War and Famine: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Revelations Book 2) (21 page)

Amy stumbled in the snow as the ground beneath her wrenched violently sideways, nearly burying her in the waist deep snow.

“Damn it!” she cried, hauling herself back to her feet. Ian’s trail was getting nearly impossible to follow, especially since she had to keep one hand wrapped around her knife while using the other to block the snow stinging her eyes. She’d tried to sheath the weapon after Ian had seen it and freaked out, and not just because the look in her eyes when he’d seen the weapon had made her blood run cold.

No, it was because when he’d stared at the knife in her hand, something cold and dark had moved just below the surface of her mind, not quite calling upon her, but still letting her know it was there just the same. It was like when she remembered watching an air show where they’d detonated a bunch of rockets high up in the air. Fire had filled the sky, blasting her with heat, but what had really shaken her was the force of the blast. It had been miles away, and still the power of it was enough to reverberate in her gut.

This had been like that, only about a billion times worse. So as she’d chased after her fleeing boyfriend, she’d tried to sheathe the weapon, tried to ignore the presence of the cold, dark thing lurking within the knife. Unfortunately, the moment she’d unhanded the weapon, cold unlike anything she’d ever felt chilled her to the core of her being. She’d fallen, unable to move as the arctic gale-force winds piled snow on top of her. Her fingers had reached out as if drawn by some mystical force and wrapped around the hilt of the knife. The moment she’d touched it, the chill had faded and her strength had returned.

Since then, she hadn’t dared to let go of it. Still, it wasn’t like she was making good progress through a blizzard. The ground shook again, filling the back of her shirt with snow, but she shrugged it off, impervious to the cold as long as she held her knife. It was sort of funny. She’d never really gotten cold before, probably because her mantle, War, held so much heat within itself. Jotunheim was different. It was like the complete absence of heat, and it wanted nothing more than to take hers as well, to spit her essence into the ether and distribute every ounce of her being across the whole of its world.

She wondered briefly if this was what the sun felt as it sat within the vast emptiness of space, its heat and light leeching into the final frontier. She shook off the thought. It wouldn’t help her. She needed to focus on finding Ian. He had to be around here somewhere. Even if he could move through this blizzard like a penguin on steroids, he hadn’t had that much of a head start.

“Stop!” Vidar called from behind her, and the sound of his voice startled her enough to follow his command. “We must leave before it is too late.”

“I need to find Ian,” Amy stated flatly, although she wasn’t sure if the sound of her voice was drowned out by the howling wind.

“If we don’t leave now, we’ll be trapped within Jotunheim forever. Hel may be able to keep you safe for a time, but eventually you’ll need to eat. You’ll die a lonely death out here in the tundra,” Vidar replied, although Amy wasn’t sure if he’d heard her or if he’d simply carried on speaking.

“What do you mean?” she asked, turning to look at the god. He stood there, his bloody furs covered in snow and sleet. Ice striated his beard as he pressed through the snow like he’d done it a thousand times before, crossing the distance so quickly, she worried she’d been wrong. If Ian moved even a fraction of Vidar’s speed through the snow, she’d
never
catch up to him.

“At this very moment, Fames is sealing off this world to outsiders. He has a good reason for doing it, I assure you, but if he does it while you’re here, you won’t be able to escape.” Vidar held out his hand to her. “Come with me now, and I’ll take you to safety.”

“How do you know he has a good reason?” Amy asked, trying to decide if she believed the Viking. Truthfully, she had no reason to doubt him, but then again, she had no reason to trust him either. After all, he was the one who had brought Ian to this place. He had to have known what would happen. Then again, she’d been the one to bring Haijiku here against the express wishes of Sabastin’s computers.

“When the world started to shake off its axis, I went and found Fames. He was with your friend, Caleb. The two of them are going to seal off this world from space and time. Evidently, Freyr is still here, but he is too weak to do much more than die. If they succeed in stopping time here, Surt will not be able to kill Freyr until that seal breaks. Caleb will take Surt from here before it happens. That is why we must leave.” Vidar gestured for her to come to him. “We haven’t much time.”

