Chapter 16
They trekked all the way back to the parking lot before they dared to discuss what just went down.
“Right,” Charlie said. “So, you’re headed to Helheim, then?”
Elias shot her a confused look. “To Helheim? What for?”
“To ask Loki to dredge the location of the leash, obviously. We both know I can’t do it. So, just skip on down to Helheim and ask your boss to do it for us.”
“Loki is … busy at the moment.” Elias glanced away, clearing his throat. “This mission is mine, and my boss made it very clear that I’m to complete it on my own. He won’t be happy if we go to him for help.”
Busy with what, Charlie wanted to ask. Instead, she said, “Then we’re screwed.”
Henry squawked in agreement.
“Nonsense,” said Elias. “All we have to do is teach you to access your powers.”
If Charlie had a mouthful of water, she would have spat it out. “My powers,” she repeated. “That’s hilarious. You’re hilarious.”
“You’re the child of a god, Charlotte. Of course you have powers.”
“For the thousandth time, Elias. Loki is not my father. It isn’t possible. He’s been locked away in Helheim for gods only know how many eons. How could he have met my mother? How could he have fathered one child with her, let alone three?”
He raised a suggestive eyebrow. “Would you like me to explain it to you?”
At the thought of Elias explaining how a baby is made, her cheeks lit on fire. “Don’t be disgusting,” she said. “Even if they somehow found time to squeeze in a quickie or two, it wouldn’t be enough to produce a baby. Gods don’t reproduce the way humans do. Sophie explained the whole thing.”
“First of all,” said Elias, rubbing two impatient fingers on his forehead. “Never let a warrior princess who swore an oath of lifelong chastity explain reproduction to you.”
Lifelong chastity? That was news.
“Your twin’s information is completely inaccurate. Gods can reproduce with humans just fine. The Valkyrie are probably told otherwise so they’re not all tempted to try and have Thor’s babies.”
“Or,” she said, “maybe you’re the one with bad information.”
“I’m not. And the reason I know I’m not,” he said, “is because I know exactly how Loki met your mother. He showed me.”
Charlie stared at Elias. His words wouldn’t quite process. She whispered, “What did you just say?”
“He showed me what transpired between him and Trish. Allowed me to dip into his mind and read his memories.” He crossed his arms. “No one can fake memories. Not even the god of deception himself.”
“Maybe not,” she said, feeling panic starting to rise in her chest—and anger along with it. “But you can certainly fake your words. You’ve demonstrated quite a talent for it in the past.”
Elias scoffed. “Pot, kettle.”
Her hackles rose, partly at the insinuation that she was anything like him and partly because she knew he was right. She was a good liar. Extraordinary, really. You had to be, if you wanted to be a good magician.
“You can’t compare us,” she shot back. “I lie to protect the people I care about. You lie to protect yourself.”
“As far as you know.”
“Excuse me?”
“Why do you think your mom hasn’t called you in a panic yet?” he asked, stepping closer. “Did you think the school just conveniently forgot to let your legal guardian know that you didn’t show up for class this morning?”
“I…” Charlie blanched, suddenly realizing how late it was.
She’d been so wrapped up in the situation at hand—one of life and death, of the protection of Asgard, of things far more important than anything as trivial as class (though Abigail would surely disagree)—that she’d forgotten to call the front desk and give herself an alibi.
Had the administration just forgotten, or… ?
“Wait.” She blinked at Elias. “You covered for me?”
“Obviously.” He rolled his eyes.
“Using possession? But that’s…”
“The only way I could be absolutely certain you wouldn’t get in trouble for ditching and that your mom would never find out?” He raised an eyebrow. “I know. You’re welcome.”
“I was going to say”—Charlie glared pointedly—“that’s wrong. Using mind control on another person is wrong.”
“Yeah, well, all that wrongness just saved you from a month’s detention.
So. You’re welcome.” He exhaled, pinching the space between his eyebrows with his thumb and forefinger.
“Look. I’m on your side here, Charlotte.
I didn’t harm any of your friends. I risked my own neck by going to a joturri to whom I owe a serious debt.
