Fate Undone (The Mythean Arcana Series Book 5) (14 page)

“I could tell. You were as confused as I was. You had me scared for a moment.”

“I wanted to make you lose control. It started out naturally—I just wanted it. But then something took over. Something within me. When you… finished, I felt this driving need to use that energy for magic. So I chose prophecy because it seemed safest.”

“But when you came to, your need hadn’t been seen to,” he said.
 

“It was debilitating,” she said. “If you hadn’t helped me, I don’t know what would have happened.”

“Don’t be silly. I’ll always help you.” His voice was gruff.

A small smile pulled at her mouth. But with the way he lived his life, always going after the gods, she was terrified he wouldn’t always be there to help her. She didn’t want to tell him what she’d seen, but she couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t.

“I saw something about you,” she said.

He stiffened. She knew he must think she spoke of Ragnarok, the great battle that would end his life sometime in the unknown future. That was the most famous prophecy of all in Asgard. But it wasn’t what she’d seen.

“Your wolf, Fenrir. The other gods are going to capture and imprison him when he grows large enough to be a threat. He’s prophesied to kill Odin, so the gods will bind him before this can happen. If they can, they’ll kill him. It could be soon.”

Loki stiffened and sorrow raced through her. He loved the wolf more than anything. She hated to see him lose it because it threatened the other gods.

“You’re sure?” His voice held a dark cadence that made her shiver with worry.

“I am.” She felt the tension in his muscles, the desire to go do something to stop this. It couldn’t end well. The gods were serious about this. If Loki went up against them alone, he’d be in grave danger. “Please, don’t leave me. I’m weak.” She wasn’t, not any longer, but she’d say anything to keep him from putting himself in danger.

“I won’t.”
 

She gazed into his eyes and knew he meant it. As long as he thought she needed him—here, today—he wouldn’t leave. It was when he was away from her and subject to his urges to taunt the other gods or retaliate against them that she worried about. Loki never did anything in half measures.
 

“And don’t do anything stupid in the future,” she said.

“No. Of course not. I’ll just hide Fenrir where they’ll never find him.” The assurance in his voice did nothing to quell her fears. What she had seen would happen.
 

And what Loki would do when it was all over terrified her.

CHAPTER TEN

University Campus

Present Day

It took Sylvi only a few minutes to make her way from the infirmary back to her cottage where Logan waited. She pushed open the old wooden door. Running water sounded from the bathroom. Logan was in the shower. She swallowed hard. The water shut off as soon as she stepped over the threshold.

Ignoring the images of a wet, naked Logan that flashed in her mind, she started across the living room toward the kitchen. She was utterly famished.
 

The bathroom door opened as she passed it. Logan stood in the doorway, his hair damp and a towel wrapped around his hips.
 

Sylvi jerked her gaze from the ridges of muscle that marched down his abs and met his gaze.

“I made dinner,” he said, then gestured to the fireplace. It burst into flames. “Sit and I’ll bring you some.”

Her jaw almost dropped. “You made dinner? How’d you have enough time?”

He shrugged. “I’m a god. I didn’t exactly have to make it from scratch. And I thought you’d be hungry.”

He’d made it for her?

He jerked his head toward the couch. “Sit.”

She was so surprised that she almost wandered off toward the couch, but stopped herself because she didn’t like it when he told her what to do. “You’re bossy.”

“Bossy is for girls.”

“It shouldn’t be. That’s sexist as hell.” She poked him in the chest. His muscles were firm beneath her touch. Oh, it was hard to resist this man. “I don’t care that you’re a guy. Or a god. You’re
bossy
.”

He grinned, then stepped back into the bathroom and shut the door.
 

She walked into the kitchen to find the oven on low heat to keep something warm. She peeked in. A roast surrounded by carrots and potatoes filled the kitchen with their savory aroma.
 

She frowned. None of that stuff had been in her kitchen before, but she supposed if he could make a roast cook in fifteen minutes, then he could acquire the meat.

“Not a bad view.”

Sylvi popped up and scowled at him. He’d changed into clean clothes—no doubt conjured with his godly powers—and the dark cotton shirt and jeans only served to highlight the muscles beneath.

“I call it like I see it.” His grin was charming. His words were annoying.

“I think I will let you get dinner,” she said as she strolled out of the kitchen.

What the hell? Who was this flirty, cooking Logan? It reminded her of the man she’d known but had tried to forget. He’d been intense a lot of the time, but he’d had many moments of lightness too. Before it had all gone to shit between them, she’d
really
liked him.

More than liked him.

She shook the thought away and focused on everything that still lay before her. There was a major threat at the university. Her home was infested with evil. If they couldn’t stop the construction of the labyrinth, not only would the university be compromised, she could likely end up in the prison.

No matter how she looked at it, she didn’t have time to be thinking of Logan.

She sat cross-legged in front of the fireplace to wait for dinner and drew her staff from the aether. The wood was warm beneath her palms, still vibrating with the magic that had so recently flowed through it. The vibration was far softer than it had been, however, and Sylvi felt the first streak of nerves.

Was the knowledge stabilizing within the staff? Maybe even regrouping to protect itself? In the stress of the last several hours, she hadn’t considered that, but the architect had been exceedingly clever. And exceedingly paranoid.

She closed her eyes and evened her breath, focusing on clearing the worries from her mind. Once she banished most of them, she focused on the wood beneath her palms. She drew energy from the aether, visualizing it as a light that she absorbed into herself, and tried to turn it toward revealing the secrets held by the staff.

