chapter thirty-one

I stood on a ribbon of light, every color of the rainbow reflected in its depths. There was no heat, no cold. All around me the expanse of space filled my eyes with wonder. I knew this place.

Spinning on the balls of my feet, I saw Heimdall, standing at the Door, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he regarded me. In his left hand he held a golden horn, as long as his arm. He raised the horn to his lips, and blew. The Bridge quivered and sprang to life with such brilliance of color I had to shield my eyes. When I opened them, Heimdall nodded, and I turned to look the other way, to see a company of people standing between me and the glorious realm of Asgard, my one-time home.

Before me stood Odin. His hand on a staff that rose twice his height into the sky. His broad shoulders were draped with a white mantle encrusted with shimmering jewels. A woman stood beside him, her left arm hidden behind a round, golden shield, her right hand resting on the hilt of the sword at her side. She was stunning to behold—warm skin, black hair falling around her shoulders. She wore the clothing of a warrior, though the winged crown on her head identified her as Valkyrie—Odin’s own warrior handmaiden. Her lips sparkled with a sheen of gold as she spoke.

“Welcome, daughter, to your home. You have earned eternal rest in the halls of Valhalla.” Her voice resonated with authority and my body responded with an up swell of desire to accept her invitation.

“Welcome, daughter, to your home,” Odin said, stepping forward and reaching out his free hand. I moved toward him, and my fingers touched his.

In an instant I was in his embrace, and for the first time in my life I felt truly at peace.

Odin pushed me gently back, then gestured widely with his staff toward the glorious horizon. “You have earned eternal rest in the halls of Valhalla, my child. Come.”

I fell into step beside him, then stopped.

Odin paused and looked down on me. I hated to peer into his face, hated to show him what was in my heart, for I knew he surely saw. “I—I can’t go.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?” His arm fell from my shoulder but I felt no judgment in the movement. Odin’s face remained open and kind while he waited for me to respond.

I shook my head, glancing at the Valkyrie before returning my gaze to Odin. “My friends need me.”

Odin’s face broke into a wide grin. “Ah. Your friends. You are right. They do need you. But do you need them?”

My mind grappled for understanding. Was this a trick question? Because probably the very best thing for my friends would be to have me out of the picture. But I knew what danger they were in, and I couldn’t just leave them—not to fight Lucifer alone. I said nothing.

Odin gestured again, but this time for me to look behind me, at Heimdall, who still stood before the Door. Odin raised his staff and brought it down with a thud, the bridge shimmering out in waves of light at its touch. Heimdall raised the horn to his lips once more.

He blew, but there was no sound.

Between us, the air coalesced into a solid wall, my view of light and space falling away until all I could see was the world I’d left behind. The gazebo, with James still hanging in the center of it. But now it was Father, in all his glory, who stood on the steps. I could see my crumpled form at his feet. On the grass before him, Akaros lay prostrate, arms and wings spread wide.

“What is it you have done?” Father demanded, his voice rocking the gazebo and causing the earth to shake.

“I am sorry, Master. I—she—”

“Fool!” The gazebo’s support beams buckled under the weight of his voice. Timber splintered and flew. James fell to the ground, and disappeared under the tumble of lumber. Yet Lucifer stood there still. “You have robbed me of my only child!”

A jagged fissure opened in the ground between him and Akaros.

“She had chosen, Master. She had betrayed you.”

“No!” Lucifer roared and blood red lightning cracked the sky. “Her choice doesn’t matter, imbecile. She will always be mine. There is no choice she could make that would change that.”

He stepped forward, one cloven hoof on either side of the crack in the earth, and stood before Akaros. “Tell me.”

Akaros regained his feet and held up the staff, while he kept his eyes averted. Lucifer ran one clawed finger down the length of it and the staff became as black as pitch. “I have begun, Master.”

Lucifer said nothing.

“The spearhead is nearly in my grasp. Please, Master. Another chance and I will not fail you.”

“And will you return me my only daughter?” Lucifer boomed. He beat his wings, pulling the air around them with such speed and intensity they soon stood in the center of a tornado. When the air cleared, they were gone.

I looked to Odin, but he remained focused on the scene before us, which faded and darkened before settling upon the scene of a hospital room. The glow of monitors bathed the otherwise dark room in muted light. But I recognized the white-blond of James’ hair against the pillow.

