Gods and Mortals: Fourteen Free Urban Fantasy & Paranormal Novels Featuring Thor, Loki, Greek Gods, Native American Spirits, Vampires, Werewolves, & More (98 page)

“The catalog indicated two pieces of amber jewelry that were found. We know where one of the pieces is, but we haven’t found the other item,” said Aidan.

“Well,” she said, shifting in her seat, “I removed the necklaces from the museum catalog collection for further study. It matched a carving we found at the site of a full necklace, but we were only able to find two pieces. They seemed to have been removed from the necklace and fashioned into two pendants. I see you’ve received the one I gave to your father.”

Her eyes narrowed on the pendant around my neck.

My ears rang. “
You
gave it to him?”

“Yes, I was furious when I discovered he’d lied about the DNA results. I went to visit him in the Hamptons. You were a baby, about a year old, I believe. He was so afraid I would call the cavalry on him. But angry as I was that he’d thwarted my accolades for being the first and only archaeologist to ever uncover a real mythological creature, I wasn’t inhuman.” She shook her head, and the soft curly hair jittered. A look of intense sadness flitted across her face. “The life of a little child hung in the balance. If I’d outed him, you would’ve been taken from your parents. I didn’t have the heart to leave you at the mercy of modern science on the off-chance that you
could
be part Valkyrie. I gave him the necklace to keep until you were sixteen. He promised to give it to you, and I’m glad he upheld his end of the bargain.”

I looked away.
Thanks, Dad.
Seemed a waste of effort to get the darned necklace to me just so it could get me into more trouble than it was worth. “Do you have any idea where the other piece is? We need to retrieve the entire necklace and return it within the next week or we’re toast.”

The Professor nodded, reached for her keys at her waist. They jangled as she flicked through the bunch. She handed me a small silver key. “It’s the key to my safe deposit box in New York. Your name is the password, current spelling. The key will open the box itself. There is a drawing of the necklace as it should look if all the pieces were intact.” She paused and I wondered why she would freely give this to me. “There used to be a time when glory was something I wanted, but knowing that I found Brunhilde was enough for me. In the end, I wasn’t even angry with Geoffrey. Perhaps I was even thankful he’d denied the authenticity of the body as a Valkyrie. It would have opened up a whole new can of worms. And I’m not sure the world was ready to know she existed.”

Personally, I didn’t think the world was ready to know that
mythology
was actually real.

W
e left
with a sad farewell to the Professor. She’d looked after my interests when I was a baby, and now she helped us so willingly. And I’d always be thankful for that. It didn’t stop me from being bitter though, or furious at a father whose death saved him from explaining what the hell he’d been thinking.

We stood out in the cold passageway, making way for Henri to stride past us. The glare he threw us was enough to freeze any melting iceberg.

I worried about the effect our travels on the Bridge of the Gods would do to both my wounds and Aidan’s all-round health. I worried about arriving beside the dumpster and being shot straight through the heart. What if they were still waiting for us?

My heart thumped a dull beat beneath my ribs.

“Hugin?” The bird had flown out of Professor Wayne’s office and landed on Aidan’s shoulder again. When I spoke, he turned a liquid eye to me. “You know another way back to Midgard? If we waltz back the same way we left, we’ll be eating bullets.”

The bird nodded. All we could do was trust him. And follow him.

T
he landing hurt more
than the actual traveling. Although it was just a case of disappear and appear, both Aidan and I stumbled, disoriented, on arrival; we ended up walking right into each other. We hadn’t been that close since our encounter in Valhalla. I’d been careful to skirt any personal space infringements. They usually went hand-in-hand with the high guilt factor.

We stared at each other, a moment lost in emotion, free from betrayal, anger and guilt. A moment that lasted too few seconds and ended way too quickly.

We’d arrived on the outskirts of Central Park in the guarding shadows of a huge elm, crunching snow beneath the soles of our boots. Funny how the Bifrost always touched ground in a secure area.

O
n our way
to the bank, we passed Rockefeller Center and paused to admire the beauty of the gigantic tree. I wondered then if Asgard had a similar tradition. I would miss Christmas. It was my most favorite time of the year.