She felt the knowledge—swirling thoughts and plans and images—right at the tips of her fingers. But it was locked, just out of reach. She tried harder, absorbing more energy until she felt like she glowed with it. Sweat broke out on her brow and her muscles trembled.

Nothing.
Damn it.
 

She opened her eyes and stifled a scream. Logan was standing over her with a plate and a beer, watching her with an appraising eye.
 

She drew in a shaky breath and stood.

“You’re glowing,” he said as he handed her the plate and bottle.

She glanced at her hand to see a faint light emitting from her skin, then glanced up at him. “It’ll fade.”

She tore her gaze from him and walked to the small table in the corner of the living room. Logan went to the kitchen and returned with a plate and beer for himself and sat across from her.

“Any luck with the staff?” he asked.

She shook her head, worry settling in her bones. “The knowledge is locked. It protects itself, like the labyrinth protected the architect’s library. I’ve never seen anything like it. I didn’t even realize it was possible.”

“Damn.” His brow creased. “But you can access it, right? It’ll just take time?”

“Yes. I can feel it there, I just need to find a way to get to it. It’s my staff, so I can definitely get to whatever is stored in it. But it could take weeks for me to find a way to unlock it.”

“Weeks? We don’t have weeks. Aleia says the prison will be complete in less than two.”

Sylvi’s chest tightened. “What about what the architect screamed when she died? About the Triumvirate? That’s three masterminds. What if we found the other two?”

“How? I’ve got no idea who they are.”

That knowledge would also be locked inside her staff. She tried to force her worry away. She
knew
she could eventually access the information. And there were people here at the university who could help her speed up the process.

“At least one of the triumvirate was probably here at the university,” she said. “Has to be, since the architect didn’t live here and they’d need someone on the inside to coordinate the prison efforts.” That meant at least one rotten apple was festering within her beloved home.

“We know there’s at least one in the prison system. High up enough to determine the work detail for the prisoners. Do you know any of the staff?” Logan asked.

“Sure, vaguely. But there are half a dozen who are full-time staff members who have the power to determine work detail for the prisoners, and one of them is a god who has special permission to be on campus. No way he’d be building a prison for his own kind. We could start to investigate each, but without the support of the rest of the university, it’ll take ages.”

“No.” His hand slashed the air. “We can’t go to the rest of the university. Not yet. I know you think this place is perfect, but it’s not. They wouldn’t tell you what’s going on because you’re a demigod and will be affected by this.”

She swallowed hard. She hated to admit it, but he was right. She truly didn’t believe this was an effort by the entire university council, the individuals who made large-scale decisions for the rest of the staff. She couldn’t bear to believe that they were all behind it.

Not all Mytheans agreed with the university, but they really did have the best interest of the Mythean population at heart. Those who disagreed with them were usually demons and rogue gods who wanted to wreak havoc on earth, something the university was dedicated to preventing.

But as to the rogue staff members? She had no idea who they were. She heaved a sigh and glanced at Logan, who looked too big and too handsome for her own sanity.
 

He’d eaten almost everything on his plate and she’d barely started. She reminded herself that she could access the knowledge in the staff, she just had to find the key. The reminder returned some of her appetite and she tucked into the roast.

Before long, her plate was empty and he was clearing it from the table. As he walked to the kitchen, he said, “We’ll figure it out. You’re the best at what you do.”

The best? She was the first. The only true Vala, actually born to Freya. The rest had been mortal disciples Sylvi had taught once she’d been banished to earth. Did that make her the best? Probably so. She liked hearing it from Logan, and it was becoming harder to remember his long-ago rejection and cruelty in the face of his current charm.
 

Was he having second thoughts about his actions in the past? Unable to help herself, she got up and followed him to the kitchen.
 

He stood over the sink, his long-sleeved cotton shirt pushed up to his elbows. His forearms flexed as he washed the dishes. Her mouth became as arid as the desert. He looked way too good doing dishes. Big and strong, but his hands were gentle with the plates.

“You think I’m the best at what I do?” she asked.

“Of course. I’ve heard of your successes. You created an army of other Vala. Training mortals in magic is damned difficult.”

After she’d been evicted from Asgard with him, she’d created a family the only way she could. She’d used the magic her mother had gifted her with and trained mortal women in the art of prophesy and seidr magic. They’d never had her gifts for aetherwalking, conjuring, or far-ranging prophesy, but they’d done very well for themselves.

“There were a lot of Vala, weren’t there?” he asked as he dried his hands.

“At one point, I had over a hundred serving with me.”
 

“You were mercenaries, right?” Logan’s voice conveyed the respect he held for that position.

“Yes. For a fee, my Vala would foresee the outcome of a battle or use seidr magic to help turn the tides in favor of the client.” And in special cases, when the battle was too difficult and the client wealthy, Sylvi would go to the front lines and fight in their army. She still missed those battles, when she’d entered the aether and danced through it and the battle, moving faster than the mortals as the fight raged around her. Her cloak and staff had swirled as she’d slain mortal men faster than their eyes could process. With her strength and the magic fueling her, it had taken nothing more than a whack across the head to fell her client’s enemies.

“But that’s all over now,” she said. “Mortals no longer seek the aid of magic in their battles. They haven’t for centuries. And I’m no longer allowed to share my magic with mortals since Mytheans are so secretive now.”

“So you disbanded your troop of mercenaries.”

“It’s wasn’t hard. They kept dying on me.” A pang of sadness hit her at the memory of all the friends she’d lost. It had been foolish to grow so attached to mortals, but she’d been desperate.