Chapter 5
CHAPTER
FIVE
Hecate watched the odd pair go and turned to talk to Loki about the decision to tie them together. But the annoying god had vanished.
So typical.
Varu waited. “You really think that was a good idea?”
She sighed. “Yes, I do. Rolf on his own is almost as much of a problem as finding the stone. The valkyrie will keep him in line.”
“Who is she, exactly? We know she fought with him in Irkalla not long ago when dealing with Nergal.”
A problematic underworld god who was finally out of her hair, reconciling with an irate wife. When Nergal had been tempted by the Darkness that Comes, Hecate had wondered if they might have been too late to stop the end of everything.
But as had once been prophesized, her vampires had stopped the threat. Like they’d stopped the other instances of impending doom. So many in such a short time. Since creating the Night Bloode two years ago, Hecate’s vampires had been active in keeping the worlds alive.
But she had so many issues to handle. Without her beloved Mormo, she might have lost her mind. Still might if she had to keep dealing with her asshole brethren.
Hecate had tried to alert her fellow gods and goddesses in the many pantheons. Unfortunately, most of them liked to pretend humanity no longer mattered. As if the gods didn’t exist only because the lowly mortals once worshipped them into being.
None of them gave any credence to that idea, full of their own magnificence.
How could they not see how tied together all the realms were? Should any of them fall, they’d all fall.
Only a few deities had been helping her. Morpheus, the god of dreams, remained a helpful if annoying aid.
And Loki, oddly enough, had been super supportive in donating the help of his valkyrie. Hmm…
Hecate was no idiot. Loki had his own agenda, she was sure.
“Hecate?” Varu cocked his head. “The valkyrie?”
“Yes, yes. She’s a powerful warrior indebted to Loki for some reason he won’t specify. He’s lending her to us to help get the last Bloode Stone. But he’s also using us to track down his son, because Jormungandr is missing.”
Varu blinked. “Not dead? I thought we’d be looking for his tomb.”
“Not dead.” She huffed. “That snaky weasel should have been killed after the last end-of-the-world battle between gods. But somehow, Ragnarok didn’t happen. We’ve still got Loki’s brats all over the place making havoc.”
“You aren’t referring to Rolf, are you?”
“Of course not. You don’t really believe he’s Loki’s son, do you?”
Varu paused. “We all know he’s different than the rest of us. He’s blond, for one thing. And his use of magic is extreme.”
“He’s your kin. Your brother.”
Varu nodded, a twinkle in his eye. “Yes, and a wonder in battle. But I’m never sure if what he has planned aligns with what I tell him to do. Does he obey like the rest because of the Bloode Stones? Or is he somehow outside of their power?”
She frowned. “He’s Of the Bloode, Varu. He must obey your call.”
“Perhaps when I have the last stone, then we’ll know for sure.”
Troubled, she studied him. “Are the stones telling you this?” She’d had no idea that the Bloode Stones could do more than command vampires. That they had a sentience all their own concerned her. But they seemed to like Varu, found him Worthy. Not just any vampire could handle them without dying.
And as the Fates had once told her, without the vampires fighting back against the coming enemy, the world would surely fall. No matter that the vampires were small in number compared to the rest of humanity and other magir. They had untapped power limited by the fear of the gods.
“The valkyrie,” she said slowly, trying to focus. “Sylvara is powerful. She fought Rolf and lived.”
“Yes, but he humors her. I think he’s enamored.”
That made Hecate grin. “I agree. He’s also confused, because he doesn’t want to kill her yet.”
Varu nodded. “Has Morpheus been interfering?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Varu chuckled. Such a difference from the once-taciturn killer he’d been before finding love. “We all know that dreams of our mates spell our own doom.”
“Very funny.”
“A doom I welcome.” He grew quiet. “I will never worship you, Hecate. But you will always have my thanks and respect for what you did for Fara. For introducing me to my one love.”
She smiled. “I don’t need your worship, Varu.
But your friendship I treasure.” She grasped his hand in hers, aware he let her.
Such wonderful creatures, vampires. To earn one’s respect was better than any prayer.
“I know I sound ridiculous always spouting about the danger we’ll face.
But Varu, despite everything you’ve battled before, I don’t think you understand what’s at stake. ”
“Ah, but I do.” He smiled kindly, and the expression looked at home on his face. “But what you don’t understand is that vampires don’t fear. And now that we can love, we are that much fiercer in protecting what’s ours.”
“I’m counting on that.”
“Ah, great Maiden, Mother, and Crone.” He patted her on the shoulder. “We’ll never lose sight of the ultimate victory. A bloody battle for existence itself?” He chuckled. “What could be better?”
He left in a good mood.
While Hecate remained peeved that he looked forward to the end of everything she strove to keep in balance.
Grumbling, she stomped down the hall through dimensions into her crossroads gathering point, what took the form of a speakeasy, and bellied up to the bar.
She ordered up a Blood Thinner, one of Catherine’s specialties.
“Here you go.” The dead flapper handed Hecate a fruity cocktail that would kill a lesser god.
Hecate shotgunned it, needing the zing. Catherine’s eyes widened, and she made another.
Slowly, other beings appeared in the dark bar. Gods, fae, a few demons, the dead and the undead, mingling until they’d eventually get to the places they were meant to go.
“What’s got your panties in a twist, Hecate?” Morpheus asked as he slid onto a stool beside her. The god of dreams winked at Catherine. “Hey, beautiful.”
The dead girl flushed and smiled back at him before heading down the bar to serve a satyr.
Hecate turned to see Morpheus in all his godly appeal. Long, lush golden hair, a muscular frame, his arms and parts of his chest bared by his artfully draped linen tunic. He had features that appeared chiseled by the goddess of love herself, his smile one that took joy and pleasure in the world.
She smacked him on the arm.
“Ow.” He turned wounded eyes her way. “What was that for?”
“Is Rolf dreaming?”
“Still trying to matchmake those demons you call vampires?”
“I need him bonded, Morpheus. We’re running out of time.”
He sighed. “Well, I’m going to have to wing this one. Half the time I can’t find him in dreams. When I can, he blocks me. I don’t know how, but color me intrigued.”
“Color me annoyed and frustrated. I need him to care if the world ends.”
“Oh, he’ll care.” Morpheus smiled and accepted the bubbling drink Catherine handed him. “I might not be able to see through the mist guarding his heart, but I know what that creature desires more than anything.”
“What’s that?” More magic? Power? Rolf was a mystery she’d been drawn to from the first. A golden-haired vampire with an—admittedly—warped sense of humor. A vampire who smiled and laughed among his dour companions. Though love had recently turned many of them around.
Rolf though. What could he want? And what connection did he and Loki really have?
“He wants to win at all costs. Our boy can’t stand to lose,” Morpheus said. “So when the Darkness comes, you just have to pray he remains on our side. Because he’ll play to win.”
“Unless he shifts allegiance. And wouldn’t that be a nightmare.”
Morpheus shuddered. “I feel you, sister. Night. Mare. Yep.” As if called, a shadowy form appeared next to Morpheus and gave a thin neigh.
“Oh, sorry, Leon. I didn’t call for you.
” He glanced down the bar. “But that one is giving our Catherine a bad time. Would you mind visiting him later?” Morpheus petted him.
“Good boy.” The shadow crept away and attached itself to the satyr.
Hecate sighed. “Would that our vampires were as easy to control.” She hadn’t told Varu all she knew about the valkyrie. She could only hope Sylvara’s secrets wouldn’t put them all in greater danger than they already were.
From a tricky draugr with the unknown fate of the world on his shoulders.