Dead Silence
Authors: T.G. Ayer
T.G. Ayer’s Full List of Books
Copyright 2015 by T.G. Ayer
All rights reserved.
Find out more about T.G. Ayer at
http://www.tgayer.wordpress.com/
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Cover art by T.G. Ayer
Cover art © T.G. Ayer. All rights reserved.
Edited by J.C. Hart
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Kindle Edition, License Notes
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.
CHAPTER ONE
Struggling did no good.
In fact, any movement seemed to tighten the slim golden rope that was wrapped around my torso, arms and shoulders like a sadistic snake. The tighter the rope got, the harder it was to hold onto Gungnir, Odin's golden spear, given to me by the All-Father himself.
As I stared down at the gleaming rope, I was not oblivious to the irony that Loki now used a similar magical rope to bind me as the one Thor had used on him a few months ago. The Trickster god must love the irony.
I gritted my teeth. My arms remained squashed against my sides, my wings given the same treatment. The feathers shuddered, mirroring my frustration.
Just as Derek had said, the Bifrost had opened in the loft of a barn. I stood enveloped in the musty smell of hay and dust mixed with the fetid odor of dung and the sharp spike of rotting onions.
My jaw tightened as I lifted my eyes and met those of my captor.
He wore black leather trousers and boots, a black silk shirt that glistened wetly, and a long coat that skimmed his ankles. The dark modern look suited him.
Loki, the trickster god, was smiling, his deep blue eyes gleaming with mischief. His looks had never reflected the black, almost malevolent nature that lurked beneath the surface of whatever form he took. Today, his blond hair spiked up in dozens of different directions, deliberately messy, giving him a playful, relaxed air. Even his smile was a cheerful curve, as if we were the best of friends meeting again after spending too much time apart.
"Aren't you happy to see me, Bryn?" he asked, his voice a soft seductive rumble.
I clenched my jaw. It was a waste of time wanting desperately to punch his lights out since, right now, I was in no way able to make it happen. But, I had to hope I'd get my chance sooner rather than later.
Scowling, I asked. "What do you want, Loki?"
"Come now, sister. You know why you're here." Loki smirked as he leaned forward and curled his fingers around Gungnir. Even though I held onto it as tightly as I could, Loki removed the weapon from my fingers with little effort. I swallowed down a frustrated growl.
Loki had tried once before to take the spear from me, but when he'd attempted to use it, nothing had happened. Loki hadn't known the prerequisite for the spear to work; the user had to have Odin's blood running in his, or her, veins.
And, of course, he'd found out.
Neither had he known I was Odin's daughter, by whatever convoluted means made our kinship a reality.
That bit of information had reached his eager ears as well.
And, even though Loki was Odin's son, he was no blood kin of the All-Father.
But Loki had persisted and had finally managed to lure me here in order to take the spear from me. I almost felt sorry for him.
Almost.
My eyes narrowed as I watched Loki, his eyebrows curving as he concentrated on twirling the spear like a baton. And the more he manipulated the weapon the angrier I became. "You know you're wasting your time, don't you? Brother," I asked, my lack of affection clear in my tone.
Loki ceased his twirling and shifted his blue gaze to my face. A satisfied smile grew on his lips and he said, "If you mean that annoying little caveat called blood, then don't worry about it. I've got that covered." His words sent a chill down my spine.
I really didn't want to make him explain but I'd get nowhere being stubborn, and Loki was likely to enjoy stretching out the drama. "What do you mean? You aren't of Odin's blood." I held my breath and waited for my words to rile him up.
But he just shook his head, the picture of calm, and smiled at me as if I was an ignorant child. "Sorry, my dear. You see, Odin's little rule about blood can be easily bypassed. Since blood is the key to using the spear, then blood it is."
My mind whirled with the possibilities of what he meant, and then my eyes widened as it clicked into place what he was on about. "Blood transfusions? You're mad."
I shook my head, unable to believe that I hadn't seen it before. Blood was the reason he'd abducted Thor, the reason Thor had been so weak when we'd found him in Loki's Russian hideout only days ago.
