Demons (Eirik Book 1) (21 page)

“Done?” Eirik called from outside the door.

“No. What did you mean by wherever they stash souls? Don’t you know?”

“I told you this was my first visit here. I wasn’t given the grand tour. My homecoming was a party my father threw, then a trip down here.”

“What have you been doing for the last three days?”

“Working out. Eating.”

“Why didn’t you escape when you had the chance?” There was silence. I removed my filthy sweater and pulled on his. It smelled clean. It swallowed me, reaching my mid-thighs, the sleeves dangling past my fingers. “Eirik?”

“How much did Trudy tell you?” He sounded worried.

“That you could have left, but chose not to. Don’t worry. I don’t think she’s told anyone. She said nothing happens around here without her knowledge. So why didn’t you?”

“Because I belong here. Viggo didn’t.”

Viggo. Where had I heard that name? Wait, that was the guy his mother was torturing. On my first trip here, he’d asked her to release Viggo. I studied myself in the mirror. I never really considered myself short until now. I rolled up the sleeves and brushed them against my cheek.
So this is what cashmere feels like.

“Are you done?”

“Hold your horses.”

I grabbed the brush and tried to tame my hair. Three days without brushing had left knots. Last, I picked up the deodorant he’d used and applied some, too. Now, I smelled like him.

Gah, I was becoming that girl. The one that thought everything to do with her man was hot, except Eirik wasn’t mine. Not in the usual sense. He was my responsibility. My case. He belonged to Cora and Raine, and a slew of girls he’d known before he came to Hel. In most high schools, the rich jocks often got the pretty girls, and Eirik had jock written all over his handsome face. And jocks, rich or otherwise, never wanted to be seen with Witches where I came from.

I opened the door and he looked up. He wasn’t alone. The Dwarf who’d brought my bath water was with him.

“Look at you, Dimples,” Eirik said, walking toward me. “You make that ugly sweater look sexy.”

My cheeks warmed at the compliment, but my eyes drifted to the grinning Dwarf who was nodding as though agreeing with Eirik. I ignored Eirik, walked straight to the Dwarf, and offered him my hand. He was so adorable with reddish hair and a bulbous nose.

“I’m Celestia Devereaux.”

“Litr Rockson. Nice to make your acquaintance.” He took my hand and dropped a kiss on my knuckles.

I grinned. “The pleasure is all mine.”

“No hogging her attention, Litr. Or kissing her. She’s mine.” Eirik cocked his arm. “Ready?”

I ignored the
mine
part. Something must have happened while I was gone because he was a lot more, I don’t know, chatty.

“Promise you won’t embarrass me,” I whispered, taking his arm.

“Me? Stick to the plan and we’ll be good. Remember, you’ve been here three months and you like to move around, fell for me, and decided to stick around.”

“Only a fool would believe I fell for you,” I whispered. “You are not my ty…”

The rest of my words got stuck in my throat because Litr had just opened a portal into a room so beautiful and bright I couldn’t help smiling. Concerns about being trapped in this realm melted away as I stepped into the room and my senses soaked everything in.

Baldur might live in Hel, but he’d brought a little Asgard with him

CELESTIA

The scent of fresh flowers filled the air. White chairs and carpet, golden curtains and tables with gilded edges, and white columns with vertical hollows and gold motifs. There was no way this was part of Hel’s Hall.

Eirik smiled at my reaction and I closed my mouth. The floor plan was open, the living room area with its flowers on tables and gorgeous crystal chandeliers on the arched, vaulted ceilings flowing into the dining room separated by columns. To the left was a balcony overlooking a waterfall. No, not a balcony, I noticed as we moved closer. It was a 3-D floor-to-ceiling mural. To our right was another 3-D mural of columns and a hallway, adding to the illusion that the room was part of a huge hall. I’d seen pictures of Asgard online that looked just like that.

The man who walked in through the only archway looked so much like Eirik I gawked. No one could ever doubt they were father and son. Their hair, features, and the eye color were the same. The only difference was in their clothes. Baldur wore white pants and a tunic with a gold sash and matching sandals, his outfit ancient and timeless. Godly. Eirik’s looked like any smoking hot young man back at home in a black sweater and jeans. Jeans and a sweater he’d changed into in front of me. I still couldn’t believe he’d done that. He had no shame.

I tried to imagine Baldur as Goddess Hel’s husband and failed. She was so, I don’t know, cold, while he radiated warmth. The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

“Celestia, my dear. Welcome to my home,” he said.

I didn’t know whether to curtsey, offer him my hand, or bow. So I did all, or variations of them, and prayed I didn’t fall flat on my face.

“No, no. None of that here.” He gripped my arms and planted a kiss on my left cheek then my right. “Join me for lunch.”

“Lunch?” Eirik hadn’t mentioned eating with his father.

“Yes, lunch, my dear,” Baldur said. “You do eat.”

I nodded. “Yes, sir.”

