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He really wanted to know. She could see it in his eyes. And she didn’t know what to tell him.

“My goal has always been to protect mortalkind,” she said, dropping her gaze. “But I don’t see why it can only be one or the other.”

“And what if there are other gods, whole pantheons coexisting peacefully with humanity, who want to keep their freedom and the lives they’ve always known? What if the Aesir make trouble for everyone, not only human beings?”

She looked up sharply. “Other gods?”

Of course,
she thought, feeling stupid. Gods like the desert spirits who had helped her fight Loki when she’d gone to fetch Eir and the Apples of Idunn in New Mexico. If “gods” was the right word.

But she’d never told Koji about that—just as, somehow, she’d never gotten around to telling Dainn.

“Do you know something I don’t?” she asked, half-jokingly.

He smiled. “You know, Japan has its own kind of gods. We call them
kami.
Spirits of all kinds of things, from roads to wind and war, even foods and disease. They’re not always nice, but they have no interest in ruling the world.”

Mist remembered that Eir had said something very similar about the desert spirits. “You believe these
kami
are real?” she asked.

“I don’t practice Shinto, but since the Nordic gods exist, I see no reason why the
kami
shouldn’t be real as well.”

“Would these
kami
resist other gods who
did
want to rule the world?” she asked.

His smile faded. “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s all theory, isn’t it?”

“Theory or not, I wouldn’t let Midgard be destroyed in some war of pantheons,” she said. “Not if I could do anything to stop it.”

“And you won’t let it happen in a war between Loki and the Aesir.”

“I’m still only one—”

“—semi-divine, nearly unstoppable force of nature.”

“I think that’s taking it a little far,” she said, trying for humor again.

“I’m not sure it is.” He pushed his chair back. “Somehow, I don’t think you’ve reached the limits of what you can do.”

“I haven’t changed, Koji.” She touched her chest. “Not in
here
.”

“But you have, Mist. And maybe that’s not such a bad thing.” He smiled to take the sting out of his words. “There was a time you wanted comfort, and I was there. But it was never meant to be more than that. I’ve known how you felt about Dainn since the first time I met him.”

“I know you disliked him, but that has nothing to do with—”

“Maybe I
was
a little jealous, at the beginning. But I just wanted to make sure you’d be okay with him. Now I know you will be.”

“It’s not what you think.”

“Trust what you feel. You never felt that for me. And you’ll never stop feeling it for
him
.”

“Koji, this really isn’t the right time…”

“It’s the
only
time, Mist.” He got up from the table. “I should have said this as soon as I walked in, but I’m afraid I…” He sighed. “I let you distract me, and this is going to be harder than it has to be.”

“What’s going to be harder?” she asked, suddenly alarmed.

“I won’t be seeing you again.”

“What?” She rose and moved around the table. “I know what you’ve been saying about me and Dainn, but even if it were true, that’s no reason for you to—”

“It isn’t that.” His usually pleasant, even voice cracked with distress. “I can’t stay. I can’t help you fight, and I can’t stand by and watch you and everyone else risk their lives.”

“But I’ve never judged you for not fighting.”

“You will, when things get really bad.” He met her gaze. “I wish I could explain more, but all I can say is that my family forbids me to get involved.”

“Your family? The Tashiros? You’ve told them what’s happening?”

“They already knew.” He pressed his lips together and started for the kitchen door. “I’ve already said too much. Remember what I said about not letting the world be destroyed in a war between your gods.”

“Wait!” She caught up with him halfway down the hall and grabbed his arm. “This is it? No more friendship, no legal advice, just good-bye?”

He turned, stood very straight, and gave her a formal bow. “Please forgive me,” he said. “It has been my great honor to know you, Mist of the Valkyrie.” The corner of his lips crooked up. “Please, promise me you’ll rest between magical battles.”

“Curse it, Koji—”

But he was already walking out of the loft. Just as she reached the door, she thought she saw a faint silver glow limning Koji’s suit, a glimmer almost like the scales of a fish or a reptile. A long, whiplike tail coiled with a flourish behind him.

She rubbed her eyes, and the illusion was gone. He was just a man in a business suit, climbing into a silver Prius and waving to her one last time.

