I couldn’t banish that desire, but I could shove it aside enough to grasp my own essence. Working carefully and quickly, I ripped open Fen’s shirt and tore away the shoulder to expose his wound.

  A fist clenched around my heart at the sight of the black creeping under his skin in a spiderweb of corrupted veins.

  How did this work? Time to find out. I mostly ignored thoughts of torturing Bragi and mentally gripped the warmth of my core power instead.

  “Don’t.” Magnus’s command wasn’t enough to stop me.

  I poured love and life and the promise of vengeance into the spot where my hands connected with Frey’s chest.

  He grunted in pain and thrashed under my touch, and agony rocketed back through me. Was it working?

  “You’re making him worse.” Dahlia’s yell penetrated my haze of hope and rage.

  Magnus yanked me back, and as my physical connection was broken with Fen, I saw it—a grotesque and rotted palm mark on his chest where my hand had rested.

  Fuck.

  “Were you listening to Bragi?” Magnus asked.

  I glared. “I was trying very hard not to.”

  “The magic amplifies when someone isn’t accepting their association with death. Fen. You.”

  Creation, this was bad. I didn’t dare call anyone, in this case. Most gods were in some sort of denial about who they were—the centuries had twisted us.

  Was I supposed to just sit here and watch Fen suffer? I couldn’t do that. Min had healed this before. Starkad had fought it in himself.

  If I could let Fen accept who he was, would that help? I was almost afraid to try, but my fear had added to this. I hated to admit it, but it was true.

  “Keep trying to call them.” Magnus shoved her phone at Dahlia. “Frey, I know you don’t want to leave, but I think I can make this right. Drop me off at the apartment. That’s all I need. Drop me off and come back here. I’ll handle the rest.”

  I stared at her blankly for a moment, forcing my brain to wrap around her words. “Okay.” I took her hand, took her home, and was back by Fen’s side within seconds.

  This wasn’t doing anyone any good, and I couldn’t sit here and watch Fen fade away as I hoped that someone else might step in to fix things. “I’m going to find any immortal who might know something,” I said to Dahlia. “Stay here. Call me if anything changes.”

  Her frown made me think she was considering arguing, but she just nodded.

  Calling wouldn’t work for me, because I was looking for gods who were off the grid. Those I hadn’t talked to in decades. Centuries. Many who knew things none of us did.

  I could sense a lot of the power traces I was looking for, and it wasn’t a long list, but one after another told me they didn’t have answers. As I moved from place to place, Bragi’s information played in my mind. That a creature of death who had rejected their true nature…

  If I was the reason Fen was laying at home, dying—

  I had to check in on him, despite knowing Dahlia would call.

  When I appeared in the bedroom, Dahlia was bent close to Fen and talking. She didn’t look up. “…sorry.” Her voice was soft. “This is on me, even though no one has said so. I don’t know why I can’t get it right. Maybe it’s because I hate that I was raised to kill. I’ve said I’d burn the world down for Magnus, for the two of you, but I couldn’t even make my dragon stick around long enough to keep you safe.”

  “No.” Fen’s croaking reply startled me. Dahlia’s head shot up, and when she saw me, her cheeks turned dark pink.

  I gave her a tight smile. It didn’t matter what she’d been saying, what was important was that Fen was conscious enough to speak. I gently grasped his hand.

  “You don’t keep me safe,” Fen said. “That’s my job.”

  She huffed and kissed his cheek. “You’re an idiot. No team works well unless everyone has everyone else’s back.”

  “We’ll revisit that thought when it doesn’t hurt so much.” Each time Fen rasped out a word, I cringed.

  Deep lines of worry were etched in Dahlia’s forehead. “I wasn’t done. You should’ve let me finish.”

  “No point. You’re wrong.” One corner of Fen’s mouth twitched up.

  Dahlia shook her head. “I was going to say, if you’ll own this enough to get better”—she looked at me, though I suspected she was still talking to Fen—“If you’ll stop fighting who you are, I’ll do the same. Get better and I’ll figure it out.”