I ate without tasting a thing and heard Eirik and his father’s discussion without actually absorbing much. The more I thought about the woman in the cave the more I was convinced she wanted me to teach Eirik magic. He might come from magical people, but he had zero abilities. He was no longer locked in that dungeon and was free to come and go as he pleased, so he didn’t need my help setting him free or busting him out of Hel. Heck, he had a chance to escape and hadn’t taken it. He didn’t want to leave. Unless I missed something. That left magic—spells and everything witchy.

I stopped stressing about the giantess and studied father and son, noting the little differences I’d missed during my first observation. Eirik’s blond locks were slightly darker than his father’s. His eyes were also a lighter shade of amber and his skin was definitely more tanned.

“So tell me your story,
d
ý
rr
?” Baldur said, leaning back against his seat, a glass of mead or apple juice in his hand. They drank a lot of both here. “My son tells me nothing, except that you are special.”

Lying was not an easy thing for me, especially after I stopped living a lie years ago and embraced what I was. I glanced at Eirik and from his expression he knew I was about to do a one-eighty. He shook his head, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t lie anymore.

My eyes met his gentle ones and the words tumbled out. “I’m a seventeen-year-old Witch from Windfall, Louisiana,” I said and Eirik groaned. I ignored him. “I have the ability to astral project, which I use to help people.”

“Let it all out,” Eirik mumbled.

“Son, let her finish,” his father said, his voice so pleasant it didn’t sound like a reprimand.

I spared Eirik a glance. He looked ready to strangle me. “Last week on Monday, I astral projected here, found your son in the dungeons, and realized he needed help. I came back on Friday with drinks, chocolate, and warm clothes. Since then, I’ve tried to astral project home, but I can’t. I’m trapped.”

Baldur frowned. “The magic here interferes, I believe. We’ve had a few Witches stay with us a little longer than expected, but that was centuries ago when Earth had more powerful magic.”

Another Trudy. Eirik no longer looked pissed. He was interested in our conversation. “How long were they here?” he asked.

“Too long,” he said vaguely. “I’ll see what I can do to help. In the meantime, you are welcome to be our guest for as long as you want.”

“I
want
to go home, sir.”

“I know. Unfortunately, the entrance used by the Grimnirs is only one-way for souls. They can enter, but never leave.”

“Why not?” Eirik asked.

“A soul leaving through it would reverse the runes guarding it and prevent souls from coming in—but not from leaving. I don’t think Mortals are equipped to deal with an influx of souls from this realm. Most are drawn to the living.”

I could just imagine. Maybe that was what my mother saw in her premonition—evil souls following me through the Grimnirs’ portal and causing mayhem. I felt a little sick thinking about it.

Baldur patted my arm. “Don’t worry, there are ways around it. I’ll let you know once I arrange it.”

Hope returned, but Eirik was once again scowling. I hoped he didn’t think I’d undermined or betrayed him by confessing to his father. I was raised to face my problems head-on and when stumped to turn to my family for help, not hide the truth from them.

Baldur’s focused shifted and he murmured, “
Elskr
mín
.
”

I followed his eyes to a portal. The goddess stood on the other side. Her blue gown enhanced the color of her eyes and hugged every curve of her body. Smiling, she stepped into the room. The smile was a bit cocky and mocking, yet totally captivating. Just like Eirik’s.

Eirik and his father stood. I scrambled unceremoniously to my feet. Not that she noticed me. Her eyes were on her boys, and she didn’t hide that she adored them, which begged the question, why had she starved Eirik? I didn’t buy her assertion that she was testing his endurance. She could have easily made him run a marathon in their frozen tundra or something for that.

The goddess floated to her husband’s side. The affection between them was obvious as he looped a hand around her waist and pulled her closer before planting a kiss on her lips.

“Why didn’t you tell me our son was joining us for lunch?” she chided him.

“We were busy with your guests,
dýrr,
” Baldur responded smoothly.

“Hardly guests. Visitors who stop by unannounced and insist on a private audience can always wait. Next time, come get me. Two days of dealing with them is more than enough. I’d rather be here. Trudy?”

I hadn’t noticed Trudy until now. She pulled out a chair for the goddess, then discreetly stepped back. The goddess sat and Baldur moved his chair closer to hers. As though it was a ritual, she gave him her hand. They were so cute together. I glanced at Eirik to see his reaction. His face was expressionless.

He pushed in his chair. “We were just leaving, Mother.”

“Were you now?” the goddess said, studying him, her expression still amused. If his attitude hurt her, she didn’t show it. “And what is so important you have to run away, Son?”

“I’m not running, Mother. I’m walking away. Celestia needs my help with something.” I wanted to kick him. He wanted to knock heads with his mother? He should go ahead and leave me out of it.

Her eyes narrowed on me. This time, she didn’t try to get inside my head. She just dismissed me and her focus shifted back to Eirik. “Hmm, I believe you missed Monday’s training session. Litr will escort you to the training arena tomorrow.”

