Dead Wrath (15 page)

I glared at him. "I'm not giving you Gungnir and that is final."

He sighed. "Well, I guess I will just have to take it, then, won't I?" he said, shaking his head as if it were all my fault. He jumped from the ledge, and though my eyes told me he should fall like a stone, he didn't. He'd given himself wings. Nothing Valkyrie-like though. These wings were black with large feathers, as if he'd borrowed a pair of raven's wings. He even tilted his head like a bird, watching me as he hovered not a few feet away.

He opened his right hand and a sword materialized in it, glinting dangerous in the sunlight. He opened the other palm and a dagger appeared. He held both weapons forward and in front of his face, then said, "Ready when you are, sister."

"I didn't come here to fight," I said, although I really would have liked to cut him to pieces.

"Too late," he snapped, his eyes flaming for a moment.

I shook out my wings and stepped off the ledge, pulling my sword from its sheath and a dagger from the holster at my thigh in a single smooth move. I drew them forward, mimicking Loki's stance, only I held the dagger hilt forward instead. Loki wasn't wasting any time. He threw himself at me, lunging and thrusting his sword at my midsection. I spun away and flew around him, avoiding the blade by not more than an inch.

Loki growled, frustrated that I wasn't making it easy for him. He flew at me again, his wings sending a gust of air at me, so strong I had to struggle to keep my balance. Fury rippled through my veins, heating my limbs and firing my strength. He swiped his dagger at me, and I drew my head back just in time or he would have sliced my cheek open. He certainly had a thing about damaging my face.

Losing patience, eyes flaming with fire, he made a wide swipe at me. Borne by the wave of rage, I parried hard, catching his sword with my dagger, the blow sending sparks flying. I used my sword to attack his unprotected abdomen and plunged it into his ribs. He howled and tumbled in the air away from me. Finally, he straightened and held a hand to his side. "You are getting good."

He didn't know the half of it.

I was breathing hard, my nose wrinkly at the odor in the air, a scent of copper and warmth, a smell that lit up my senses and brought fury to my breath. I lunged again, not waiting for him to attack. He darted out of the way, then swiped at me, his own rage responding.

When he struck again, I spun out of the way and flew over him, turning upright smoothly at his back. I placed the tip of my dagger at his back, just behind his heart. I had him and he knew it.

"Did you have to go and spoil my fun?" He sounded like a little boy having a playground spat.

"I didn't come here to fight, Loki," I repeated. "Don't make me end this right here." I poked the tip of the knife into his flesh, but I knew it was just a bluff. Even if I stabbed him, wounded him in any way that threatened his life, he'd just disappear off somewhere to repair and recuperate, only to return another day to persecute me.

I left him hovering there and flew around until I was facing him again.

Loki pouted at me. "What do I need to do to make you hand it over?"

"Nothing. There is no reason in this world I would give the spear to you." I spoke the words, but my mind was already turning over an idea.

"How about a life for the spear, then?" he asked pleasantly. When I turned to stare at him, he smirked. "See, I knew you could be swayed. The lives of your loved ones are far too important to you, my dear."

"Maybe they are, but what do you understand about it when you have no feelings, no care for the people around you?"

"Oh dear, you sound so morbid now." He tut-tutted me, waving a finger in warning. "We'd best get on with it, then. You can have Thor and then you give me Gungnir."

I waited for a while, trying to guess if he was playing me. "Where is he?"

"Oh, he is quite safe. Give me the spear and then you get Thor."

"Do I have 'stupid' written on my forehead?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "As soon as I give you the spear, you'll be gone. Bring Thor to me and then we can trade."

He sighed dramatically. "Fine. Follow me and you can get your brother."

He pushed himself off the edge of the ledge and dived straight down. In seconds, he surged back out of the canyon in the familiar form of the dreaded falcon. I shook out my feathers and jumped, flapping my wings and gliding after the gigantic black bird.

From my vantage point high in the sky, I saw where we were.

The Grand Canyon.

I pointed myself in Loki's direction and sped toward him using the air and my body to dive fast. I watched as he landed on top of a rocky outcropping and turned to see me land. He held a hand up to me, disappeared, then reappeared with a very disoriented Thor at his side. Thor stepped forward, lost his balance, and sank to his knees beside Loki.

I said nothing.

"Well, aren't we going to make a trade?"

"Not yet. I know what will happen if I give you the spear now. You leave and I have miles to fly with a god who is in no shape to even move. I glanced at Thor again and frowned. "What have you done to him anyway?"

"Never mind him. Just give me the spear." He held out his hand as if that were all it would take.

I stared, he waited, and he didn't like the stalemate.

Then he threw his hands in the air. "Fine. What do you want?"

"Take us to the nearest Bifrost entrance. Then you get the spear."

"Fine," he said, clicking his fingers.

When I blinked, we were back on the ledge again, with Thor on the other side of Loki. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

He shook his head, annoyed, then pointed a finger past me. "See. Bifrost."

I turned my head and immediately saw the shimmering doorway. I sighed. "Fine. Then I reached for the spear, pulling it from its sheath. It was short so I shook it until it lengthened and the sound of metal song echoed around the canyon.

I handed the spear to him but was reluctant to let it go. He grabbed it and tugged, but I didn't budge. "Now who is playing games, sister?" He sneered.

