Betraying Destiny Read online

  I didn’t know when I’d fallen asleep. All I remembered from before I’d lost consciousness was crying and screaming at Grim, and his granite features as he took in my despair. Possibly he’d magicked me to sleep when he got tired of listening to me curse his miserable name into the ground.

  I stared blankly into the colorless swirl high above. Even in Jotunheim and Asgard, the sky had seemed familiar, as though those realms still inhabited the same plane of existence as Earth, despite all that set them apart. Hel? Hel was very clearly another thing entirely. The gray sky above should have been filled with clouds, but instead it looked like swirls of mist scored through with lines of inky blackness. It turned into an enormous funnel cloud of some sort, its touchdown disappearing far out of my field of vision.

  Every muscle in my body hurt, and my eyes were swollen and sore from crying. Behind my ribs there was nothing but pain and visceral anguish. I couldn’t sense so much as a ghost of my mates’ awareness, and I didn’t dare prod at where the connections should have been out of fear that the resulting agony would rend my mind.

  So this was death.

  So far, I wasn’t a fan.

  A deep, continuous rattle finally made its way through my misery to my conscience. It took me several minutes of staring into the swirling celestial sphere to care enough to investigate.

  I turned my head to the right and was greeted by the disturbing sight of Mimir’s severed head still propped on the tree stump. His eyes were closed, his mouth hanging slightly open. The grinding sound was coming from him.

  Snoring. The animated head was snoring.

  They did say sleep apnea occurred somewhere between the sinuses and the throat, unluckily for Mimir.

  The thought made me snort. I grimaced at the raw feeling crawling through my throat in response. Water would have been nice. And a pee.

  To my surprise, I had full use of my limbs again. Grim must have unbound me after he’d knocked me out.

  Small favors, I guess. I sat up, groaning at the stiffness in my body after a night on the bare ground, and took in my surroundings.

  My eyebrows hit my hairline when I spotted the darkhaired Lokisson seemingly fast asleep on his side at the edge of the small clearing.

  He’d… stayed? But why? My mates would have no way of knowing he was behind my disappearance. Why not just drop me off and then return, pretending like he knew nothing of my whereabouts while Ragnarök tore our worlds apart?

  I was half-tempted to kick him awake and ask him. Or just kick him. But as I clumsily got to my feet and stretched my sore body, I decided against it. I didn’t particularly want to spend another sixteen to twenty-four hours bound on the ground and forced to wet myself, so I resorted to giving him a death glare before I left the clearing to find some water.

  * * *

  After half an hour’s searching, I hadn’t managed to find anything but trees—lots and lots of pine trees stretching high toward the sky, their gray needles reaching for the swirling fog.

  “Stupid, useless death-realm,” I growled to no one in particular. Only then did I realize that my throat wasn’t really sore anymore. And I wasn’t thirsty, either.

  Odd.

  However, my bladder was still functioning and making its unhappiness with my delay known.

  Great. More squatting behind a bush. An eternity of it, in fact. Peeing outdoors had been one of the many sucky things about my trek through Washington and Oregon with Modi and Bjarni, and I’d intensely looked forward to the luxury of indoor bathrooms for the entire journey. Only now it seemed like that was yet another comfort I would never experience again.

  My hatred toward Grim was at a boiling point as I squatted next to a pine tree to relieve myself.

  There was a bright red streak in my underwear. I stared at it, dumbfounded by the almost obscenely rich color in the midst of all the gray. It took me several moments to realize I’d gotten my period.

  I’d… actually gotten my period. In Hel. I was dead, yet I was still menstruating. Fuck. My. Life. Or death, as it were. Fuck my death. So hard.

  It was only while I was looking for moss on the forest floor to stuff into my panties that I realized this was the first time since I’d left my home that I’d bled. I’d been too swept up in Fate and myth and saving the world to track the dates, but now that I came to think about it, I should definitely have had at least one more period between arriving in Iceland and now.

  Had I gotten pregnant during my last heat? Was this…? I swallowed thickly and pressed a hand to my abdomen. Oh, God. No. Please, please, no.

