“It’s so cold,” I mumbled, the chilly pressure weighing down on us from the high ceilings making me unwilling to raise my voice. “Something’s wrong. I can feel it.”
“Even I can feel it, sweetie,” Bjarni rumbled behind me, his free hand coming to rest on my shoulder. “Something’s happened here. And it ain’t good.”
“She’s not here.” Modi, who’d gone off to one of the side halls while we explored the great hall, came out from between two pillars opposite the altar. His forehead was locked in a deep frown. “No one is, not even a single servant. This is… unlike her.”
“Are there any clues where she might have gone? A note? Anything?” I asked, idly rubbing my hand against the altar. It was smooth under my palm, and cold like the rest of Folkvangr. The furs we’d slept on were nowhere in sight.
“Doubtful,” Modi grunted. “The energy here… I don’t think she left of her own will.”
“Someone kidnapped the Goddess of Love?” Bjarni asked, arching an eyebrow. “Why? She harms no one.”
“Maybe because she knew something was wrong in Asgard,” I reminded him. “If someone found out she knew there was a traitor…”
“I suppose,” he relented, his brows knitting into a frown to match Modi’s. “Well, shit.”
“We need to find her,” Modi said, and to my utter surprise, he looked expectantly at me. “Get on with it, then.”
“Uh… What do you expect me to do about it?” I asked.
He arched an eyebrow. “Isn’t this why you’re here? Trud would be able to sense something helpful—either Freya’s whereabouts, or a clue to who the fuck’s taken her. You insisted you had to come instead, so get on with it.”
“Oh. Right.” Well, shit. He did have a point. Sort of.
I gave him an ungrateful glance before closing my eyes. I wasn’t exactly comfortable with the magic inside of me yet, but I’d felt it enough to know it was there and that it was powerful.
Bjarni might be strong as an ox, and Modi might be able to shoot lighting with his fingertips—but I was the one with premonitions. I was the one touched by Fate. I was the one who was going to figure out what the hell happened to Freya.
Hopefully.
I breathed slowly, reaching inside myself for that golden light I’d come to know as my magic, but only a faint flicker met me. I strained, trying to force it up to meet me, gritting my teeth and putting my full willpower into it.
“Annabel, stop.” Bjarni’s voice seemed to come from far away and was followed by warmth clasping around the back of my neck, shaking me none too gently.
I opened my eyes with a gasp, unfocused eyes finding Bjarni’s gray-blue. He was crouched in front of me, and it took me a moment to realize that all that was keeping me remotely upright was his grasp on my neck. His sword lay on the floor next to us, making me suspect he’d had to discard it quickly to make sure I didn’t faceplant into the stone altar.
Growling, he touched his free hand to my nose. His fingers came back bloody. “You pushed too hard.”
“Pushed too hard? All she needs to do is a damn locator spell,” Modi snorted from somewhere behind me. “This was a mistake. She’s not strong enough. We’re going back to get Trud, end of discussion.”
Bjarni straightened to his full height, bringing me up with him. “I’ve seen this woman bring your brother back from the brink of death. Trust me, she is plenty strong enough—but she needs guidance. If we go back, we’ll lose half a day, if not more, and time’s not on our side.”
“Guidance?” Modi growled. “I’m not a fucking teacher, and last I checked, you had as much spark as a mountain troll. Better to lose half a day than take an inexperienced omega cunt into the wilderness!”
“Watch how you talk about my future mate!” Bjarni snarled, flexing his right hand as if searching for his sword.
“Guys, can we not?” I snapped. “Bjarni’s right, I need… help. Saga guided me during the trials, and when I healed Magni.” I bit my lip as unwanted images of exactly how Saga had helped me came flooding back. I looked up at Modi. “Can you do the same?”
He grimaced, and I could sense his urge to protest about my presence bubbling right underneath the surface, but for whatever reason, he kept it back this time. Lips flattened into a line of displeasure, he ground out, “What do you need?”
“I’m not sure. Saga… he reached inside of me somehow and guided my magic,” I explained, trying to recall what the non-sexual aspect had felt like.
“Hmm,” Modi grunted, and before I could blink, his hand came down on my shoulder and power zinged through my bones like a bolt of lightning.
I straightened with a yelp, my vision turning pure white—and then in a blaze of heat I was pushed forward at barreling speeds, thundering through tight pink tunnels and throbbing organs until finally, a warm golden glow surrounded me.
Impatience washed over me—not my own emotions, I dimly realized. Modi was here with me. Inside of me.
Crackles snapped around me—irritation. He was waiting for me to call my magic.
I did, not wanting to test him. This was nothing like Saga’s gentle guidance—it was like riding a fucking thunderstorm inside my own head. A short-tempered thunderstorm.
My magic came more willingly this time, but it still seemed sluggish, as if I was trying to wring water from the muddy bottom of a well.
Where is she?
I let the question echo through the golden light until it tremored through my entire being—and then everything went gray.
“Don’t search for me, little one.”
I blinked at the sweet, familiar voice echoing all around me.
“Freya?” I muttered, twisting around to see her. “Where are you?”
“Lost,” was the infuriatingly unhelpful answer.
“Who took you? We’ll find you."
“You don’t have time. And where I am, no human can follow. Ragnarök is more important, child. Was Mimir in Valhalla? Did he…” Her voice faded to a whisper, her words eluding me.
“We didn’t find Mimir. You’re breaking up,” I called, feeling all kinds of dumb for sounding like this was some sort of driving-through-a-tunnel-on-a-cell-phone situation.
“…don’t have much time. Your energy’s fading. You need to let your mates tend to you, or your power will be drained. You’re still weak after healing Thor’s son. Don’t waste your time in Folkvangr. Go. Save the world, omega. Only you six can do it.”
“Wait!” I cried, because this time the fading of her voice seemed permanent, the gray mist emptier, as if I was the only thing there now. “You can’t go. We need help. We have to find Loki, and—”
My voice died when what she’d said finally took root.
“Wait… what do you mean, ‘let my mates tend to me’?”
Only silence met me. Silence, and a distinct sense of foreboding.
“You can’t be serious. Freya! Come back!”
“Enough!” This time the voice that rang through the mist seemed to come from all around me, and it was distinctly more aggressive—and followed by a hard shaking. “I said—enough!”