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And when someone else is receiving attention or acclaim, we want it for ourselves.
The urge to destroy is almost overpowering, at least, it always has been for my brothers. At the time of my hatching, there were twenty-nine of them. Now, there are twelve left, and Hyperion’s the oldest and the largest.
He’s killed seven of the seventeen who have perished, and all of those kills have been to protect me. I thought father was sending me a message when Hyperion came to Earth, that he was still on my side, and that he believed in me.
But now, hearing there are demon creatures trapped in a volcano, by all counts the volcano that’s calling to my bonded, I wonder exactly what my father knows. . .and what he plans for me to do. My father sacrificed his eye when our people left Earth the first time, and he has been bitter about losing it ever since.
What information did he withhold about Earth and our reasons for leaving? What sacrifice will he demand of me to restore what was lost? When I left, I didn’t have anything I would mind losing. My eye? Fine. A limb? Done. My future mate? Acceptable.
I’d have given anything, done anything, lost everything to ensure that we had a future. In fact, I couldn’t even imagine something that I wouldn’t sacrifice. But now I have something I won’t consider losing.
Liz.
When she was in danger, I was almost ready to divulge my secret and brave the collateral damage—I nearly shifted on the spot in front of all the earth blessed and a few others—just to get to her faster. Only the fear that Hyperion might be forced to put me down because of it, dooming her in the process, restrained me. My weakness is hers as well. I have to remember that.
Hearing that this human god has the same name as my father—it’s concerning.
“What else did you say the humans were chanting?” the crone asks. “You said they said two other words. Right?”
Liz nods. “After they saw my birthmark, they?—”
“What mark?” The old woman straightens, her back still a bit stooped, but much less. “What did you show them?”
Liz swallows and looks around, clearly not keen on showing anyone else the thing that resulted in her being dragged toward that volcano in the first place. But finally, she unbuttons the top of her tunic and tugs it down, showing the bright red mark in the shape of a heart at the top of her breast.
The old woman’s frown deepens. “And what did they say when they saw it?”
Liz shakes her head. “I don’t speak whatever language they do—maybe Icelandic?”
“Probably Old Norse,” she says. “But close enough. What did they say?”
“It sounded strange, like cutch-vwaith or something?” Liz frowns and coughs. When she speaks again, her voice is lower, and it sounds like she’s trying to mimic a sound. “Cutch-veith?” She shrugs. “That’s as close as I can get.”
The old woman closes her eyes and stumbles backward, slamming into the steps of the porch and falling backward on her rear end. She shakes her head. “Can it be?” She tilts her head. Then she shakes it. “No.” She opens her eyes. “They must be mistaken. You’re human, are you not?”
Liz laughs. “No reason to fear me. I’m one hundred percent human, for sure.”
The old woman blinks and nods. “Yes. Human. They must be mistaken. Or perhaps you’re just part of the sacrifice.”
I straighten. The what?
The woman turns toward me. “In the beginning, there were two different groups of gods, you understand. The Vanir, and the Aesir. The Vanir lived in Vanaheim, and the Aesir, in Asgard. One woman sparked the first war between the two realms of the gods, wreaking havoc on all the humans condemned to be collateral damage in their war.”
“I’ve heard of Asgard,” Liz says. “I mean, who doesn’t like a little Thor eye candy?”
The old woman glares. “That movie was absurd. This is real.” She shakes her head.
What’s eye candy?
“It’s ridiculous, when she has a dragon at her side, that’s what.” The woman sighs. “In the real story, the one Marvel butchered for that mess of a film franchise, the Vanir gods sent the Aesir a weapon that sparked the war—Gullveig. Some say she was the sister of Freya, queen to Odin. Some say she was Freya herself. Either way, she attacked the Aesir as they must have intended she would do, and they burned her for it.”
“Could they have been calling for that Gullveig person to show up and talk to me? Maybe she’s in there with them?”
“She’s not in there with them.” The woman laughs, and it’s a harsh sound—not happy at all. “She was reborn after dying, not once, not even twice, but three times.”
Liz pales. “At the entrance of the tunnel, there’s a flame carved, and next to it, three skulls.”
The woman nods. “I’ve been to that tunnel and didn’t see that, but it could be a reference to Gullveig’s deaths. They burned her three times, and each time she rose, stronger than before.”