At the bank, the manager ushered us through mahogany lined halls. We signed various papers in a large, hushed room while the haughty manager looked down his nose at us, dusting non-existent specks off his expensive suit. At last we collected the Professor’s necklace without incident. We exited the steel vault, drawing strange stares from the stiff, stern-faced bank employees. Along with the necklace, we’d taken the pencil sketch of the necklace, which showed us what Brisingamen would have looked like if the entire piece were intact.

Trudging through the snow, we passed shop windows fitted out for Christmas, all red holly and deep green trees. The cheer of the holidays was lost on Aidan and me as we found another nondescript motel in another nondescript part of town to hunker down in, where the Christmas spirit was dusty and torn, old and broken.

We’d been elated with our find at first, entranced by the third glowing pendant; the set of three shimmered against the skin around my throat. But we came crashing back down when we examined the drawing in detail. The complete necklace was a series of smaller pendants, each holding a large amber gem in its center. In total, nine individual gems would circle the wearer’s neck in a garland of little gleaming suns. Three down, six to go.

“Now what?” Aidan looked at me, eyebrows heavy and shoulders drooping as he sat on the sagging, pumpkin-orange bedcover. His skin was pallid, slowly drained of his blood. The faint outline of the bullet hole-sized bruise in his forehead was more prominent than ever. The Mead had hidden it for the short time we were with the Professor, but it had returned with a vengeance when we crossed the Bifrost.

I dug out a pouch of Mead and poured a glass for each of us. “Now, we wait for Loki,” I said.

“Oh. Yeah. Forgot about him.”

A
nother restless night passed
, while I pondered the wisdom of accepting Loki’s offer. I was pretty certain Aidan worried about the same thing. He grew weaker by the day, believing it was Midgard that drained his energies, while I wallowed in my own special brand of guilt.

We ate breakfast at a rundown diner around the corner from the motel. Bad coffee, worse food. Dull chrome and ripped leather. A man sat two booths down from us, watching us over an untouched cup of coffee. He smiled, showing white teeth, tanned skin and hair that seemed darker than Aidan’s even in the weak morning light.

“He’s here,” I hissed. Aidan frowned and turned to look at Mr. Mysterious.

“Loki?”

I nodded. Then raised my own coffee cup in salute to the god. Loki’s eyes swirled a bronze-gold hue, and he rose, bringing his cup with him. I shifted and he sat beside me. Aidan stared at this new version of Loki and shook his head.

“So, what’s the deal? How do we find Nidhogg?” I asked. Something about Loki made my skin crawl. Just his presence sent shivers up and down my spine.

The bell over the door jangled and the only other customer walked out, head bent low, wrapping his scarf against the blast of Arctic air. Right before the door swung shut, Hugin flew in through the open crack. I glanced at the waitress. Thank heaven she was busy clearing a table and didn’t notice. I hoped nobody else would.

Hugin landed on my shoulder. I should have considered it significant that he chose the shoulder farthest from the god, but I was merely grateful for his presence. He felt like living protection.

“
Take care what you promise Loki and what promises you extract from him. He is not the most trustworthy of gods
.” Hugin’s baritone soothed my nerves and calmed me.

“You’re ready to play at last?” The smug smile on Loki’s face made me want to draw my sword and dice him into small pieces. Instead, I gritted my teeth and smiled.

“This isn’t a game to us,” I answered. Loki knew Aidan’s life was at stake, but he continued to treat this as a sport. He was beginning to piss me off. “Now, how do we get to this Nidhogg?”

“The Rainbow of the Gods,” said Loki.

“The what?” Aidan asked. An expression of confusion flickered over his features.

Apparently, Aidan didn’t trust the god either and I intended to play along. The less Loki knew about our travels, or the extent of our knowledge, the better.

“Also known as the Bifrost. It’s the method the gods use to travel between the Nine Worlds,” Loki said, impatience furrowing his brow. “You’ll need to find the nearest location and use it to travel to Muspell. Muspell is the Realm of Fire.”

I didn’t need to feign ignorance here. But Aidan didn’t look in the least confused.

“
The Great Nidhogg resides within the Realm of Fire. It is he whom Loki wishes you to seek. But beware, for he is a trickster
.” Hugin’s honeyed voice sounded in my ear.

I rolled my eyes. Tell me something I don’t know.

Loki looked at me and smiled his cheerful, cloying grin. “Do you know how to find the Bifrost?”

