Gods and Mortals: Fourteen Free Urban Fantasy & Paranormal Novels Featuring Thor, Loki, Greek Gods, Native American Spirits, Vampires, Werewolves, & More (100 page)

He set about arranging the pieces; long, tapered and elegant fingers worked effortlessly to bind each gem together, restoring the necklace to its former glory. At last, he touched his finger to the broken links and joined them together one at a time. Leaning forward, I studied the links. Perfect, even if I had to shade my eyes from the glare.

The necklace shone like the circle of suns it was known to be. “There you have it. Brisingamen.” He held it up to me. “You should wear it until you get back to Asgard. Do not part with it for anyone.”

I nodded as he fitted it around my neck and stepped away from me. I arranged my hair to cover most of the glowing jewels and turned to Aidan, who now leaned against a nearby wall, his eyes half-closed. Nidhogg seemed in no need of chairs for unexpected guests. Aidan looked ready for the grave, eyes black and hollowed, cheekbones poking from beneath thinned blue-tinged skin.

“Thank you. Thank you so much,” I said to Nidhogg, smiling brighter than I’d smiled in a long time.

“It was a good trade. I will show you the way.”

He turned to the rock face at our right. The black rock softened, liquefied and swirled like a whirlpool. Then it evaporated and a doorway appeared. He stepped into a dark passageway, a carbon copy of the ones we’d used to get to Nidhogg.

He beckoned, and I held on to Aidan, supporting him as we followed our dragon-man through a series of tunnels. Wings flapped in the darkness above me, and Hugin rejoined our little procession.

After a few minutes, the passageway ended in a small cave. We stopped. Nidhogg stood in the center of the cave and waved his hand. A shimmering circle of rainbow-speckled mist grew, and I wondered why Muspell had such beautiful entrances to the Bifrost whereas even Asgard’s entrance was plain and seemingly invisible.

“The Rainbow of the Gods,” he said with an elegant flourish of his hand.

“Thank you, Nidhogg.” I wasn’t sure how else I could express my gratitude except for words. A hug would probably seem too forward and might get me in more trouble than I could afford right now.

His laughter took me by surprise.

“I am
the
Nidhogg. The Master of the Nidhogg, the race of dragons who live within Muspell. Did Hugin not tell you this?” He cast a disparaging eye at the raven on my shoulder.

“Hugin has an interesting method of imparting information,” I said with a wry smile.

“My name is Steinn and I am a Nidhogg.” He smiled, unaffected by my ignorance. I released a tense breath, freeing the pent-up fear that I’d just offended him.

I returned his wave as we stepped into the swirling entrance to the Bifrost. We huddled through and walked straight into the transfer room in Asgard.

I
studied Aidan
; my first concern was how he’d fared after our journey on the Bridge. His pallor had worsened, and he leaned more of his weight on me as we regained our footing on Asgard ground. He really did look like the walking dead.

Then a spike of exhilaration replaced the turmoil in my stomach. We had won! My arms stayed where they were, tight around his waist, while his fingers moved from my shoulder to the curve of my neck. Pulling me close, keeping me close. The nature of the air changed; electricity rippled around us, between our bodies, which were so close hardly a breadth of air could pass between us.

I forgot to breath, just absorbed Aidan into my pores. It wasn’t as if either of us had much of a choice. An inexplicable force pulled us together, body seeking body, skin needing skin. Breath breathing breath. Our lips met in an explosion of honeyed heat, building to a frenzied crescendo that threatened to consume us both whole.

The door slammed open, iron handle crashing into the wall. Sigrun entered, a smile brightening her face as she ran forward and threw her arms around me. I blinked, still awash with heat and an emotion I’d never felt before. I tugged at Sigrun’s arms, putting much needed space between us.

“Oh my. I am so very happy you are back! Freya arrived in Asgard two days ago, in case you arrived early. Did you find it?” Her eyes gleamed with happiness as she waited for my answer.

I nodded and smiled, glad she was the first person I saw. And yet, something felt off. I brushed it off as tiredness. My wounds hadn’t fully healed and I suspected the bullet had pulverized my rib on its journey through my torso.

