Cast in Hellfire: An Urban Fantasy Romance (The Mage Craft Series Book 2) (4 page)

The woman felt around her pockets. Plastic crinkled.

A wrapper.

She had food.

A longing groan escaped Ymir before he could stop himself. Her gaze snapped up, pale eyes focusing on him in the shadows behind the box.

“Why, hello,” she said.

He scrambled for the window. It was still open, gusting frigid wind into the basement.

“Wait!” the woman called.

Ymir jumped, trying to reach the window. He missed.

“I can share with you,” she said.

He finally turned.

The woman was still hanging by the door, extending the food toward him with one hand. She pulled her furred hat off with the other hand, allowing mounds of chestnut curls to tumble free around her shoulders. She had a pleasant, open face.

“It’s a granola bar,” she added when he didn’t move. “You can have it. I have another one.”

“Yes
please
.” Ymir edged toward her. She handed him the unwrapped bar, and their hands brushed. She was so warm that it hurt.

Leaping back toward the crate of furs, he scarfed the bar down too quickly, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

She shed her cloak. Underneath, she wore a long white blouse over slim-cut jeans and snow boots. She was human. A human in the Winter Court. It made no sense. But she wasn’t sidhe, and it had been a long time since Ymir had seen anyone who was friendly.

“My name is Marion,” she said. “Who are you?”

He swallowed down the last bite of granola bar. “Ymir.”

“Ymir,” Marion echoed. “What are you doing in here, Ymir?”

“Hiding from the army,” he said.

“Funny, I am too,” she said.

“You’re hiding from the seelie? Why do the seelie want a human?”

She surprised Ymir by laughing. She sat on the floor to be closer to his level, using her furs to keep herself off of the dirty floor.

He started to edge away again.

“The seelie armies are nowhere near here,” Marion said. “I’m hiding from the Autumn Court’s army. They’re moving survivors to Niflheimr for safety’s sake. That’s what I’m doing here. Helping the army. But they are asking a lot of questions of me, and it’s very tiring, so I thought I’d take a break.” She held out another granola bar. “Still hungry?”

Ymir sat next to her. He took the snack. “Thank you.”

“Where’s your family, Ymir?”

He broke the granola bar in half and swallowed one side. “Dead.” They’d been gone for months, maybe years. He’d lost track of time.

“Who’s been taking care of you since?”

Ymir gave her a blank look.

Sympathy creased her face. “I was going to save this for later, but you look like you need it more.” She produced chocolate from her furs—real chocolate. He snatched it from her hands. The contrast between her olive and his blue flesh was even weirder than how warm she was. “Why haven’t you joined one of the unseelie camps?”

“They don’t want me ‘cause I’m not unseelie,” he said. “I’m a frost giant.”

She laughed, and the sound was so much warmer than even her hands, flooding him with a sense of pleasure. “A giant, are you?”

Ymir went rigid with pride. He knew that he must not have looked like much, but he’d be ten feet tall as an adult, assuming he survived long enough. “I will be someday.”

“You do seem to be exceptionally tall for your age.” She ruffled his hair. “You don’t have to hide from my army. We’re here to help, not hurt.”

“What’s in Niflheimr?” he asked.

“Not much yet. My boyfriend—uh, Prince ErlKonig, he’s from the Autumn Court—has been arranging a camp while we sort everyone out. We have food and beds right now.” She watched him finish eating. Her smile was gone. She looked so sad. “There are convoys taking refugees right now. Will you go with one?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Too tired to stand, he remained limp as Marion gathered him into her arms. Ymir was tall, but she was taller. She easily put his weight on her hip. It was a relief to wrap his arms around her neck and rest his head on her shoulder.

Marion carried him through the inn. He tensed initially at the sight of the sidhe soldiers sitting around the dining room, but they were unseelie—creatures of the Autumn Court, judging by the brassy tones of their hair and skin. Marion had been telling the truth.