Loki applauded my words, the sharp sound of each clap echoing in my ears. Although he smiled, the grin on his face was very much lacking in mirth. "Well done, Bryn. I knew you were smart but I've just seen the proof of it for myself."
I shook my head, feeling anger heat my cheeks. "It won't work," I snapped, glaring at him even though I had a sickening suspicion it might.
The spear seemed to sense the existence of Odin's blood in the veins of the wielder. Who knew exactly how the spear worked, how it knew who held it, or even how it knew where to take the one who bore it. So many things about Asgard and the gods didn't work the way science dictated.
And right now, Loki was about to use the spear of Odin to make his nefarious schemings all the more easy.
"Just because you want me to fail, doesn't mean I will." Loki smiled, his teeth shining, looking a lot like shark teeth. I blinked and shook my head listening as Loki sighed dramatically. "It's taken me a while to work this out. I had considered using just your blood, but you don't have enough of Odin's DNA in your veins, what with the polluted contribution of your human father."
I laughed. "I'm guessing you've already tried my blood." Loki just stared at me, his expression inscrutable.
He flicked his fingers and a shadow moved behind him. A frost giant strode closer, his glamor thinly applied so I could see the sharp edges of his icy features, the burning of pale blue fire in his eyes. I suppressed a shudder, determined not to show either of them my distaste. Or my concern.
The Jotunn brought a wooden chair forward and set it behind Loki, who immediately lowered himself onto the seat without looking over his shoulder. I had this ridiculous picture in my mind of Loki missing the seat and falling on his ass, and I had to force my lips not to curl into an appreciative smile at the vision. Cautioned by the strength of my hatred for this god, I forced myself to pay closer attention to what he was doing.
Strangely enough, when we'd first met, he'd been an interesting rival, charming and imaginative, always trying to test me by appearing in different forms. But then he'd stepped up the pace, crossed the line when he'd orchestrated Aidan's death. And it was clear to us that his ruthlessness knew no limits when we discovered Aidan was his grandson.
What man, or god, would willingly kill his own family?
I wanted to laugh now. I'd thought I was no longer naive, that everything I'd experienced since I'd been thrust into my new life as a Valkyrie of Asgard had educated me beyond my inexperience, but it seemed that I still retained some of that old innocence.
But I'd rather be innocent, rather be naive, because family was far too important. I guessed that was partly the reason I'd always wanted to give this trickster god a little leeway.
Because Odin and Thor loved him like a brother and a son.
Loki leaned back in the chair and shifted his hips, making a show of getting comfortable in the solid wooden seat. Then he rolled up the sleeve of his silk shirt. He looked far too nice to be spending quality time in a freaking barn, but Loki was dedicated to his own cause. I glanced at the wooden rafters above me, at the area in the loft to my right that held dozens of bales of hay.
Excellent location for the Bridge of the Gods to touch down. Considering all the places the Bifrost had already taken me I shouldn't be surprised.
The frost giant returned with a large cooler box which he now placed beside Loki, before walking right past, to coming to a standstill beside me. In his hand was a needle connected to a length of tubing.
A blood transfusion system.
The Jotunn connected the needle and tubing to an empty bag which he set on the floor beside Loki. Then he leaned toward me, lifted the golden rope just enough to pull my right hand out from beneath the ties. He pushed my leather jacket off my shoulder then awkwardly tugged the sleeve off my arm. I twisted away, not wanting to make it easy for him.
"Don't delay the inevitable, Bryn," came Loki's voice.
I ignored him, not planning on making it easy for the Jotunn. Despite my struggling, he uncapped the needle and inserted it into my arm so calmly that I wondered how many times he'd done it before. He'd been so adept with the needle that I'd barely felt it break my skin.
It didn't take long before I watched my blood spurt into the tubing, snaking its way to begin filling the bag. The frost giant moved silently, filling five more bags with blood while I watched, growing weaker as the blood was drained from my body. He gathered the pile of blood bags and moved them to Loki's side.