  Deathbed bargains were never a good sign.

  “Frey.” Aya’s voice startled me.

  I turned to find her standing in the bedroom doorway, watching us with concern.

  Her timing couldn’t be worse. Literally. And I had no civility left, even for my own sister. “What the fuck do you want?”

  Eighteen

  Fenrir

  This was agony, and I’d had limbs ripped off that I needed to regrow. It took all of my willpower to stay conscious, not leaving me with any to shrug off the pain.

  I refused to sink away in my sleep, though. I was fighting this all the way.

  And I was either hallucinating, or Aya was here, and Frey wasn’t happy to see her.

  “I’m not here to rehash the same argument we’ve had too many times now.”

  That was actually her. The conversation might distract me a little. Neat.

  “I’m here because I felt your distress,” Aya said to Frey. She gasped. “What happened?”

  Twins. That was right. Sometimes I forgot that they shared a deeper connection than just siblings who argued about whether or not war was coming. Freyr and Freya were two very specific sides of the same coin, in that their powers fed, canceled, and enhanced each other’s.

  I tried to give Aya a wave, but didn’t manage more than wiggling my fingers. My smile was probably more like a grimace.

  “Fen was shot.” The strain and unshed tears in Dahlia’s voice squeezed my heart. I’d heard what she said, but hadn’t been able to find my voice enough to assure her this wasn’t her fault.

  Frey explained everything we knew about the bullets, from what we’d seen with Starkad the first time we encountered them, to what Bragi told us before he left.

  She offered sympathetic sounds and concerned noises at all the right parts of the story.

  I was getting pretty tired of all the pity in this room. Or perhaps I was just tired.

  “So Bragi implied Fen has to accept his true nature to fix this.” Was that a hint of told you so in Aya’s voice? “Why don’t you just release him from this stupid oath?”

  Frey clenched his fists.

  I couldn’t let this fall on him anymore. “He’s doing it for me.” Creation it hurt to talk.

  “And he needs to stop,” Aya said.

  “You misunderstand.” I forced each word out through gritted teeth. “He does it because I asked him to. After what happened with Astrid…” That was the first time I’d spoken that name in centuries.

  She’d been a kind soul. A good person. A healer. And she was to Tyr what Frey was to me. What Dahlia was. Astrid was Tyr’s anchor and a life that didn’t deserve to be snuffed out when and how it was.

  He’d been a brother, and when she was gone, he’d sworn I’d suffer for it.

  “You’ve kept yourself from fighting for centuries because…”Aya sighed. “You aren’t the one who killed Astrid.”

  “She was a casualty in my fight.” And I wasn’t convinced it hadn’t been me. I was so consumed by the need to fight at the time, that I had holes in my memory. It wasn’t just that I had been involved in the loss of a life like hers, but that I couldn’t confirm for myself if I’d struck that killing blow.

  It was that loss of control.

  Aya sank into a nearby chair, and focused on me. “I need to tell you something.”

  “If this is some sort of deathbed confession, I’m not your priest.” I tried to joke.

  “Heh. It’s not.” The way Aya twisted her fingers together was unlike her. “Astrid is alive.”

  An intense shock gripped the wounded portion of my shoulder, feeling like someone had me in a vise. “She’s not.”

  “Excuse me. Who’s Astrid?” Dahlia asked.

  “I’ll introduce you sometime. You’d like her.” Aya’s answer wasn’t enlightening.

  I pushed past the fresh wave of pain. “She’s my damnation.”

  “She was a Valkyrie,” Frey said. “And she was present when Fen killed Odin.”

  “Just a Valkyrie?” Dahlia’s voice had gone quiet. Quieter.

  I tried to shake my head, but couldn’t. “No. She was to Tyr what Kirby and Starkad are to each other. What Frey and I are to each other.” The kind of love that spanned lifetimes. The kind that shifted and grew and changed, but didn’t fade. The kind I wanted to live long enough to have with Dahlia as well.