The Summer Court’s invaders were gone.

A woman rushed through the crowd to meet them. “My lady!” She stopped short. “Who’s this?”

“This is my new friend Ymir,” Marion said, shifting his weight onto her other hip. “I’m going to take him with me to Niflheimr. And please, Nori, I’ve told you—don’t call me that. It’s weird.”

“Sorry.” Nori’s attention had already shifted away from Ymir. “There’s someone waiting for you at your home in Victoria.”

“They’ll have to wait. I’m meeting with the angels tonight in Niflheimr. Remember? And I have to get the refugees settled into their new homes.”

Nori followed Marion and Ymir outside. The wind blasted over them, relentlessly cold. Marion shivered. “My
lady
,” Nori said admonishingly, throwing furs over Marion.

“What did I just tell you?” Marion asked.

They bickered good-naturedly while Ymir stared over Marion’s shoulder. The inn was at the top of the cornice under the frozen waterfall, which meant that Ymir could see all the way down into the village of Leiptr. It was under complete occupation by the Autumn Court now. In truth, it didn’t look all that different having the streets crawling with unseelie rather than seelie; the power of their magic had the same distorting effect.

Yet the army of the Autumn Court—Marion’s army—wasn’t burning the city. They weren’t slaughtering. They were loading survivors into trucks.

“But really, Marion,” Nori said, her more serious tone catching Ymir’s attention again, “I think you’ll want to attend to this visitor.” She lowered her voice until Ymir could barely hear her over the wind. “It’s Luke.”

Marion stiffened against Ymir. “Seth?”

“Seth, Luke, whatever. He’s at your house. He wants to talk to you.”

“I see,” she said. Marion set Ymir in the back of the covered truck. Her cheeks had gone red with cold, the tips of her hair gathering snow, but she still smiled at him. “Ymir, it seems I have to take care of some things. I’m going to send you to Niflheimr ahead of me. My friends will take very good care of you, though.”

“You’re leaving me?” Ymir asked.

She ruffled his hair again. “I’ll be back.” Marion leaned around him and dragged a box toward the end of the pickup. “In the meantime, help yourself. Eat until you’re sick.”

It was filled with insulated bottles of water, tins of fish, and more granola bars. Ymir’s eyes went so wide that it felt like they might pop out of his head.

Marion summoned an adult refugee to the truck. “Will you make sure Ymir is okay on the way to Niflheimr?”

The other refugee was a burly, opal-fleshed unseelie with teeth that were eerily white against the blackness of his lips. Ymir didn’t think there was a chance that the man would willingly associate with a frost giant. He looked like one of the gentry—the highest caste of sidhe. The gentry would have nothing to do with those who were unlike them.

But to Ymir’s surprise, the man said, “Yes, of course. I’d be happy to.” That was when Ymir noticed two little girls waiting nearby. He had daughters who must have been Ymir’s age, though significantly shorter, as they were not frost giants. “Hello, Ymir. I’m Cyprian,” said the adult sidhe.

“Hi,” Ymir said without looking at him. He scuffed the snow with his bare foot, which was only a few shades of blue darker than the surrounding world.

“Thanks. I’ll owe you for this,” Marion said, clasping Cyprian’s hand in both of hers.

She started to step away. Fear seized Ymir.

“You will be back?” he asked.

Marion took Nori’s hand, offering him a smile as bright as the starlight in the eternal evening of the Winter Court.

“I promise,” she said.

Both women vanished.

T
he first breath
of Vancouver Island’s air was a relief to Marion’s system. It had been only hours since she’d left New York City behind for the Winter Court, but those hours had been enough that she felt like she’d never be warm again. Even the soggy sixteen-degree weather on the island in November was like sinking into a Jacuzzi by comparison.

The ley line nearest to her home was just offshore, within view of the lagoon upon which her house sat. Marion doubted it was a coincidence that she’d chosen to buy her home there, where Konig could easily visit from the Autumn Court.

