The gods hadn’t done anything to rectify the mess they’d made. This illusion wasn’t what I’d expected, though. They were mind-fucking us and leaving us to our own devices.
Now that I knew the truth, it screamed at me. The air shimmered, rippled. It even still carried the metallic stench of war and death.
We ducked into an empty back alley and raced down its dark corridor, splashing in the puddles, bypassing the trash that littered it. The walls were tagged with red, pink, and yellow spray paint. We stopped and stood before the graffiti.
The tag didn’t say anything different from all the other markings. They were just names in bubbled letters, or so I thought.
Ola spoke words I couldn’t understand, and a door opened where the pink tag had been. “Come.” She waved me through, and I followed. “Always look for the pink paint.”
We crossed over the threshold, and the door slammed closed behind us. We were in an old brewery if the scent of hops was any indication.
“Why not just enter through the front door?”
“Because you wouldn’t be able to, and she is often watched. Right now, we are cloaked, and our movements are not yet noticed. They don’t like if you are awake and know what is going on. Sheep are easier to lead than wolves.”
“What’s this woman going to tell us?” I asked.
“She has a unique connection to all of this, and one that I happened to discover during my quest.”
We continued down the hallway that seemed to be near rousing water, loud enough to block out anything else that might have been said. We pushed on to come to a crimson-red curtain, and Ola ripped it back.
“You’re late,” the woman barked and never looked up from what appeared to be a chessboard. Her night-black hair hung loose, shielding her face from me. And next to her stood a wall of a black lion. He was larger than any cat I’d ever seen, even at the local zoo. He stared at me, and although his gaze was neutral, I frowned.
“They are not super friendly,” I whispered to Ola, and she ignored me.
“If you’re here, it’s because you’ve finally figured out that you’re buried in the muck from Asgard, and the gods aren’t going to help you get out of it.” She turned to Ola. “Is this the one you were telling us about, the one on the front lines?”
“Yes, she’s been trying to fight against the head, mistress.”
“Mistress?” My stomach tightened. Was Ola really about to set me up again? My hand moved toward my hair.
That was when the mysterious woman turned my way, and I paused. I’d seen that face before, minus the madness. The chilling eyes, the red-painted lips. “Are you wearing a glamor like your mother?” She was the striking image of Lady Hel, a carbon copy.
“You really do know your gods.” She reached out her hand. “I’m Suzy Raven, and before you ask, I’m not like her, but I’m here to help. From what Ola told me, you don’t know all that you’re up against.”
I crossed my arms instead. “The gods.”
“That would be simple. Behind the gods are the strings that are pulling and infecting all worlds.” She removed a stack of tarot cards, and she pulled up the first one and showed it to me: The World. The card was black and white, but when she placed it on her hand, The World lifted and rotated in her palm. Symbols began to form, including the X of Swords—that of disaster. “Looks like you’re on your way to see Hel after all,” she joked and then tucked the card away. “Come with me. You need to see what’s happening in Asgard with those you’re trying not to upset.”
She must have signaled to the lion as he stayed back with Ola. “Don’t worry about him. Frank is always protective of me. There’s still much for you to learn. Not all in Asgard is good, as not all outside is evil. Evil is not the opposite of good, you know?”
I frowned and tapped my fingers on my nose.
“Be careful there. Your monotheism is showing. Everything that you thought you knew about the gods, I dare say, is wrong. There’s a wickedness that lurks there, too, and it started way before this current spat. So, tell me—were you stuck on the other side like Ola said?”
Her words made me uncomfortable, sort of like when someone tells you that they will rip off a Band-Aid before doing it. I’d lived in Asgard for months, it seemed. Time was different there than here, and I often felt as though they were able to dip in and out of time as they wished by using the Rainbow Bridge to enter the timeline at their will.
It did make me wonder about their indifference if this was true. Why did they not act when so many needed them?
“When you were there, maybe you didn’t hear about the treaty between the mightiest of pantheons.”
“You mean, like the Greco-Romans, Egyptians?” I asked.