She grabbed me and hugged me again. I winced and swallowed a gasp of dizzying agony. Sigrun was a wonderful friend, and terribly kind too, but she wasn’t the over-effusive, touchy-feely type. She must really have missed me. “So where is it?” she asked. “Can I see Brisingamen?”

“I have it here.” I pointed at my neck, where the necklace peeked out from under the collar of my coat. I was vaguely aware that we’d arrived still wearing our Midgard clothing. “I’m going to take it straight to Freya.”

“Please, Brynhildr, could I see it? Once you give it to Freya she will be gone, and we seldom get to see Brisingamen. And never up close.” Sigrun smiled.

I opened the top button of my coat and allowed her to get a good look. If Brisingamen was this much of a renowned object, it was no surprise that anyone would want to get a look up close.

“Brynhildr, do you think you could let me wear it? Just for the tiniest second? Please. It would mean the world to me.” Sigrun clasped her fingers together beneath her chin and pleaded, her eyes filled with pure expectation.

“Sure.” I started to hand it over to my friend, until the tight grasp of Aidan’s fingers on my forearm stopped me.

“Bryn, remember what Steinn said.” Aidan’s weak voice brought me back to reality. “
Don’t part with it for anyone.
We should be going.”

I glanced at Sigrun, apologetically and maybe a little suspiciously. Why would she have made such a request? But it was her reaction that was more befuddling. Her eyes glowered, her fury so palpable it fairly twisted her face with red rage. I retreated, worried and upset. I’d never seen Sigrun this angry before, and I was torn between hurrying to Freya and comforting my friend.

But we had no time to waste. Aidan looked ready to fall apart. I grabbed his hand and pulled it around my neck, slipping my arm around his waist. I’d carry him if I could, but Aidan would never allow such a thing, so I didn’t bother to offer. Didn’t want to offend his male ego.

We left the room, entering the darkened hallway. We cast strange and ghoulish shadows as we trudged along; torch lights flickered wildly on the walls. Sigrun’s low scream of frustration followed us, evolving into a guttural growl that raised the hair on the back of my neck. My feet dragged and I stopped, the warmth in my blood slowly eking out.

We turned to face the growling monster standing behind us, cloaked in shadows, eyes glowing so much like the amber necklace encircling my neck. She...no,
he
snarled, yellow teeth bared to black-mottled gums, saliva glistening in anticipation of the taste of our flesh. The amber eyes swirled and an arctic fist rammed into my gut.

Loki.

He padded toward us, and instinct bade me move in front of Aidan. No way was I allowing him to play big strong protector when he damned well needed the protection himself. Thankfully, Aidan didn’t put up a fight.

The massive wolf lowered his bristling body almost to the floor, then launched off his hind legs with all the force of godly power within those muscles. He flew at me, aiming his front paws at my chest, but I backpedaled further down the passage and away from Aidan.

Loki landed on the cold stone, skittering, claws scrabbling for footing. He growled, and goose bumps rippled on my skin. This was Loki, a powerful god. I had no business fighting him. But he wanted Brisingamen. How he intended to remove the necklace from my neck with those gleaming claws was a mystery to me, but that was beside the point. Aidan had so little time left.

Even now, my heart did that funny little jumping dance when I remembered our recent kiss. It had been so long since we’d been so close. It sucked that Loki had to come by at just the right time to spoil my fun.

The hulking beast growled again; his thick black pelt shivered as he sprang again. This time I waited, drawing my sword from the leather scabbard in pained silence. He was almost on me. I brought my sword around in a wide arc, slamming the hilt into his skull with all the force I could muster. The animal fell to the ground beside me, disappearing into a shower of black smoke and puffs of glimmering light too pretty to be connected to this sneaky god.

The dense smoke spread, thicker, larger, until Loki in human guise stood before me, shaking with fury. He ran at me, smashing me into the wall, his forearm pressed into my throat, cutting off my circulation. I pushed, frantic to get him off me and away from the necklace, but no amount of strength could move him. My vision grew dark and heavy at the edges, until I almost passed out. All I could think of was Aidan at the mercy of this vindictive monster.