For a while she wasn’t able to move, paralyzed by sadness and regret.
I took him for granted,
she thought.
This is my own cursed fault.

But after a few minutes of self-reflection—and a little self-pity—she realized she was being foolish. Koji wasn’t just going to disappear. She’d meet up with him again, and they’d hash it out properly.

If she could try to save a world, surely she could save a friendship.

As long as you don’t keep fooling yourself,
she thought. She’d told Koji she hadn’t changed, but he’d known she was lying.

And so had she.

*   *   *

Dainn sat on the floor, propped against the wall of the small office that served as his new prison. He judged that it was a little past dawn; they’d given him food and water, the Alfar who had locked him up here, but they hadn’t looked at him, and their contempt was obvious.

How could he blame them? They rightfully saw him as a traitor to all they fought for, a personal affront to Alfheim, if Alfheim had still existed.

They remembered the way he’d been in Asgard, before the Last Battle. Before Loki. Wise, rational, Odin’s very sane counselor.

He’d fallen as far as any being could. And they wouldn’t let him forget. No more than
he
could forget.

Dainn touched his throat. He still couldn’t speak. The collar wasn’t the cause of his affliction. Nor was it the influence of the beast, which had gone dormant again … thanks to Danny.

The
other
Danny, the false one, had made Dainn believe that Mist was Freya, that she was hunting his son to his death. Laufeyson had deliberately provoked Dainn and the beast into attacking her.

But not to kill her. The altercation had served a very different purpose. Sleipnir had been taken, in spite of the real Danny’s unexpected arrival at the hotel.

For a moment Dainn waited, listening. Waiting for the beast to make some mocking remark, a threat, a reminder of the perpetual shadow it cast over his soul.

But it was silent. Instead, another voice rang in his memory. Mist, defending Danny. Begging Dainn to recognize her. Telling him that Loki had tricked them.

Asking him if
he
was hurt.

And still he hadn’t been able to warn her about Freya.

Dainn touched his throat again. Mist had asked Konur if he had placed a spell on Dainn. She had seemed to believe the elf-lord when he denied it.

But Konur had deceived her. It was the Lady the elf-lord served, even though he had ostensibly accompanied Mist to the reception in order to assist and protect her.

Did he support Freya’s scheme to destroy Mist? If he did, he would have every reason to keep her away from Dainn, and find an excuse to silence Dainn permanently. Dainn had no choice but to consider the elf-lord his enemy.

He would have to escape without calling upon the beast. As long as it remained silent, he had a chance.

Closing his eyes, he turned inward and quieted his heart. He let his thoughts drift. What would Loki do with Danny, knowing that his son had interfered with his scheme and left the house without his permission? He wouldn’t hurt Danny, surely, but he would doubtless try to find a stronger way to bind the boy so that he couldn’t make another unauthorized venture into the outside world.

But an “unauthorized” exit from this cell was exactly what Dainn intended to make. He had worked magic—an inexplicable kind of magic—against Loki’s Jotunn guards not long before the beast had returned. His magic and the beast had always seemed inextricably linked, and there was always the risk that any use of magic might strengthen his other side.

Nevertheless, he had to try. He called upon the abilities that came so naturally to his kind, seeking the weeds that had forced their way through cracks in cement and pavement outside the cell. He grasped at their tenacious life and built upon them, enhancing their strength until they burst through the floor of the cell and sent green tendrils crawling toward the door.

It was working. He flexed his fists and concentrated, urging the tendrils to invade the door’s hinges, filling the smallest gaps between metal and wood. If he could weaken the hinges sufficiently, then he would be prepared when the guards changed shifts, or if the—

The door creaked as it swung inward, shattering the spell. The weeds contracted and disappeared into the tiny cracks in the floor. Dainn sprang to his feet.

“Wait!” a familiar voice whispered. “I’m here to help!”

Ryan. Dainn released his breath slowly and remained where he was, half-afraid that the beast might wake again.

“It’s okay,” Ryan said. He closed the door carefully and squatted a few feet away. “I know you can’t talk, so just listen. I was here when they brought you back. I’ve been watching for a chance to talk to you.”