  I didn’t have any more tears left. Didn’t have the capacity for anymore sorrow. I’d lost everything already, and if this was more than a delayed period, then…

  Mechanically, I gathered the rest of the moss and placed it as best I could in my underwear.

  For a moment I just stood there, staring blindly ahead into the gray forest. I didn’t have anywhere to go. I thought about continuing into the woods and letting them swallow me up, but the thought of being all alone in Hel was even more awful than having to see Grim’s face again.

  In the end, I walked back toward the clearing. I hadn’t paid much attention to which direction it lay when I went out to search for water, but as I made my way back through the pine trees, the path seemed clear, almost as if I had a homing beacon to guide me through.

  When I broke through the tree line some twenty minutes later, both Grim and Mimir were awake.

  The darkhaired alpha seemed to have been pacing. He stopped when he spotted me, angular features pulling into a frown. “Don’t wander off on your own. This is dangerous territory.”

  I snorted in disbelief. “Dangerous territory? I’m dead, remember? How much worse can it get than dead?”

  “Decently bad,” Mimir said, his voice mild and irritatingly cheerful. His eyes flicked to the funnel cloud in the distance. “There are stages of death, my pretty plum. All things considered, we’re lucky.”

  I eyed the bodiless man for a long moment, but decided against pointing out that he’d probably feel luckier with legs. Instead I glared at Grim. “I don’t see why you’d care if I extra-died, seeing as you were the one to kill me in the first place.”

  Grim’s full lips pulled up in a sneer, but instead of replying, he stiffened, nostrils flaring.

  “What?” I asked, shifting uneasily. He was staring intently at me—or rather, at my crotch. He crossed the distance between us, eyes wide and locked on my lady bits.

  Grim had never struck me as interested in… well, me. I still recalled that asshole Surtr’s comment that he’d assumed Grim’s kind reproduced asexually, and frankly, I wouldn’t have been surprised if it turned out to be true. His sudden interest in my nether parts was wholly disturbing.

  “Is that…?” Mimir said behind me, shock in his voice. “Is she truly…?”

  “What?” I repeated, taking a step back from Grim to escape from his personal space.

  It brought me closer to Mimir, who gasped and said, “She is!”

  “I’m what?” I spun around to face him, partly to avoid Grim’s continued stare.

  “Your moonblood!” Mimir said, his mouth twisting up into a wide grin. “You have been blessed with your monthly bleeding!”

  So many emotions went through me at once, though complete mortification came out on top. “You… How do you know that?”

  “It’s a very distinctive smell.” Mimir’s eyes flickered to my crotch, then back up to my eyes. “My dear girl… do you know what this means?”

  Smell it. They could smell it. Just… great.

  “I don’t know—probably that my brother-in-law murdered my unborn child?” I said, the words spilling out though I hadn’t meant for them to, laced with bitterness and a pain I couldn’t begin to process. “I haven’t had a period since my first heat, and I suspect passing into the death realm isn’t the healthiest thing for a fetus.”

  “No.” Grim’s voice was almost a growl. Almost, but not quite.
“You were not with child. I made sure.”

  “He’s right,” Mimir said, his voice still way too happy. “It would have smelled differently. This is fresh, healthy moonblood.”

  Relief I hadn’t been expecting washed through me. At least that was one loss I’d been spared.

  Behind me, Grim breathed in deeply, clearly scenting me. “How are you doing this?”

  Embarrassment reignited in my gut and traveled up to my face as the awkwardness of having the disembodied head of a prophet and my coldblooded murderer discuss my period set back in.

  “I’m not doing anything. Pick up a biology book.” I turned away from both of them to retreat to the other side of the clearing.

  “You are dead! This is impossible,” he growled, apparent frustration finally breaking his composure.

  “I guess I’m just lucky,” I snarked. “And may I take this opportunity to thank you for killing me in such a way that I apparently get to keep my period for the rest of eternity? Really. Thank you. Nothing like scavenging for fucking death moss to stuff into your panties to really brighten your non-existence.”

