Wrath of Aten Read online

  Is he even alive? Lorenzo had murdered him, albeit under Malachi’s Enthralment, before his resurrection as Hel’s soldier. I hoped the fact that he hadn’t exploded into dust, like the rest of Loki’s undead army, meant Menelaus was okay.

  Just before we had left for Norway, Julian sent a parcel containing all my mother’s diaries that he’d stolen after her death. I still didn’t have an explanation as to why he stole them in the first place, but it was something. Maybe I could use his connection to the diaries to track him down.

  My coven had vanished too – I couldn’t blame them for that after I’d trapped Penny in the cursed mirror. Maybe they’d fled back to Tuscany with Michele. Whatever they’d done, I was still their leader. I was responsible for them. I was responsible for everyone.

  ‘What a strange evening, Gatekeeper.’

  I pushed the wet curls out of my eyes and saw Raphael at my shoulder. The rain appeared to run off his hair and skin without getting it wet. ‘I don’t like seeing those cuts on your face,’ I said, noting that they were silvered now. ‘I thought nothing could hurt you?’

  He hooked his little finger around mine and lifted his marred face to the rain. ‘I love being high up,’ he breathed, ‘letting Jörð carry me in her currents. The earth may seem mighty and endless, but she is a delicate system. Fragile even, when the right pressure is applied.’ He pressed his fingertips into my chest. ‘As is the human heart. I truly grieve for you, Clemensen. Espen was a good man. He may not have always behaved how I would’ve liked, but his intentions were always pure, especially when it came to you.’

  I nodded slowly. ‘If Akhenaten got through the wards once, he’ll find a way to do it again. We can’t stay in Hellingstead like sitting ducks. I have no family left here, but Lorenzo and Ava do. We need a plan, Raphael.’

  ‘I agree.’ Lorenzo arrived at my other shoulder. ‘I can take us back to Alfheim. I’d feel a lot safer surrounded by a bunch of immortal Elves.’ He reached round my back and grabbed Raphael, pulling him into his arms. ‘What do you say, me’luvver, fancy meeting my mum?’

  Raphael squealed and I couldn’t help but crack a small smile. ‘Yes!’

  I have that too, I thought, with Ava. Don’t I? ‘First, let’s see if I can heal your scars,’ I said.

  3

  Time To Go

  ‘Mum, you’re going to have to trust me on this one.’

  Lolita crossed her arms over her diminutive frame and held her chin up high. Defiant as always.

  ‘Ava, what have you dragged yourself into? A few weeks ago, you were focused on building your life and singing career. Now you want to give that all up and flee to another realm for the sake of some man?’

  Unhelpfully, Theo piped up from the kitchen table. ‘Gatekeeper of the Lífkelda actually. Odin, that feels good to say aloud.’ He’d devoured half the contents of the fruit bowl in the five minutes they’d been back at her mum’s cottage.

  Ava squared up to Lolita. ‘Mum, it’s not as simple as that. I promise, come literal Hel or an Egyptian plague, I’ll never give up on my dreams. You accuse me of ignoring my true self for Theo but it’s the opposite. I’m finally free to inhabit the side of myself I’ve hidden from the world my whole life. And I’m going to use that gift to stop the world crumbling to dust. Theo?’

  ‘You don’t need me to back you up, Ava,’ he said. ‘I might be the Gatekeeper, but there’s no way I can win a fight with Mamma Bear.’

  ‘The boy sees sense at last.’ Lolita almost cracked a smile. Time to capitalise on her chance.

  ‘You saw the carnage. You saw Loki’s army and the Golden Knives. Akhenaten knows who Theo is now, and whatever he wants isn’t good. He was prepared to let his own men die so he could break into Hellingstead Hall and…’ Theo was frantically shaking his head and making slicing signs against his throat. ‘It doesn’t matter. What matters is that he won’t hesitate to come for the people we love. You may not want to leave, Mum, but he can use you as leverage against me.’

  Lolita groaned. ‘What about Tina?’

  Ava glanced to the dog basket where her Westie was sleeping peacefully despite the rain. ‘She can come too.’

  ‘And Grace?’

  Theo interjected. ‘Belle and Isis have taken over the Praetoriani for now. They have people on the ground to watch over Grace and Stuart. First hint of trouble and they’ll whisk them away through the tunnels.’