“No, but I’m sure Hugin can help us. So how did Nidhogg end up with the rest of the necklace, and why can’t you go there and take it from him yourself?” I snapped, unafraid to reveal my impatience with the god.

I’d begun to wonder if this was all a setup. One huge ruse to ensure Brunhilde the Ancient was well and truly punished for her failure to fulfill her original pledge to Freya. Maybe the goddess was just a vindictive bitch and was, right now, laughing at my predicament.

The hopelessness of the whole situation was getting to me. Or maybe it was seeing Aidan get more and more ill every day, or the recent bullet to the ribs I’d received. The Mead seemed to have done nothing to help the healing, and I wondered whether it worked at all to help Aidan.

I was also curious why Loki wanted us to do his dirty work for him. I doubted he really wanted us to give the necklace back to Freya.

Loki picked up a menu and scanned it, a bored look on his face. “As you know, a gem of Brisingamen will glow when it detects the presence of the other gems,” he said. “Using that piece of the necklace, I was able to track down the rest of the pieces. But I cannot enter Muspell. Therefore, I cannot retrieve the rest of the necklace and return it to Freya.” He tossed down the menu, smiled and shook his head, sadness fairly oozing from his pores. But the aqua swirl of his eyes held a malevolent gleam.

“You’ve been stealing Brisingamen from Freya for centuries. Why should we believe that you want to return it to her now?” Aidan asked.

Loki pouted. “It’s no fun when I can’t steal the necklace because it’s lost. I want to give it back to her so I can see her face when I steal it from her again.”

His eyes glittered and although I believed his reasoning, my gut said that the whole necklace issue went deeper than just giving it back so the trickster god could steal it again. But it didn’t matter to me what happened to the necklace once Freya had it in her possession. Loki could steal it a hundred times over for all I cared. As long as I returned it in time to save Aidan’s life I’d be happy.

But I remembered Hugin’s words of warning.

“We’ll find this Nidhogg and get the necklace back to Freya. But what do you want in return?” I asked Loki, sure he had a price to extract from this bargain.

“Who, me?” Loki’s attempt at looking offended was a rip-roaring success. Except for his eyes. They turned a flat icy blue, revealing an ancient evil rather than mere mischief. “I don’t want anything. You just find the necklace and return it to her Majesty. That is reward enough for me.”

He wasn’t budging. By now, I’d tired of the additional energy required to keep up the pleasantries with the odious god, tired of the agony of my wound, weighed down with worry of how fast time was running out. I wanted very much for this conversation to be over.

The weak light of the morning had dissipated and bright sunlight now streamed into the overwarm diner. The buttery aroma of waffles and fried eggs rode the air, and the rich bitterness of cheap coffee reeked. The doorbell jingled a few times. More voices encircled our booth, more ignorant people living day-to-day lives I would give my right arm to live now. So far, no one had noticed Hugin. Aidan’s face looked paler in the brighter light, dark purple smudges encircled his eyes and the veins in his face and hands were clearly visible through his thinned skin.

I sighed and turned to Loki, unsure how to get rid of him.

He was gone.

Aidan raised an eyebrow and sighed. “So, let’s get our stuff sorted and head to the Bridge, then. The sooner we get this done the sooner we can go home.”

And that was when it hit me like a two-by-four to the skull; Asgard was home to both of us. Our lives in Midgard had reached a clear and conclusive end.

“Do we use the Central Park Bridge?” I asked Hugin, hoping for something closer to our motel.

My heart sank when the bird nodded.

W
e arrived
in Muspell in a rush of heat scalding enough to burn the eyebrows off our faces. Quite a change from Greenland and New York at Christmastime. We both smiled, happy to have survived another journey on the Rainbow of the Gods.

“Right, we get in, get the necklace and get the hell outta here,” Aidan said, punctuating the sentence with a few dry coughs.

Hugin scrabbled on my shoulder and put his beak to my ear. “What is it, Hugin?”

“
Once you enter Muspell there is no way out. The Nidhogg will have to release you from the bindings of this world or you may never leave
.”

“Can’t you just be straight with us for once?” I bit back, fuming.

“
What do you mean, Brynhildr
?”

“You could have told us that sooner.” I gritted my teeth, steeling myself against swatting the daft bird up the side of his head. We were stuck here, whether I skewered the bird with my sword or not.