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“Why should I do that?”
She cocked her head to the side in a curiously birdlike motion. The look of benign confusion didn’t fool me. She knew damn well why.
“Because,” I began testily. “When I’m gone, the Aesir will turn their hatred onto someone else. They despise you, Loki, perhaps even more than they despise me. You’ve done enough damage over the years, and Odin would do anything to prevent Ragnarök. Killing you would ensure it never comes to pass. You need me to live.”
Loki laughed gently and placed her hand on my arm. “You’re funny. You think I can’t outrun them with the Bifrost in my grasp?”
I ground my teeth. I’d been hoping she’d overlook that flaw in my logic.
I shoved her arm away and leaped to my feet. “So, you’ll run?! Just like you did after you murdered my son?”
“That was a simple prank!” she snapped defensively. “How was I supposed to know the mistletoe spear would kill Baldur? My intention wasn’t to kill him, Freya, it was just to prove that NO ONE—not even the most beloved god in Asgard—can live without weaknesses. If we could, then what value does that place on life and death?”
Loki went quiet for a moment before her eyes went wide. Thankfully, she then transformed into her male counterpart. The blonde hair and dark green eyes that haunted my dreams snapped me back to reality.
“Unless… you are the one who places no value on life and death,” he chuckled. “Tell me, Freya, does this plan of yours include bringing your precious Baldur back out of Helheim? You want to cheat my daughter out of one of her subjects?”
“You all have left me no choice.” My shoulders stiffened, and I was forced to glance away from Loki as tears flooded my eyes. “I’ve begged them over and over to release my family. Even you won’t call on half-born Hel to release him.”
“Don’t call her that,” Loki said, eyes glinting dangerously.
“Hel,” I amended. “You could talk her into it.”
“Doubtful. And even if I could manage it, you think they’ll call an end to the war when you’re satisfied? You’re too much trouble, dear. It won’t end there.” He sighed then. “Let the past be the past. Find another strapping young god to mount and leave the Aesir in peace. It’s better than that.”
“Get out,” I snapped. “I tire of your face.”
He just laughed. “Let’s say you defeat the Aesir, get your husband and daughters back, and save Midgard. Let’s pretend for a second that’s even possible… How are you planning on getting Baldur out of the depths of the hell he’s in? What can you offer Hel that the Aesir cannot? She’s rewarded for keeping them securely in place.”
“I… don’t know,” I admitted. “I was onto something big before I was banished from Vanaheim.”
Loki snapped his fingers. A pair of expensive designer sunglasses dropped into his hand. He shoved them onto his nose in a purely dismissive gesture, as if he couldn’t stand the pathetic sight of me any longer. The feeling was mutual.
“I’m not sure if working together will be of any benefit to me,” he said on a yawn, before pointing at me. “Look at you—you can hardly even stand, Freya. But I will give you a bit of advice.”
“What?”
“There is nothing that Odin fears in the realms more than your bastard daughter. You ought to use that.”
“Jovi?”
“Yes, that one,” he said. He tapped his chin for a moment and then added, “Ah, and another thing. My brother has summoned the Wild Hunt in anticipation of his victory. The dead should rise within the hour.”
And with a burst of rainbow light, Loki disappeared, leaving me to ponder what he’d just said. The Wild Hunt was stirring, and the dead would prowl through the winter-draped landscape of Midgard to find me, killing anyone who got in their way.
“Son of a bitch!”
Chapter One
Jovi
The smell of charred flesh still lingered in the air.
Torsten was gone, and all that remained was a tapestry and a fine coat of white ash.
I turned away from the sight, stomach heaving. Saliva pooled in my mouth, nausea wreaking havoc on my nerves. When I thought I could manage it without throwing up, I reached out with unsteady hands, picked up the tapestry, and shook off the dark ash that obscured the beautifully embroidered picture of Muspelheim. Dread settled like a weight in the pit of my stomach. Blood-chilling images of Torsten being torn apart by the giants stitched onto the tapestry played over and over in the back of my mind.
I prayed to whatever god would listen that Torsten’s abilities would protect him.
