Chapter 35
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FIVE
Finding Hecate at the house took time because they had to search for her in the basement, the location of the witch goddess’s crossroads, which they could only do with Mormo.
Without the goddess or her assistant, the basement was just a collection of the pool, a large training room, Khent’s lab that Rolf said they should intentionally avoid, their gaming room, and a physics-defying section of hallways that led nowhere but back to the main stairway.
Annoyed, Rolf and Sylvara headed upstairs and found Mormo in his own lab on a floor that didn’t exist in mundane space.
Sylvara had no idea what to make of this house. Outside looked nothing like the inside. Though why she found that so surprising she didn’t know. This was Hecate’s house, after all.
“You are so annoying.” Mormo sniffed and led them back to the basement.
“We were just down here,” she told him.
“Don’t get pissy with us, Mormo. We’re doing what you told us to,” Rolf said loftily.
“Is that right?” Mormo sniped back. “Because we’ve been busy stopping conflicts in several countries at the moment while trying to shield humanity from demon infestation and vampires who suddenly decided to join forces with the titans and jotuns.”
“Where?” Syl asked.
“Who?” Rolf interrupted. “The draugrs and reapers, I’ll bet.”
“Everywhere!” Mormo snapped. “And yes, the draugrs. But not the reapers. We’re still trying to get the vrykolakas to play ball, but those assholes have been listening to Oceanus and Pontos, who apparently aren’t happy they are no longer worshipped.”
Oceanus hadn’t agreed with the other titans in their initial wars against the gods, so Zeus had allowed him to remain free from Tartarus. Apparently, he was now unhappy with the arrangement.
“Who’s Pontus?” she asked.
“Exactly.” After dropping them in the middle of Hecate’s full bar, resembling a speakeasy, Mormo vanished.
Rolf continued to frown at Sylvara, as he’d been doing since they’d neared the house. The thought he might believe she’d ruined him made her laugh. Finally, something had taken that smug expression from the draugr’s face.
Razer seemed pleased, not worried, and had bonded back with Rolf, sticking to his chest in an uber cool rune tattoo that Rolf, sadly, covered up. And speaking of tattoos…
She glanced at her hand, the glyph slightly glowing, keeping them connected, and rubbed it. “When will this go away?”
“No idea. They love fucking with us, don’t they?” With disgust, he added, “Gods.”
She thought that incredibly ironic but didn’t say anything. She could tell Rolf waited for her to make a remark. She’d watched Apollo treat him like a long-lost son, had seen the uncanny resemblance when his magic dropped, and now understood why Rolf could handle sunlight without an issue.
But she had so many questions. Was Apollo his actual father or had the god made an avatar to impregnate some hapless woman?
If Apollo was his father, who was his mother?
Another goddess? A human? Why was Rolf blond and not dark-haired, where he could better blend with other vampires?
Why choose the draugr tribe to raise him? Why not keep him in Mt. Olympus?
Or was this all a front to confuse anyone who might question his parentage? Perhaps Loki truly was his father, because anyone could see that they acted alike.
Though vampires could resist all manner of danger, they all had an aversion to sunlight. Some might be able to withstand small amounts without bursting into flame, but not anywhere near what Rolf had already survived.
Plus, Rolf acted like he didn’t like Apollo. Made no mention of a connection though he’d been seen many times with Loki.
Man, this was almost better than Greeks Will Be Greeks.
“Stop gawking at me,” he muttered as they sat at a long bar. People from all pantheons and species approached for drinks and networking. Fae archers met with minotaurs. Roman heroes and Greek villains chatted while nearby, a duke of hell waltzed in, waving.
Several Egyptian demigods passed through, greeting friends from the Oceanic tribes.
She watched, curious, as She Who Walks Between Worlds, one of Freyja’s favorite battle cats and a fun friend of Sylvara’s own, entered next to Hlokk. The battle cat spotted her and roared a greeting, obviously not affected by her glamour.
“I’ll be back,” she told Rolf, conscious not to get too far away. Hlokk approached a bar table crowded by several fae and Celtic warriors and waited.
As tall as Sylvara with a muscular frame clad in jeans and a tee-shirt, a spear in a scabbard at her back, Hlokk had long golden hair up in a ponytail. Her angular face looked serious, almost plain until she smiled and her gray eyes turned brilliant.
