Desolate (Desolation) (24 page)

She tilted her head and her hair sprang into soft curls.

Michael tugged me tighter. “Hello Hel,” he said, his voice cold and dark, his eyes guarded.

“Perfect! You’re perfect together!” She clapped her hands. A very large Doberman whined and lay down at her feet, his head on his paws. A Hound, I assumed.

Helena stepped close to Michael—too close—and pinched his cheek. “You’ve grown up so beautifully.” She let her hand trace down his neck, until she squeezed his bicep. “So beautifully.”

Michael cleared his throat.

“Oh, I know, I know. Hands to myself and all that jazz.” She whirled away, dancing among the rubble as if she were in a ballroom. “Oh! It feels so good to be free!” She clapped her hands again and bounced on her toes. “What should we do first?”

“You didn’t need to come here, Hel. I’m sure Odin would not approve.”

She made a dismissive sound in her throat and flipped her hand in the air. “Oh, Odin wouldn’t approve.” She leaned to me and whispered conspiratorially, “He almost never approves. Such a party pooper.” She danced away again. “Besides, I wanted to come here. I love it here.” She kicked a stone with the toe of her glamorous shoe. “Except, you could do with some remodeling, for sure.”

“Heimdall,” Michael roared with such force small stones skittered on the floor. “We rescue him, we defeat Loki, and you reclaim Helheimer.”

“Sure, sure,” Hel said, stepping past the debris and peeking into the graveyard.

“Hel.”

“Whatever you say, Studly. Where do we start?”

Michael’s shoulders were nearly to his ears with tension. I could hear his teeth grind together before he spoke. “You know where Heimdall is being held?”

Helena laughed and rolled her eyes. “Duh. Even Desolation here could figure it out, now that she’s discovered Daddy’s nasty secret.” She inspected her fingernails and grimaced. “I need a good manicure. Like, yesterday.”

Michael grasped her elbow. “Let’s go.”

She squirmed and said, “Testy. Fine, hold on, then.” I barely had time to take a breath before she shoved me and Michael, side-by-side, through the Door.

My mind filled with images of unspeakable cruelty. And a golden Halo that did not belong in Hell—until, it seemed, it did.

These Remembrances were not my own. They were wild with sorrow, pain and regret.

They were Michael’s.

Silence pressed down on me like an anvil.

Burning cold choked my throat, stopped my heart.

We were deep, deep in Helheimer, beyond Father’s kingdom in the bowels of the world.

I doubled over, braced my hands against my knees. “How . . . How did we get here?” Because we sure as hell weren’t in Father’s throne room—I’d never seen this place before.

“I brought you here, silly.” Helena asked, lounging against an icy wall that seemed to move beneath her touch, shifting into the vague form of strange creatures. I narrowed my eyes, peering more closely, but when I looked directly at the wall, I only saw stone.

“Pleasant, isn’t it?”

Hel pushed herself off the wall and flicked her wrist. The Hounds bounded on ahead—their growls and occasional barks echoing off the cavernous walls.  “Pardon the mess. I didn’t think I’d ever entertain in my basement.” Her words echoed while Michael and I walked behind her in silence.

We turned down a hall I recognized from when the Hounds had led me to Helena, but this time, maybe because we moved more slowly, the cold was nearly unbearable. My teeth chattered.

“Loki’s not too creative—if he had me hanging beneath Helheimer, I imagine he has Heimdall similarly detained.” She craned her neck forward and peered around a corner as the Hounds began to howl.

“Oh, goodie, we’re here.” She looked back at us and gestured for us to hurry. “Come on!” And she ran ahead. On high heels. In the cold, icy depths of Hell.

Helena turned a corner and I lost sight of her. Dread and doubt raced through my blood with equal intensity. I tucked my chin and ran after her, narrowly avoiding a face plant on a sheen of ice.
How the hell did she do this in heels?

And then I was skidding to a stop, pulled up short by the sight in front of me.

Michael slid into my back and I stumbled forward, the two of us clinging to each other in an effort to avoid going down.

“I know. Stunning, isn’t he?” Helena didn’t spare a glance for us, her attention focused on the sight before her.

We’d entered a shallow cavern with the end opposite us almost completely obscured by a giant slab of ice. A giant slab of ice with Heimdall trapped inside.

chapter thirty-six

Desi

The god of the Bifrost stood more than twice as high as Michael, and almost twice as wide. Both his arms were outstretched, one reaching out for his sword (as tall as Michael) encased beside him, just out of reach. In his other hand he held a golden horn. On his black-as-night face he wore an expression of ferocious anger, his eyebrows drawn down, his silver eyes glittering, his mouth wide open in a scream I could almost hear.