Her house sprawled over the hill, with many wings and buildings and garages tucked in the trees. It was west of Victoria, the largest city on the island, and therefore a short drive to enjoy the urban center and its many delightful shopping options. But her home was vast enough that she hadn’t felt the need to leave it for long over the last week. Familiarizing herself with its many empty bedrooms and cavernous bathrooms could have kept her entertained for weeks.

It was a veritable castle, and she lived alone in it.

“Do you want me to go back, or keep packing for you?” Nori asked, waiting outside the gate to the garden when Marion entered.

“Go back,” Marion said. “Konig could use your help, I’m sure.” And she didn’t need anyone listening in when she talked to Seth.

Her heart fluttered.

Seth
.

Marion hadn’t expected to see him again so soon, if at all.

“He said he’d wait out that way.” Nori jerked her chin toward the orchard.

“Thank you,” Marion said, and she waited until Nori left to seek Seth out.

Her garden was as impressive as the rest of the house. That was where she’d spent most of her time during her visits that week.

Marion hadn’t felt so lonely when she was in her private orchard among the buzzing bees and singing birds. She could easily imagine that there was family in the house, waiting for her to bring back enough apples to bake a pie, or entertaining themselves in her private indoor swimming pool while she got sweaty in the cool fall sunlight.

Unfortunately, she’d seen too little of the house or garden that week with all the work the summit had provided. And she’d see little of it in the months to come now that she was steward of the Winter Court.

Marion followed a spiraling path toward the sound of a fountain. Rain began drizzling as she sought Seth out, leaving a cool mist clinging to the leaves of her flowerbeds.

He was on the opposite side of the fountain, partially shrouded by the wall of rippling water.

She cleared her throat, swallowed hard. “Hi there.”

Seth turned. He was wearing a black jacket, black jeans, hiking boots. He was dark-skinned with short hair and expressive lips, which were faintly marked by old scarring.

At the sight of her, one corner of his mouth lifted in a lopsided smile. “Hey, Marion.”

“Luke.” She caught herself and bit the inside of her cheek. “Or—I guess I should call you Seth, shouldn’t I?”

He looked disappointed, as though he’d been hoping that somehow, through some stroke of bizarre luck, Marion wouldn’t have learned the truth about him. “Yeah. I’m going by Seth again, for the moment.”

The implications of that hung heavier than the humidity in the air.

He’d come to see her as Seth, but he was still planning to move on, become someone else.

“How did you get here?” Marion asked. “I didn’t see a car when I came in through the ley line.”

“We don’t have a car with us.”

“We?”

“Charity and me,” Seth said. “She stayed back at the Empress Hotel, where we’re staying. I wanted to talk to you…alone.”

“Is this an apology for your elaborate deceit?” She hadn’t meant to make it sound accusatory, but that was how it came out.
Oh well
. It had been an elaborate deceit, and there was no point dancing around it.

“Would an apology make you feel better?” Seth asked.

She wilted a little. “I guess not.”

He stepped toward her, and she moved from around the fountain to meet him. He stopped a few feet back. He hadn’t expected her to approach.

They still weren’t touching.

“How’d the summit go?” Seth asked.

“I’m surprised that the ex-fianc?e of the Alpha werewolf wouldn’t already know.”

He didn’t even blink, so he wasn’t surprised by how much Marion had learned about Seth in the last week.

Rylie had been interested in hearing about Seth’s exploits getting Marion to the summit—
very
interested—and she’d been free about responding with information, too.

The Alpha had explained that Seth had moved to Las Vegas after Genesis to work as a private investigator. During that time, he hadn’t communicated much with Rylie. He’d had a fight with his brother, Abel, so Rylie had thought it best to give Seth space.

They hadn’t talked for almost six months when he abruptly vanished without a trace. None of their mutual friends had admitted to knowing his whereabouts.

After all that time, Rylie had assumed that Seth was dead.

