Morgan's Fate

Chapter Four

A shiver ran down Skye’s spine as she settled down in the Tate-Saeters’ spare bedroom. She had a lot to think about. What was real, and what was false? Everything she thought she knew was turned upside down. The only thing that had felt at all normal was her attraction to Morgan, and even that she was questioning.

The Norse gods were real, and they thought that she had something to do with the insanity that was their lives.

She had enough craziness in her life, thank you very much. She didn’t need theirs on top of her own. She’d leave in the morning. She needed to get away from them before they found a way to abuse her gifts, or worse, keep her locked here forever.

They thought she was the future, but all she had was a past, a past none of the people in the other room could possibly understand. Not even the super-luscious Morgan.

Her parents and aunt hadn’t believed her when she’d told them about the dreams. They’d shushed her, told her to hide that part of herself for fear others would think she was insane. They hadn’t listened when she told them that they would die if they drove off that day. She’d been hysterical, inconsolable, only leaving the living room when her mother sent her to her room. She’d run, hidden in her room until they left, ignoring her father’s pleas to say good-bye and her mother’s soft, soothing voice, trying to calm her down.

Her Aunt Maria hadn’t been so forgiving, especially when Skye refused to recant her prediction. She’d told Skye that she was wishing harm on her family and had punished her severely, locking her in her room, denying her anything except trips to the bathroom and the most basic food. Maria had only relented when word came back that her parents had, indeed, died in a car accident.

Her aunt had looked at her differently after that. Things between them had never been the same. Skye had left once she was eighteen and hadn’t looked back. Skye hadn’t spoken to her in years, not since her aunt called her cursed.

Skye wasn’t cursed. She wasn’t some punishment from the gods, or possessed by the devil. She’d done her research when and where she could sneak away for it. With the help of the few friends left to her, she’d discovered the truth.

Skye was psychic. The term for her particular gift was precognition, dreams and visions of the future she couldn’t always control. Like the prophetic words she’d spoken to Frederica Grimm, sometimes things just popped out without conscious thought.

Her friends thought it made for one hell of a party trick.

She glanced toward the wall that separated her from the bedroom of Kir, Jordan and Logan. These people believed her. They had from the moment she’d knocked on Fenris Saeter’s door and told a tale no one should have.

Was it because they were just as crazy as she was?

She rolled over and groaned into her pillow. Great. Now she was comparing her own brand of insanity with theirs. She bet her aunt would love that. Maria Bergen had never once attempted to contact her since Skye had left her home, not even when Skye almost lost her scholarship to Penn State. Her aunt had ignored all the paperwork, sending it back unopened, leaving Skye with one hell of a mess to clean up when she’d been informed of it. She’d had some help from the school counselors and administrators, but it had taken weeks and nearly cost her a semester.

Maria Bergen could rot in hell. Skye had loved her parents, and her aunt, but Maria hadn’t loved her. If she had, she’d never have let Skye go. They were all they had left of their family, all that remained of the Bergens, but that had meant nothing to Maria.

“Is she asleep?”

Skye blinked as that deep voice rolled over her and sent her pulse racing. Morgan hadn’t gone back to his condo after all.

“I think so.” That was Jordan, her smooth voice so much lighter than her stepbrother’s.

“We should have told her the rest before she went to bed.”

Yes, they should have. On that, she and Morgan agreed wholeheartedly.

“Morgan, you know why we didn’t.” Magnus, his voice almost identical to his twin’s, spoke up. There was a roughness to his tone that Morgan didn’t have, an underlying passion that made Skye wary. It would take a stronger person than her to tame Morgan’s twin. “She doesn’t remember anything. The last thing we want to do is frighten her any more than we already have.”

“Are we even certain she’s who we think she is?” Jordan’s tone was skeptical. “I mean, isn’t she supposed to be all-powerful?”

Morgan snorted. “No. She’s just as immortal as the rest of us, but for some reason she believes she’s totally mortal.”

“So you think it’s amnesia, and someone gave her false memories?” Magnus’s tone became thoughtful, far more like his twin’s. “If so, we can’t tell her too much. I remember hearing that with amnesia cases you can actually make things worse if you give them too much information at once. Sort of like, if you wake a sleepwalker, you can accidentally startle them into a heart attack.”

“I thought that was a myth?”

“Are you willing to risk it?”

One of the brothers sighed roughly.

“Look, you two. If we could really damage her by telling her everything at once, then I say we hold back.” Skye stiffened as Jordan talked about keeping Skye ignorant about…whatever they were discussing. So much for trusting the Tate-Saeters. “If we tell her who she really is, I’m afraid she won’t take it well.”

