Demons (Eirik Book 1) (12 page)

“Nah. When I do it, I’ll do it at home. I wanted a journey charm to lead me back home just like I told Zack, but Doctor B said I didn’t need it. He said I’d be okay. Then he gave me a hug and slipped something in my backpack.”

“What is it?” She reached for my backpack.

“I don’t know, but it has a calming effect. I was going to wait until I got home before looking at it.”

“Can I?” She was already rummaging inside the bag.

“Would it make a difference if I said no?”

“No.” She pulled out a sports bottle.

“I’ll have that.”

Hayden handed it to me. “Only you can put a water bottle and a book in the same compartment. And not just any book.”

She lifted the heavy leather book and placed it on her lap. The cover had a relief of two dragons and Wiccan symbols. The mythical creature was my family’s familiar and the symbols guaranteed that no one could unlock the clasp of the grimoire except me. A scaly familiar. Just my luck. Whatever happened to cats and owls? Even a mouse would have been better.

“Why did you bring your grimoire? This should be under lock and key.”

“I’d planned to study spells while waiting to see Doctor B.” I pulled the tip of the sports bottle and sucked some water. “Found it yet?”

“No. Guess it doesn’t want me to find it.” She fished inside all the pockets. The leather backpack was small, and I often used it instead of a purse. “Stupid charm.” She put the backpack down. “So can I be there when you go back? You know, to keep an eye on you?”

“Sure. Just don’t tell your mother. And if I don’t come out of it, slap me. I hear it’s pretty addictive over there.”

“Are you going back tonight?” she asked.

My stomach dipped at the thought, online images of the goddess flashing in my head. She was human, just half-alive and half-dead. But she hadn’t smelled or sounded like someone with a partially dead body during the conversation with her son. He, on the other hand, had looked human. Normal. After reading about Loki, her father, and his ability to mimic anything and anyone, I wondered if her son could do that. Taking different forms would be cool.

“Are you?” Hayden asked.

I glanced at her, confused. “Am I what?”

“Going to Hel?” She chuckled. “That sounded wrong. Anyway, are you?”

“I’m going to try. I can’t let him starve because of me.”

What if he was like his uncles? A wolf would not be bad. Wolves were practically dogs, and dogs were adorable. A giant snake, on the other hand... I shuddered.
Please, don’t let him shift into something scaly.
And why was I acting like I believed Norse gods were real? I needed proof.

EIRIK

I need to piss
was the first thought that registered when I woke up. It took me several seconds to pry my eyes open and stare into the darkness. Whether my eyes were closed or open, I saw nothing. The darkness was too deep and the cold so chilling my fingers and toes could have fallen off weeks ago and I wouldn’t have known.

How many days had passed since the last torch went out? Days and nights tended to blend together when your psycho mother popped into your room whenever she liked and asked gleefully, “How’s it going, Son?”

“What do you think?” I had retorted, but it had amused her. So I’d stopped, and she’d increased the frequency of her visits.

She was totally bipolar. Not surprising with her dark and glowing runes. She could be chatty during one visit and completely cruel the next. She was determined to break me. I refused to give her the satisfaction. If this was pre-training, I hated to see what she’d throw my way once I left the room. If I ever left the room.

My father hadn’t bothered to see me again. He was probably pissed because I had disobeyed him. I still had no idea whether Viggo made it out or not.

I shivered despite my Asgardian clothes, which were made from a material that adjusted according to the temperature. They were useless against Hel’s cold. The coat and the gloves I’d given back to Rhys would have helped, but then my mother would have suspected something. I’d hate for her to find out the truth about my father. Rhys never brought my winter clothes either, but that was okay too because I would never have been able to explain how I got them.

I blew warm air into my hands and rubbed them. I couldn’t feel the tips of my fingers. Cold air from the hallway entered the room through the vents near the floor, which were worse than if they’d been near the ceiling. The blanket was too thin to act as a barrier against the cold. And without activating my healing runes, I could catch something.

I was supposed to be immune to most illnesses and diseases, but who knew what bugs lurked in Hel. The gods ate golden apples from Goddess Idun’s orchard to gain immortality. My grandmother made sure I ate bowls of the apples. But that was in Asgard. Reapers used bind runes etched on their skin to ward off illness and heal wounds. I had those too, but those might apply to Mortal diseases. Hel was unknown territory. I was depending on bind runes for strength, endurance, and other abilities to get by. They’d sustained me physically while memories from happier times had kept me sane.

I tried to summon them now. They took longer to appear, their glow dim, and then they disappeared. Damn. I was too weak to do it and I couldn’t add new ones without an artavus. The guards had stripped me of all my runic blades at my mother’s orders.

