Morgan's Fate

Chapter Three

Morgan sat at his stepsister’s dining table and stared at Skye. He burned every time he was near her. He hadn’t been able to leave her side, even at his own father’s funeral.

How fucked up was that? He bet Frederica would be cackling over her cauldron right now if she knew.

“Thinking about bedding your Fate?”

Morgan resisted the urge to punch his twin. “Shut up.” He managed to drag his eyes away from Skye long enough to shoot Magnus a dirty look. “I’m just fascinated by her face.”

“And her cleavage.”

“Ye—what were you doing looking?”

Magnus chuckled. “Why not stamp mine across her forehead?”

“Or her cleavage?” Morgan’s frown turned into a scowl as his brother laughed harder. “You are such an asshole.”

“Yeah, but I’m an asshole staring at a pair of truly magnificent—ow.” Magnus rubbed his shin and glared at Jamie, who was seated across from him. “What?”

She glared at him for a second before Travis got her attention by nodding toward Skye. “Sweetheart, I think she’s ready.”

Whatever reply Jamie gave her fiancé was lost as Morgan’s attention was once more captured by Skye. The Norn cleared her throat as she rapped against her glass with her fork. “I’m sorry, but I can’t stand it anymore. Could someone please explain to me what’s going on?” She stared at each of them in turn. “Fred Grimm couldn’t be your dad. He’s too damn young! And the crazy lady is a grandmother? And why can’t I go home?”

Silence greeted her shouted question, but then Kir sighed and also stood. “What do you know about Norse mythology?”

“Oh, here we go,” Jordan muttered.

“It worked on you, didn’t it?” Logan kissed her cheek as she grumbled into her Sprite.

“What bit of Norse mythology?” Skye was watching them all like she’d stepped into a loony bin and all the loonies were loose and having a tea party with the white rabbit.

“I’d start with the bit where Loki was directly responsible for the death of Baldur.” Logan winked at Kir, who smiled back.

“Plan A-1, here we go.” Jordan chugged the Sprite and ended up choking on the bubbles.

Skye inched toward Morgan, making him insanely happy. It was as if she expected he’d protect her from the insanity going on around her.

If only she knew the truth. He was just as crazy as the rest of them.

“I’ve heard of Baldur and Loki. I think I remember the myth. Hodr was tricked into killing Baldur with an arrow made of mistletoe, right? The one thing that could kill Baldur, like he had a massive allergy or something. Then Odin got it on with his mistress and created a child that killed Hodr in retaliation.” She frowned and rubbed her temples. “I don’t remember the rest.”

“The myth is a giant lie.” Kir grinned at Logan, but there was pain in his expression too. Now that Morgan knew the sacrifice Logan had made for Kir, he understood that pain all too well. “Most of it anyway.”

“Uh. Okay.” Skye scooted closer to Morgan. When she was within reach, he tugged her down beside him.

“Think about this. Baldur was invulnerable to all substances, save mistletoe, which was, at the time, too young a plant to give its word not to harm him. Loki supposedly discovered this, handed the blind god Hodr a dart or arrow tipped in mistletoe, and guided his hand. Baldur died as the mistletoe pierced his heart. Loki fled as the gods killed Hodr for Baldur’s death. Hel claimed she was willing to release Baldur back into the world if every living being cried, mourning him. But the gods found one holdout, a witch named Pokk, who was supposedly Loki in disguise. Pokk refused to weep. Hel held Baldur in her grasp and refused to let him go. When the gods realized they’d been tricked, they returned to the cave, determined to exact revenge. Pokk fled into the back of the cave, turned into a raven, and flew off into the night. Eventually the gods tracked Loki down, tied him to a mountain with the entrails of his own son, there to writhe in torment until Ragnarrok.” Kir grimaced. “The goddess Nanna, on hearing of Baldur’s death and the failure of the gods to bring him back to life, committed suicide.”

The familiar lie, spoken by the same man who was supposed to have died that day, had everyone’s attention. Even Jeff was sitting still, watching raptly as Kir spoke.

Kir fingered his necklace. Gungnir, the Godspear, was shrunk down to the pendant Kir never went without. It glowed at his touch, once more acknowledging that he, not Grimm, was now the leader of the gods. “If you’re familiar with Loki then you’re familiar with his ability to shift shape.”

“I know Loki gave birth as a horse, so yeah.” Poor Skye looked so confused.

They all ignored Logan’s pained grimace. All except Jordan, who rubbed his arm. Logan was devoted to his children. All of them, even the ones Grimm had destroyed in his effort to get to Loki. The fact that he’d been separated from them for so long pained him deeply. It was one of the reasons he was so overprotective where it came to Jordan and her pregnancy. Logan would allow no harm to come to the woman he and Kir had claimed as their own.