In Marion’s opinion, that was perfectly fair. Rylie was the one who had cheated on Seth with his brother. Seth had always been loyal. She was the heartbreaker, the slutty Alpha, a total jerk. Seth owed her nothing, least of all updates on his location.

“I don’t talk to Rylie anymore,” he said.

“She wasn’t pleased to see that you came to the United Nations without talking to her. I think she’s angry at me too.”

“I don’t care if Rylie’s pleased or not, and neither should you. What could she do to you? You’ve got an intimidating resume, even compared to the Alpha. You were the speaker for the ethereal delegation. The Voice of God. Steward of the Winter Court.” That last job description lingered.

“You forgot one other thing,” Marion said. “Patient of Luke Flynn.”

“Luke Flynn doesn’t exist anymore,” Seth said.

She rested a hand on the rim of the fountain to steady herself. The roughness of the stone grounded her, even more than the stable soil under her feet, so unlike the slippery halls of Niflheimr. “Who will you be next?”

“I haven’t looked at the paperwork Brianna put together for me, but I’ve arranged for a new identity. A new life. Everything’s in place. It’s just—before I go, I needed to talk to you.” He took a deep breath. “I need your help.”

“Okay,” Marion said. “What do you want?”

He gave a short laugh. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.” She plucked an apple off of a low tree branch and rolled it between her fingers, savoring the solidness of the meat, the smooth flesh.

“You could make me work for it.” His lips twitched with mirth. “Buy you something nice? Designer clothes?”

“Don’t be silly. It’s safe to say that you’re the only reason I’m alive at this point, so tell me what you need and you’ll have it.” She grinned. “In any case, I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m quite rich. I can buy all the nice things I want without your help.”

“You seem like you do pretty good for a kid.”

“
Excuse
me. I’m nineteen years old.”

“Oh,” he said. “Nineteen. So definitely not a kid.”

“You’re picking on me.”

“Someone should,” Seth said.

“I’m fairly confident that I have dungeons in the Winter Court. I could lock you away in prison for the rest of your life as easily as the Office of Preternatural Affairs.”

His smile quickly faded. He cleared his throat. “Look, Marion, we have to get your memories back. Someone emptied your head of everything but the drive to seek me out, and the memories haven’t returned even though the summit is over. The loss was either unintentional, or it wasn’t related.”

“I don’t see how restoring my memories helps you.”

“You still don’t remember Elise and James, do you?”

Rylie had mentioned those names. Marion understood that they should have been meaningful, but she could only shake her head. “I don’t remember anything since the last time we—when you helped me give that speech.”

“Damn.” He raked a hand over his hair. “You mean your mom didn’t tell you?”

“My mother doesn’t seem to be speaking to me,” Marion said. She hadn’t been able to get in touch with Ariane Kavanagh.

“Aw, jeez. I don’t know how to tell you this.”

“Tell me what? Who are Elise and James?”

“Elise is your sister,” Seth said. “She’s also God.”

M
arion was
a little too sober to discuss having a deity for a sister.

It was a short walk through the orchard to reach the house. Her kitchen was as lovely as her garden: decorated in marble, with platinum fixtures and white everywhere. A little slice of heaven with three different ovens stacked atop each other so she could bake multiple batches of cookies simultaneously.

She kept Seth in the corner of her eye to see if he was impressed. She
wanted
him to admire her home.

Seth barely seemed to notice it.

“Bottle opener is in the drawer to your left,” Marion said. “I’ll be right back.” She stepped down into the wine cellar to pick out a bottle.

Yes, Marion had a wine cellar. It was almost as big as her closets, too, and equally well organized.

It turned out that being the one independent force that could essentially audit all factions—and the Voice of God—was a
very
profitable job.

Seth’s amused expression when she returned with a bottle of zinfandel said that he was thinking the same thing. “A wine cellar.”

“And everything in it is excellent, I assure you.” Marion plucked two glasses from where they hung upside-down by the window. She set one in front of Seth. “Open the bottle.”