“And what of Ian?” Amy asked. “Do you really expect me to leave him here?”

“Yes,” Vidar replied. “But it’s not forever. Caleb promised he would see to Ian’s escape if, and only if, you agreed to come with me.”

“Why would Caleb do that?” Amy said, trudging forward to take the god’s hand even though everything inside her told her not to leave Ian behind. Still, what choice did she have? If she stayed, she risked being trapped here, and what’s worse, Ian might not even be here to be found, not if Caleb took him off world before the glue dried. No, that was inconceivable.

“He says he feels bad for being a dick to you about his sword.” Vidar clasped her wrist. “And that only you can bring back death.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Amy’s words had barely left her mouth when the world exploded into twisted fragments of scarlet light. Her eyeballs burned in her head as the knife in her hand throbbed and hissed. Her veins filled with acid, burning her up and leaving nothing behind.

As the feeling passed, she found herself lying on her back. A large table stood off to her left with four wooden chairs surrounding it. One had a blue bunny rabbit sitting atop it, while the other was filled by a threadbare teddy bear with black buttons for eyes. Between them sat a woman with hair like dried blood and a face that could have stopped hearts with its beauty. She had a teacup halfway to her lips, but it was frozen in place as she stared at Amy, eyes wide in shock.

“Where am I?” Amy murmured, forcing herself into a sitting position. The last thing she remembered was Vidar trying to take her out of Jotunheim, only somehow she’d wound up here, and Vidar was nowhere to be found. Shouldn’t he have been here too? Then again, she’d moved through worlds a few times now, and it’d never felt like that. Something had gone terribly wrong. She knew it in the core of her being.

The woman sat up with a start, nearly splashing herself with tea. As it stood, most of the contents of her cup wound up on the white table cloth in front of her, but she didn’t seem to notice. She hobbled forward, dragging along a leg of gnarled tissue which sort of made Amy wonder why she was wearing such a short skirt. The thought made her cheeks flush. Who was she to tell this lady how to dress just because her leg was hideously deformed? If she wanted to flaunt it, more power to her.

“How did you get that?” the woman asked in a voice that actually made birds sing in the tree branches around her, filling the small space with birdsong. When Amy didn’t immediately respond, she pointed at the knife clutched in Amy’s hands.

“This?” Amy replied, holding up the blade. Emerald light licked along its surface which was an altogether new thing. It’d flared red or purple before, but never green. Only this wasn’t any green. This was the same green that had colored Mjolnir when Malcom had wielded the hammer. Why was his coloring on the knife? Was it just coincidence?

“Yes. Where did you get my knife?” the woman asked, flopping down next to her on the hard gray stone ground. “It’s been lost to me a long, long time.” She finger combed her long hair. “Back when I was young and beautiful.”

“Your knife?” Amy said before shaking her head and letting out a slow breath. If the woman had looked any more beautiful, Amy might have seriously revisited her current views on her own sexuality. “I took it from the god Vali after he tried to kill me.”

“Vali should not have had my knife. I wonder how he got it?” the woman remarked, suddenly thoughtful. “Well, that doesn’t matter. You should not have it either. It is not a thing that belongs in your world.” Her lips squished into a pout. “It should never have been made, but I was young and foolish. I was in love and that love led me to bind myself to another’s blade, to lend him my power to fight his battles.”

“What do you mean? Vali said it belonged to someone else who wore the mantle of war, like me.” As the words left her lips, the woman’s face went as cold as ice.

“That is true. The man of whom I speak was the last Bellum. He was never supposed to let it go, but then he went and got himself killed being all noble. It was meant to intensify your mantle, so I suppose it falling into your hands was inevitable.” The woman held out her hand. “May I see it please? I promise to return it.”