Then I was free, gasping for breath, rubbing my throat.

Aidan grunted. I looked up to see him and Loki embroiled in a fierce struggle, faces red and veined. Aidan had Loki around the neck, struggling to land a blow to the god’s gut. Loki fended off Aidan’s hand. Aidan’s breath came in short, tired bursts and my heart sank.

I pushed off the wall and grabbed at Loki. Aidan’s strength had waned and he was unable to hold on to the god. Loki whirled, daring to bare his back at me, and slammed his fist into Aidan’s midriff. All I heard was a desperately anguished groan as the blow landed.

Loki spun toward me, a triumphant sneer on his face, eyes honing in on my neck, where the necklace blazed in tandem with his fury. His face, blood-filled, feral, reduced my knees to Jell-O. So much for being a warrior maiden. I couldn’t decide if my best choice was to run, or lash out at him.

Then we both were struck down, pain splicing my cheekbone as I fell to the cold stone. Loki fell with me, surprise, frustration and fury melding into an almost comical grimace.

Fenrir.

He fell upon Loki, trussing him up so fast I barely saw his hands move, and almost missed the glowing chain of gold he withdrew from his belt to wind around the tricky god’s hands. The second Fen’s eyes met mine, I registered the irony. Fenrir had just captured the god Loki, trickster and troublemaker of the Aesir, who also happened to be his father.

A
warm hand
grasped my arm. I turned to stare into Sigrun’s worried eyes. She glanced back at Fen as he drew the bristling Loki to his feet and marched him past us.

“What happened? Are you alright? Is Aidan alright?” Sigrun stared me up and down and did the same for Aidan. Her face fell at his condition. “The Mead?”

The torchlight nearest to her flickered as if in worried agreement with her. It hit me then that the clues had been there in the fake Sigrun. Those hugs, her overly effusive personality, even how she’d called me Brynhildr. Sigrun had stopped calling me that ages ago.

“It helped a little,” I said. I was in shock, post-Loki shock.

He’d almost killed me. But I was still standing and I had Fen to thank. And Aidan. He hunched over beside me, his weight leaning more onto me than ever. The necklace was white hot around my neck and all I wanted was to rip it off. The thing had almost cost me Aidan’s life. And mine.

We followed Fen as he led Loki to Odin’s Hall. The backs of both men were rigid with two different brands of pure rage.

I walked behind them, supporting Aidan with one arm until we neared the entrance.

“I will bring him, you go on,” Sigrun said, her voice hushed.

I shrugged the long coat off my shoulders, revealing Brisingamen shining at my neck. The necklace burned hot against my skin, sending sparks of fire into my flesh, hotter and hotter as we neared the hall, as we neared its mistress. My heart thumped within my chest. I hoped the return of her precious treasure would appease her. Aidan’s life depended on it.

O
ur footsteps echoed
as we entered Odin’s Hall, which thankfully was empty except for Freya, Astrid and Odin. And Hugin, who flew to his master and reclaimed his position on Odin’s shoulder.

Despite Loki’s intervention, we’d fulfilled our end of the bargain, bringing Brisingamen with us. Elation built within me with each slow step toward the throne. Aidan walked at my side, pushing Sigrun off, demanding to stand alone despite the weakness in his stride and the deathly white pallor of his skin. Odin turned and sent me a pride-filled glance. A burst of emotion flooded my body. Tears dammed hot behind my eyes and the urge to shed them was so strong I almost lost control of that potential flood.

Freya stood to Odin’s right, her eyes alight as they settled on my neck. Her delight to see her long-lost necklace echoed in the golden glow shining from her face and body. Her pure happiness revealed her unparalleled beauty as the Goddess of Love.

Beside Freya, Astrid glared at me, cold fury shining from her face, the feathers of her white wings shivering behind her.

I moved forward, smiling.