“That’s an understatement.” Morgan’s voice was full of regret. At least one of them didn’t want to keep her in the dark. “We need to fill her in gently, coax her into remembering. The last thing we want to do is cause her any more pain.”

Aw, how sweet. But if he didn’t fill her in, she’d show him what real pain was.

“I agree with Morgan. Whatever caused her to forget who she is couldn’t be good. It would take one hell of a trauma to make one of them lose themselves. Besides, we’ve got more important things to worry about.”

“Like?”

“Like, where’s Mjolnir? It should have come to either Morgan or me.”

“You mean the movies are true?” Jordan’s voice squeaked at the end. “Oh, man, that’s so cool.”

There was silence, and for a second Skye wondered if they’d moved past her door. Then Morgan spoke once more. “We’re not sure how it’s supposed to work. We might have to go to Dad’s and look for it.”

“We could try calling for it.” She could almost hear the shrug in Magnus’s voice. If she were a little bit braver she’d sneak to the door and open it, see if she could watch them. But with her luck she’d be caught, and they’d stop talking. She was still hoping one of them would say something more about her. Why did they think she had amnesia? She remembered her childhood perfectly. Hell, she even had a few childhood scars she could show them.

Something wasn’t adding up. How could she have had a perfectly normal life, yet have a bunch of living myths saying she wasn’t remembering who she was?

“We could, but if it works do you want to explain to Kir why his window is broken? Or to Logan how his protection wards got taken down? Mjolnir may be one of the few things that could punch right through them without even slowing down.” Morgan sounded frustrated. “Logan’s fire magic is pretty damn strong, but not as strong as Mjolnir.”

Magnus, his voice just a hair lighter than his twin’s, sounded more amused than annoyed. “We could blame Jordan. She’s pregnant. She could get away with it.”

There was the twin sounds of flesh on flesh and two masculine voices saying “Ow.” Jordan must have smacked her brothers. “You two should go to Dad’s to look for Mjolnir.”

“No.” Morgan’s instant disagreement was firm. “I won’t leave Skye unprotected.”

The warm fuzzies that filled her at the sound of his determination scared her almost as much as the fact that they were discussing mythology like it was the real deal.

“You seriously think Kir and Logan couldn’t keep her safe?”

The silence that answered was thick with tension. “I know they can, but…” Morgan’s sigh could be heard through the door. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited to be close to her. Now that she’s here, I don’t want her out of my sight. Not even for a moment. The danger she’s in just makes the need to keep her near worse.”

They kept saying that she was in danger, but so far Skye hadn’t seen a hint of it.

“Okay, Morgan.” Magnus was taking his brother’s side. “Then we wait and see if Kir can’t unlock some of Skye’s memories. Maybe if she remembers who she is we’ll finally get some answers about the prophecy.”

What prophecy? Skye shivered again, frightened beyond anything since she’d watched her parents take off in their car for a day trip to the shore. That sixth sense that gave her visions told her exactly what they were speaking about.

They were speaking about Ragnarrok. The end of the world. Suddenly, the danger they were discussing made a macabre sort of sense. If the Old Man she’d seen killing that family thought she could somehow answer the questions of the Tates and Grimms, he’d stop at nothing to kill her.

Skye huddled under her blanket and prayed to whatever god was listening that she was wrong. Because if she wasn’t, things were far more fucked up than she’d ever thought possible.

“I heard you guys last night.”

Morgan, Magnus and Jordan winced. Perhaps she could have been more diplomatic, but damn it, she was tired of being treated like a mushroom. She was stepping out of the dark and demanding they stop feeding her bullshit. “You keep telling me it will all make sense, that you’ll explain everything.” She pinned Morgan down with a glare when he started toward her. “So. Explain. Why is the Old Man coming for me, and why won’t you let me go home?”

Kir and Logan exchanged a grim look before Kir smiled at Skye. “I think we need to sit and talk privately. It will be less confusing than if we try and have everyone explaining everything at once.”

“He’s right. And he’s probably the best one to explain all of this. There were things Magnus and I didn’t see, things only Logan and Kir know that might help with all of this.” Morgan’s expression was full of concern, and something else. Something that sent a wave of heat through her. It wasn’t the first time a man had wanted her, but it felt like no other had ever wanted her quite so badly. “Go with Kir. He’ll answer everything for you.”

“But—”

He placed his finger on her lips, silencing her. “No buts.”

“Not yet, anyway.”

She heard someone smack whoever had spoken, but at this point she didn’t care who it was. She couldn’t take her eyes off of Morgan Grimm. He was giving her a faint, sardonic smile, one that said he knew full well how everything seemed but was going to drag her further into it anyway. “Trust me.”

