Hellraiser, page 12
The soldiers walked by, but an odd noise made me grimace. A radio crackled. I squinted and cleared my vision to see what appeared like a human, male officer. His features were completely covered by the paramilitary fatigues and matching helmet. Also dressed in black, but with a flaming V-emblem over his chest, he stopped walking. I frowned. What was this? It wasn’t any more of a who, but a what. Could this be a vampire, one from the special unit that Raven had mentioned?
He must have felt me staring at him, as at the mouth of the alleyway he paused, and took a step toward us.
With bated breath, I clenched my blades. We didn’t move; we didn’t dare blink when another soldier approached, the one from the gate, General Einar. Everything about him gave me the creeps. I didn’t fear much, but his serial-killer eyes, wild-looking beard, and the energy he was exuding made me think that death wasn’t what he liked, so much as torture.
It took what felt like an eternity before they left, and we eased into the sewer and pulled the grate behind us. Ola sealed it with magic. Vali took point, while Ola and I trailed behind.
Silently we walked onward, away from where the soldiers were, ignoring the stench of human waste, the critters that scurried. All we had to do was get past the border located west.
“We were set up,” I finally whispered, unable to keep it to myself.
Ola shook her head. “No, Odin’s ravens see you, and it seems that the Dark Elves can tap into that message, maybe.”
“Odin’s magic is not impenetrable,” Vali concurred. “You fight for what is right. That can’t be forgotten.”
What’s right? I wanted to scream. I was too trusting like the gods were going to offer me a secret treasure and handshake for making this world better, saving this place for them.
I’d made a fool of myself and lost someone I could never replace. How did I get here to this place of damnation? How did I get here to where love didn’t matter? It was instead weaponized against me. No, I needed truth.
“Truth can kill,” Ola said.
“That’s a new trick, reading my mind?”
“No, your aura is red, angry.”
“I will not live like this anymore. If they don't help, I’ll do it my damn self.”
Ola grabbed my hand and gave a squeeze. “There is a technique.” She cast her gaze downward. “I may have a means that you can rise and use this all to your benefit. However, it will come with a price.”
“Everything does. The only way to win is to play at their own game. The brew will give you the fire to make them all pay, but also the power to raise the dead gods.”
I quirked a smile. “The dead gods?”
“Yes, don’t worry about your enemy, instead ally with your enemy’s, enemy,” Vali chimed in.
“Come, let’s do this,” I said. The price would always be more than I’d ever considered paying.
We made our way to a tiny hovel, practically a hole in the wall where Ola must have found safety when she couldn’t make it back. There wasn’t enough room to stretch out or relax. It was damp, odiferous, and dark. It was about the size of an airplane’s bathroom and smelled like one, too.
Ola slid the necklace with Thor’s amulet around my neck and turned back to her cauldron. The same one I’d removed at Loki’s house. How did she get it back? I frowned.
Now, I wore two necklaces: Thor’s and Loki’s.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked and turned to stir whatever witch’s brew in her cauldron. The air changed. The stench practically evaporated, and the room, once feeling so confining, opened to feel like that of a soccer field. It smelled like sweet peas on a summer day. Back when fresh food was a luxury that everyone could afford. The memories of old.
I tried not to think about us being in the sewer, or that rats still scurried about as we stood on the cement edge waiting for the drink to be ready.
In the distance, on the other side of the sewer's metal grate, I could hear the Dark Elven soldiers moving through the underground corridors, their jackboots thudding, as they scoured the area looking for any rebels.
Searching for me.
“There’s no going back once you do this, Sif.” Ola spooned the liquid into a yellow-green soda bottle. It trickled in with a slight hissing, and a stream of visible steam rose.
I nodded my consent.
“It starts with the fire.” Ola passed me the fiery drink that glowed neon in its recycled soda bottle. That magic worked inside plastic was beyond my understanding.
“The purging fire of compulsion.” I placed the bottle to my lips and guzzled down as much as I could.
Ola then blew a powder into my face.
I watched as runes appeared on the tunnel walls, glowing—a bass drum beat in my head.
I didn’t wonder how Ola had found the recipe to brew the drink that was only supposed to be for fire giants—the sworn enemies of the gods. Nor did I consider how I might react from it.
It just might kill me.
Love made me weak; made it seem like I wasn’t growing or changing. It wasn’t that. It was more that love made me stupid, wanting to see the best, even while experiencing the worst.
“Come to me, Sif. Embrace the gift of the Seidr.” A dark voice cut across the ether.
My body convulsed and rocked, and I felt the great nothingness around me as if falling into a great chasm. The world with Ola melted away, even their voices no longer heard.
The blackness was peeled back by an orange glow in the distance. I walked closer to it, and the glow was a flickering flame that grew and multiplied. Smoke wafted around me, and I moved deeper into the cave-like place.
There were no sounds besides my breathing until a loud hissing echoed off of the cave’s ceiling.
I glanced to my left and my right. Flames shot from between the floor’s cracks like I’d entered an underground volcano. But the fire did not burn. I waved my hands over the flames and watched them dance along my fingertips, up to the arms of my hoodie.