She’d been a valkyrie for ages and was one of the toughest warriors in Odin and Freyja’s bowery. Even those outside the Norse pantheon knew of her and gave her a wide berth. She was not known to have patience or empathy.
The warriors standing around the table saw her and left in a hurry.
Sylvara wanted to be Hlokk when she finally grew into her wings, in another thousand years or so. “What are you guys doing here?”
“Felt like time for a visit in between battles.” Hlokk grabbed her in a bone-crushing hug. “Been a while, youngling.”
Sylvara grinned. “Just trying to stop the end of the world. Hey, there, cool cat.”
Greetings, female. Freyja sends blessings and a message to hurry the fuck up. Your aunts are making a mess of things. The cat swished her tail, rubbed against Sylvara, then waltzed away.
Hlokk and Sylvara watched her go.
“Tough cat.” Hlokk nodded. “I like her.”
“Me too.” The feline had often accompanied Sylvara while she’d been working for Loki. To keep an eye on her, maybe? Not that she’d asked. Technically, Freyja was her boss.
“What’s with the draugr staring at us?” Hlokk glared at him.
Rolf, Sylvara noted, glared back. Why did she find his lack of fear—and common sense—so appealing? Usually, she’d be annoyed by someone who seemed not to value his life. But Rolf clearly believed himself better than everyone. That same arrogance, while on Jormy irritated her, on Rolf felt natural.
“He’s my partner on our little adventure. Loki spelled us to stick like glue.”
“Huh. Of all the vampires, I detest Rolf the least.”
Sylvara blinked. Hlokk barely liked anyone.
“He doesn’t give a fuck about much and has an actual sense of humor.” Hlokk looked from Rolf to Sylvara and shrugged. “You could do worse.”
“Wait. What?”
“You know, for a husband. He’s not bad looking. And he does know magic for all that he’s a blood sucker.”
Rolf clearly heard her, because he flipped off Hlokk and blew Sylvara a kiss.
Hlokk smirked, her version of approval.
Flabbergasted, Sylvara had a tough time digesting the approval she hadn’t asked for yet secretly treasured. “Wait. We’re not together, together. It’s a spell.”
“Uh-huh.” A server walked by and placed a bubbling ale on the table.
Hlokk drained it in one gulp and threw the glass to the ground.
“Another!” The valkyrie turned back to Sylvara as a timid dead waitress in a flapper dress hurried to place a fresh mug on the table and left.
“Now don’t you think it’s time you and the vampire finished your task for Loki?
But don’t give him the Stone. Make sure it gets to the vampires. ”
“I’m bound to Loki’s bidding, to pay off Skuld’s debt.”
“I’ll handle Loki.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. The guy owes me one.”
“But the debt—”
Hlokk’s burning stare cured Sylvara of speech. She nodded dumbly.
“Good. Now get going. The world’s about to end, and I don’t want to miss it.”
Rolf approached as Hlokk left with her ale. “What was that about?”
“I have no idea. But apparently, we need to move. Where’s Hecate?”
“She’s busy,” Mormo said, appearing at Sylvara’s elbow and giving her a start.
Rolf shook his head. “We all hate when you do that, you know.”
“I wish I cared.” Mormo snorted, and Sylvara stifled a chuckle. Good one. “I’m to take you to the palace.”
“What palace?” she asked.
Rolf growled, “The golden arches. And I don’t mean Mickey D’s.” He sighed. “Well? Let’s go, magician.”
Mormo raised a brow but nodded at them to follow him. They walked some distance from the revelers toward a large blue door that appeared in the middle of a dark hallway. “Not there. That’s the bathroom.” A faun walked out, startled to see them, and quickly departed.
The door disappeared. A golden door appeared where it had been, coated in heavenly dust. “That one,” Mormo said. “And Rolf, we’re running out of time.”
“End of the world, blah blah blah. We’re going.” Rolf grabbed onto Sylvara and yanked her with him through the doorway into a divine realm built into the clouds.
“Hey.” Sylvara yanked her arm back. “Don’t get grabby just because—”
“We’re mated? Well, we are. Deal.” He walked away from her.
She stared. “Rolf? Hold on.”
He started to get a little too far away, so she hustled after him, walking along a marble path over mist toward a massive tower made of more white marble threaded with gold.
They stood in the clouds, the pure blue sky so vibrant it felt like being at home in Asgard.
