Ascension: Nate Temple Series Book 13 Page 3

  He smiled wide at the reaction on my face. Each transition had been seamless and terrifying.

  “I am healed,” Callie’s double said, “but don’t take my word for it, Temple.”

  I shuddered, waving a hand. “Great. But it’s going to be hard for me to focus if I’m staring at a beautiful woman. And you will want to hear my plan.”

  He shrugged easily, switching back to his normal form in mid-motion. His eyes took in the book beside me, but he didn’t appear to recognize it or care much about it—likely assuming it was the source used for my prayer.

  Perfect.

  “I have a few questions, first, if you don’t mind. It will dictate how our conversation goes—whether or not I think we can help each other.”

  He smiled, looking amused. “How fascinating.”

  I ignored his sarcasm. “You made it very obvious that you wanted to kill Odin, or at least hurt him as much as you possibly could. You were willing to kill your own mother to get to him.”

  He yawned, shifting slightly as if working a kink out of his back.

  “Why, specifically, do you want to hurt Odin so badly? I know he’s been a shitty father and locked you away for a long time, but what is your biggest grudge with him? What pushed you so far that you were willing to kill Freya in order to get to him?”

  Loki stared back like a caged tiger. “Because he will stop at nothing to kill my son now that he is free. Odin pitted father and son against each other, using extortion to force me into my prison to protect Fenrir, and threatening Fenrir with my death if he rose up against the Allfather. Except now we are both free,” he said hungrily.

  I tried to keep my face neutral, having a hard time imagining my butler being so ruthless. I knew very well that the Odin from the stories had been a tough, often cruel, bastard. Pairing that legend with the strict butler I had grown up with was hard to fathom. Like accepting your neighbor was actually a serial killer.

  “Mordred broke you out of prison, promising to give both of you freedom in exchange for Gungnir,” I said, wanting to confirm their arrangement, because I still had a lot of questions about what Mordred had been involved in behind the scenes. “But Mordred betrayed you when you didn’t escape Niflheim fast enough, keeping Fenrir for himself.”

  Loki nodded, his eyes glinting with fire. “All I wanted was to go far away and spend some time with my son in peace. Odin took everything from me. Mordred was just an opportunist.”

  “You’re welcome for the Mordred thing, by the way. I did it for you.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Right. The only way you can help me is to give me Gungnir, give me Odin, or give me Fenrir. Those are my cards,” he said, waving a hand. “Now, show me yours.”

  “In a minute. I have a few more questions, first.”

  He sighed impatiently. “Then by all means get on with it,” he muttered.

  “Why did Mordred want Gungnir?”

  Loki grew very still. “That is not a question you want to ask, and that’s all I’m going to say.”

  I frowned, caught off guard. But it was obvious that he meant it literally. “Okay.”

  Loki grunted. “I will not be threatened into a bad bargain a second time, Temple,” he said, gesturing at the items in the ring. “Although impressive, I don’t rightly care how strong you are, or that you are a godkiller.”

  I scoffed. “Don’t bother threatening me over Thor, Loki. It will not even remotely intimidate me or make me feel guilty—”

  But I cut off as he suddenly started clapping loudly. “That’s for Thor. The shit-crusted, electron fucker,” he cursed, spitting on the ground. “I was talking about the godkiller aspect in general. I’m sitting here talking to a mortal, and I don’t have a headache.”

  I cocked my head, sensing that he was speaking literally, not insulting me. “You get headaches talking to mortals?”

  He nodded. “If we try to discuss important things, yes. Why do you think none of us gods ever ‘prove’ ourselves to our people, or why we only visit them when we are disguised as some fucking hairy animal? It’s to be more relatable. And to avoid the headaches.”

  I narrowed my eyes at the hairy animal insult but managed to stay on task. “You’re saying the reason a god doesn’t actually answer prayers is because it’s painful for them to do so?”

  “I can visit them without a problem but proving that I am Loki—to most humans—gives me an instant migraine. We are not compatible with most of humanity. That’s what magic is for—to permit lines of communication between different levels, or flavors, of power.”