One step closer, and the floor was no longer an undiscernible smoldering pit, but it took on the shape of the Helm of Awe, the rune of protection. The fire quickly changed from orange and red to blue, and it surrounded me.
I felt the eyes of many on me as if in that fire something lurked and waited for a chance to pounce or for an invitation.
Where was I?
“In time, there is power. In time there is a comeuppance. In time there is decimation. Where you feel weak, the power of creation that is above that of the gods pushes you. Before the gods existed. Before creation suckled at A’ðhumbla's teats, the fire and ice hissed. The blessed fire and ice that now runs through your veins.” A hooded figure moved toward me in the middle of the circle of fire. I couldn’t see her face as it was shielded in shadows. “Even more, save the children, defeat the army, and worry not about the things of your heart. What is it, we say?” She stretched her hand out over the flames, just as I had done. It burned her robe but did not consume it.
“We?” I asked.
She pushed back her hood, and as if staring into a mirror, I looked upon myself. Her hair was pulled back in twists, her skin flawless, and unaged, but her amber eyes glowed as if when she touched the fire a spark embedded into the irises.
“The world is counting on you not to be distracted by a penis, dear Sif. These gods are dragging you around according to their plans, but you must be strong enough to make sure our plan is completed. They’ve told you lies; time cannot cease. You are mightier than them all. Now it is time that you start acting like it.”
The ground began to sink around me, until it held me in place. Ankle-deep in lava and volcanic rock.
I watched the strange “me” cup the flames until it glowed and shimmered: the essence of fire mixed with that of the magic. Her lips moved, in a chant I’d never learned, and the ball of fire magic shot at me.
A horn blasted in the distance, combined with that of a war cry I’d heard only while watching ancient World War movies. It combined with the hungry barking of hellhounds, howling of wolves, the cawing of murderous crows and birds of prey.
Frozen in place, the magic entered my torso like a sharp knife.
My eyes welled as pain seized me.
“Shh,” she calmed. “Even the caterpillar must experience the pain of becoming the butterfly.”
My lungs refused to work, my breathing hindered, my mind raced, and as the heat of the magic eased, warmth akin to dipping my fingers in hot wax eased upward.
Yanking my feet free, one by one, the cloaked woman turned to leave. “Remember, Sif, the gods don’t have to work in your favor. You need to work in theirs.”
The volcanic chamber disappeared, and I gasped, too, to once again see that I was in the underground sewer with Ola.
“Welcome back. What did you see?” she asked.
Those were secrets not meant to share.
Wordlessly, I pulled the black handkerchief over my nose until it covered my mouth, leaving only my eyes visible, and yanked the ragged leather hoodie over my head.
“Sif, where are you going?” Ola asked, her voice filled with panic.
“To find some recruits. We can’t do this alone. If we want to save the world, it is going to take more of us.”
“You think others might answer your call?”
“That is what you need to do. Comb the realms.”
“What are you going to do?”
“What I’m destined to do.” Tonight, they would all die. This was my kingdom. Midgard was mine. If no one else would step up to protect it, I would. “First we take back the kids in the compound.”
Fuck the gods! What had they ever done for me?
25
Lady Hel
“You know what must be done.” Lady Hel stared at her father. He sat at her feet, his hands bound, his head down.
“Is this plan of yours worth all of that?”
“You chose them over your family. You chose to help them and turned your back on me. When I needed my father, he was not there. Instead of protecting me, he allowed the bully of a god to cast me into the coldness.”
“You survived.”
Hel swung her hand and smacked him. She wanted to hate him. She wanted that slap to ring out across all of time to heal the little girl who was still in that cave crying for her father’s help. She wanted that smack to release the pain that he’d caused, and that had festered.
“But I did not live. I survived on those things cast down to me as if I were worthless, and you let them tell me I was. In all of my time in this darkness, you never spoke up or tried to free us, your children. What did Asgard have that was better than what your family could have given you?”
“Hel, I did what I did so that you could live. If I had not, they would have you all. It was better to have a chance at life than to be forever dead. I could not risk it. I could not risk my nearness hurting you more. But know, that you were never far from my thoughts, you, my beloved daughter, of whom I am most proud.”
His words could not undo the damage done, and the ache she’d so long believed gone was like new. There he stood, the one she loved almost more than herself.
The one she’d have to sacrifice for the greater good.
“Dear Father, words cannot undo that already done.” She raised her head, refusing any tears to fall. He would not see her cry or her pain. No, he hadn’t earned that.” The servants will be in to bathe you, and only the Norns can decide your fate.”
Hel exited the chamber. The wind whipped around her. What she considered was the utmost of betrayals.
But kingdoms were built on that. Was she willing to sacrifice what meant the most to protect her kingdom, to protect all of the realms?
The holy circle situated in the dark ancient forest of the Teutoburg Forest along the craggy and jagged rocks waited. Carmine-colored candles flickered. Lady Hel glided forward. Each step she took, blue-tinged magic swelled and lit up the darkness.