A light breeze caressed them. Birds chirped though she didn’t see them.
Then Sylvara realized they were standing under a bright summer sun, nothing to shield Rolf from its harsh rays. As she turned to talk to him, she saw an entirely different man.
One with more height, dark hair, and the regal features of a god.
He sighed. “Might as well come on in and meet the folks.” He snapped his fingers, and she felt a wave of magic disappear. He nodded. “We’ll both come as we are.”
No more glamour for her either, apparently.
She could only stare. He was incredibly, heart-stoppingly handsome.
“Sorry. Not folks. I mean folk. My mother died a long time ago. Harpy food, so I’m told.
” He put an arm around her, their height difference more apparent, and walked her inside the palace into a courtyard surrounding an even grander building within.
Akin to Freyja’s field, the area felt blessed with perfection.
After a moment, he paused and watched her. “Is this going to be a problem for you?” He seemed almost sad, resigned.
That annoyed her.
“Maybe.” She touched his face, feeling the warmth of his golden skin against her palm. The absolute flawlessness of a man who was a god.
Then she slapped him.
“Ow. What the fuck?” He rubbed his cheek, furious.
Not wanting him to get too full of himself, she poked him in the chest. “This… I don’t know what it is, but I like the old Rolf better.
Get whatever info we need then bring your shiny blond hair and annoying smirk back.
Don’t get a big ego or anything. You’re hot, yeah, but you’re barely my level of hotness. And don’t forget it.”
The mischievous gleam in his eyes returned. “Yes, dear.” He chuckled and took her hand in his, gently tugging her with him toward the central building.
Where they found Apollo inside, lounging in a pool and being fanned by naked, buxom beauties who all looked alike despite varying hair color.
“Ah, son. And you brought me a gift.”
Rolf sighed. Loudly. “Well, Dad, you’ve already met Sylvara Valfreyja. Now let’s cut the shit. We need the Bloode Stone. Or would you rather the Darkness that Comes devour your blinding brilliance once and for all?”
Apollo smiled. “He finally admits his kinship to the greatest god in all creation. Huzzah! I am rewarded!” They all paused to ignore the rumbling in the sky, Zeus apparently not happy with Apollo’s self-grandeur.
“Yes, I have the Bloode Stone. Had you come to me before now, I’d have found it sooner to give to you. ”
When father and son remained silent, staring at each other, Sylvara added, “But now?”
“But now you need to earn it,” Apollo said. “Come home and I’ll consider lending it to you.”
“Give it to me now or I’ll rip your hair out strand by strand,” Rolf growled.
Apollo gasped and cradled his skull. “Not my perfect locks!”
The ladies around him all moaned and began crying.
Rolf swore in several languages, settling on Old Norse.
Apollo responded in kind, ending in insults over Rolf’s choice to live among the uncivilized draugrs when he could have been a god instead.
Sylvara let them have their moment and sat at the edge of the pool.
She removed her shoes to dip her toes in the water.
In Mt. Olympus, everything was ideal. The water cool against the warm sun.
The smells floral and light and appealing.
The taste of clean air mixed with pure thought, soothing, a balm against the building worry that their time spent here was giving more leeway to the Darkness that grew stronger in the mundane plane.
Razer slid out of Rolf in a shadow and came to lie next to Sylvara. He glanced at Rolf still arguing with Apollo and sighed before lapping up the pool water.
“I know. They’re taking way too long.”
She felt the wolf’s agreement.
“Okay, fellows. Time to break it up.” She stood, already missing the heavenly water on her toes, and slipped her boots back on. “What do we need to do to get that Bloode Stone from you, Apollo?”
The god and Rolf stopped talking and studied her. Being the focus of such beacons of handsome elegance made her flush.
They smiled at her, twins of beauty, sexuality, and intelligence. She felt more than warm.
“Well,” Apollo said. “Things just got very interesting.”
“So interesting,” one of the women near Apollo said, slowly taking Loki’s shape. The god grinned, one gold eye and one blue eye gleaming with mirth. “Let’s play a game.”
Apollo laughed. “I knew you weren’t Lessandra. Your jokes were too funny to be hers.”
Rolf groaned. “A game? Let’s not.”
“Seriously,” Sylvara agreed. “Let’s not.”
Loki spoke over them both. “It’s called, let’s make a deal.”