  Aya pulled her phone from her back pocket—she’d adapted to technology better than most any god, and used the internet as her main stage to monitor war. She showed me the screen. “She’s back. I know where she is. She has a second chance.”

  I didn’t know how to respond.

  “You have to stop fighting who you are,” Aya said. “You’re not an animal, but you are denying your nature. Gods can’t do that. People shouldn’t either, but it kills us. Even without magic bullets, pretending we’re something we’re not will tear us down until we either shatter into a million pieces, or we just vanish.”

  “She’s right.” As Frey stood next to Aya, it was clear who they each were. Both strong in their own right, neither significant to the universe with the other to counterbalance them. “I can’t hold you to the oath you made. I’m releasing you.”

  Oh, fuck. Inspiration struck. “Do you remember when this happened to Starkad?” That was a dumb question. We’d been talking about that all night. “With Gwydion.”

  Frey’s eyes grew wide. “Yes.”

  Starkad and Gwydion shared a similar bond to Frey and Aya. Drawing on that balance had… Well it hadn’t healed Starkad, but it changed him. It stopped the bullet from killing him, and he was stronger for it.

  “But how does that apply to you?” Dahlia asked.

  I didn’t have any idea.

  “Perhaps the two of us can do something, where I couldn’t alone.” Frey looked at Aya. “Help me try?”

  She held out her hand. “Of course.”

  If this worked, I’d—

  What?

  Stop fighting what I was? Swear my loyalty to some god somewhere? I’d done the latter centuries ago.

  So if this worked—

  I screamed when Aya and Frey pressed interlocked hands to my shoulder and filled me with the sensation of having my arm ripped off and simultaneously crammed into my body. They jerked away immediately. My breath came in jagged gasps. Holy fuck that hurt. “Did it do anything?” I wanted the pain to be worth it.

  Frey furrowed his brow. “It looked like it was going to, but then it stopped.”

  That explained the push and pull feeling. But there was something to this theory; there had to be. “Dahlia needs to try.”

  “I…What?” She dropped my hand and stared at me in shock.

  Maybe delirium was setting in, but it made as much sense as anything. “Bragi said dragons were life.”

  “He’s got a good point,” Frey said.

  Dahlia worried her bottom lip and looked between us. “But Frey already tried. Why would I be different?”

  “Because you are different.” In this state of mind, it was obvious to me. The reason I’d made space for her in my heart, why Frey and I kept her in our lives, was that she was unlike anyone I’d known throughout history. Did that mean she could heal whatever this was? Maybe not. But it seemed like the odds were better.

  “All right. Here goes nothing.” She laid her hand over my wound.

  Nothing happened.

  She sighed and pulled away. “See? I’ve been touching you all night and nothing’s changed.”

  “Try again. Try harder.” I wouldn’t be conscious much longer. Darkness licked the edges of my vision.

  “I am. Do you think I want this to happen to you?” Dahlia’s voice inched up in volume. “I don’t want you to suffer. I don’t want you lying here. I don’t want to go through eternity knowing that Vidar won at anything—especially this. If I could reach inside you and rip out the infection right now, if I could make myself, you, all of us, accept our places in this world, I’d be doing exactly that.”

  The pain in her words was tangible, mingling with my own. “Because the thing I want more than anything, the thing I’ve always wanted, is to belong.” Dahlia’s voice cracked. “And I finally do. With Magnus. With the two of you. When I’m with you, I feel like I actually belong in this world. Like I know where I fit. If I’m a dragon. A killer. A goofy girl who hides behind way too many Star Wars references, it doesn’t matter, because I belong with you, and if you’re gone, I won’t have a place anymore. And maybe that’s selfish, and maybe that’s why I can’t help you, but gods damn it, I’m trying.” She was shouting when she finished, and wet tracks traced down her cheeks.

  So much passion. Raw and powerful. She had that in common with Frey. I did so adore Dahlia.

