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.
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.”