  I stared at him, recalling something Pandora and Alice had mentioned a few times—something Callie apparently knew already. “The Omegabet—”

  “Don’t fucking say that out loud, you goat-sucking fool!” Loki hissed, glancing about frantically. “Fuck! Are you trying to get us killed?”

  Chapter 5

  I blinked, caught off guard by the god’s sudden anxiety. “That’s a secret? I only just heard about it.”

  “Of course you only just heard about it! You’re on a new level of power, apparently. You can talk to us gods about more important things. In a way, you are a god.”

  I arched an eyebrow, seriously doubting the simple assumption. “I highly doubt it. And if so, this is a pretty shitty onboarding process.”

  Loki shrugged. “Everyone gets all hung up on the title, god. Or godly powers, for that matter. Sure, we have them, but to us, it’s just normal.” Sensing my confusion, he gazed upwards, trying to think of a better explanation. Or maybe I was managing to give him a headache, after all. “It would be like someone running up to you in the street and declaring how incredible it was that you could swim.”

  I studied him, kind of understanding his bad metaphor. I…actually hadn’t thought about it quite like that. It was similar to my wizard’s magic. To me, it was normal, but to everyone else…

  “Listen,” I said. “No offense, but you’re the God of Mischief. Not really Mr. Honesty.”

  He nodded wearily. “I’ve had this conversation about a billion times. Literally. This is a perfect example of why we don’t often bother speaking with your kind directly. We might visit for a one-night stand, but that’s about the extent of our interest.”

  Wow. “Okay,” I said, realizing we were getting nowhere productive. “Here’s where I stand. I called you here because I can’t have you running around stirring up shit. I don’t particularly care about the Norse pantheon—other than the fact that I’d rather delay Ragnarök, and I’m certain that a large number of the Aesir gods feel a certain way about me killing Thor.”

  Loki shrugged. “I imagine it’s an even split, but I doubt those cheering you on will keep you safe from those cursing your actions. Loyalty is not a common commodity in Asgard.”

  I nodded. “Who should I be concerned about?”

  He gave me a very frank look. “All of us, you idiot. You should be concerned about all of us. Especially me. I lie for a living. The fact that you are a godkiller makes you a threat even to those who applaud you for killing Thor. I would not go to Asgard without an army, if I were you. It’s safer to all of them if you simply die.”

  “You sure don’t seem to care that I killed Thor. You two were brothers, of a sorts, right?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t have any fucks left to give. Well, for my kids, but that’s about it. Thor was not a kind person. Not even remotely. He was all about his name, fame, and claim. He got drunk from his notoriety. Imagine my surprise to find that pop culture now paints him as some kind of superhero. Read the old stories. They aren’t entirely accurate, but they’re pretty damned close. I’ve been gone for a while, but I know he spent a lot of time removing the worst of the stories from circulation. And I thought I was a good liar,” he laughed.

  I nodded, considering his words—how Thor’s image had gone through a rebrand. “Like the Brothers Grimm.”

  Loki grunted. “I’m sure glad we got rid of that problem. Sent them across the dam
ned ocean. By the brief looks of things, it seems you guys eradicated them.”

  I nodded, keeping specifics to myself—that my own ancestor had been the one to banish them. Then I’d finished the job hundreds of years later when I accidentally brought them back.

  “Okay,” I sighed, brushing my hands together. “I’ll admit that I’m a fan of you taking Fenrir and getting the hell out of here. Mainly because without Gleipnir—and in the likely event that he’s heard you are also free—he might throw a tantrum and kick off Ragnarök. So…it seems our interests align.”

  “That’s great—”

  “Until they don’t,” I said, cutting him off. “I’m not buddying up with you out of necessity. I’m trying to prevent a future mess, because I have plenty of other things to worry about already. I want you and Fenrir out of sight, just like you said. I also want you two to leave Asgard alone. At least for a while. Let the dust settle a little over the whole Thor thing. Is there some way I can get an oath from you on those terms?”