Amy wasn’t sure why, but she believed the woman would return the knife to her. Besides, she had no idea where she was. Maybe this woman could help her return home? Then again, maybe she could explain Vidar’s cryptic final words about bringing back death.

“Okay,” Amy said, holding the weapon out to the strange, blood-haired woman.

Instead of taking the knife, she ran one fingertip along the flat of its blade. The runes etched into it glowed with green light, raging to life like someone had hooked it to a 1.21 gigawatt power source. The woman’s eyes went distant and far off as she stared at the blazing weapon, a curious smile upon her lips. After what felt like forever, she finally pulled her hand away and looked over at Amy, a plastic smile on her lips.

“How can I help you, Bellum?” she asked before gesturing at her table. “I don’t have much to offer you, really. I can get some more tea, but I’ve long since run out of pastries.”

“You could start by telling me who you are, and what I’m doing here?” Amy replied, glancing from the woman to the stuffed guests at the table and back again.

“Oh, those are easy questions.” The woman pushed herself to her feet remarkably easy for someone who had only one good leg and began shuffling back toward her chair. “Come have a seat and I’ll explain everything.”

Instead of replying, Amy merely nodded and took her place at the table. An empty porcelain cup sat on the table in front of her. She was almost thankful it was unfilled since there was no way in hell she was drinking anything in this weird place. She had a sneaking suspicion she’d wind up being fine, but then again, she also had no way of knowing if the other two “guests” had been living people. Maybe they’d been transformed into stuffed animals upon accepting the woman’s hospitality.

“Now, to answer your questions,” the woman said, tapping her chin with one delicate finger. “Firstly, I am Hel, queen of Hel, the home of the restless dead. It is a place for those who have left their business unfinished to rest their heads until the time is right for them to return.” She smiled comfortingly as Amy’s heart dropped into her toes. Was she dead? “Don’t worry, my dear girl. You are not dead. You only came here because you possess my knife. It hijacked your trip through the nine worlds and brought you here.”

“So I’m just here because of coincidence?” Amy replied, eyes falling upon the knife in her hand. If what Hel said was true, there was no reason she couldn’t leave right now. Still, something nagged at her, tugging at the back of her brain. Why had Ian run away when he saw the weapon? If it was just a knife meant to help focus her mantle, why would he care? It wasn’t like she had been about to harm him.

“Well, sort of. I think the real reason you’re here is for this.” Hel held out her hand, and upon her palm sat an emerald the size of a robin’s egg. “This is your friend Malcom’s soul. Evidently, even though he died a warrior’s death, he came to me. He must have left something unfinished. If someone was to take it back to his body, and oh I don’t know, use my magical knife to reattach it, well, I’ll leave the last bit in suspense, but I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying? Are you really saying Malcom can be brought back?” Amy asked, trying to decide whether she even wanted to do that. Malcom had been her friend, sure, but he’d also been a wild card. If he came back, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t snap and kill them all.

“Perhaps,” Hel said, her lips twisting into a sly grin as she slid the gemstone across the table. “Perhaps.”

Thank you for reading 
War and Famine.
 If you wouldn't mind, please leave a review. I have also included a glossary of terms on the next page.

If you are curious about Sabastin's daughter, you can find out about her in 
Hardboiled
. 

You may also want to check out my other series. The first book, 
May Contain Spies
, 
is currently 
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GLOSSARY

I’ve decided to include a glossary of certain terms found within this book. This list, more or less, falls into line with the actual mythology although I made some of them up, some are twisted to fit my story, and others are from my other books.

Atropos
– One of the three Greek Fates. She is known as the cutter, deciding when a person must die. She inhabits one of Sabastin’s computers.

Balder
– A Norse god. He is killed due to Loki’s trickery.

Bellum
– The Latin word for War. This is what the Horseman of War is called throughout the book.

Blue Prince
– A god of space and time from
The Lillim Callina Chronicles.
He currently lives within the body of Caleb Oznek and is the counterpart to Morgan, The Red Queen.