As goodbyes went, Jono wouldn’t lose any sleep over Lucien’s absence in New York City. In the end, his pack was staying, Lucien was leaving, and Jono would keep waiting as long as it took for Patrick to come back to him.
35
“Didyou have to pick the route up a fucking mountain to get us to Asgard? Couldn’t you have picked the shortcut?” Patrick gasped out as he rounded the curve of yet another switchback in the steep road. “They have a rainbow bridge. We could’ve used that.”
Hermes looked over his shoulder, the messenger god not even close to being out of breath. “You should probably look into exercising more. I hear it’s good for your health.”
Patrick flipped Hermes off before taking a moment to lean against his knees and pant for breath. “Fuck you.”
“Your wolf wouldn’t approve.”
“Fuck youeven more.”
“Hurry up, Pattycakes. We’re almost there.”
Straightening up, Patrick pressed his hands to the small of his back and arched his spine to get it to pop. His legs hurt, his feet were sore, and he wanted nothing more than to return past the veil to his pack. Except he’d spent what felt like days walking through the veil after Hermes, only pausing to rest for short periods. It hadn’t been enough to get rid of Patrick’s exhaustion or the knowledge that every day he spent past the veil, he lost weeks back on Earth.
The only reason he hadn’t given up was the faint flicker of Hannah’s soul that had never left his side. What he owed her kept Patrick pushing on, so he wiped sweat off his forehead and trudged after Hermes for the gates that led to Asgard.
The mountain they’d climbed towered over a fjord far below. Patrick couldn’t see the sapphire waters, hidden as they were by the fog that snaked through the otherworldly inlet. He could still make out the strange, twisted roots that stretched the height of the impossible mountain, ever present in their climb.
When they finally reached the top of the mountain, Patrick was greeted with a regal nod from Thor. Brynhildr, seated astride her pegasus and dressed in her traditional armor as opposed to the motorcycle leathers she was partial to when on the road, offered up a gentle smile.
“Well met, cousin,” Thor said.
“Your heaven would’ve been easier to find if the veil wasn’t such a mess. You should do something about that. Maybe have Yggdrasil set down some more roots,” Hermes replied.
“What makes you think the world tree hasn’t already done so?”
Hermes chuckled, clearly amused by Thor’s announcement. Patrick ignored them, tired of the gods and the games they played, no longer obligated to worry about their words and intentions.
He drifted away from their conversation. The small terrace they stood on was covered in vibrant green grass that ran right up against the wall surrounding Asgard and to the cliff’s edge that offered up a view of an endless night sky. The jagged shape of mountains reaching for eternity was breathtaking, and Patrick knew he’d never forget the sight of them. Heaven, he supposed, was many things to many people, and here it was a world one step removed from the memories that had once shaped it.
“I hear tell you’ve paid your soul debt after all these years,” Thor said from behind him.
Patrick turned to look at the god, finding the trio had come to join him at the precipice. “I’m done fighting.”
Thor raised an eyebrow, then held up his hand, palm up. “If that is the case, then I will relieve you of your weapon.”
Patrick hesitated, thinking of Jono, but reached instead for the dagger strapped to his thigh rather than the soulbond. He unsheathed the blade, going through the motions one last time. He stared at the gods-given dagger, watching as silvery words in languages he couldn’t read floated across the matte-black blade. A hint of heavenly white fire flickered against the sharp edge before fading away, leaving nothing behind.
The weight of it in his hand came not from metal but from guilt, because a part of him would always remember what the prayers in the dagger had cost. Drawing in a harsh breath, Patrick spun the dagger around one final time before handing it to Thor, hilt first.
“Take it,” Patrick said.
Thor’s fingers were warm when they brushed against Patrick’s palm as he retrieved it. The absence of the dagger had him floundering for a second, panic gripping his chest hard before he shoved it aside. That weapon was no longer his to wield, and he refused to mourn its loss.
Thor turned the dagger this way and that, staring at it with an appraising eye. “I remember when I prayed for this.”
“Were your prayers answered?”
Thor tucked the dagger into a metal-lined leather loop on his belt, the cross guard helping to keep it secured in place. “Well enough.”
It wasn’t praise—it wasn’t even a thank-you—but Patrick let the acknowledgment wash over him anyway. He’d made his own road to this moment, and Patrick refused to apologize for the choices he’d made over the years when it came to fighting his family for the sake of all the gods’ remembrances.
Patrick cleared his throat and looked at Hermes. “You said Hannah’s way was paid.”
“I didn’t lie,” Hermes said.
