Page 59 of Veil of Blood and Bone

Away from humans, away from the town. It will be somewhere Midgard naturally bleeds into the next, a fraying spot leading to the limbs of the great tree.

Unnatural silence pulses from the hearts of the oaks and maples.

This place seems too much like home. I shove the thought down ahead of any damage and clear my throat.

Shadows leech from my skin to pry branches and brambles apart, the world swelling and distorting my vision. I stop, closing my eyes, waiting to the count of five before opening them again.

The moss seems to lift off the ground toward me.

“This is it,” I say softly. “Not trying hard to hide it, are you, old boy?”

Odin has no answer for me. He never does.

The magic is potent enough to drown me. Shrugging one shoulder high, I take off again. Here, the gray Monday afternoon in October fades away. I’m on my way through worlds, and the only thing that makes this so shitty is the reason.

The cold doesn’t bother me.

Underbrush rustles, and I stop, gaze snagging on the knot at the base of an elm before a pair of tall ears prick toward the sky.

“Ha. You little shit.”

The mist rises and pulses closer, the river’s song a poisoned lullaby, and the goddamn bunny has horns.

Trees crowd closer. Thank fucking gods for it, too, because if bunnies with antlers are running around, then the wheedling fingers will start pointing, and I’m not about to murder an entire town to clean up this mess.

Thinning or tearing veils are always someone's fault.

I should hurry.

I should keep my eyes ahead and my mind on Helene. My steps slow.

And is it my imagination but are the squirrels a bit too large to be from this land?

One of them skitters across the trunk of a pine and stops to frown at me with eyes glowing gold through the dimness.

My shadows don’t do much to the squirrel, about the size of a Labrador. “Shoo.”

It gnashes Bugs Bunny chompers at me before clawing its way into the taller branches.

There’s no shine through the canopy here. Watching my steps, I weave between them, along curling trails of mist.

Darkness thrives this deep in the forest, a shade so similar to Rökkrheim my teeth ache.

Right now, I have no home. Nothing to welcome me back with open arms. I have a soulmate who doesn't remember her sacrifice or mine, and it’s been enough for centuries.

Sometimes, I want more.

Which is disgusting, honestly.

I want more than the immortals meddling and their curses and the suffering that comes along with a game I hadn’t wanted to play in the first place.

It doesn't matter that I was correct. I’d told the others how the gods would take her from us. How they’re clever and mean and hungry, sharp-clawed with superiority.

Did anyone listen to me? No, they fucking didn’t.

The air goes rich and cold, and I stop, swearing.

“Now, you definitely don’t belong here.” I stare down the frost cat pack with a stern expression.