Destined (Desolation #3) (15 page)

Finally—
there
—I see a large mass resting on the bottom of the river. Soul eaters are everywhere, undulating as if they are one body, one mind. I thrust myself between them, pull them back, throwing them away as best I can with my ever-weakening arms. Flashes of light pop before my eyes. I don’t have much time left—but James has none.

I see him then, unmoving, his eyes closed, mouth open, the soul eaters tugging his body to and fro. I grab him by his shirt and start pulling upward, kicking off the genii who still cling to him. At least three soul eaters are suctioned to his body, but I ignore them. There’s no time.

Above me, I see the shape of the boat outlined in the water. I can even see Helena’s legs through the glass. I thrust James upward, shoving him, kicking with all the strength I have left. To my shock and relief Helena helps pull him out of the water. But when I reach up and grab onto the edge of her boat, she digs her long fingernails into the back of my hand.

“You are not welcome,” she hisses. She deepens the dig and though I try to resist, I finally jerk my hand out from under her. She smiles and leans back, smoothing James’ hair from his face. 

“Don’t just let him die!” I scream. Red fluid fills my mouth and I have to spit it out before I can add, “Save him!”

I tread water five feet away from them, feeling helpless, useless. What’s the point? What’s been the point in any of it?

My legs are so tired. I stop moving and feel myself drifting downward until I kick, kick, kick again. A dog barks behind me—Horonius is perched on a rock that protrudes from the middle of the river. When I look back at her, Helena is pulling a soul eater off of James’ body. She grimaces as she tosses it into the water.

Horonius barks again. A splash, then the dog tugs on the back of my shirt. 

What’s it all been for?

I watch as Helena yanks the last of the soul eaters from James’ body. Watch as she pulls him toward her, as he takes a breath and coughs. He’s alive! Just knowing that, knowing he’s living and breathing, even if he is lying in Helena’s lap, gives me the strength to kick and move my arms in an attempt to help Horonius. Together we make our way to the shore where he continues to drag me until I’ve scrabbled back from the frigid river water.

“James!” I call.
Let him go!
I scream in my mind.

“Oh, he can’t go with you.” Even though she’s out in the middle of the water, I hear her answer as clearly as if she’s standing next to me. Hel wraps her arms around James, one at his waist, one around his chest. I see him roll his head to the side, snuggling himself closer to her. 

“Yes, he can. Now let him go!” I’m standing at the edge of the water, screaming, crying.
This can’t be happening!

“I don’t want to go with you, Des.”

I choke on the tears that clog my throat. “Yes, you do. What about Miri?”

“What about her? She’ll be okay. She’s just a kid—she’ll understand that I need to be with a real woman for a change.”

Fury burns through me, rapid, all-consuming. Father would be proud.

To Helena I say, “You said you only needed him to do something for you.”

“Oh, I do,” Hel says.

“Then tell him what it is, so he can do it and we can get out of here.”

“I don’t want to leave,” James says. 

Hel looks down on him, her face actually managing a sweet expression of tenderness. “He’s happy here for the moment. When I tire of his company, he’ll perform his chore. And when he’s completed it—
if
he completes it—he can go back to Midgard.” She runs her fingers through his hair, teasing it up into spikes. James rolls his head back onto her shoulder and groans with pleasure. “If he even wants to.”

I step into the water and point at Hel. “He better want to. Or I will kill you.”

Helena laughs and James laughs with her. I stare in horror at the scene, wishing I could erase it from my memory. Wishing I didn’t have to tell Miri I’d left him here—like this.

“Just get outta here, Des.” James closes his eyes as Hel’s hands roam all over him. 

“Young Mistress,” Horonius says from what seems like very far away. “We must go—now.”

I back away from the water, fuming, desperately trying to figure out a way to save him. But the boat rocks gently as it glides toward the tunnel and I’m powerless to stop it. Hel is a goddess and I’m just . . . me. 

A Door appears, cutting through the murky air and momentarily blinding me. Horonius lunges forward, grabbing my hand and pulling me through and smack into a Remembering that feels like a sucker punch to the gut. I Remember James and my love for him. I Remember how much he had suffered at Akaros’ hands. When I step through that memory into another, it’s to Remember the way he changed his life to be worthy of Miri. The way he took care of me when Michael had gone to Hell.

To Remember that I’d left James in Helena’s clutches with a promise I was sure he’d die trying keep. 

I stumbled into way too much brightness and fell to my knees. 

Leaving Helheimer, being released from my prison, left me with more worries and doubts than I could name. You’d imagine having an eternity to think, to reason through things or to figure out who I really was, would have left me ready for this new step—my first into a new life.

But now I had different worries. 

No matter how much someone else loved me, wasn’t there a point at which there was no return? What right did I have to any of their forgiveness?

Like Miri.

Like Michael.

Yeah, I knew James had willingly come for me, knew Michael had something to do with getting the Hound to find me. Knew that Miri had wanted James to go, to risk his life to save mine. 

But knowing all that didn’t convince my heart to worry any less.

And now I hadn’t brought James back home with me.

A hand reached down for me, larger than my own by at least ten sizes, and as black as night. Heimdall. His eyes gleamed and his sharp cheekbones rose high in a broad smile. I took his hand.

He pulled me to my feet and for the space of at least ten seconds I couldn’t see, hear or feel anything else other than his arms around me, his huge heart beating beneath my cheek, the comfort of his embrace.