  “You don’t understand, plum,” Mimir said. “This is Hel. This is the realm of death.”

  “I’m aware,” I bit, turning to shoot him a withering stare. “Everyone’s been quite clear on that.”

  “Life doesn’t touch this place,” he continued, ignoring my sarcasm. “But you… Your body is preparing to bear a soul. It’s capable of birthing life. Here.”

  “How?” Grim asked, voice twisted with darkness, but the irony of having him ask me the exact question I’d screamed at him over and over yesterday didn’t escape me.

  I snorted, partly from disbelief. “How? You think I know how any of this bullshit works? You’re the magically gifted god. And you,” I pointed at Mimir, “are a literal prophet. You work it out.”

  “In the well of eternity, this has never happened before,” Mimir said, his gaze turning distant as if he was searching a vast expanse for an answer. “Only mortals are gifted with monthly bleeds, but the instant a human crosses the border to Hel, there is no turning back. They are lost for eternity, and so is their ability to bring life into the world.”

  “Maybe’s it’s a fate side-effect-thing,” I said, shrugging. “Does it really matter? I’m still dead, aren’t I?”

  “You are,” Mimir said. “But—”

  “But the second they smell you, every wretched creature in this place will either hunt you down to make you carry their spawn, or shred you apart to prevent you from birthing such a monstrosity,” Grim interrupted. When I turned to look at him, he was pinching the bridge of his nose in a very human gesture. “Gods damn you, why are you always such a pain in my ass?”

  I opened my mouth to suggest what he could shove up said ass, but the realization of what he’d just said made the words die on my suddenly too-dry tongue. Seemed Mimir had been right—things could indeed get much, much worse.

  Grim drew in a deep breath and lowered his hand. “Stay here. Mimir’s presence will offer you some protection. I will search the area—make sure nothing dangerous resides in the vicinity.”

  Without waiting for my response, the darkhaired Alpha walked off to the edge of the clearing, letting the thick forest swallow him up.

  “Something dangerous? Besides him?” I muttered.

  “Come here, plum,” Mimir said.

  I turned to him. “Why?”

  He gave me a small smile. “No need for suspicion, young one. I am merely a head. I won’t be among the creatures attempting to impregnate you.”

  I stared at him. “And yet you managed to lure me to Hel. Excuse me if I’m less than trusting.”

  “I was not a willing participant in that ploy,” he said, the amusement in his voice finally dying.

  “Oh? So you just happen to be hanging out in the death realm for no real reason? Chilling in the woods, waiting for someone to stroll past?”

  “The manner of how I came to be here I cannot discuss with you, but my choice it was not. Even for a man whose home is a well, this place is… unpleasant.”

  I put my hands on my hips, no less suspicious. “You can’t? Or won’t?”

  “I cannot.” His bushy eyebrows pulled into a frown. “And for now, it is not important. What is important is that I learn the truth of your ability to sustain life in this place before your cold companion returns. Come. Pick me up.”

  “He’s not so much a companion as he is my killer. You get that, right?” I said, hesitantly returning to Mimir’s tree stump. I wasn’t sure exactly what the prophet wanted from me, but if he wished to do it before Grim came back, it might mean that he was… well, at least not on the same side as the asshole who’d betrayed me.

  “He was the tool that brought you here. I understand,” Mimir agreed. “Now lift me.”

  I hesitated for another moment, the thought of touching a severed head making my stomach twist.

  Mimir arched his eyebrows at my reluctance. “I don’t drip. The spell that sustains my life has me perfectly preserved. Come now—the woman prophesied to save the world can’t be squeamish.”

  I grimaced, reaching down to gently grab him under the ears. He maybe had a small point. “I thought me dying kind of ended that prophecy. Can’t I be as squeamish as I want now?”

  “Ah, but did you die, plum?” he said, eyes sliding from mine to my throat. “That is the only question worth asking now. Hold me against your neck. I need to smell you.”

  Awkwardly, I did as he commanded. His beard and eyebrows tickled me as he inhaled deeply at the hollow of my throat, and I gritted my teeth to resist the urge to toss his head like a ball.