Shaking his head with three sharp jerks, Dainn pointed at the door.

“They don’t know I’m here,” Ryan said. “I made sure of that.”

Dainn opened his mouth. A hoarse growl emerged.

“I’m not in any danger,” Ryan said. “But
you
are.”

Touching his throat, Dainn tried again. “V—” he began. “Vis—”

“I don’t need a vision to know that. Those elves out there don’t like you.”

It wasn’t quite possible to laugh, but Dainn managed a reasonable approximation. Ryan didn’t smile.

“Mist is in another council meeting,” he said. “I found out last night that Danny escaped from Loki, and that Loki doesn’t have Sleipnir, either. I thought you’d want to know right away.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I can get you out of here now. It may sound strange, but I have a … a sort of new technique. I can predict people’s movements just before they happen.”

Dainn shook his head again, though his thoughts were running wild with speculation about Danny and Sleipnir.

“I don’t have those seizures anymore,” Ryan said, correctly interpreting Dainn’s concern. “This technique isn’t dangerous, as long as I don’t do it too often. We just need to get you out of the elves’ camp and somewhere safe.”

“Mist,” Dainn grunted.

“I know you’re not the traitor everyone says you are, no matter what you did. Mist needs you, even if she doesn’t realize how much. You have to talk to her again, in private.”

Peering into the young man’s eyes, Dainn wondered if Ryan, too, knew of Freya’s plans for Mist. If he did, it would be recent knowledge. Perhaps it had even brought him back from his self-imposed exile.

Why, then, would he not tell Mist himself?

“Are you okay?” Ryan asked, his voice rising with anxiety. “I mean—”

Dainn curled his fingers into claws, raked them across the floor, and then drew a line through the invisible marks with his fingertip.

“Good,” Ryan said with obvious relief. “Then all you need to do is stick close to me. Every time I make a signal to move, like this”—he raised his bent arm and clenched his fist—“you have to be ready.”

Close on Ryan’s heels, Dainn ran at a crouch out the door and into the central area of the warehouse. No one had been guarding his cell. He froze when he heard the whisper of elven footsteps, but Ryan urged him on with a frantic gesture.

They continued toward the back door of the warehouse, keeping close to the internal walls. Three times Ryan stopped abruptly, and moments later Dainn would hear one or more mortals passing, sometimes speaking in soft voices, others on silent patrol. They had nearly reached the door when Ryan abruptly stopped and pushed Dainn to the floor. Five Alfar walked in, and Dainn heard his name.

“We have about thirty seconds to get out once they’ve passed us,” Ryan whispered.

Dainn readied himself, and at Ryan’s signal they ran toward the door. Once outside, facing a wide stretch of broken concrete leading down to an equally decrepit wharf, Ryan pointed east toward the bay. The air was frigid in the filmy, early morning sunlight, and the water smelled of fish.

“There’s an old pier you can hide under,” he said. “I’ll find a way to get Mist down here.”

As he turned to go, Dainn gripped his arm and held it firmly. He smiled, and Ryan embraced him briefly but tightly before letting him go and setting off to the north.

He ran directly into Konur, who caught Ryan and held him easily. The elf-lord looked over the boy’s head and met Dainn’s gaze.

“Do not blame the young one,” Konur said. “I knew of his feelings for you, and had him watched.” He glanced down again as Ryan struggled in his grip. “You did well to come so far.”

“Let him go, you fucking asshole,” Ryan spat, utterly unlike himself. “I know Freya wants to kill him. I can stop—”

Konur released him, and Ryan staggered back, fists clenched. Dainn hesitated, listening for the beast.

It was there. He could reach it easily. But he was done making deals with the darkness. He felt his magic rise to his call, as eagerly as an arrow held too long in its quiver.

Dirt erupted through the cracks in the concrete, rushing toward Konur in a wave of rock, soil, and wood from an old landfill. The wave parted around Ryan and struck the elf-lord full-force.

When it collapsed on itself, Konur was still standing, his arms raised. A ward shimmered around him, drawn from Runes of air. He reshaped the Runes and hurled a great wind at Dainn. Again Ryan was untouched, but the wind knocked Dainn off his feet.