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Home of the Fallen

Page 79

by Elsa Frey

Shadows appeared beside me, and when Soren materialized, he dropped to his knees beside me and reached for the dagger to help pull it out, but Drak pushed harder now with Silver throwing every ounce of her compulsion into this moment. Soren’s presence was only a threat, and Silver would meet our combined strength point by point. I needed him away from us and taking her down.

“What the fuck are you doing, Lux?” he said.

As he reached for my hold on the dagger, I shook my head and the command spilled out of me. “Go to Silver,” I said. My gut sloshed with the bitter disturbance of how similar I sounded to Silver. I forced Soren to do my bidding, like she compelled Drak. But I had no other choice.

“This is a command from the one who killed Odin and claimed his power for one of his Valkyries. I am assigning you, Soren Vinter, son of Axel Vinter, the duty of bringing Silver Quinn to the underworld. Guide her beyond. Give her to Hel.”

His throat hitched, and his jaw dropped open. Wide chestnut eyes stared at me with a gleam of disbelief, but it vanished when he blinked, replaced by a flare of determination and…excitement?

“Give it your all, Drakkar, push,” Silver demanded, and it worked. Drak yanked on the weapon with more force, penetrating deeper. A sliver more of pressure, and his heart would be eviscerated, all chances ended. He either died now, or Soren saved us.

Tears streamed down my face, blurring Soren’s face. “Please,” I whispered. “Take her soul to its end.”

“Oh, fuck yeah I’ll do that,” Soren said as he stood and bolted for Silver.

As soon as her hands flew out to block him from grabbing her, the compulsion vanished, and all the power I’d put into pulling the weapon back sent me falling back. My tailbone crashed against the cobbled stone while the dagger went clattering across the floor. Drak curled in on himself for a moment before rolling onto his back.

Soren dissipated into shadow to prevent her from fighting him. Tendrils of darkness wrapped around her neck and wrists, and he wrenched her head away from staring at us. She cried out with a growl of frustration in her struggle to free herself from the shadow, but Soren blanketed her, obscuring her from view now as she tried to compel another vampire. In seconds all trace of her vanished, except for her pleading.

“Lux,” her voice drifted from the darkness.

Soren’s shadows melted away, and he materialized behind Silver with her wrists bound behind her back, held by only one of his hands. His other hand gripped her loose tail of hair and bent her head back. Hair tightened at her scalp, and her frantic eyes met mine.

“Sister, please,” she said. “Send me to our mother in Valhalla. She died during a battle so I know she’s there. Let us be together.”

My heart skipped. Did she deserve eternity in Valhalla? Feasting and battling, and preparing for the World’s End. Did she deserve honor? My inability to die meant I couldn’t be there for our mother, so maybe my choice wasn’t about what my sister deserved. I understood how it felt to be in the afterlife without my loved one, and I didn’t want that for either of them.

“Aww, Hel’s tits.” Soren clucked his tongue. “The underworld sounds like a lot more fun.”

Something stupid within me felt sorrow for her, felt a kinship, felt love for my sister. If our mother had treated me as she did Silver, would I have done the same?

I lifted my chin to Soren. “Take her soul to Valhalla and let my mother decide where she belongs. If you read the sagas, then you know Niflheim is no punishment. That is the misguided notion I can only assume ancient vampires inspired before they wiped our histories.” I gave my sister a small smile. “You’ll see what I mean when Mother chooses the underworld for you. It’ll be out of love.”

“So we’re still going to the underworld? After Valhalla?” Soren clarified as he leaned into Silver and breathed down her neck. “This will be the best adventure.” Head tilted, he looked down at Drak now. “I’ll be back,” he said. “I swear it.”

With that, they shrouded into shadow, and I could draw a full breath again until I spotted the blood pouring from Drak’s wounds. I scrambled to rip off the loose, long-sleeved tunic I wore over a plain linen shirt, and use it as a bandage.

It was over. Drak survived, but only if I staunched the flow of blood.

“Now’s not the time to get naked, baby,” he said. His eyes were closed, his arms limp at his sides with the palms facing up at the ominous sharp stakes suspended above us. We sat inches from the altar, where the blood from his shoulder seeped out and into the carved runes.

“Now’s not the time for jokes.” I climbed to my knees and pressed the balled fabric to his chest. With a groan, he let his head fall to one side.

“Then tell me the truth, Skald,” he breathed. “Did we win?”

I ignored his question, unsure of how to answer. “Hang on, okay? Stick with me and I’ll find you help.” My eyes flicked to the altar where the strange man with the thick almond-shaded leather bunched in folds at his back. The captives Silver had standing with her at the altar had disappeared, either fled or fallen in the fight. What did she mean when she insisted they were healing our mother?

“I know you’re not afraid of the truth anymore,” he said, “so tell me. How bad is it?”

Instead, I countered with a question of my own. “What did Soren mean when he said he’ll be back?”

“To bring you to me, of course, when I die of old age.” He tried to smile, but blood seeped from the seam of his lips.

I applied pressure with all my remaining strength, desperate to stop his bleeding. If I kept him talking, I kept him alert, at least, until help came, until the last vampire fell and fate swallowed the dregs of this battle. I swept my gaze across the temple as I spoke. “You know that means you’ll die without the honor of a battle victory? You’ll be bound for Niflheim, where those who die of old age go.”

“Then I guess it’ll be a family reunion for you and your sister. Now, answer the question, baby. Did we win?”

Hundreds of bodies littered the floor. Vampires became nothing but ash, leaving the floor dusted and the air filled with it. The last of Silver’s army were only those with animal masks attempting to flee as villagers swarmed them.