  “Interesting,” he murmured. “Very interesting.”

  “So? Am I not dead after all?” I asked, wild hope blooming through the bizarreness of this whole encounter. I pulled him out at arm’s length to look at him again, willing him to confirm that this had all been some horrible misunderstanding.

  “Oh, no, you’re dead,” he said, and my moment’s worth of elation withered into dust. “But… there is… something. Some… shred of immortality lingering in your essence where there should be nothing but humanity. Tell me, little omega, has anyone gifted you an item of divinity?”

  An item of divinity? I frowned. “What, like a necklace that grants nine lives?”

  “A necklace, a trinket… an apple, perhaps?” His dark eyes bored into mine, and those bushy eyebrows quirked knowingly.

  An apple. I blinked, the memory of Bjarni feeding me a golden fruit as we crossed Bifrost flickering in my mind, as well as his matter-of-fact attitude as he told me what eating it had done.

  Immortal. He had made me immortal. Somewhere along the journey to find Loki and fighting Nidhug, I’d forgotten the magnitude of that gift.

  I gasped, eyes going wide as I stared at Mimir. “Idun’s apples! Bjarni… he stole one for me!”

  “Bjarni Lokisson! That boy isn’t half as dumb as his reputation would have you believe. Oh, my pretty plum, that is why your womb is still fruitful.” Mimir cracked a wide, toothy grin. “And that is how we are going to escape this miserable place.”

  I blinked, my brain taking a while to process his words even as my heart picked up speed. “Escape? There’s… There’s a way out of here?”

  “There are…” He looked up toward the sky. “…two ways out of Hel for the omega still carrying a spark of life where nothing but death should exist. But, I suspect, only for as long as the apple’s effect is still within you. Once a year, the gods must eat from Idun’s tree. If you are still here after that time, there will be no stopping death’s final ravishment. And should you be killed while still in this realm…”

  “Then no more second chances, either,” I said, but despite the grimness of his warnings, excitement pounded in my veins. “So I’ll be careful, and I’ll be out before a year’s passed. Tell me, how do I escape?”

  He quirked his eyebrows at me. “I will tell you in due time, plum.”r />
  “And now isn’t ‘due time’? Grim’s going to come back at some point, and I doubt he’ll be on board with this plan of yours.”

  “For now, I will tell you which direction to go,” he said mildly.

  I arched an eyebrow at him. “You don’t trust that I won’t leave you behind if you tell me now? Really? Didn’t you prophesize a whole thing about me saving the world? You’d think that would make me, ya know, pretty trustworthy.”

  He gave me a small smile. “You might be surprised how many heroes touched by Fate are scoundrels at heart. The Norns care little for a person’s character when they weave their threads, only the end goal. Now let us get going. You have a world to save, after all.”

  Four

  Grim

  Huldra blood still dripped from my knives as I breeched the clearing where we’d found Mimir. Normally I’d have taken the time to care for my weapons, but the second my blade had plunged into the monster’s heart and the adrenaline of battle eased, a sense of urgency that still hadn’t released its hold gripped my lungs and pulled me back. Back to Annabel.

  I quickly took in the space, prepared to sling my magic out if something had crept up on the omega while I was away—but nothing but gray grass met my eyes. Gray grass and an empty tree stump where Mimir should have been.

  Despite the urgency still clawing at my lungs, I lowered my weapons with a curse. I knew exactly what had happened. No beast had taken the prophet, nor savaged the omega I’d ordered to stay put. She’d simply… left.

  “Curse that woman,” I growled into the silence. She may have hated me for what I’d done, but I had hoped she would be smart enough to realize that she needed to stay close unless she wanted to experience much, much worse parts of Hel.

  But apparently not.

  Despite Saga, Modi, and Magni doing their best to tame the willful omega, it would seem they’d all failed spectacularly, like I’d always known they would. And the result? The result was that I got to hunt a girl capable of bearing life through the Realm of Death. Hopefully I’d find her before she was raped or torn to pieces.