He stirred, and lifted his hand. He trailed his fingertips over Miri’s cheek while she sat huddled over, her forehead resting against the edge of his bed. At his touch, she started.

“You’re awake!” she cried before throwing herself on him.

“Shh, bright eyes. Shh.” James awkwardly stroked her back and head, despite the tangle of lines of tubes and leads attached to him everywhere.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Miri finally said when her tears had slowed.

“I had lost you,” James said softly.

“I’m sorry James. I was wrong; I shouldn’t have pushed you away.” The words tumbled out as feverishly as Miri’s hands swept over James’ face and hair. “I just couldn’t live that life anymore. But I still love you.”

“You were right to send me away, love. I know it. But things will be different now. I know they can be different. I—I want to be worthy of you.” James’ voice cracked and he had to swallow against the crush of tears in his throat. “To be happy with you.”

Miri laid her cheek on James’ chest and closed her eyes. “I love you, James,” she whispered.

The scene faded away, but I didn’t need to hear James’ response to know that he loved her too.

“Such is the world to which you may return, if you so desire it,” Odin said, stepping close to me, his presence enveloping me like a bubble in which only he and I existed. “Or you may accept your reward.” He swept his arm to the right, indicating Valhalla rising like the sun over the city.

To my left, Heimdall had not closed the veil between our worlds. Instead, I saw at least two dozen Spartans surrounding Longinus, while Michael fought with Akaros, his glorious Halo shining in the darkness.

My blood ran cold—colder than usual—when the Spartans moved as one, loosing their spears into the stoic soldier. As he lay on the ground, struggling against the blood filling his mouth, a demon pressed his sandaled foot to Longinus’ throat and ripped the leather thong holding the spearhead from his neck.

Michael, unaware that his friend had fallen, took a blow to his temple and fell to the ground. The sky opened up with thunderous rain, pummeling Michael as he struggled to his knees. Akaros stepped forward, his mouth moving in what I could only guess was an endless rant on my many faults and all the ways we were never meant to be together. Michael swayed, exhaustion etched on his features, in the fading light of his Halo.

He raised his face to the rain, his eyes open. It seemed he looked straight at me, finding my gaze, my heart, across the vast expanse of space.

Akaros pulled his arm back, and began the swing that would end Michael’s life. I covered my mouth with one hand, twisting the fabric of my shirt in the other. I whirled to Odin, ready to ask after Michael, wanting nothing but for his life to be spared. He put his hand on my arm and directed my attention back to the scene.

“He will be there, or he will be here. But you will be together. I cannot keep the two of you apart any longer.”

The feeling of warm sunshine flooded my veins as Michael blocked Akaros’ blow, and jabbed up into his armpit. Akaros stumbled back and Michael jumped to his feet. Akaros glanced to the right, where his man stood, the spearhead dangling from its cord in his fist. With a howl, Akaros lunged past Michael, grabbed the spearhead and soared into the sky.

“Nor would I wish to try,” Odin said. “You have been apart long enough.”

We would be together. There or here, together.

Beyond Odin, the Valkyrie stood proud and stunning, and I realized I was like her. Or, I could be. Odin was still watching me, his eyes twinkling with a spark of humor and affection. “Before you choose, I believe there is someone who would like to see you.

I looked at Odin with confusion. Someone here wished to see me?

“Fiahre, if you would?” Odin asked the Valkyrie, sweeping his hand to the side so she came fully into view.

“My Lord.” She bowed low, then in a flash was gone, a trail of golden light hovering in the air in her wake.

I blinked, and she had returned. But she was not alone. Lucy stood beside her, her face alive with a brilliant smile that shattered all my walls and left me with a singular need to be forgiven. I stepped forward, then thought better of it. I had defiled her body, committed murder. I hadn’t saved her.

Lucy ran to me and hugged me so tightly that words became pointless.

“Oh, baby. Baby,” she crooned.

I sobbed endless rounds of “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” while I dripped tears onto her narrow but just-as-comforting-as-ever shoulder.

“It’s not your fault, baby, it’s not your fault,” Lucy interjected between all my cries.