I don’t know how else to prove to you that I’m telling the truth. ”
“You can’t.” She crossed her arms. “And what is this debt that you owe him for, anyway? What favor did he do for you?”
“That’s none of your business.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off.
“Listen.” He sounded like he was at the end of his rope. “The truth is, you can never know when someone is lying or telling the truth. That’s life. You can only trust what your gut tells you. So.” He crossed his arms, raising one eyebrow. “What does your gut tell you about me?”
She knew what she wanted her gut to tell her about him.
Liar. Murderer. Selfish. Not to be trusted.
And it was saying those things. But she could hear something else, too.
Something soft. Barely even a whisper. Maybe a whisper wasn’t enough to stake one’s life on, but combined with her new plan to gradually befriend Elias (for the sake of revenge, of course) and the slight possibility that he was telling the truth about having information on her mom and Loki’s story … well. It was too tempting to pass up.
Charlie set her hands on her hips. “My gut tells me that, if I’m going to trust you, I need you to give me something real.”
“Give you something real?” He shook his head. “Like what, flowers?”
“No. A real piece of you. Something personal. Something vulnerable.” She paused. “Tell me why you became a mare.”
Elias’s expression froze. His mouth was half-open, his eyes wide with surprise. He hadn’t been prepared for that, had none of his usual witty responses on hand. His eyes glanced everywhere but at her. Slowly, his lips pressed shut.
“That’s what I thought,” she said, shaking her head. “Those who can’t give trust don’t deserve to receive it.”
His eyes flashed with anger. Real anger, deep and piercing. The kind that seemed to set his whole body on fire. Not the fake, sarcastic bullshit he usually plastered onto his face.
Could that mean…?
No. She wouldn’t go there. That “real” anger could easily be another one of his tricks. It didn’t mean he was starting to feel.
Compulsive liar, she reminded herself. Elias is a compulsive liar. Everything he does is an act. He doesn’t care about anyone or anything enough to experience true anger.
Charlie ducked her head, reaching down to open the car door.
Elias snatched her wrist out of the air before she even grazed the handle.
She froze, swallowing a gasp. Aside from the brief brush of his arm against her neck that morning, Elias hadn’t touched her since homecoming. She wasn’t prepared for the feeling of his skin on hers. For the excessive heat that came from being touched by a mare, like being grabbed by the sun.
But it was more than his supernatural heat. Elias’s touch sent a current of electricity up her arm, as if he had cranked a knob that she hadn’t known existed all the way up.
If Elias felt it too, he didn’t let it show.
He just leaned in until only a handful of inches remained between them.
“Look,” he said, grip tightening around her wrist. “This isn’t about me, okay?
This is about you. You’re the one we need to find whoever is controlling Rattatosk.
You’re the one who can make or break this mission. ”
His face was so close that she could make out a faint freckle just over his lip.
“And I can help you. I can train you. Show you how to access your magic. It’s our only hope of stopping Rattatosk, but that won’t matter if you’re not even willing to try.”
She was barely breathing now. He was too close.
Far too close. The nearness was clouding her judgment, making it difficult to think.
Her eyes kept darting down to that freckle, the one over the soft curve of his lips, even when she told herself to stop.
Butterflies were wreaking havoc on her insides.
Surely Elias could feel her racing heart; his fingers were wrapped around her wrist at the exact spot where the nurse always took her pulse.
“It’s up to you, Charlie,” he said. “You can stick your head up your own ass like your brother, pretending the truth away and never learning how to use all that power humming within you. Or—” He drew even closer, his voice a whisper.
“You can accept the legacy you were born into. You can let it make you strong.”
His face started to lower, and for one terrifying second Charlie thought he was going to kiss her.
And for one terrifying second, she wanted to let him.
Then (thankfully, or unthankfully—whatever; she had no idea how she really felt about it) he ducked his head at the last second, looking down at the car door and reaching for its handle. He tugged the door open for her and stepped aside, putting space between them at last.
He nodded, indicating that she should climb in. “The choice is yours.”