  He smiled cheerfully. “Not a chance. Not one that you could trust anyway. But I can shake your hand if it makes you feel better. Just be sure to count your fingers after,” he chuckled.

  I sighed, smiling faintly. “Damn.”

  “In all honesty, though,” he said, his eyes growing distant and serious. “What your pal has with his pups…” he trailed off, smiling sadly. “I never got that with my kids. I’d sure like to try it. I want to be a better father than Odin was to me.”

  He was talking about Gunnar. I knew Loki wasn’t to be trusted, but what other option did I have? If I wanted Fenrir out of the picture, who else was going to be able to help me? Odin was missing, and I didn’t know any other Aesir that I could trust, other than Freya. But she was Odin’s wife, so I wasn’t sure what obligations that entailed.

  The worst Loki could do was send Fenrir after Odin—although terrible, that was between him and his son. Odin had made his bed and had to lie in it.

  And if I did nothing, it was only a matter of time before Fenrir broke free on his own and did what he wanted anyway. Or if whoever Mordred had seemed to be working for succeeded in using Fenrir as a weapon—which would likely be even worse than letting Fenrir do what Fenrir wanted. That was a scary scenario to contemplate.

  And…I had a soft spot in me for kids and Beasts, and absent fathers wanting to make amends.

  That didn’t mean I trusted Loki. About as far from it as one could get. But it was my best option.

  “Since we can’t trust handshakes, how about this?” I asked, holding out the Bioloki. “Do as I ask, and you can keep this.”

  His eyes widened in disbelief, not having sensed it until I held it up for him to visually inspect. Sitting beside me, I’d turned it so that it looked like any other book. And since I’d taped a Sensate—a stone that blocked all magical auras from detection—to the front, he’d dismissed it earlier. “Clever,” he mused, smirking at the Sensate.

  I nodded. “Thank you. But I’m not finished.”

  He cocked his head curiously. “Pray tell.”

  “If anything happens to me—even if it’s not your fault—this book goes up for auction. Absolutely no one has the authority to cancel the auction if I am dead. Even if you threaten to kill everyone I’ve ever met, this book will still go to auction if I die.” He stared at me, perfectly still, and I could tell that he believed me.

  Which was good, because I was telling the truth. It had been the only way I could find to guarantee his cooperation. To remove all loopholes. To call his anticipated bluff about extorting me with threats against my friends, and to call that bluff so openly that he believed me. Because, if I was being entirely honest, Loki could decide to hunt them down anyway, so I wasn’t increasing the dangers. I was simply telling him that any temper tantrums he tried to throw wouldn’t change anything.

  “I spent my early years as an occult bookseller, and I personally know all the whales in the business. Many of them are reclusive and keep their purchases discreet. But something like this…” I mused, tapping the book as I shook my head. “Will easily fetch nine figures. To have a god trapped on their bookshelf? Hell, it could even sell for a billion. And you will be powerless to stop it if anything happens to me. The only way to get your prison off the open market is to work with me.”

  He stared at me, his eyes glittering darkly. “I’m impressed,” he admitted in a soft tone.

  I nodded. “Of course, you could always bid for it yourself, thwarting my clever plan.”

  He smirked absently. “Naturally.”

  “Which is why I have set up a second auction for Gleipnir—the only leash strong enough to restrain your son, Fenrir. He will live out his days as a domesticated dog, paraded in front of the other pantheons like a chihuahua. Same rules apply—if I die, auction goes live.”

  He gritted his teeth. “Unless I won that auction, too.”

  I nodded. “Naturally. Which is why I’ve spelled both items. Only I can safely touch them. Even if you used illusion to pretend to be another buyer or tried to use a proxy you controlled from behind the scenes, you will never be able to touch or own either item—directly or indirectly.”

  He frowned. “That’s…impossible.”

  I shook my head. “You left a hair behind in your coffin. I used it to make a ward.”

  He scoffed in disbelief.

  I shrugged, holding out the Bioloki. Then I lobbed it to the god. His eyes widened, and he held out his arms to catch it.