Helena skipped up to him and traced a finger over the outline of Heimdall’s shoulders and face. “Isn’t he glorious?” She looked at me out of the corner of her eye. “Did you know we used to date? He was such a shy one, Dally was.” She leaned toward me and whispered conspiratorially, “That’s what I called him. My little Dally-Wally.” She paced in front of him, sizing him up and down. “So careful. So bo-ring.”

She sauntered toward Michael, carefully putting one foot in front of the other. I felt Michael tense beside me.

“Now, this fine young man—I bet he doesn’t have a single boring bone in his body.” She placed a finger on his chest, but Michael’s hand darted out and clasped around her wrist. His body trembled, but I couldn’t tell if she fought him, or what caused him to shake. His skin paled and the mark on his cheek darkened.

“You said you could help us free him.” He could barely form the words around his clenched teeth.

Helena leaned into Michael, a seductive smile on her face. You’d guess he’d just asked her to dance from the way she swayed against him. “If that would turn you on.” She stayed there for a moment before whirling away again, her wrist slipping easily from Michael’s grasp.

I wanted so badly to reach out and take his fingers in mine, but I didn’t dare. I didn’t know if he’d want me to.

My right arm burned, and I gasped before I could stop myself. Michael turned to me, his eyes wide in surprise. He opened his mouth to speak, but Helena interrupted him.

“Are you sure we can’t keep him like this? I like him better this way.” She pouted and looked up at Michael with big, blinky eyes. “He really is so pretty.” She bounced on her toes like a kid at Christmas and tugged on the front of Michael’s shirt. “Please?” Her perfectly red bottom lip popped out even more. She batted her lashes.

My vision clouded over with icy pain.
Desolation
, Father’s voice whisked through my mind.

“Oh, all right then.” Helena huffed. “Party poopers.”

She placed a hand on the ice, right above Heimdall’s chest, palm flat, fingers spread wide. “Wakey, wakey Dally. You’ve got company!” she said in a sing-song voice.

Heimdall’s eyes dilated as the ice rapidly melted away. As he came alive, his gaze flicked first to Michael, then to me. Then they narrowed on Helena’s face, who stood with her arms crossed in front of her. She’d resumed her pout.

Heimdall didn’t even glance at it, but I instinctively knew the first thing he would do is reach for his sword. And I wasn’t the only one who guessed that. As soon as he could move his hand, Heimdall reached—but Hel wrapped both her hands tightly around the hilt and pulled the giant weapon free.

My head felt like Father had placed it in a vice. The pressure worsened and I bent forward, my stomach suddenly nauseous.

“Uh, uh, uh,” she sang. Then she dropped the sword to the ground. “Wow. That’s heavier than it looks.” She laughed, tinkling bells, but I could barely hear her over the roaring in my ears. “And it looks pretty darn heavy!”

Heimdall found his voice. “Leave it be!” he shouted, causing the cavern to rumble and small rocks to fall from their crevices.

“Temper, temper, Dally. You don’t want to bring the whole house down, now do you?”

Heimdall stepped free of the ice and shook himself like a dog. Ice cold droplets rained down on me.

Heimdall glared at Helena before glancing at me—but it was Michael who drew his attention. Between one blink and the next he had Michael’s shirt in his fist and Michael held high, pressed to the rock wall.

“You,” he hissed.

“I’m sorry.” Michael spread his hands wide, his eyes imploring.

“You did this to me.” He tightened his grip, pushing Michael into the wall. The rock ground to sand behind Michael’s back.

“I swear I didn’t mean to—I didn’t want to.” Michael clasped onto the arm that held him aloft, but he didn’t apply any pressure. His jaw muscles popped but he splayed his fingers on Heimdall’s arm, making it clear he would not resist him. “I’m so sorry.”

“He’s telling the truth—Father made him do it.” I forced the words out like a gasp or a groan. Barely audible. Father’s vice had become a leash threatening to tear me away, to bring me scurrying back to his side.

Heimdall swiveled and his eyes burned into mine. Though it cost me, I concentrated on meeting his gaze. “You expect me to trust you? Loki’s child?”

He had a point.

Helena sighed, long and low and overly dramatic. “He is telling the truth.” She spoke in a bored sigh and bit at a hangnail. She inspected her nails and
tsk tsked
over them. When she had everyone’s attention she waved her hand toward Heimdall and Michael. “So go on, kiss and make up or whatever it is you two do, and let’s get out of here.”

She walked past us, stepping into the hallway. I stumbled forward, wondering how I’d break free of Hell with Father’s grip on me. At the entrance to the rough hall, I stopped and braced myself against the rocks.

“And remind me to never come down here again. It’s horrid.” She disappeared around a bend, but I could hear the clack of her heels as she trudged away.