The door swung open and light flooded the room. I closed my eyes against the glare. Funny I hadn’t heard their footsteps. Maybe my hearing was already gone. My mother often arrived with her giant servant and two guards, as though the more people who witnessed my humiliation the better. I reached up to touch my ears, but I didn’t make it because a bleating cry echoed in the room. The sound was unusually loud. Something was wrong with my hearing because that sounded like a goat.

I opened my eyes slowly, squinting to give them time to adjust. As usual, the redheaded giantess entered first. In her hand was a torch nearly twice the size of a regular one. Her dark pants, tunic, and the hooded cloak only made her look larger. Leather soles slapped on the stone floor as she moved farther into the room. Under her arm was…

I peered at it. A lamb or a goat? She placed it down and it bleated again. A lamb. What new torture had my mother devised now?

She entered the room, stood in the glow of the light, and stared at me with a serious expression. Usually, she gloated. “I’m sure by now you cannot talk without sounding like an idiot,” she said. “You’re probably delirious. Your eyesight is blurry and your hearing is off, and if you tried standing, you’d fall flat on your face.”

Remember why you are doing this.
For your sister. For your mother even though she doesn’t know it.
She was going to go ballistic once she learned the child she thought she’d lost was alive. Someone would have to be there for her. She had my father wrapped around her finger, so I doubted he could stop her from going postal on the Norns and anyone unfortunate enough to stand in her way.

Since I wasn’t sure whether she was right about my inability to talk, I kept quiet.

“I’ve brought you a little present that should help ease things a bit. A lamb.” She chuckled as though enjoying a private joke. “You think you are hungry and thirsty enough to kill this lamb and sate your thirst and hunger?” She moved closer. “You come from a long line of Witches, shifters, and giants. Most people reveal who they really are when they are at their worst and have nothing to lose, Eirik. Here is your chance.” She stepped back. “Make me proud.”

She turned and walked out of the room. The giantess followed her, the door slamming shut behind them. The lamb cried and my stomach growled in response.

Oh, she was slick, planting ideas in my head. If I were like my grandfather, I could conjure fire and kill the lamb. As a wolf, I could attack it and eat every piece of flesh from its bones. Raw. But as a serpent, I could swallow it whole and lay here while I digested it.

My stomach squeezed, my gag reflex kicking in. The idea of eating uncooked flesh was repulsive. And for the first time since I decided to stick it out in Hel and become the kind of son my mother would be proud of, I wished I had escaped. I wished I had left and never looked back. My mother was sadistic and my sister and I were better off without her.

I let my mind wander to my happy place. I’d spent hours reliving the past, focusing on the one person that mattered, so I wouldn’t think about food and water. Cora. The memories had been vivid. This time, my mother’s words took me to a time I had forgotten.

“Eirik! Not that way,” Raine yelled. “This way.”

“No.” She was four and bossy, but I was nearly five. As the older one, I was the leader. “It flows this way. See the sand here? We can have a big lake.” I scooped the mound of sand out of the way and created a path for the water.

“Daddy!” Raine screamed. “Eirik is doing it again.”

“Cry baby,” I teased.

“Stop it, Eirik! Stop it. Daddy! DADDY!”

Uncle Tristan stepped out of the house and came toward the sand pit. I wasn’t worried about him getting mad at me like my daddy did. He’d stopped our fights and never took Raine’s side even though he was her daddy. I wished he were my daddy, too. He wasn’t even my real uncle. He was just a pretend one.

“Are my engineers having creative differences again?” he asked.

“Look, Daddy.” She pointed at me, tears racing down her face. “They are back,” she wailed. “Make them go away.”

She pointed at me. I had itchy skin, but since I couldn’t see my back, I didn’t care. Sometimes they hurt, but sometimes I didn’t feel a thing, like now. My mom made me go to sleep, then made them go away.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Tristan said. “Go to the house and call Mommy.”

Raine ran to the house, leaving me with her daddy. He squatted. Something in his expression had me saying, “It doesn’t hurt, Uncle Tristan.”

“That’s because you, Son, are one tough cookie. May I take a look?”

I nodded and turned. “I didn’t scratch. It wasn’t itchy this time.”

He lifted my shirt and cool air rushed to my skin. I glanced over my shoulder, but I couldn’t see anything. Without saying a word, he lowered my shirt, stood, and offered me his hand. “Put it there, slugger.”

We high-fived and went to the house, where Aunt Svana was wiping Raine’s tears. She wasn’t my real aunt, but that was okay. She was nice, and she liked to give hugs and kisses, and tell funny stories.

“Go to the kitchen with Daddy, sweetheart, while I take Eirik to the doctor.”