“
You
open it.” He tossed the bottle opener to her.

Her instinct was to argue with him simply because she hated being told what to do, but picking fights over a wine bottle was stupid.

She poured. “This Elise, my sister—you’ll have to start from the beginning. Make it simple for me, please. I’m still overwhelmed by trying to piece my life together.” Although saying she was overwhelmed might have been an understatement. “On the brink of emotional collapse” was a little closer. Ergo why her wine cellar was several bottles emptier than it had been before she returned home during the summit.

“This is as simple as it gets,” Seth said. “I told you that there was a battle between old gods and new gods, and that’s how Genesis happened. Right? Well, your sister wasn’t a god at the time. She was the Godslayer. A weapon made by Metaraon—your father—to murder Adam, the previous God.”

“My father made one of his daughters to murder God?”

“Elise has a different father than you.” He picked up his glass once it was half-filled. “You guys share a mother.”

“Ariane Kavanagh.” There were pictures of the woman around her house, so their relationship must not have been terrible, even if Ariane was impossible to contact.

“Right,” Seth said. “Anyway, Elise won. In order to kill the last gods, she entered this thing called the Origin, which basically mixes people up and spits them back out as gods. She took her husband with her. James.”

“Elise and James. That’s so boring. They should have taken notes from the Summer Court and renamed themselves,” Marion said. “Think a little more about branding. Zeus and Hera, or something like that.”

“They don’t care about branding. They don’t want anyone to know who they are, where they are, or what they’re thinking.” A hint of bitterness had entered Seth’s tone. “That’s why they only speak to you. Ever.” He studied Marion’s face closely. “Are you following me?”

“I think so,” she said.

“Are you okay? Your sister and brother-in-law are gods. That’s big news.”

Marion chuckled into her glass. “Of all the news I’ve endured since waking up in your hospital, learning that my half-sister is God is one of the easier things to wrap my mind around.” She could feel his eyes on her as she drank, perhaps a little too fast. “I have a formal sitting room. Let’s relocate.”

She took him to her sitting room the long way around, and this time, he examined things with more interest. Not unlike the way that Marion had examined his humble apartment.

Marion wondered what he saw in her decorative choices.

To be honest, she wasn’t even certain she’d decorated everything herself. She had a cleaning staff. She’d probably hired an interior decorator, too.

Perhaps her surroundings said nothing about her at all.

The sitting room had large windows overlooking her front yard. The sight wasn’t as impressive as the gardens of Myrkheimr, but it was well enough for a teenage girl living alone on some wet island. Nice trees, nice lawn. Her curtains were operated by remote control so she didn’t even have to get up to open them.

Marion took a seat first, picking a fainting chair on one side of the coffee table. Seth chose a stool on the opposite side—as far from Marion as he could be without being rude. His elbows rested on his thighs, wine glass cradled in one hand as he studied the room, and Marion studied his face.

Nothing had changed about him. He still had that scar on his bottom lip and the graceful hands of a surgeon. Even at that distance, he smelled faintly of leather.

He didn’t belong in Marion’s pristine palace.

She wasn’t sure she did, either.

Marion realized she was still carrying the apple from her back garden. She set it on the coffee table between them, where it glistened, ruby-black, in the cloud-filtered sunlight.

She refilled her glass. “What does my sister matter? To you, I mean?”

“We worked together for a little while. Partnered up on a couple of cases involving the werewolves. Once I got tangled up with Elise and James, I ended up dead—that was a year before Genesis.”

That was news to Marion. “I thought that the only people who came back after Genesis were the ones directly killed by the void.”

“And me,” Seth said. “
They
chose to bring me back.”

“Why? Did they feel guilty?”

“I doubt that’s the reason. Lots of people died because of Elise and James, but they did special backflips to bring me back, while everyone else stayed dead. The only other person I know that they did that for is Rylie.”