Your father is a fucking wanker, Jono said.
Fenrir growled, but Jono didn’t get any sense of disagreement from the god.
Lightning carved a furrow in the ground right in front of Nadine’s shield, charring some of the zombies and demons. Loki and Ares stood their ground as Hinon arrived with the valkyries, Brynhildr leading her shieldmaidens.
Wade dropped down out of the clouds, spitting fire at the horde of zombies surrounding them. He was careful of Nadine’s shields, but Jono could still see how close the dragon fire burned against her defenses.
Loki and Ares were lost to sight amidst the fire, along with most of the hunters. Wade dropped down to the street behind them, blocking the damaged Bifröst from view.
The lightning finally let up as Hinon came to earth, his storm-colored wings spread wide over the street, nearly touching the buildings on either side. Lightning edged his feathers and danced at his fingertips as he folded his wings to his back, coming to rest outside Nadine’s shield.
As the glare faded from Jono’s vision, he could see that Loki and Ares remained where they were behind a glittering golden shield, surrounded by bodies. Wade roared a warning at the gods, smoke and hints of flame escaping from between his teeth as he glared at them.
Some of the charred bones moved, sickly magic flickering across blackened bodies. Necromancy called the dead to fight still, no matter the body’s state so long as it wasn’t ash. But even as the corpses rose again, more zombies walked their way, filling the street and the park behind where Loki and Ares stood.
The golden shield disappeared, its magic sucked back into Gungnir. Loki tipped his head back, smirking up at where Wade’s long neck snaked protectively over Nadine’s domed shield.
“I can see why Tezcatlipoca wanted to keep you,” Loki said.
“You don’t get to talk to him,” Patrick snarled.
Jono bared his teeth in agreement.
“That weapon does not belong to you, Loki,” Brynhildr called from above.
The trickster god shrugged carelessly. “It does now.”
“Where is the Allfather?”
Loki’s smile was sharp and mocking. “He came to meet his end at a new beginning.”
“Fuck,” Patrick swore softly.
“This is not our Ragnarök,” Fenrir said.
Loki stepped forward, magic dripping from Gungnir’s sharp blade. “Close enough.”
Behind the trickster god, sliding between the barren trees of the park, came groups of hunters led by Andras in Ilya’s body, holding the Morrígan’s staff. Hades walked beside him, the Greek god of the Underworld carrying no weapon in his hand. Surrounding them were the walking dead, puppets to Andras’ whims, as well as soultakers.
Past them all, shining against the shape of Yggdrasil, was the sickly glow of magic that smelled of hell. As Andras walked toward them, the intricate lines of the spellwork flared up on the ground with power, lines that Jono had seen on their color-tinted race through downtown, spanning the island.
Patrick rested his left hand on Jono’s back. “That’s where Hannah is.”
And wherever Patrick’s twin was, they’d find Ethan.
“If we walk into the heart of that spell, it’ll kill us,” Nadine said with a sureness that Jono couldn’t ignore.
Patrick’s grip tightened in Jono’s fur, and Jono didn’t need a soulbond to know what he was thinking.
I’m not letting him do this alone, so find us a bloody way through that mess, Jono snarled at Fenrir.
Fenrir opened Jono’s mouth, and what came out wasn’t a howl but Ginnungagap, and all the primordial void’s limitless possibilities.
This time, it didn’t bring forth an angel, only a chance. The yawning abyss sank into the ground and flooded the spellwork, following the far-flung lines of magic through the iron bones of Manhattan and the altar they all now stood on.
Ethan’s spell didn’t break, only became frozen in time, as every Fate in existence held their breath at the end of the world.
27
