Finaan #2
I don’t try to hold back the laugh. “That would require a heart,” I declare, “and Wregen has none. Even if he did when he entered Helheim, that bitch would have leeched it out of him before she gave him free reign and a lot of her own magic. He’s cruel and as cold as ice, no matter the temperature around him.
If he wants me, it’s about power or manipulation or something else that has not a single thing to do with me. ”
Sifa nods. She doesn’t seem to agree but I don’t care. “So, he wants you because he thinks you hold some sway over the other elves. How do we use that?”
“Have you tried again to access his thoughts?” I’m positive of the answer, but I have to ask anyway.
“I’ll never break through his shield,” she confirms. “I’ve tried every hour of every day, but weak as his body must be, I can’t find a way in. His mind is strong, and centuries with Hel made him even stronger. What about you? Can you give us anything helpful?”
“I can’t read him,” I growl, irritation at the emptiness I always find when I try oozing into my words. “I’ve never been able to, for some reason.”
“Well, torture isn’t working,” Sifa says after a moment, her gaze holding mine. “Maybe you can get something Fhord and Birger couldn’t.”
“I have to convince him to talk?” I can’t keep the frustration from my tone. I’m not sure how I know it, but I’m positive I need to do that while winning this little game he’s playing with me.
“Soon,” Sifa adds. “It’s been five days already. The other group is preparing in case they’re attacked, but it would help to know how likely it is. We need to know whether Beron has learned about the spring, or if Wregen really did have some kind of link to you that he followed there.”
“And whether the chaos god Loki, or his wolf or serpent spawn, will be joining in,” I add as I fling myself back in my chair.
“That’s the thing I still don’t understand.
Why are they bothering? You said Loki was helping Nerthus, but she’s dead.
Why are they still showing up occasionally, causing trouble? ”
Sifa doesn’t answer right away, watching me for a moment. “You know my history, right?”
“I know the basics. The war between gods and jotnar, which the Norns had foretold since the beginning of time—Ragnarok—came to Midgard, the place that humans call Earth. The gods defeated the jotnar, pushing them back to Jotunheimr and saving Midgard for humans. But Ragnarok created some cracks in the barrier between Vanaheim and the rest of the worlds. You and Mikkael are from those other worlds and got sucked into Vanaheim. The broken barrier now allows some movement between the realms that was impossible before, other than for Loki’s spawn, Jormungandr.”
“That’s the gist of it,” Sifa confirms. “Loki likes to cause trouble, and now it’s easier for him to fuck with a whole new world. I also suspect things aren’t as calm in Midgard as we hope. Loki wants power, and he’s not going to give up as long as he’s alive. He may be looking for new allies.”
“And you think Wregen will know whether we have to worry about Loki and his children?”
“Hel is one of Loki’s children,” she points out. “And Wregen is Hel’s lieutenant. He should know what she plans.”
I drop my head to stare at the floor, elbows landing on my knees. I need to go to him, but I hate the fact that I also want to go to him. I shouldn’t want anything involving Wregen.
“Why is this a problem?” Sifa asks after a moment.
I shake my head, pushing those demons—well, that demon—aside. “It’s not,” I assure her, as I stand, my hand still resting on the table. “I’ll get what we need.”
“Wregen is here?” Svend’s whiny voice pierces into the room as the door slams open, banging into the wall. “Why did nobody tell me that he’s come for us?”
Turning my head slowly—struggling to control the burst of anger that rises in me at whoever let this secret slip to Svend of all elves—I shift my gaze toward the frustrating male. “Because it’s not a single bit of your business,” I yell.
Maybe “yell” isn’t the right word. I scream at him like he throttled Sifa’s cat, Thor.
Not that he’d be able to do that because Thor is a badass.
But it feels like the little shit is strangling the cat we all adore and fear in equal measure, spewing his longing for Helheim into this room. Especially with Wregen dragging a physical reaction from me that I loathe, I don’t need to hear about Svend’s poisoned obsession with Hel’s realm.
“It is everyone’s business,” he bellows back. “We belong to Hel. She sent him to take us home.”
A shiver ripples down my spine as “home” spills from his mouth, my body betraying me in this too.
It tells me he’s right, that our days in the sun belong in the past. That those grim circles of Helheim own us, and we won’t be satisfied until we give them back their due: our bodies and, eventually, our souls.
This is why I can’t be around this frustrating elf. Because fuck that. I will never go back there.
“I want to go home,” he tacks on in a whimper, and I can’t restrain the burst of pity that pushes back most of my ire.
“I won’t have this conversation with you again,” I tell him in a steady voice.
“And I’m warning you. Stay away from Wregen.
If I get a single hint, a whiff of a hint, that you’ve been to see him, you’ll be in a cell too.
And it’ll be far enough away from him that you can’t talk, so don’t get any ideas. ”
Svend stares at me, the pleading in his eyes saying more than words could. “But he could take me home,” he says after a few seconds. “He may be my only way there.”
“No.” I don’t elaborate, but it wouldn’t matter. Nothing I say will change his mind. We need to make sure he doesn’t get close to the demon beneath us.
Looking again at Sifa, I release the grimace I’ve been holding back. “I’ll get what we need from him,” I assure her. And then I spin and stride through the doorway, glowering at Svend on my way out.
As I stalk down the stairs, my mind goes further than my feet will, drawn to him the way Svend feels drawn to Helheim.
But that’s easy to explain. He confused the fuck out of me with his bizarre declaration and sucked me into a game of wills I need to win.
I won’t sit on the ground with him, but I think I know how to get what I want without giving him what he demands.
When I enter with my tray the following day, Wregen’s smirk is the first thing I see. He’s standing next to the chair I asked Fhord to have placed in his cell, leaning against the bars dividing him from the table that will hold his meal, with a chair for me by its side.