Morgan couldn’t be happier about it despite their rocky start. “Did you know that the only form Loki can’t shift into is a bird?”

Skye looked thoughtful. “No, I didn’t know—can’t?”

“Caught that, did you?” Jordan held out her glass for more soda, and Logan obliged. “He had to borrow Freya’s cloak to do it. So if Loki couldn’t turn into a bird without Freya’s cloak, how did he, as Pokk, turn into a raven in the back of the cavern and fly away from the gods?”

“I have no idea, but I’m certain you’re going to tell me.” Skye was looking more and more confused.

Morgan couldn’t help it. He stroked Skye’s arm, gaining her attention. “It will all make sense soon, I promise. Just…listen, and keep your mind open. All right?”

She sighed. “All right, but you understand this all sounds nuts.”

“We know, and I’m sorry about that.” He’d dearly love to find out why she didn’t seem to know any of this. Hell, she’d lived through most, if not all, of it. The myths should have started bringing back her memories, but her confusion told him otherwise.

“Skye?” Kir had taken hold of Jordan’s outstretched hand. “Whose bird is the raven?”

“The All-Father.” Skye blinked, a frown crossing her face. “You’re saying Odin framed Loki.”

“Yes. Odin is a shape shifter too, and he’s called the Father of Lies.”

Skye tilted her head, her gaze narrowing on him. “Is?”

“Is.” Kir tugged, and Gungnir came loose in his hand. “I am Baldur.” The spear grew, the tip burning brightly. Instead of the intense blue it had burned for Odin, Kir’s love for Logan and Jordan caused it to burn bright red, like flame.

“And I’m Loki.” Logan grinned cheekily at Skye and waved his hand. “Hi.”

“And I’m the Tooth Fairy.” Skye stood. “Also, I’m outie.” She started to head for the door. “Y’all are nuts.”

Kir laughed. “Maybe, but we can prove it, you know.”

Logan grimaced. “Time for Plan A-1?”

Jordan laughed, her expression fond. “No one is ever ready for Plan A-1, Logan.”

“You certainly weren’t.” Logan’s answering wink was wicked.

Skye turned and glared at Kir. “You can prove he’s a fire giant and you’re an invulnerable god?”

“Yup.”

“Just because you grab your spear and make it grow—”

“Hey, now.” Jordan stood and wagged her finger. “I like his spear.”

Logan’s grin turned wicked. “I’m rather fond of it myself.”

“Can we not discuss Kir’s spear?” Magnus shuddered. “I still have nightmares about that elevator ride.”

Kir sighed and grabbed the bridge of his nose. “Children.”

While Logan, Magnus and Jordan were playing around, Skye had backed toward the front door. Morgan jumped up and blocked her exit, holding out his hands when she tried to move past him. “Wait. Hear the rest of it.”

She glared up at him. “Let me go, Mr. Grimm.”

Ouch. She was pissed. “Please.”

She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Fine. But only because you asked nicely.” She rolled her eyes and turned back to the table. “Even if you are…all… Holy shit.”

Morgan glanced over to the table to see what had her all pale and wide-eyed. “Oh. That. Yeah, he does that sometimes.”

“Morgan.”

“Hmm?”

“He’s made of fire.”

“Uh-huh.”

“He’s not screaming in agony.”

“No, of course not. Why would he?”

“He’s eating pancakes.”

Morgan shrugged. “He’s hungry.” She stared up at him. “What? It’s been a long day.”

She sat down abruptly. Unfortunate, the Tate-Saeters didn’t have chairs by their front door, so Skye wound up on the floor, bouncing a little as her ass made contact with the maple. “What is he?”

“Logan is Loki, a pure-born fire Jotun who became blood brothers with Odin after saving his sorry ass, something I’m sure he still regrets.”

“Nah,” the man of fire responded. “If I hadn’t I wouldn’t have become immortal and I wouldn’t have Kir and Jordan.”

Kir smiled at Loki, but Morgan noticed he didn’t take his lover’s hand. Kir might be invulnerable, but he could still feel heat. Everyone else had backed away from the burning man.

Morgan pointed to Kir. “Kir is Baldur, son of Odin and brother of Thor. And my uncle.”

“Ah. Okay.” Skye put her head between her knees. “I think I’m going to puke.”

He knelt at her side and began rubbing her back. She felt good beneath his palm, even trembling with fear. “Believe us now?”

She looked so lost it almost broke his heart. “Where do I fit into all of this?”

Morgan took hold of both her hands and held on tight. “You’re the only one who can explain our future.”