I did not cry.

And for the first time in my very long life, when he released his hold on me and stepped back, I didn’t feel inadequate. I didn’t feel like there was any ulterior motive behind his retreat. He simply made room for Odin. 

Odin stepped forward, a look of such grace and kindness on his face that all of my emotions were immediately laid bare. He reached for me, his smile for me, his eyes alight with love, his arms wide to embrace me. He offered the love of a father, the comfort of a friend. I fell into his arms.

I cried then. Cried for Aaron who was no more. Cried for James. And cried for myself because I still had so much to atone for. I only hoped the people I loved would let me have that chance.

“You know they will, my daughter,” Odin whispered in my ear. And I knew he was right. Knew I’d been blessed with people with the biggest hearts the worlds had ever known. They would forgive me. The real question was—

“Can you forgive yourself?” 

I shook my head, annoyed that I’d thought of myself—again I was selfish, always selfish. “It doesn’t matter—James. Helena has James.”

Odin frowned, his brow furrowing, his expression hardening. “I feared as much.” He turned away from me for a moment, like he needed to gain control over his emotions before he could talk to me. “She has ever meddled in my affairs—” He closed his eyes and when he opened them again, he had returned to his normal, kind self. He gave my arms a small squeeze. “James is strong. He has survived much, even before he met you,” he added. “I have hope that he will yet be returned.”

Odin pushed me out to arm’s length and made a show of taking a good look at me. I tried to let his peace soften the edges of my guilt. It didn’t really work.

“My daughter, you don’t have to carry the weight of the world.”

Yeah, cuz the weight of all my sins is a lot heavier,
I thought to myself with a snort.

Odin chuckled and pulled me back into his embrace. I felt his joy radiating outward until it became my joy. He filled me with thoughts of Aaron, helped me remember the light he’d shared with me—and that’s when I realized—we weren’t alone.

Horonius stood outside the wheelhouse, beside a Valkyrie warrior, her arm in a shield and her other hand on the hilt of her sword. All around us Valkyries and Gardians stood, arm to arm. We were surrounded.

I
was surrounded.

My blood ran cold as I straightened and pulled out of Odin’s grasp. I tried to convince myself that any punishment he chose to impose upon me was deserved. Even if it meant an eternity in prison, I would deserve it. But the warriors’ eyes were fixed to my right, to a swirl of light that grew between a pair of columns.

“The Doorway opens,” Heimdall said from near the well. He held his horn to his lips and blew—though I could not hear it.

Everyone tensed. Steel rang out like the sighs of the wind as swords were drawn and arrows notched. 

“What’s going on?” I asked.

Odin handed me the sword from his waist and pulled another from his Halo. “I fear we may be at war,” he said, his eyes trained on opening Door. “There have been some developments on other worlds that lead us to fear there may be dark days ahead.”

Before I could respond, the Door coalesced out of the blackness of space, ripping a brilliant multi-colored portal into the wheelhouse. Fahria stormed out. Even though her sword sat in the scabbard at her waist she had the feel of war about her, her face burning with fury. She strode right up to Odin, a dozen or so Valkyries streaming out of the Door behind her.

“My liege,” she said, placing her fist over her heart, but not kneeling. “Our fears have been confirmed.”

Odin said nothing, only nodded. He put his arm over my shoulder and when I met his eyes I saw something different than I expected. I saw hope. Compassion. And other tender feelings I didn’t dare name.

Fahria shifted her glare from Odin to me. Her fierce expression faded as she too looked at me with expectant hope—like she thought I would do something for her. But I was no savior—I could still feel the cold burning of Soloman’s ring on the finger I no longer had. Proof that I’d never be free of the darkness that was a part of me. I opened my mouth to say so, when Fahria stepped to the side.

Behind her, the Valkyries formed parallel lines, leaving a walkway between me and the Door. And there, stepping out of the rainbow light of the Bifrost, came Michael.

My heart lurched into a new rhythm, my words caught in my throat. Every single cell of my being focused on him. On the way he hung his head. The way he released the hilt of his sword as he swung his arm forward, about to step into a long stride—and the way he looked up and froze.

He saw me.

And I saw him.

And then I was running, flying, diving into his arms.

He caught me into his embrace while laughter, sobs, words of love, all tumbled out at the same time to create a visceral sensation of love.

Between one breath and the next I went from being bereft, to being loved.

Gone was the wheelhouse, the Valkyries, the Gardians, Odin and Heimdall. Gone was the Bridge. There was only us.

I held him with intention. Kissed him with abandon.

I held nothing back and he took it all, giving so much more in return.

Oh my love,
he whispered in my mind over and over again.

I breathed deep the scent I’d been trying to remember for eons—oranges and honey, Lily of the Valley. 

I flooded his mind with my love for him. Filled every part of him with
IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou.

I don’t know how long we stayed in the In Between—the realm between the molecules of space, the home for almosts and maybes between one world and the next—but when we finally returned to the wheelhouse we found ourselves alone but for the Gardians who were stationed there. 

I didn’t question where everyone had gone, just held tightly to Michael’s hand as he led me across the Bridge and through Asgard. I Remembered everything now. Everything that had come before my time in Helheimer, everything about who I was—before and during. The only mystery to me now was who, or rather what, I had Become. Though with my hand in Michael’s, I had begun to hope.