She blew her bangs out of her eyes. Damn it, she did trust him deep in her gut, but she couldn’t let him know that. It would give him far too much power over her. “I don’t know you.”

“You do. You just don’t remember it.”

She tilted her head and frowned. “I’m pretty sure I would have remembered meeting you.” As hot as he was, she would have more than remembered. She would have had wicked, dirty fantasies for months.

His smile turned sultry, as if he knew exactly what was going through her mind. “Go with Kir. We’ll discuss how memorable I am later.” He helped her to her feet, frowning at her hands and grimacing. She hadn’t realized how badly she was shaking until he brought her attention to them. “It’s all right, Skye. You don’t need to be afraid. No one here will ever harm a hair on your head.”

She looked down, trying to regain control. It was as if she were on the brink of something momentous, but she couldn’t stop. Like being at the top of the roller coaster and just waiting for that long, sharp drop into oblivion. “Everything’s been so strange. First I have one of my visions, one of a man killing an innocent family. Next thing I know, I’ve got tons of new babysitters and I’m not allowed to go to work anymore.”

Morgan held up his hand toward the people at the table. “The same thing happened to Jordan unexpectedly. She didn’t take it all that well, but she understood the need to be safe. You know now what we are, who we are. What Kir will do is help you understand who you are.” He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers.

She rolled her eyes. “I know exactly who I am. I’m Skylar Kincade.” But…not. She blinked as a vision flashed before her eyes.

She stood at Morgan’s side, watching as her lover hurled a war hammer toward an enemy who dodged out of the way. She called a warning to his brother, Magnus, who caught the hammer and threw it again, playing a deadly game of catch that could only end in bloodshed.

“That’s only one of your names.” She blinked as the vision faded, focusing once more on the here and now. “Do you remember anything about your life before you came to live here?”

“Yeah, sure. I was an only child, my parents raised me until I was sixteen. They died in a car accident, and I went to live with an aunt.”

“What were your parents’ names?”

“Elsa and Howard Kincade. My aunt’s name was Maria Bergen.”

“Elsa and Maria Bergen.” Morgan glanced over her shoulder but quickly turned his attention back to her. “Those are Norwegian names.”

She gestured toward her face. “My dad said that, with my face, they should have named me Brunhilde. Mom and Aunt Maria always chased him away when he said that.” Gods, she missed her family. Her parents had adored her, and she them. She’d never once doubted that she was loved by them, despite Aunt Maria’s ultimate rejection.

Behind her, someone choked, but Morgan merely smiled. True, it was a bit strained, but it was still beautiful. It lit his eyes, making them sparkle. “Does the term Jotunheim mean anything to you?”

That name jolted her. It did sound familiar. God, this was getting weirder and weirder. “You called Logan a Jotun, so I’d say it has something to do with him.”

She didn’t understand the confusion in his expression. “No. Actually, Logan comes from Muspelheim, the land of the fire Jotuns. No, the Norns of Fate hail from Jotunheim, a land of frost and rock giants.”

“Norns of Fate.” That was a name that did mean something. As a child, her mother would read the myths of her homeland as bedtime stories, but when Skye was about eight years old, her parents told her she should read to herself. She’d put the mythology aside and started reading books like C.S. Lewis’s The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe, but for some reason the Norns of Fate had stuck out when the other myths had slowly faded away. “Like the Moirai? The three Fates of Greek mythology?”

“Exactly like them, except you’re not a goddess. You’re a Norn.”

She sputtered out a laugh. “Whoa. Back it up there. I’m a Norn?”

He nodded.

“And you’re a god?”

He nodded again. “You’ve got it.”

“I’ve got something, all right.” She tugged on her hands but he didn’t let go. “Which Norn am I supposed to be?”

“Skuld, the Norn of the future.”

Before she could object to something so blatantly ridiculous, Kir stepped beside her and placed his fingers over her mouth. “You spouted prophecy at Frigg when she challenged your right to be at the funeral. Remember what you said?”

Skye tilted her head, and the strange urge to speak came over her once more.

“Then is fulfilled Hlín’s

second sorrow,

when Óðinn goes

to fight with the wolf,

and Beli’s slayer,

bright, against Surtr.

Then shall Frigg’s

sweet friend fall.”

Morgan smiled, looking oddly proud of her. “Do you know what it means?”

She shook her head, terrified. Why wasn’t she saying what she wanted to? It was like some alien force had taken over her body.

Morgan pressed a soft kiss to her lips, startling her. His mouth was soft, yet firm, and he didn’t press his advantage.