There could not be an appreciation of darkness without light, life without death, love without indifference.
She entered the circle of sacred, her black dress trailed behind her, as the gathered nine cloaked witnesses convened, one from each realm, including her father, Loki, from Asgard.
An unkindness of ravens circled above as if dancing to the melodies as the harp and flute played, and rhythmic chanting and beatings on the drum echoed that of her heart.
The gathered swayed back and forth, panting. The frenzy was beginning. Their hands mimed the holy dance, as the queen was once again to unite with her Unseelie Prince.
The drums beat grew into a frenzy until the wolves howled and a bell chimed.
In the circle’s center, Harley stood; his gaze never faltered. His shoulders pulled back, the braided crown of twigs, thorns, and stones.
This would indeed seal their kingdom together forever.
“In the greatest of love, there must be a sacrifice.” Verdandi, the Norn sister, moved forward, and wrapped a piece of red-silk cord around their wrists.
She knew it to be true. She must sacrifice that which she loved the most. As the nine moved and swayed, her eyes filled with tears. She had loved him since she could walk. He’d been her reason, the very essence for all that she fought.
For a moment, there was a break in the music, and Loki stared at her. He knew the risk, as well as what could be the reward.
The music then picked up again. She watched Loki move in ecstasy.
Removing the holy blade, the God Killer, from her sleeve, she quickly moved around in the circle. The blade cut through cloth, flesh, and bone, and the nine fell—her sacrifice to the world tree.
He gasped, and as his blue blood flowed from him, hope started to seep away.
Show no emotion.
The one she loved the most.
The nearby thicket rattled, and from that place, stepped Verdandi. “You’ve done as asked, to sacrifice. Your obedience shall be rewarded.” She nodded, and two helpers Hel did not notice appeared at her side and moved toward Loki’s gasping body to take him away.
“What will you do with him?” Hel asked.
“It is time that you no longer worry as to that of your kin.”
Hel thumbed the stickiness on her blade’s handle.
Like trying to capture the wind in her hands, the hope she’d held on to disappeared.
“The tree has been watered with your sacrifice, Queen of Helheim.” Verdandi raised her hands, palm up, and a glowing orb formed. She placed it to Harley’s cheek and the madness that was once there disappeared.
Hel clapped her hands. She’d lost her father, but her Harley was at least there once again. Seated on her throne, she regarded her kingdom and all the souls under her care, including Baldr, Nanna, and Eir. Light and darkness had a purpose. Death wasn’t the opposite of life, indifference was.
On the pyre, Loki burned, his sparks floating onward.
“Today, I sit before you as your queen, and our kingdom is under attack from those who would rather regard you as beasts, as less than, but with me, I have always treated you as you are. I see every one of you, my precious. When you had nothing, I gave you faith, healed broken hearts, and now your vessel overflows with purpose. Our time is now to strike, to make those who have wronged you to fall on their knees and beg for mercy.”
A rousing cheer echoed throughout the hall.
News of the king’s awakening and arrival were spreading throughout the realms. It wouldn’t take long before he was again at his full might. Evil was not darkness.
She’d gathered the dead from the nine realms to give them a place of respite, but just as insidious vines had once invaded the shadow realm, this wasn’t darkness, for she knew what darkness was. It wasn’t hunger, lack, or even cruelty. This was akin to the monsters of old, finding a soft spot, to explore and explode.
The king of fairies, the Alder King or Erlking, loved to hunt, but even more, the fairies loved to procreate. Just as she’d befriended Harley all those years ago, before he belonged to either of the Seelie Courts, or even knew his royal blood lineage, the myth of the fairies love of sex was legendary, as those who lived in Niphelheim, kept separate from Helheim, but still under her command, could attest.
For centuries they’d procreated, where the few became the many, and a society rose where the monsters, the outcast, could without problem dwell. Now, they would all rise.
“Hekate, open the gates. It is time to battle.”
26
Thor
The road to treason wasn’t covered with thorns, cracks, or shards. It was the same sparkling and shiny iridescent stones that caught the light. Piece by piece, destiny was decided by one’s action.
Or lack thereof.
The closer Thor moved toward Heimdall’s watchtower, the louder the pleading voices of his followers grew. The elven onslaught grew stronger, and those of his faith perished.
He couldn’t just stand by and allow Midgard to fall to ruin.
It wasn’t enough to call himself a god but then do nothing to intervene on their behalf. Life was difficult enough, a fight of survival for most.
Determined, he quickened his step, rage rising.
This would all end in hellacious fire, flames licking the heavens, and Thor would be there on one side, and Odin on the other.
Each step he took was filled with determination. The threat of treason, of death.
Thor’s way had been paved with disappointment. Instead of rising into battle with a steady steed, he’d been the one pulled by his faithful goats. He’d been the one to fight back against those who would stand against the gods, to right wrongs. Was he willing to risk it all for the promise of more?
The weight of the world rested on his broad shoulders.
Odin’s blood coursed through him, that of the mighty death god, as well of that of his champion mother.