“Where do you think you are going?”

Oliver Grimm reined in Sleipnir as the deep, familiar voice rolled over him. His shoulders tightened, expecting the worst. After all, the man asking the question had given him nothing but trouble since Baldur took up the Godspear. Rina, sensing his agitation, pulled her blade.

He had no desire to face the Guardian. Not now, and certainly not here, on the Bifrost Bridge. Here, Heimdall was the stronger of them and could easily refuse Grimm passage. Grimm would be forced to obey or be tossed from the bridge, his plans abandoned.

And that just wouldn’t do.

As it was, he’d have to arrange for something to befall the Guardian before too much longer. He couldn’t risk Heimdall blowing his horn, signaling the true beginning of Ragnarrok. If Heimdall took it into his head that Odin’s reign was over…

He gritted his teeth. Technically, his reign over the Aesir and the Vanir was already over. His bastard of a son, Baldur, now held Gungnir, giving him supremacy over all the other gods. With Loki and Tyr whispering in Baldur’s ear, egging him on, it was only a matter of time before the younger gods that followed Baldur turned on Grimm once and for all.

But that was an issue for another day. Today, he was off to see some very important ladies, and he couldn’t afford to be late. “I’m going to Yggdrasil.”

The sense of tension in the air increased as Heimdall studied him with a cold, impartial gaze. “You’re going to see the Norns.”

Grimm nodded. This was where Heimdall could fuck up his plans. Grimm would have to be honest. Lying to the Guardian now wasn’t an option. Heimdall would sense it, and it would all be over. “Yes.”

He waited in silence, knowing this was it. If Heimdall kicked him out, Grimm would have to go with the next plan. Skuld would still die, but it would be far messier than he’d like. Getting to her now that she was behind Loki’s fucking wards would be near impossible. He’d have to wait, bide his time, and pray that she didn’t give them the information that they sought. If she did, they would finally have the information they needed to see to it that Odin’s life ended.

He wouldn’t allow it. He couldn’t afford to let them discover the true destiny of the gods.

“You may pass.”

He didn’t allow the relief he felt to bend him. He sat straight and tall, as befitted the true ruler of the gods. He nodded regally. Even if he couldn’t see the Guardian, the courtesy was ingrained. Even he was afraid of the man that would someday kill Loki. “Thank you, Guardian.”

“Do not thank me, Odin. I know why you go to see the Norns, and I know what your plans are. Remember this, Father of Lies. It will be what it was meant to be.”

“Not if I can help it, Guardian.” Odin kicked Sleipnir viciously, setting the horse galloping across the bridge toward Yggdrasil, and answers. Sleipnir whinnied in protest, but what could the dumb beast do but obey? It was a pity the rest of the Aesir and Vanir weren’t as obedient as his steed. None of this would have happened otherwise.

Damn the Norns, and damn their prophecy to hell. If they hadn’t come forth from Jotunheim, he would have been the ruler of the gods for eternity, a golden age that all the gods had adored. They’d had gold aplenty, food enough to make even Thor satisfied, and women, ah women, soft and pliant and ripe for the picking.

But, no. The Norns had to come forth from Jotunheim, taken one look at the World Tree and declared that mortals deserved more than what the gods had given them.

How dare they place themselves above gods and men? They were nothing more than Jotuns, giantesses, no better than Loki. Yet they dared to spin the destiny of men and gods, for good or ill, sending their acolytes out to perform the tasks allotted to them. To some, like Baldur, they gave good fortune, determining that he would one day rule over a golden age he hadn’t earned. To others, like Odin, they gave nothing but strife, grief and blood.

The Norns had come from nothing, yet they held his fate in their grasp. The only time he’d ever felt free had been when Fenris had been unable to kill him. That shining moment had lasted for two whole days.

Then he’d remembered. There was more than one wolf in the world. Rina had scurried fast, efficient as always, readying for their trip to Yggdrasil and the answers both sides now sought.

He should have killed them long ago, before prophecy had spilled from pretty Skuld’s pink lips. He would have, had it not been for the tie they’d somehow established with Yggdrasil. To destroy them would be to destroy the World Tree and everything associated with it. Odin would die, and everything he’d striven for would be for naught. The only attractive point of the idea was that all the others would die along with him. Jotun, Lios Alfar, Dökk Alfar, all would be stricken by the falling world branches, screaming into the night as their lives were snuffed out like a child’s birthday candles.

If it came to it, if he absolutely could not win, Grimm was willing to chop the damn tree down himself. It would be worth it just to watch Tyr burn for stealing Gungnir from him and giving it to Baldur.