  The book touched his flesh, and he abruptly flew backwards, slamming into a pile of wooden boxes and blowing entirely through them. The book had already returned to my hands, just as I’d designed the spell to do.

  Loki climbed to his feet, his eyes wide and his hair sticking straight out. “What the hell?” he wheezed, staring at the book in my hands.

  I nodded. “It returns to my possession if you try to touch it or own it in any manner whatsoever. You could bundle it up in a lead chest and try to hide it in your basement, but if you try to acquire it in any other way than through my permission, it will simply return to my possession. You are quite literally the only being in the universe who is unable to touch your own prison, or your own son’s leash. It’s called insurance. My spell is unbreakable, so now it’s time to make a deal.”

  “I assume Gungnir is similarly enchanted?” he cursed.

  I shrugged. “It has gone missing, but if I had it, I would have enchanted it,” I admitted. His eyes widened to hear that Gungnir was missing. I nodded. “Why do you think I’m in a shitty warehouse, suggesting we team up? If Odin gets his hands on Gungnir, I can pretty much guarantee that his first trip will be to show it to Fenrir—personally.”

  Loki’s lip curled back murderously. “Okay. You’ve officially caught my attention, godkiller…”

  I nodded. “Great. Now, I’m being watched by a lot of people right now, and not just the Norse pantheon. I can’t do my own research on this without drawing unwanted attention to it. So, you’re going to be my spy for the next twenty-four-hours, or so. I need you to find out where Mordred stashed Fenrir. Meet me back here tomorrow just after sunset.” He nodded, following along. “Once we know where he is, we can proceed with the rest of my plan…”

  And I made a deal with the God of Mischief, fully expecting that he would attempt to double-cross me at least a dozen times. But I’d hopefully anticipated all of that.

  Our relationship was not one of allies.

  It was of schemers trying to outmaneuver one another. The real game was betrayal, and I was playing with the master.

  I’d entered into a battle of wills with the God of Mischief. Neither of us trusted the other, but our interests currently aligned.

  But for how long? And who could out-bluff whom?

  Chapter 6

  Now that my business with Loki was finished, I felt both relieved and on edge. I couldn’t afford the distraction, because I had another task to accomplish tonight.

  Maybe a little a
drenaline, mayhem, and murder would help clear my head.

  “Okay. They obviously haven’t noticed anything or we would be fighting for our lives right now. I’ll put the book in my bag so we know it’s safe,” I told Alucard, slipping it into my Darling and Dear satchel. No one else could take things from my satchel, no matter how hard they tried.

  “Was all that lying to Callie really necessary?” he asked. His tone wasn’t accusatory, more frustrated.

  I shot him a frank look. “You know it was.”

  He sighed. “I know, it’s just that bad stuff always happens when we aren’t honest with each other. Yet here we go again.”

  I nodded my agreement. “It keeps things interesting, that’s for sure. We can come clean afterwards. If we succeed.” And I began creeping down the length of the building, keeping my eyes on the shadows as I observed our target. This building was on the opposite side of the deserted warehouse district from where I had spoken with Loki—which had been intentional. Close enough to sneak in our secret appointment, but far enough away for our second appointment to remain unaware of our presence.

  The rain continued to pour, masking our approach towards the spacious two-story warehouse building. The upper level was all leaded, grimy windows—one of those old factories that had been renovated too many times from its origins, when natural daylight had been an important factor for the workers.

  The cracked parking lot was surrounded by a chain-link fence that was warped, rusted, and collapsing, reminding me of repurposed chicken wire—how it never quite took the shape you wanted it to on the second usage.

  Tall weeds grew from the cracks in the aged pavement, proof that no one used the place regularly—not any upstanding business owners, anyway. I knelt behind an old rusted-out car with no tires.

  “What’s the play?” Alucard whispered, studying the building.

  I glanced down to see him clutching a small voodoo doll in his hand, fidgeting with it. “You’re more than welcome to use your Horseman’s Mask if you want any practice, but I think that’s excessive and frivolous.”