“No,” Raine said and moved to my side, her lower lip sticking out. She took my hand. “I’m going with Eirik.” The last time Aunt Svana and Mom put medicine on my back, I’d told Raine that it had hurt. It hadn’t, but I got her to give me her cookie.

“How about we bake him cookies, pumpkin?” Uncle Tristan said. “He’ll want some when he comes back from the doctor.”

Raine didn’t hesitate. She let go of my hand and went to her Dad. “The cookies will make it all better, Eirik.”

I loved cookies, so I didn’t complain. I glanced over my shoulder at Aunt Svana and saw her face. She looked worried.

“It doesn’t hurt,” I reassured her.

“Oh, sweetheart. You make me so proud.” She scooped me up anyway and I looped my arms around her shoulder. She smelled nice and her hair was soft. She didn’t hug me this time because of my back.

“Will I see the doctor this time?” I asked as we left their house.

“Maybe.” She tapped my nose and carried me across the lawn to my house. Mom and Dad stood at the front door, looking pale. They always looked worried when my back hurt.

“It doesn’t hurt,” I quickly reassured them, too.

Aunt Svana carried me inside and sat on a stool in the kitchen. She stroked my hair and my cheeks, and my eyes started to close. I always tried to stay awake. I rested my head on her shoulder and fell asleep.

When I woke up, I was on my bed upstairs and Raine stood by my side, peering at me. Behind her on the table was a plate of cookies. I sat up.

“Did it hurt?” she asked.

I nodded and hopped off the bed. She followed me.

“Is it better?” she asked.

“Yes.” I didn’t really care. I just wanted the cookies. I sat on the chair and picked up one. She grinned as she joined me and reached for one.

The memory faded and the ache behind my eyes grew. That was the first memory I’d had about my life as a child. My mind was trying to tell me something. I never saw my back or what they did to make the problem go away, and I was never treated at a hospital. Chances were they’d used runes.

What if the same runes were messing with my gift or ability to be like my grandfather, or to shift into other forms? My mother could be right. I could be trapped in my human form. Weak and limited by what I could do just like she had said. I needed to be strong to live among the gods, to deal with the Norns, and to take over for my grandfather.

More memories of being treated followed. Second grade. Third grade. They’d stopped by fourth grade. I never used it as an excuse to get more cookies or discussed it with Raine again. And recently, I’d wake up from night terrors with pain raking my back, which I now believed was connected to the itchy skin on my back.

I must have fallen asleep because the bleating lamb woke me up. I was feverish, yet cold. Hungry, yet nauseous. Every inch of my body hurt.

I was done. I couldn’t take it anymore. My mother had won.

I carefully slid off the bed, but landed on all fours, my elbows connecting with the stone floor. Pain shot up my shoulder. Without strength and pain runes, I felt the burn. The lamb bleated again.

“Shut up!” I tried to say, but it came out garbled. My ability to speak was gone.

Grinding my teeth, I tried standing, but I couldn’t summon the strength to get to my feet from a sitting position. I cursed silently. The effect was lost since I couldn’t speak. After several attempts, I resigned myself to pulling my body forward like a soldier doing low-crawl drills, each heave harder than the last.

The lamb continued to bleat, the sound getting louder as though it was moving closer. I hoped I would turn into a wolf just to shut it up. I paused to catch my breath, my breathing raspy. If I weren’t so dehydrated, I’d be sweating. Weird warmth suffused my chest. It wasn’t the first time I’d felt it. I was hot and uncomfortable, boiling from the inside.

There was a surge of energy in the room as though someone had opened a portal, but I didn’t see it. Maybe my eyesight was messed up, too. Then a sharp pain shot up my arm. The damn lamb had stepped on my fingers.

“Aah,” a female voice said. “What’s that? Is that you?” Something pressed on my head. “What are you doing on the floor?”

I tried to place the voice, fighting through the fog in my head. Then it hit me. The stubborn pretty soul was back. What was her name? Something heavenly.

Celeste.

No, Celestia. Like Princess Celestia in the cartoon TV series Raine had me hooked on years ago. The stubborn soul was definitely back, and I’d never been happier.

“It’s dark in here,” she said. “Just a second while I create light. My spells aren’t the best, and Doctor B said I have to be careful with spells if this is Hel.”

“If this is Hel?” Did I hear that correctly?
Not wanting her to see me on the floor, I pushed and strained as I retraced my path back to the bed. I could hear her mutter something, but the pounding of my heart and the ringing in my ears made it impossible to hear much. I was pushing myself too hard. I made it back to the foot of the bed, pulled myself up, and partially leaned against the wall, my head spinning.

Don’t pass out. Don’t freaking pass out now.

The entire wall on the other side of the room burst into flames.

~*~