Sleipnir whinnied again, the sound so loud it shook the bridge. Grimm grinned as Sleipnir took them over it faster than any could possibly hope to. None had ever been able to match his steed for speed. The day he’d persuaded Loki to give him the foal had been a hell of a triumph in more ways than one. The foal had proven to be swift, loyal…and utterly animal.

And horses loved to nibble at apples, ensuring Sleipnir’s loyalties would forever be to Odin.

He grimaced as Sleipnir’s hooves finally struck the sand and dirt that surrounded the World Tree. He hadn’t been able to give Sleipnir his favorite treat since Baldur received Gungnir. While Heimdall was allowing Odin over the Bifrost to speak to the Norns, he’d denied him access when he’d tried to go see Idunn to take more apples, proving once more that he truly did rule the Bifrost Bridge with an iron fist.

Heimdall was meant to destroy Loki during Ragnarrok. If he had to die, Grimm hoped he lived at least long enough to see that.

Sleipnir picked his way carefully over the loose sand and soil. They’d traveled this way many times before. The horse knew the route almost as well as he knew the way to Odin’s favorite home, Valaskjálf, where the high seat, the magical throne Hlidskjalf, rested. From there, Odin had been able to see the entire world, granting him almost the same gifts Heimdall had. But Odin couldn’t sit on the magic throne often, so, unlike Heimdall, there were things he missed.

Important things like Loki taking Baldur’s place, so that Baldur lived through the death Odin had planned for him. Things like Tyr falling in love with Grimm’s granddaughter, Jamie, and handing over Gungnir to the one person who could stop Odin in his tracks, even if he didn’t realize it yet.

Things like Fenris getting free of his chains.

Grimm shuddered as they traveled across the roots of Yggdrasil. That had given him a nasty turn, knowing the wolf destined to kill him was free. But Fenris had been unable to harm him. Grimm had already won.

Now all he had to do was ensure his victory by keeping Baldur and Loki from discovering any more of the truth than they already had.

“Hail, Odin, All-Father. The Norns greet you.”

Grimm reined in Sleipnir and bowed low. As much as he hated the triple bitches, it wouldn’t do to show it. “Hail, Urdr. How dost thou fare this day?” It always paid to butter up Urdr by speaking in her chosen tone. The Norn appreciated it, and was far more likely to give him the information he sought without a word battle that could take days.

“I fare well, All-Father, thank you. And you?”

Grimm gritted his teeth. He’d have to endure the pleasantries to get to the root of the problem. No pun intended. “I am well, great Urdr.”

“Then come, Odin. Join us in our repast.” The redhead smiled at him and gestured for him to dismount. “Your companions are welcome to join us as well, for what we have to say may impact them as well.”

Grimm dismounted, helping Rina off Sleipnir. “I fail to see how my horse will affect the outcome of fate, dear Urdr.”

Urdr lifted her hand to hide her smile. “Indeed, Odin. Indeed.” She bowed them beyond the curtain that led to where she and her sisters made their home by the well Urdarbrunnr, the Well of Fate. It was from there the Norns took the water they poured over the roots of Yggdrasil, keeping the World Tree green and healthy.

He’d once toyed with the idea of poisoning the well, but the knowledge of what would happen should he do so had stopped him. He shivered hard. Nothing, not even his impending death, could get him to tamper with Urdarbrunnr. The fallout would be far too great. If Grimm fell in battle with Fenris, at least he would still exist in Valhalla. Some part of him would continue for eternity.

But if he poisoned Urdarbrunnr…

Well. Best not to think on that.

Urdr led them to the base of the tree, where Verdandi sat spinning. “Sister, the All-Father is here.”

Verdandi looked up with an expectant smile. “Odin, Rindr. Nice to see you again.” She glanced behind them and frowned at Urdr. “Where’s Sleipnir?”

Urdr’s welcoming smile faded. “He bides beyond the veil to our home, sister.”

“Oh.” Verdandi shrugged. “His loss.”

“Indeed.” Urdr sat beside her sister and adjusted her skirts. She held out a cup to Rina. “Tea, dear Rindr?”

“Thank you, Urdr.” Rina was charming Urdr the same way she did everyone else. What would have been different had he met her first? Damn Frigg and her ways. Baldur would have been Rina’s child, and the prophecy would have been completely different.

“Tea, Odin?”

Why not? It had been a long trip from Midgard to here. “Thank you, Urdr, you’re too kind.”

“What brings you to us, great Odin? What is it you seek?”

He saw no reason to beat around the bush. They would already know why he was there. “Skuld, of course.”

Verdandi muttered under her breath as Urdr scowled. “Of course. As soon as she was found, we became aware of her presence in the world.”