"Fine," I said and let go of Gungnir. Loki grinned and raised the sword, pounding it on the stone ledge three times. He didn't pay me any attention when I grabbed onto his wrist. On the third stamp, lightning flashed from the peaceful bright blue sky and thunder grumbled so loudly the canyon walls began to vibrate, sending small rocks and dust crashing into the ravine below.

Loki coughed, then tried to swallow. A strange look crossed his face, and he put his free hand to his throat. That was when both he and I saw that his skin was turning grey as stone. He coughed again and stared at me, his eyes wide and furious. The words he gurgled were unrecognizable. I kept my hand on his wrist, watching as he slowly turned to stone.

His body stiffened, and I took my chance and grabbed the spear. Loki growled, but it came out more like stone scraping against stone. A strange noise. I shook the spear and it contracted as Loki tipped over and fell into the ravine. I jumped, thrust my wings open, and glided down, following the progress of the solid stone Loki. A murky river crawled at the bottom of the ravine, and I made a face.

I'd hoped for a crash landing. Crash and shatter.

Instead, he hit the water with a splash, then disappeared beneath the brown surface.

I shook my head and turned, flying back up to the ledge.

Thor was gone.

I swore loudly, the violent sound echoing over and over around me. I knew I shouldn't have trusted him. The Thor I'd seen was most likely an apparition. A projection of the real Thor who still remained wherever Loki was holding him

I peeked over the side and sighed.

'Til we meet again, brother.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I stamped the spear three times onto the ledge and felt myself pulled into nothing. Moments later, I appeared at the Brooklyn pipe, only to jump straight into the shimmering entrance to the Bifrost.

I arrived in the gloom, shadows enveloping me, surrounded by trees, and right beside a headless woman. It took a moment in which my heart beat triple time, to accept that the woman was indeed a statue. Headless or not, it was not a pleasant experience. I saw Enya straight ahead open her eyes and yelp when she noticed the statue. She slapped her hand over her mouth. I tried hard not laugh.

It didn't take too long to figure out we were standing in the middle of a cemetery. I'd arrived behind Aimee, and when she saw me, she gave me an odd look. I frowned at her and gave my head a tiny questioning shake. She reached out and ran a finger across my cheek. The pad of her finger was red with dust from the canyon.

When she raised her eyebrow, I said, "Long story." And she just snorted.

"What a strange place," said Siri, staring around her, then up at the small dull patch of darkening sky above our heads.

"This is Old Barnes Cemetery. Its been abandoned since 1966," said Derek, a sad note in his voice.

"Who in the world would abandon a cemetery?" asked Aimee in disbelief. She wrinkled her nose when she looked at the ground between our feet, littered with cigarette butts and used condoms. She looked and gave a disgusted shudder. "I'd like to get out of here please."

"You and me both, girl," I said, stepping gingerly away from the offending trash.

"This way," called Derek, already a few yards away moving between broken headstones and more headless statues.

We hurried after him and I wasn't sure if I was more disgusted or saddened. We walked over the graves of hundreds of people, and my team was probably the most respectful of its visitors in a long time. I shook my head at the sadness of the abandoned cemetery as I emerged behind Derek onto the side of a road.

"How far do we have to go?" I asked, concerned that our band of strange people carrying heavy bags might draw undue attention. It didn't look like we were in the busiest of areas, but I was still concerned.

Derek hurried across the street, calling over his shoulder, "Follow me. It's not far. No point in calling a cab or anything." He kept moving, glancing over his shoulder from time to time as if checking if we were all present and accounted for.

We followed him up wet, glistening streets lit by buttery light from the homes we passed. We walked along an endless row of houses that sat cheek-by-jowl. Red brick, pointed white roofs, and little white doors set into a shallow porch. Derek opened a low iron gate and hurried up the slick path of the house at number 14 Forest Dell, waiting only seconds before the door was opened. A camera hummed from the corner of the front entrance, clearly why the door opened so fast for Joshua. They must know him well enough. Another little fact I picked up was the glamor that shimmered around the black camera. I was impressed.

"Oh, hello, hello. Let's get you lot out of the rain." A man's cheery voice boomed from the hall inside the house. I was about to respond that it wasn't raining when I heard the patter of raindrops on the already wet cobblestones. I glanced over my shoulder to see the rest of the team equally flummoxed.

We were ushered inside by a well-meaning, fussy old man who offered to take our coats but didn't look offended when we said no thanks. He looked like someone's grandfather, silky white hair covering his head, skinny wire-rimmed glasses, and a tweed jacket with elbow pads. He made me want to take him to one of the sofas in the front room, cover his knees with a warm blanket, and offer him a cup of hot tea.

"Come, come. I'll take you to HQ. I'm sure you don't want to waste any time," he said before shuffling off down a long, incredibly narrow passage. At the end of it, he opened a door that led onto a flight of stairs and down to a lower floor. I'd noticed a set of blacked-out, barred windows below street level and figured that was where we were headed.

Beneath the house was a set of offices not unlike the New York HQ, just as clean and businesslike with cubicles and computers and equipment suitable for any decent HQ. He led us to an office midway down the central aisle, and only then did I became clear that London HQ occupied the basements of at least two of the houses on the row. I assumed they would own the house next door as well. Brilliant idea.

I followed the old man inside the office and watched in surprise as he strode around the desk and sat in the chair. Only when I squinted at him did I see the faint glow of the einherjar on his wrinkled hands and on the papery skin of his pale cheeks. I had never seen an einherjar this old before, but having seen Brody's transformation, I didn't question it.