Freya stepped off the dais, her golden chain-armor shimmering over a dress of spun gold. She seemed to me a stunning vision, and yet I knew the depth of her cruelty. At this point, though, I didn’t mind ignoring the way she’d used us. It was done. Over.

She drew close. The fragrance of jasmine flowers drifted to me. I tilted my head, fiddled with the clasp and removed the shining neck piece. Freya snatched it from me, barely waiting for me to hand it over. She stared at the gleaming ring of amber and let out a peal of joyous laughter. Her smile was infectious, her laughter so happy that even I lost the edge to my anger with the goddess.

“My dear Brynhildr. You have succeeded in fulfilling my deepest desire,” Freya said, her eyes still fixed on her prized necklace. “To be honest, I didn’t expect you to succeed.”

There it was. The vein of venom beneath the golden aura of this goddess. Aidan had almost died in the quest to return her precious trinket and she didn’t care one bit. No surprise there.

With an ominous edge in her voice, Freya said, “Of course, you shall receive your reward, my dear.”

My heart tripped, and I wondered if she meant to renege on her promise to remove the curse from Aidan. I almost stepped in front of him, the need to protect him still my highest priority, but I controlled my instinct. Such an insult to the goddess in Odin’s own hall would not be tolerated. I had to force myself to trust her. For now. He needed to be free from her curse. Free from her hold again.

Freya stood close to Aidan, close enough to place a gentle kiss on his lips. A wave of jealous anger crashed into me. Surely she was able to remove the darned curse without making out with him. At first, wrapped up in the green folds of my jealousy, I didn’t see the wisps of golden breath that wafted from her mouth. I stifled a gasp as a snaking coil of golden mist swirled and danced before Aidan’s lips.

It entered his mouth.

I shuddered. Freya’s magic was beautiful and disgusting at the same time. I wanted to close my eyes, to avoid seeing Freya kissing Aidan. But I remained transfixed, fascinated. A matching twist of mist erupted from Aidan’s mouth, only his was a foul mix of green and purplish smoke.

Freya’s golden coil pulled the poisonous smoke into it, enveloping it, swirling and twisting around until the green and purple mist was swallowed whole. Not a trace of the poison remained. I sighed, relieved, shaking, and still a little jealous. As she stepped away, I wondered how such a beautiful goddess could instill so deep a hatred within a mere mortal.

Freya returned to the dais, but my attention turned to Loki as he struggled to free himself from his son’s bonds. Odin watched, his lone eye burning with fury, a living flame twisting violently within his gaze.

“Take him away, Fenrir.” Odin’s voice boomed, more suited to his giant presence than the old stooped man. “I will deal with him later.” A deep sadness filled his eyes as son led father out of the gigantic hall.

“
T
hank you
.” Aidan whispered the words into my ear, color slowly returning to his pale face. “For forgiving me. For saving me.”

My heart sang, joyful at the prospect of our future, at grabbing the time we had together with both hands. We’d fought so hard for this—for the chance to be together again.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” I smiled back at him.

He reached out a hand, tenderly tracing my cheek—and then he groaned. His warm fingers slipped from my face and his shoulders hunched over. Agony streaked across his stricken face as he slumped slowly to the floor. I tried to grab him. But his dead weight pulled me along and I ended up kneeling beside him, struggling to prop him up.

Freya!

I glared up at her, unable to hide my hatred. Had she tricked us into believing that Aidan was cured? But the furrows of concern on her face forced me to stop and think, to temper my fury.

She rushed forward. “Lay him down, let me check him,” she said.

I tilted Aidan onto his back, taking his weight on my hands, to lay him gently on the ground. His pallor had worsened so quickly. I couldn’t understand why, just moments ago, he’d seemed to be recovering. I parted his coat to free him of his sword—and let out a small cry of horror.

His simple white t-shirt glistened bright red, still wet with fresh blood.

Freya knelt beside us, lifting Aidan’s sodden shirt to inspect a vicious open wound. “How old is this wound?” she asked.

I shook my head, unable to answer, my voice choked off by vicious fingers of terror.

“Speak, girl! This is no time for hysterics.”