Eirik leaned on the back of his chair and locked gazes with her. “Which one? The Grimnirs’ or the one under the bridge?”

“So you’ve been snooping.”

“Hardly. This is my home. I was giving myself a tour since no one’s offered to show me around. Will you just be watching me train or participating?” Eirik shot back.

“You can’t handle me, Son. Not for a few more centuries.”

“Give me back my mace and let’s find out,” he shot back.

The goddess laughed. “Okay. You’ll get your mace.”

“And my artavo?”

The smile left her face. “You have no need for the blades.”

“Isn’t that for me to decide?” He leaned in, his hands gripping the back of the chair, his voice emotionless. “Just like I’ve been deciding things for my life the last eighteen years? Alone? What to wear to school because the maid was running late and my parents didn’t want to be bothered? What to eat when no one was home after I got home from school, or go to my friend’s house to eat their leftovers? Worrying about what
my mother
would say because I didn’t do so well in math or science, except she didn’t give a shit?” He straightened, his hands gripping his chair. “Where were you then to decide for me, Mother?”

Holy crap. A stricken look had crossed the goddess’ face the moment Eirik had started talking. Now she was pale, her runes less sparkly.

Baldur extended a hand toward Eirik. “Son…”

“Don’t, Father. You have no idea…” Eirik took a long breath and exhaled. “You both have no idea what my life was like, so yes, when I say I want my artavo back, you give them back. I’m not a child anymore. You had your chance to tell me what to do and shape my future when I was young, but you missed out. This is who I am. Take it or leave it.”

He turned and started to leave the room, then extended his hand to me. I was fighting tears. All his arrogance and cockiness hid so much pain, and the dam finally broke. I took his hand.

“Open a portal back to our room,” he whispered.

I did and looked back once to find the goddess staring after us with an expression I couldn’t describe. If someone asked me, I’d say she was relieved, which didn’t make sense. The woman didn’t react like a typical mother.

~*~

Inside the room, Eirik dropped on the bed and covered his face with his arm. I stood by the bed and stared down at him, wiping the wetness from my cheeks, not sure what to do. Did he want me to leave?

“Don’t cry for me, Dimples,” he mumbled. “No one has a perfect childhood. We all have cracks and pieces missing. Some of us are just better at covering them.”

He hid his by acting invincible and being cocky. “You should have seen her face. I think she was shocked.”

“Let’s hope it lasts long enough for her to give me my blades.” A knock resounded on the door and he sat up. “I guess it did.”

I went to answer it and found Litr on the other side with a wrapped leather pouch. On top of the pouch was a mace with a single spiked round head. It seemed so ordinary, except for the runes on the handle.

“For the young god,” Litr said.

“Thanks.” I reached for them and he placed them on my stretched hand. In the next second, the floor rushed to meet me. My chin landed on the spikes and pain shot along my jaw. Eirik reached me seconds later, his runes blazing.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I’m so sorry, miss,” Litr said. “I forgot.”

“I got her, Litr,” Eirik said. I was on his lap before I knew it. He had his speed runes, so I hadn’t seen that coming. I would have scrambled off his lap if it weren’t for my throbbing chin. He gripped my wrist when I lifted my hand. “Don’t touch it.”

“Is it bleeding?”

He tilted my head. “Not really. It’s just a scratch.”

A scratch wouldn’t hurt this much. Blood dropped on my pants. Oh no. Panicking, I wiggled my hand free and touched my chin. My hand came out red. I hated blood. Hated seeing it, touching it. It was one of those phobias I couldn’t explain yet.

“Oh, God. I’m going to faint. I need to lie down.” I tried to scramble from Eirik’s lap, but his arm tightened.

“It’s nothing, Dimples. Calm down.”

“Calm down? You’re not the one bleeding to death.” Panic rose like a tidal wave. “What the hell is that thing made of?”

“Dwarf magic, miss,” Litr said. “I should not have given it to you.”

“Litr, stop beating yourself up,” Eirik ordered. “Go. She now knows never to touch my weapons.” The Dwarf threw us one last apologetic glance and hustled out of the room.

Eirik rose gracefully and with such ease like I weighed nothing, carried me to the bed, and sat. “It’s okay. I promise I won’t let you bleed to death.” He tucked my head under his chin and stroked my cheek.

I slowly calmed down. Then everything changed. I became aware that I was on his lap, which made it suddenly hard to breath. I wanted to wrap myself around him and soak him in. An ache started in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t understand what was happening to me, but I knew it had something to do with this guy.

“Okay, I’m going to lay you down on the bed, Dimples, and take care of your chin.” I clung to him for just a second, then mentally slapped myself. I wasn’t the clinging type. I let him go. He gently laid me against the pillows.

“Do you have a mirror? Can I see?” I asked.

“No.”

I blinked at his firm voice. “Why not?”