  I grasped Frey’s hand with my good one. “Who I am doesn’t bother me the way it used to.” As I said the words, they felt true. It hadn’t been a problem for a while, but I’d become so used to fighting it. “I’m a fucking god of war.” Raising my injured arm hurt in a way nothing ever had, but I pushed through the pain. “And I will battle anyone who dares threaten either of you. That doesn’t mean death is all there is. I need you both here.” I grasped Dahlia’s hand as well. “Regardless of whether or not you believe in yourself,” I looked her in the eye. “I do.”

  I pulled both of their hands to my chest, until their knuckles met. Until the three of us were connected.

  Sparks shot up from the touch and heat seared my skin where it met theirs. The pain in my shoulder was as if someone had reached a hand into my bullet wound and was yanking out my heart.

  I gripped their hands tight through my roar of pain, not wanting to let go of either Frey or Dahlia.

  And then the agony was gone. Completely.

  I collapsed back on the bed with a grunt. I should be exhausted, but the energy that coursed through me was better than in a long time. I felt cleansed.

  “Fuck me.” Frey collapsed with his head on my chest. “Tell me that worked.”

  “It worked.” I flexed my previously-bad hand as much as I could without letting go of Dahlia. I tugged her in next to us and held both her and Frey tight.

  Aya lingered in the background, looking uncomfortable. She sighed. “Well, I’m going to go, now that the distress is gone.” She waved.

  “I want to meet Astrid. To see her again,” I said.

  Aya nodded. “When she’s ready. For now, the three of you need some alone time.” With that, she vanished.

  I could lay like this for hours. Days. Weeks.. Just wrapped up in Frey and Dahlia.

  She stiffened under my touch, then bolted straight up. Her face was pinched and her eyes glazed over. “Magnus?”

  Nineteen

  Dahlia

  I knew now what I’d seen in my vision. The one I had in Perth. It looked wrong, it felt wrong, because I saw it all through my eyes.

  And now I was stuck in it again, with fire and pain and a broken heart that all made my gut churn.

  At the center of it all was Magnus, and I watched again and again as Vidar slaughtered her.

  “Dahlia.”

  Was she screaming my name?

  No. That was Fen. He was with me, fighting by my side. I could see him now.

  “Dahlia.” This time his voice was more insistent.

  That wasn’t coming from in my head or the fight. It was next to me though. I clawed my way out of the vision to find Fen and Frey watching me with concern.

  While I adored them for their concern, I was getting real fucking tired of coming to and finding those what’s wrong with Dahlia now expressions.

  It didn’t matter. “I need to go. Now.” I wasn’t sure how I knew, but I was certain that vision was about to happen.

  “Whoa.” Frey grabbed my wrist as I stood. “You just finished a horrific fight and then an emotional battle after. You haven’t slept. You know better than to run into a situation unprepared.”

  I did, but this was different. “There’s no time for prep. Magnus is confronting Vidar. Now. I don’t have the luxury of anything but backing her up.” This was taking too much time. Did I need better clothes? A firearm? It didn’t matter. I was going in there as a dragon, and making sure she stayed alive.

  Fen was already on his feet. “Okay. We’re going with you.”

  “You just healed.” I couldn’t lose him again, either.

  “Like you said, that doesn’t matter. I’m fine. Let’s go. Are you coming with us?” He looked at Frey.

  Frey nodded. “Where?”

  I couldn’t explain, but I felt it. I could picture it as surely as I could our apartment. My growing panic and sense of impending doom was impossible to ignore. If I didn’t act now, I’d crawl out of my skin. I grabbed both their hands and let the vision and my instinct take us to a new location.

  To most people the room we appeared in might look like a giant concrete cave, but I recognized it as a TOM indoor combat facility. Obstacles could be moved in for urban warfare training or hand to hand combat. Right now it was wide open, making it look vast.

  “Incoming.” At Magnus’s shout, Fen, Frey, and I dove in different directions.

  A large fireball hit the ground where we’d been standing, peppering us with chunks of rock.

  “He’s all healed. I’d love to know how you did that.” Vidar’s voice seemed to come from everywhere.

 

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