  ‘Yes, Mum,’ Ava said, ‘there are so many secret passages under Hellingstead, the whole town is likely to turn into a giant sinkhole at any moment.’

  Lolita scoffed. ‘And how do we get to Alfheim anyway? Through some magic portal?’

  ‘Yes, that’s exactly it,’ Ava said.

  Theo chucked a banana skin in the food recycling. He walked over and placed his hand on her hip. ‘But we need to pick up the shoeboxes of rubies and diamonds hidden in Ava’s wardrobe first. As we’re bringing humans to Alfheim, we need to bribe us some Elves.’

  Lorenzo couldn’t quite believe it. For the first time since he’d moved out, he was knocking on his mum’s front door, Raphael attempting to hide behind his back. He’d rehearsed it in his head, but he still couldn’t figure out how to say, ‘Hi Mum, I’m a vampire now, this is my boyfriend – yeah, that’s new too – and he’s more of a sprite than a human, and there’s some evil, ancient being trying to destroy the world. Let’s go to the land of the Elves and hope they know what to do.’

  He braced as he heard her heartbeat approaching the door. He considered bolting, but one look at Raphael’s innocent, hopeful smile held him in place.

  ‘Zozo?’

  ‘Hi, Mum, can we come in?’

  ‘You don’t need permission to come inside your family home, Zozo,’ she said in her warm, Italian accent.

  He hugged her, overwhelmed suddenly by all he had done, the guilt he carried about Menelaus and failing Raphael, and simply because he had missed her liquorice-sweet voice and ever-gentle mothering. ‘I love you so much, Mum.’ He pulled away, her dark features warring between joy and worry. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll explain everything. This is Raphael – he’s my boyfriend.’

  Rihanna peeked around his shoulder and frowned at the strange wisp on the doorstep, currently invisible from the waist down. Lorenzo made a strangled sound and Raphael melted away until only his amethyst eyes glowed in the air. ‘Raphael,’ he hissed, ‘What are you trying to do me ’ere?’

  His mum fainted into his arms. Lorenzo sighed and kissed her on the forehead. ‘I think it’ll be quicker if I just Enthral her and explain when we get to Alfheim.’

  Raphael faded back into view. ‘I’m sorry, I’m so nervous. Yes, that’s probably a good idea.’

  4

  Dining in Hel

  Odin’s blessed son – the beautiful one,

  Slaughtered in envy but praised in song.

  For slaying this light,

  Dear Father Chaos endures his plight,

  Roaming the sunless Halls of Nastrond.

  —Hel’s Lament: Stanza One

  ‘I wouldn’t lean too far over if I were you.’

  Menelaus grimaced at the sight of the bodies floating in the river, and decided it was best to heed Persephone’s warning. Out of everyone he’d met in the last few days – if you could call them days – she was the least homicidal. Her evident insanity somehow transported her mind above the petty malevolence of Hel and the fiery rage of Loki. Not that he’d seen much of that bastard since he’d been dragged down here.

  ‘Here, drink this.’ Persephone tiptoed across the pontoon, humming under her breath. She presented him with a goblet of something red which was definitely not wine.

  ‘Whose blood is this?’ he asked.

  She shrugged and gestured at the river of corpses floating below their unsteady platform. ‘It’s fresh, dhampir.’

  ‘Wonderful,’ he said. And, well, he was hungry. ‘I’m confused,’ he said as she took her seat and tucked into a plate filled with rotten food. ‘I’m dead bu
t I’m alive. How the heck does that work?’

  ‘It is odd, isn’t it?’ she said between mouthfuls. The stench made him want to retch but he kept up a careful smile. You wanted to tread lightly with this delicate flower. ‘Your human half did perish after Lorenzo’s betrayal – the poor dear, he was furious on his brief sojourn down here. You wouldn’t know how he escaped, would you? Hel’s so possessive about her secrets.’

  ‘It wasn’t Hel,’ he said, sipping the blood. A wave of bliss rolled down his muscles.

  Persephone dropped her fork. ‘Oh yes, of course. Life’s Fire. The one you call Theo.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘For goodness sake, it seems everyone can escape this infernal place except me. And the food is just terrible. I used to dine on the finest dishes—’

  ‘You were saying that my human half died…’

  ‘Then Loki and Hel resurrected you. But the Dark Elf in you was in a kind of stasis, like a caterpillar in a cocoon.’