Freya’s voice brought me back from my hell, and I cleared my throat. “He didn’t have any such injury when we arrived. And the only fighting he did was with Loki.”

As I spoke the trickster’s name, I turned to the doorway, slowly replaying the fight. Loki’d had so many opportunities to stab Aidan. My gaze followed as Fen and Loki reached the threshold. Then the trickster turned and met my eyes, an evil, triumphant gleam sparkling within those bright green orbs. He smirked at me.

I shivered and broke the gaze.

Freya still sat bent over Aidan, eyes closed as if in deep meditation. I risked disturbing her. “Can you make him better?” I pleaded with her, praying she could heal his wounds, even while dread filled my veins and entwined my soul like vicious creeping vines.

Freya shook her head and sighed. “No. I can do nothing for him. The wound is not the problem. It is the poison in his wound that is killing him.”

“Poison?” My voice shattered as I spoke the word.

Odin had moved to Aidan’s side. “It is the poison of Skadi’s venomous serpent,” he explained. “Loki has used this venom before, using the very means of punishment the goddess Skadi used on him.”

I knew the myth of Loki’s punishment, but couldn’t squeeze out a drop of sympathy for whatever agony he may have undergone. I stroked Aidan’s hair, my voice sinking to a whisper as I asked, “So...Aidan will die?”

“It is possible. But—” Odin and Freya shared a glance. At her tiny nod, he continued. “There is one place where the poison will cease to work.”

I grasped at the hope in his words. “Where? We have to take him there if it will save him.”

I rose to my knees, reaching again for Aidan, but Freya held my arm and said, “I will take him. There is nothing you can do for him. But I shall try to find a cure.”

“Where are you taking him? Can I come and see him?”

“I will take him with me to Hel. Hel is the only place in the world where any poison, not of my creation, becomes useless. You may visit, of course. But, I fear you may be rather occupied.” Freya rose slowly, golden silk shimmering with her movements.

My heart sank. I knew then that I wouldn’t see Aidan for a while, that I wouldn’t be able to make him better after all.

What a viciously beautiful irony.

We’d come all this way, succeeded in returning Brisingamen to Freya, even succeeded in getting Loki incarcerated again, and it was all for nothing. Aidan was still going to die. I wasn’t sure I believed that Hel was the best place for him. But I had to trust Odin’s advice. It didn’t mean I had to trust Freya, though. Not by a long shot.

Aidan now lay so still I could have sworn he was dead. His skin had turned alabaster, his lips so blue they appeared black. I touched his cheek and was relieved to find it still held a hint of warmth. The muscles in my jaw tightened.
I will save you, whatever it takes
, I thought. Turning my head, I brushed a tear from my cheek and sat up, away from him, stiff-backed and stiff-lipped.

Freya held my gaze, a silent question simmering in the golden depths of her eyes. I nodded.

She leaned over Aidan, touched the tip of her finger to his skin. They both disappeared, the shapes of their bodies shimmering, smoky and ethereal, until they were gone and Odin and I were alone.

“He will be well, Brynhildr. Freya will find a way to heal him. Do not fear. And do not grieve. There is much to do, child. You will have need of your strength and your courage.” Odin’s voice, though soft, echoed around the hall, and within my head. I nodded, unable to speak. If I so much as opened my mouth, I knew I’d burst into tears.

The god retreated into the shadows of the Hall. Hugin fluttered after Odin as he walked away, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I sat motionless on the cool marble, admiring the pure white tiles, admiring the bright red of Aidan’s blood where grotesque color marred pristine beauty. A wash of grief flowed through me, tears filling my eyes, blurring my vision. I raised my hand to wipe the rivulets of moisture from my eyes and cheeks.

A strange, sticky warmth kissed the soft skin of my face.

I froze, snatching my hand away, my throat cutting off a gasp as I stared at my quivering palms.

Aidan’s blood soaked my hands; deepest ruby covered every inch of skin. And, as I studied Aidan’s blood on my palms, the sound of Loki’s laughter drifted toward me from the open doorway.