She wanted a real taste of him, more than that encouraging peck.

“You’re doing great, sweetheart.” That endearment rocketed through her like a lightning bolt. “You can do this.” He kissed her again, a little more firmly, a little more possessively. She could almost taste him, but he wasn’t giving her what she needed. She parted her lips, inviting him inside.

He took what she offered, taking the kiss and making it his own. His arms tightened around her as he took his time, letting her know exactly who was in charge. She’d given him what he really wanted, and now there was no going back.

When the kiss ended she was dazed, panting and ready to leave the Tate-Saeter home. She wanted to be alone with Morgan, to feel him doing more than devouring her mouth.

She wanted him to devour all of her. She opened her mouth to beg for another kiss— “Then comes the high

Sigfathers son,

Vidar, and shall

the wolf war give.

In Kvedrung’s son

his sword pierced

to the heart;

avenged was his father.”

Skye shook so hard her teeth started to chatter. “What’s happening to me?”

Morgan’s determined expression didn’t waver. “You’re speaking prophecy.”

“What?” She’d had prophetic dreams and the occasional vision, but she’d never starting speaking in poetry.

Not until she’d met the Tate-Saeters.

It was these people. It had to be. They were doing this to her somehow, forcing her gift to speak through her instead of her speaking about her gift. It was the only thing that made any sense. “Morgan.” She didn’t know why, but he was the only one who could make all this stop. “Please.”

He kissed her again, and she could feel her power respond to him. Why him? “I can’t. You’re beginning to wake up. Everything you thought you knew, every part of your mortal life, was imposed upon your memory. None of it was real.”

She shook her head and began struggling against Morgan’s hold. “I don’t want to understand. I want to be me.” It made no sense, but the fear that she was about to lose everything she’d ever known gripped her so tightly she could barely breathe. She looked up at Morgan, aware of how desperate she must look. “Please, Morgan.” Something terrible would happen if this continued, she just knew it.

He pulled her close, cradling her head against his chest, his hold on her both soothing and proving once and for all that she was no longer in control of her destiny. “I’m so sorry, elskede.” He nipped her earlobe, sending tremors through her. “Remember, Skuld. Remember who you are.” He nipped harder, and she gasped. The sensation was far more pleasurable than she’d expected. “Remember me.”

Skye closed her eyes and sobbed as visions flooded over her. She was forced by something beyond herself to speak.

“High blows Heimdallr, the horn is aloft;

Odin communes with Mimir’s head;

Trembles Yggdrasill’s towering Ash;

The old tree wails when the Ettin is loosed.

What of the Aesir? What of the Elf-folk?

All Jötunheim echoes, the Aesir are at council;

The dwarves are groaning before their stone doors,

Wise in rock-walls; wit ye yet, or what?

Hrymr sails from the east, the sea floods onward;

The monstrous Beast twists in mighty wrath;

The Snake beats the waves, the Eagle is screaming;

The gold-neb tears corpses, Naglfar is loosed.

From the east sails the keel; come now Múspell’s folk

Over the sea-waves, and Loki steereth;

There are the warlocks all with the Wolf,

With them is the brother of Býleistr faring.

Surtr fares from southward with switch-eating flame;

On his sword shimmers the sun of the war-gods;

The rocks are falling, and fiends are reeling,

Heroes tread Hel-way, heaven is cloven.

Then to the Goddess a second grief cometh,

When Odin fares to fight with the Wolf,

And Beli’s slayer, the bright god, with Surtr;

There must fall Frigg’s beloved.

Odin’s son goeth to strife with the Wolf,

Vídarr, speeding to meet the slaughter-beast;

The sword in his hand to the heart he thrusteth

Of the fiend’s offspring; avenged is his Father.

Now goeth Hlödyn’s glorious son

Not in flight from the Serpent, of fear unheeding;

All the earth’s offspring must empty the homesteads,

When furiously smiteth Midgard’s defender.

The sun shall be darkened, earth sinks in the sea,—

Glide from the heaven the glittering stars;

Smoke-reek rages and reddening fire:

The high heat licks against heaven itself.”

Skye lifted her tearstained face from Morgan’s shoulder. Kir, whom she remembered as Baldur, looked sympathetic, the bright god’s inner self far more beautiful than his outer. Logan—or Loki—held Baldur’s hand, their fingers twined tight as Jordan snuggled between them. Vali the Avenger nodded once as Tyr, known as Travis, smiled.

And the twins. Magni’s expression was grim, but it was Modi who held her attention, promised to make everything all right again. “I remember. May the gods help me.” Because everything she’d ever believed about herself had been a lie.