  ‘So one half of me is a zombie, and the other half is a blood-crazed cursed Elf?’

  Persephone grinned. ‘Exactly!’

  Menelaus groaned.

  ‘Oh, you are not pleased by this news?’ He shook his head. ‘It could be worse, you tasty morsel.’ She thumbed the river behind her shoulder. ‘It could be your blood in that goblet.’

  ‘And my corpse in the river.’

  ‘Oh, my dear. They aren’t actual bodies. No! How disgusting! They’re the souls Hades likes to toy with. The wrongdoers.’

  ‘Uh-huh. What did that one do?’ He pointed at the closest twisted cadaver. She was right; when he looked closer, he could see the changing facial expressions.

  Persephone paused, thoughtful. ‘Upon my last jaunt to Midgard, he tried to seduce me.’ She winked at Menelaus. ‘Hades is a jealous little demon when he wishes. Consider yourself warned. Luring me out here to dinner, alone.’

  ‘I didn’t!’

  She laughed. ‘And who will my husband believe? No, you’re my little plaything now, dhampir.’

  Above pretty malevolence? What was he thinking? Everyone in Hel was about as benevolent as a box of nails.

  Persephone eventually let him go. Not that he felt any safer on dry land. He took a moment to absorb the exact textures and juts of the rocky outcrop here, the angle of the ground and the direction it sloped in – anything that could build up his internal map. If he was ever going to escape, he needed to utilise his first opportunity. Running straight into a wall was not an option. The Praetoriani may have turned out to be as rotten as Persephone’s dinner, but it had given him a good dose of survival training.

  ‘What river is that?’ he said as Persephone turned to leave him. ‘There’s five, right?’

  ‘The Acheron.’

  Come on, Laus. You’re a philosophy professor. Socrates talked about the Isles of the Blessed… Philosophy often crossed over with the classics, so the information was buried in his brain somewhere. The Acheron. ‘River of Sorrow,’ he said.

  ‘That’s the one. I must pop off now, my sweet morsel.’ She floated into the air and flew across the endless, gloomy cavern without so much as a backwards glance.

  He started picking his way over the landscape, back towards the catacombs, where some of the other unfortunates of Loki’s army had congregated. Those lot were dead as doornails, and because of the scraping of life left in his bones, they had assumed him Acting Captain while Loki was absent. Or swimming in a lake of fire. It was hard to tell what was going on from one moment to the next.

  Menelaus used the enormous mountain in the distance to orientate his senses, wondering if hiking up that monstrosity would show him how to escape. He arrived at the door to the catacombs and took the slope into its depths, avoiding the pile of bones lining the beds on each side. Were they real, or an illusion designed to freak out the souls of the doomed?

  ‘Sir, you have returned! Did the Lady hint when we’d be admitted to the Chambers of Judgement?’

  Menelaus unhooked one of the many torches and held it up to the shadows. A group of expectant – mangled – faces watched him from the corner. They reminded him of rats, reminded him of the prisoners he’d discovered beneath the Praetoriani. ‘I’m sorry, she artfully avoided all of my questions.’

  ‘Are you sure you don’t know?’

  Menelaus waved the torch in an arc above his head. ‘How many times have I told you? I’m as in the dark as you lot are. Literally. Besides, I wouldn’t be so keen to face judgement. It sucks here, sure, but a barren wasteland is superior to a burning lake of fire.’

  ‘Has Loki returned from the Phlegethon?’

  Menelaus added the name of that river to his mental map. ‘Briefly. But he was sucked back under the current. No one seems keen to rescue him. I’m guessing he’ll be back to torment us before we know it.’ He couldn’t help but feel proud of Theo for using Mjölnir to dispossess Malachi of Loki and send the God of Chaos into an eternal lake of searing flame. But as he was Theo’s cousin, Loki would consider him a prime target for vengeance. ‘Anyone know a way out?’

  ‘No, sir. Not for the likes of us. The Chambers of Justice are our only hope; Loki and Hel aren’t allowed in the Elysian Fields.’

  ‘But they’ll find you just fine if you get sent to Tartarus instead.’ From the shadows came the writhing groans of dread. He couldn’t bear to look at their nightmarish faces but he shared their pain. In a way, he did feel responsible for them – his inner Guardian wanted to save these creatures crushed by fate.