Memories tumbled through my mind, long forgotten. Now they clamored for acknowledgement, for me to claim them.

I stand with Odin as we watch a scene unfold before us. We stand on Bifrost, the Bridge between all the worlds, while Mahria, queen of the Valkyries, struggles with the birth of her child.

In her belly she carries Loki’s heir—one who will possess the qualities of demon and Gardian. One who will do much good, or much evil.

And Odin asks if I would be that child.

He looks away from Mahria, curled onto her side, clutching her belly with desperate hands, to search my eyes. I hold nothing back from him—in his eyes I see love unending and a faith in my ability that I don’t question. If he would send me, I will go.

“My beautiful daughter,” Odin says, placing his hand on my cheek. “This child’s way is full of many dangers.” He gestures to the scene in the humble adobe hut. I glance and see a small, dark man, worn down with years and care, smile at Mahria. I know him—Elario. He has long been preparing the way for a warrior to come.

A warrior that I never suspected would be me.

“You know what will be asked of you, my child?”

I swallow the rising fear. For though I will do all in my power to succeed, I know the way will be hard—probably even harder than I can imagine. But I nod my head anyway.

Odin smiles, and places both his hands on my arms, squeezing them for a moment before pulling me to his chest. He chokes back a sob as I wrap my arms around him and hold on as though my life depends on it.

“There will be those who will help you,” he says in a whisper, his mouth near my ear. “I won’t ever truly leave you, though I cannot go where Loki will take you.”

He means Helheimer. I will go to Hell, surrounded by those I fought in the War. Raised and taught by the Fallen, the ones who have been cast out for rebellion. I will live in a den of vipers and there will be no savior for me.

Through her pain and fear Mahria smiles at Elario. Even now, she is so beautiful, I marvel how one such as she could allow herself to join with Loki, with the one who now calls himself Lucifer.

The ground quivers and Elario’s tools of healing bounce in their bowls, clattering. Sand runs toward the low spots on the floor.

Quickly now, I think. The Dark One will be here soon.

Odin wraps his arms more tightly around me.

Mahria grimaces as she rolls onto her back, her hands sliding to the top of her belly. Fear passes across her face before it is stamped out by sheer determination—by courage.

“If you choose to go,” Odin says—his chest rumbling with his deep voice. I close my eyes, willing myself to never forget what this feels like, to be home, to be loved. “You will have the ability to deal the Beguiler a blow far greater than any since the beginning of time.”

I nod, my cheeks wet with tears.

Elario places his hands on the woman’s belly, seeking the babe, seeking to guide the child.

The child that will be me.

I feel a tug on my spirit. “It is time,” Odin says. But I already know. I can feel it—I can feel my destiny calling to me and I know the choice has already been made. I must go.

But I look over my shoulder to my love, reach out my hand for him. Our fingertips just graze as I’m pulled toward Earth and the body that will entrap my spirit.

“I will remember you,” Michael calls, but I’m already beginning to forget.

Everything I need to know pours into me. I will have a task more difficult than any in the history of time. The nature of man lends itself to a lowly life, to succumb to the temptations of the Earth. And I will carry the burden of a body born of darkness, with precious little light to guide me.

Odin kisses my cheek and before I can ask him how I will know, how I will find the people who can help me, I am pulled away from him. Away and through the Doorway and into a world I suddenly feel utterly unprepared to face.

I find my way to the tiny body, the one that is now mine.

From the warm haven of my mother’s belly, I feel the ground shake beneath us, feel my mother’s fear as it rushes through me.

In sudden stillness rough hands grasp me.

I see him: an old, weathered face, his eyes filled with fear. Is he afraid of me? I cry and scream; I wish to go back . . . back somewhere that is better than this.

He whirls to face a looming figure whose shadow falls over me and feels . . . familiar.

Cool drops fall on my head from the face of the man who holds me. He looks down at me, fear and hope at war within his eyes.

But I look away from him—I look to the one who I recognize, the one I know is my father.

He steps toward us and reaches out his hands. When he takes me from the grasp of the old man, his hands are cold, but he is beautiful—not dark and shadowy like he seemed at first. He smiles at me and I hope I smile back.

“Dios,” I hear the old man say, and then we are gone, falling, falling, but I am safe in my father’s arms.