me a broad grin once we rejoined the conversation. “So, Edda has an idea.”
“Will it get Hrista to Order?” I asked, giving Edda a stern look.
The Mother of Valkyries nodded. “If you cannot bring Order to Hrista, you can still bring Hrista to Order, yes,” Edda said.
And there it was. The simplest solution. The straightforward conclusion. And the craziest damn suggestion I’d heard so far, yet the only viable one. What other choice did we have? Hrista wasn’t invincible. She couldn’t be. There had to be a weak spot. There had to be an angle we could work to our advantage.
Hrista feared my ability to open shimmering portals. Perhaps what she truly feared was that I could use one to hurl her back into Purgatory.
Dafne
It was difficult not to resent Order for how she’d treated us.
One of her own was wreaking havoc in the Earthly Dimension, and the queen of Purgatory couldn’t even be bothered to tell us that she didn’t have the power needed to stop Hrista. That we’d have to bring the rogue Valkyrie back here for Order to be able to do something about that raving lunatic.
Astra and Brandon led the group, while Hammer padded quietly beside the Berserker. Astra was still reeling from the discovery of Brandon’s past, but I had a feeling they would overcome it. History shaped us, but we couldn’t allow it to define us. That was what my father had taught me, and it was what I believed, as well. Astra looked at Brandon whenever his sights were set on something else. As soon as she glanced elsewhere, Brandon’s eyes would find her. It was rather endearing to see them orbiting closer to one another, determined to move past the adversity.
The same could be said about Myst and Thayen, too. Maybe they thought we couldn’t see them, but Jericho and I had already placed a bet on how long it would be before they kissed. I gave them a couple of days, considering the silent hunger in Thayen’s gaze whenever it settled on the Valkyrie. Jericho insisted it would take them at least a week. He knew the vampire well enough. “Trust me, he’s hilariously shy when it comes to women,” Jericho had whispered earlier, making me chuckle since the fae dragon was famed for being the exact opposite.
“Are you sure we’re going in the right direction?” I asked Brandon.
Edda, who walked with Myst and Thayen right behind the Berserker, glanced at me over her shoulder. “He can feel Baldur. The closer he gets, the stronger the Father’s presence. The true and final cut-off from Purgatory will happens when Brandon leaves. Until then, he’s still sensitive to his kind.”
“Relax, Dafne. I’m sure Brandon has the decency to stop and ask for directions, if needed,” Jericho cut in, and it took a considerable amount of effort not to laugh. He’d been cracking jokes since we’d left the White Hall of Judgment, and I knew he was doing this because of how enraging and demoralizing that entire encounter had been.
“And how might Baldur help, precisely?” the Time Master asked. He and Aphis were watching our backs, yet I still couldn’t shake the shivers tumbling down my spine. Everything about this place was wrong and mismatched, yet it was breathtakingly beautiful at the same time. It was hard to reconcile such aspects, especially when there were bigger things to worry about. “You said you might know a way to bring Hrista back, Edda, but you have yet to offer details.”
The Mother of Valkyries didn’t look at us, though I was willing to bet she was smiling. She was a wonder to behold, even from behind. I hadn’t given it much thought during Order’s trials, but we had some time to breathe and wrap our heads around certain things, and I could truly take Edda in. She was tall and imposing. That stuck with me the most. In that sense, she reminded me of my mother. It had taken the fiercest of women to tame my father’s icy heart.
“As you know, the second most powerful beings in Purgatory after Order herself are the Mother of Valkyries—that is, yours truly—and the Father of Berserkers, Baldur,” Edda said. “I am hoping that I can get Baldur involved in a recovery mission. I can join you on my own, but I would feel more comfortable with him by my side, as we complement each other.”
“Light and darkness,” Myst replied. “We may be separate forces, but if we were to combine…”
“Hrista did something similar to herself,” Astra said, frowning. “She can control both light and darkness.”
Edda sighed. “No one saw that coming, and yes, it’s a problem. Which is why I’m counting on Baldur to help us. We don’t know what tricks Hrista might have up her sleeve. From what you’ve told us, she’s using death magic, too, and outside Purgatory none of us are as powerful. Perhaps Hrista is a troubling exception for her to do what she has done. Or perhaps she used death magic as an auxiliary power, I’m not sure… but what I am sure of is that we are stronger together. And bringing Hrista back here will not be easy.”