  No, he wasn’t going to hide in these catacombs, hoping Theo would find a way to save him; he was past trusting others would come to his aid. ‘I’m going to the mountain. If there’s any way out, I’ll find it there. You’re welcome to join me at your own risk. Perhaps those of you who weren’t saints on Earth and don’t fancy chancing divine judgement just yet.’

  How long would the blood that Persephone gave him fuel his limbs? How would he find more? About a dozen souls moved forward, ready to follow him outside. ‘Take torches,’ he said, leading the way back up the slope.

  Menelaus let the excitement of the adventure ahead build, a pitch to tune his senses with. At least his half-vampire sight was coming in useful in the perpetual gloom. He led them, torch high, out of the catacombs, feeling strong, hopeful even.

  ‘Menelaus! How thoughtful to welcome my return with my own fallen heroes.’ Loki loomed above him, his skin crackling like a Christmas pudding set alight. Loki yanked his companion in the crimson, medieval-style dress in front of him, twirling his talon-like fingers through the girl’s brown hair. Hair long and wavy, just like Menelaus’s. ‘Rosalia, don’t you agree?’

  Rosalia? Wasn’t that the name of Michele’s daughter, the one who’d died centuries ago? ‘Yes, Master,’ she said.

  ‘Your little brother is very considerate. Why, after I was once again banished from Midgard, he practically volunteered to be our hostage.’

  ‘It was that or be ripped apart,’ Menelaus said.

  ‘Plenty of time for that.’ Loki smiled, his teeth like razorblades.

  Rosalia stared at Menelaus. ‘My…brother?’

  ‘Michele has proven himself a busy little devil.’ Loki’s laugh boomed across the cavern. ‘He made such an effort to gain our favour to rescue his daughter, and he ended up delivering us his only son instead!’

  ‘Haha,’ Menelaus said, eyeing up his supposed sister. What was to say this wasn’t yet another trick? It was eerie, like gazing into an inverted mirror. ‘My sides are splitting.’

  Loki roared louder. ‘Not literally, but I can rectify that. Oh, don’t look so worried. You are my ticket back up there.’ He pointed into the sky, if you can call an ever-shifting molten atmosphere a sky. ‘Theodore can save the world and sacrifice you or release me from this prison – doom the planet – and get you back.’

  Menelaus rolled his eyes. ‘Theo isn’t my biggest fan, even if he is my cousin. Guess we’ll have plenty of time to get to know one another.�
� He shot Rosalia a small smile. She made a tiny gesture with her hands, circling her cheek and chin in a way he’d done himself a million times before. All doubts that she shared his blood melted away, replaced instead by a horror that she’d been trapped here for centuries.

  Just as he was.

  5

  Alfheim Bound

  ‘Nikolaj has not returned with you? This is most irregular.’ Malik, chief of the Sarrow Elves, broke the warm loaf of bread between his hands and popped a chunk into his mouth. I still remembered, from the last trip to Alfheim, the fluffy texture of Elvish bread. My stomach rumbled. The Gatekeeper must feed, but I had no appetite. ‘Who has come to argue in his place? You bring Midgard-born with you and expect to be welcomed in?’

  ‘Don’t forget the horses,’ I said, nodding to Hrimfaxi and Skinfaxi, who were nibbling the grass outside of the hut.

  Sayen, his pixie-sized daughter, chirped from the other side of the hut, where Lolita was currently feeling the inhuman tips of her ears. Father and daughter liked to take different tacks. ‘During the Elven-Fae War, Father,’ she said, ‘some of our own people crossed the divide for safer climes. Our sapien friends did not forsake us then.’

  ‘My daughter talks of the cowards who would not partake in bloodshed,’ Malik said, finishing his bread. He’d yet to offer us food or drink.

  ‘Women and children, Father!’

  Malik laughed. ‘Your mother taught me long ago that women are as deadly as men. Why do you think the Fae prefer a queen to lead them?’

  If these two bicker as much as Father and I, we could be arguing in this reed-hut for hours. After burying Father at sea, I was feeling snappy and impatient.

  ‘I don’t wish to pull rank,’ I said, ‘but I know the mighty Lord Malik has heard the news.’ He glanced at Sayen in a way that confirmed my suspicions. ‘You know who – what – I am.’