“Which is not what we told those idiot sons of Thor when they got here.” Verdandi snickered. “You should have seen the looks on their faces.” She batted her lashes at Odin. “Oh, whatever shall we do? The future is missing. We’re doomed.” She placed the back of her hand against her forehead, sagging dramatically before breaking out into giggles.

Odin blinked, startled. “Magni and Modi were here?” If Magnus and Morgan had come here, then the others knew the prophecy had been interpreted wrongly.

No wonder they were holding so tightly to Skuld. The woman hadn’t done any of the usual things she’d done since falling to Midgard, or she would already be his.

“Yes, they were.” Urdr sniffed disdainfully. “Great brutes they are, who seek to take Thor’s place. As if any could.” Verdandi nodded, straightening up and returning to her spinning. “The twin sons of Thor may be fated to wield Mjolnir, but they will never live up to their father’s greatness.”

Grimm nodded sadly, even though he disagreed. Thor had been one disappointment after another, but he could hardly say so to two of his greatest admirers. “I know, and I regret that my blow was the one that took him from us.”

Urdr patted his hand. “It is what it was meant to be, All-Father. Of that, we are certain.”

“What did Magni and Modi ask you, great Urdr?”

Urdr shrugged. “They wished to know the prophecy, great Odin.”

Shit. Just what he didn’t want to hear. “And you sent them away with their wish unfulfilled.”

“Indeed.” Urdr handed Rina a plate of tea cakes. “But we know why you are here. You wish to know why Skuld has lost her memories.”

Verdandi snorted. “Of course he does, because he’s not stupid.”

Urdr scowled at her sister before smiling once more at Grimm. “Skuld sought to change that which will be, and in doing so angered the one who placed us in guardianship over the Well of Fate. Her punishment was to lose that which she most treasured.”

“And that would be?” Odin bit into a surprisingly tasty cake. “This is good.”

“Thanks. I got the recipe off of Martha Stewart’s website.”

“Sister, please.”

Verdandi rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine. Keep thee-ing and thou-ing them to death, I have a life to spin. Pain in my ass.”

“Skuld lost her future.”

Odin choked on the sweet treat. “What?”

Urdr nodded. “She lost that which made her what she is. In tampering with fate, she was lost to it herself.”

“She’s mortal? For real?” Oh, that would be sweet, poetic justice. Odin was certain he knew exactly which prophecy she’d tampered with. The knowledge that she was paying for such a gross abuse of power was sweeter than the cake on his tongue.

“No, not mortal. But…lessened. She shall never again sit beneath the branches of Yggdrasil and sip the cool waters of the well. She has changed her fate by tampering with yours, and the price she pays now is greater than you could possibly imagine.”

Above them, Yggdrasil trembled.

Grimm eyed the swaying of the World Tree’s branches with some misgiving. It was a sign of Ragnarrok that the tree itself moved. “So Tyr can’t find out the true prophecy?” Of course, neither could Grimm, but that was beside the point.

“He can, if she remembers who and what she once was.” Verdandi looked at the life thread she’d spun and frowned. She picked up a pair of shears and snipped the thread, ending the life, a job that had once belonged to Skuld. “If that happens, she’ll be able to interpret the prophecy for them, or at least most of it.” She glanced up at him from under her lashes. “If that happens, they’ll know everything you do.”

Grimm growled. “Then she must die.”

Rina laid her hand on his arm, stilling him. “Why did you want Sleipnir here?”

Good question. They’d been rather upset not to see his horse. “Yes, why?”

“Because what was lost shall once again be found, and when it is, the next step of the prophecy will be fulfilled.”

“And Sleipnir is tied to this somehow?”

Urdr giggled behind her hand. “Intimately.”

“Really?” He’d have to keep a closer eye on his horse. The beast was smarter than most, but had none of the shape-shifting abilities that Loki’s other children had. And he wasn’t spoken of at all in Ragnarrok, while both Jörmungandr and Fenris, his half-brothers, were. “Now, isn’t that interesting.”

Sleipnir would be watched. If the last of Loki’s children was going to betray him, then Odin would find a way to do without his services. Permanently.

“How will he be tied to the prophecy?” Rina, bless her heart, had kept her head, asking the question he should have.

“The Guardian shall slay the Trickster.” Urdr ignored Verdandi’s scowl.

Grimm couldn’t contain his glee, not that he wanted to. “Oh, one of my favorite parts of the prophecy.”

Urdr giggled. “Indeed. And it shall be his own doing.”

Even better. Loki would die soon, and Grimm wouldn’t have to lift a finger to achieve it.