“Baldur won’t be easy to convince,” Brandon warned. “Wait until he hears I was banished.”
“What is he like?” Astra asked. It prompted the Berserker to hold back a hefty chuckle, but it wasn’t amusement I sensed in his tone. It was dread.
“You’ll meet him soon enough.”
Around us, the landscape had changed considerably. The copper hills were gone, and the land depressed into a deep valley with reddish tall grass and bountiful orchards with the strangest fruits hanging low from slender branches. The air was dry, smelling sweet—it reminded me of a freshly cut, deliciously ripe peach. “What is this place?” I wondered aloud, mesmerized by the peculiar trees.
Their trunks were perfectly straight and slim, much like aspens. Hundreds of branches shot out from near the ground level and all the way up to the top, about thirty feet high. The leaves were heart-shaped and crimson red, while the fruits were about the size of my fist and covered in a white, snakelike skin. The striking contrast of white and red beneath the diamond sky took my words away.
“Given that we’re basically spirits, we do not require food or drink. However, Purgatory does have tastes for us to enjoy,” Myst said. “We can still eat. We can still enjoy the cool freshness of a stream.” She nodded at the orchard. “Or the sweetness of a white-snake fruit.”
I plucked what Myst had referred to as a white-snake fruit from the tree closest to me and turned it over a couple of times. “And this? Is it edible?”
“Yes. Though we’ve never had living creatures here to taste them,” Edda replied. “The spirits like this stuff, but their experience with them is infinitely more intense than ours.”
“Or maybe we’re just used to the taste,” Brandon suggested with a shrug.
Either way, it was a green light to sink my teeth into the white skin. “Ow…” My teeth hurt. “This is hard. Literally hard. Like a rock. What the hell?”
“Here, like this,” Myst giggled and took the white snakeskin fruit from my hands. She smashed it against the tree trunk, and revealed the crimson, juicy pulp. I got half, and Jericho got the other half. For Astra, Brandon plucked a second fruit, inviting Thayen to taste, as well.
“I’m not designed to digest food,” the young vampire said.
“This isn’t physical food. Everything you see here is pure energy, Thayen,” Myst replied. “What you drink and eat here is literally soul food, a wonderful impression, but not something that affects your digestive system
.”
Convinced by her argument, Thayen welcomed a proper tasting. The fruit was incredible. The pulp was fleshy and rich in water, yet sweet and intense with a sour twist on the tip of the tongue. It was an exploration of flavors, I thought, trying to associate with other fruits I had eaten over the years, both common and rare from different realms of GASP. None came to mind. This was entirely different.
“I feel kind of funny,” Jericho muttered, a smile stretching across his lips.
It didn’t take long for me to mirror his state. The giggle came over me and wouldn’t stop. Brandon, Myst, and Edda were still, watching the rest of us with broad grins as we laughed and laughed and laughed to the point where our abs were aching from the repeated contractions.
“Is this supposed to happen?” I heard myself ask, though my voice sounded really far away. My legs felt soft and mushy, like overboiled spaghetti, and I wrapped my arms around Jericho’s neck to stop myself from sinking onto the ground, shapeless and delighted.
“We have no idea,” Edda replied. “Like we said, there were never living creatures here to taste the white fruit of mirth.”
“The white fruit of mirth? Mirth?!” Astra croaked, lying on the ground on her side, laughing so hard that tears ran down her cheeks. Brandon was right there with her, smiling and holding her in his arms. She pulled herself away and rolled over, her skin glowing pink as she made the most of this sensation.
“This is incredible,” Thayen observed, though he was mere inches away from losing it. He kept staring at his hands, turning them over, as though wondering if they were really his or not. The air felt thicker and heavier, or maybe it was just my impression.
“Are you okay?” Jericho’s voice made me look up. I was hanging from him like a vine of leafy ivy, subject to the wind and every other force that could impact me, and the fae dragon was laughing, his arms tightening around my waist.
A Shade of Vampire 91: A Gate of Light Page 20