“Odin is not the end all, be all. His power is countered by the council, and those throughout the realms all wear a symbol that only the gods can see, which shows as to which region, and, or, belief system they belong to. The more of a faithful following they command, the more power and sway they have on the council. The peace is fragile, as there have been betrayals in the past of gods swooping in on other pantheons’ believers, and last time it had dire consequences.”
“Then you’ve already seen the truth. The inner border is just for those who’d rather not be constantly reminded of the harrowing daily life of culling. But it still happens. The news just paints it as missing people, another deadly crash, another healthy person who died under the doctor’s care. This world is kill or be killed, and the acting forces will be a challenge to stand against. I’m glad you know that. What you don’t know is that the Elves are not the only ones you’re up against. There is an entire hierarchy. I should know, as I used to work for them—better days.”
I could handle that of the dark elves. They, of course, had invaded and were now capturing human souls to power their suits and were using our energy to make this world more hospitable for them.
Raven shook her head. “That’s only part of it. When the Elves came over, it split the veil, and all sorts of supes came out—vampires, shifters, mermaids, just to name a few, and magic practically became normal. They brought magic over into this world where the only thing that used to matter was science.” She filled a silver bowl with water. “Auf,” she uttered, and a sigil grew under our feet; the silver water clouded to reveal an image of Lady Hel twirling in an opulent designer gown.
“One thing you can say about my mother is that she really has some kick-ass fashion.”
“What type of ruler would she be to just take something off the rack?”
“I just need another week,” the designer said, and seemed to be trying to strap on a blinged-out belt to go around the ombre gown.
“No, no, that will not do. The Black Wedding shall occur this week, for you don’t wish to disappoint your queen.”
My ears perked up at that. It was no secret that Hel and Harley planned to wed. After all, wasn’t that what couples in love did? But something about this was ominous as if it wasn’t about the exchanging of vows at all.
“What is the black wedding?”
“The last time it had been a grand festival filled with death, and not just macabre souvenirs. Instead, those in attendance had been slain and sacrificed, but what she means now, well, it could just refer to her dress.”
In walked Harley. I knew that strut anywhere. His black apparel was accentuated with hints of forest green, and the crown of resurrection rested on his head.
“Have you come with news?” Hel asked.
“Of course, beloved. It would seem that the All-Father has agreed to your terms to meet, and to decree Sif as a traitor to the gods. Our army awaits your orders outside the wall of Asgard.”
Hel clapped in glee. Again, she turned around and around, her dress swishing across the marble floor. At once, I now understood. Hel, too, was caught up in the madness of Harley.
A Cheshire grin lit up her otherwise darkened face. “With the army ready, we can proceed to Alfheim and then Midgard. The gods will not stop us.”
The vision dissipated. But the pain in my chest intensified as if my shame sought to break free from my rib cage.
I pushed it down, only a tremble until it, too, settled.
Time was of the essence. Clarity like I’d never known dropped into my lap, almost like a loud and clawing cat’s caterwauling; the definition of truth was jarring. I couldn’t ignore it.
By walking away, I’d placed all the realms in jeopardy. I turned to Raven. “We must hurry. I’m going to need your help.”
I couldn’t do this alone. I’d need all the hands I could use to fight this fight that wasn’t ours. Under the Dark Elves, they crushed us, used us, but there was a way to stop it all. I turned to Raven.
I was out of friends, out of luck, and we’d have to find another way to send word to those in Alfheim, including the Vanir gods, who might want to fight back.
My major concern was here in Midgard. Sure, we’d fought back against the Dark Elves and their advanced tech, but against a horde of Lady Hel’s soldiers, that might be too much.
“The gods have let you down, and you still want to help them?” Raven asked. “The Elves have been able to divide and create not only a war against Midgard, but also a philosophical war. People are growing desperate to survive inside the curtain, and beyond, they don’t even know what’s going on. Why risk it?”
Could I lead everyone to die? Could I sit around and allow everyone to die—either by the hands of the Dark Elves or Lady Hel’s horde? We might be the only thing that might keep Midgard free.