17
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Hel was a monster. I’d never encountered anything like her before. She made Verdandi look nice and normal, and that was saying quite a bit.
Although, Skuld without her glamour—it might be a tie.
Half of Hel’s body was dead and decayed, her skull showing with some creepy hair hanging off of it. The other half appeared completely normal, covered in pink, healthy flesh. One of her arms was bone, the hand skeletal. The bone wasn’t bleached white, either. It was dark gray with holes in it, like it was still in the process of rotting. One of her eyes had an actual eyelid and a working iris. The other was dead black in a backdrop of dirty cream.
I couldn’t see her legs because they were covered by a long black dress, but by the way she strolled toward me, in kind of a rolling maneuver, I suspected she had more than two legs.
The fact that nobody, including Mersmelda, had warned me that she was this hideous left me at a huge disadvantage. I stood there gaping instead of following through with my awesome plan to heap praise upon her.
How was I going to convince her that she was normal and beautiful when she was so clearly the opposite?
“You can shut your mouth now,” she drawled. Her voice was surprisingly pleasing. It was on the high side, but not overly so. Long jet-black hair covered her good side, hanging limply past one shoulder.
I snapped my mouth shut, flustered. My eyes darted everywhere but straight at her. “I’m sorry…please accept my apology,” I stammered. “I was just caught a little off guard. See…no one told me what to expect when I got here…” I trailed off.
I was killing it.
“You are my first,” she said, ignoring my inane banter. “That in and of itself is fairly impressive, but for you to be this young and beautiful is something else entirely.”
I forced myself to meet her gaze. The good half of her lips curved up in a smile, while the dead side didn’t move. Because it was just teeth, no lips. It looked so wrong. I tried to compose myself and act like this was a normal conversation. “Your first what?”
“Living guest.” She crossed her arms, bone over flesh. “You must be blessed by the gods.”
I chuckled, trying to appear lighthearted instead of aghast. “I don’t think so. If I were, I wouldn’t be here.”
Hel didn’t say anything as she maneuvered closer, her beasts yelping and stumbling over themselves to get out of her way. She circled me slowly, inspecting everything, her hands now clasped behind her. “Maybe you’re not blessed by the gods, but someone has your favor,” she said casually. “I’ve never received a Valkyrie in my lair, dead or otherwise. It could be that you are impervious to things here based on your immortality. It’s hard to know for sure.”
This was a strange conversation.
Hel clearly wasn’t wary of me, so she didn’t think I came here to kill her.
“I bet you’re wondering why I’m here.” I forced myself to sound hopeful. I had to get back on the right footing with her.
“Not really.” She came to a stop in front of me. “You were likely sent here as punishment, which means you’re at my mercy. I may do whatever I want with you, as I am the supreme ruler of this place. I bow to no one, especially gods, so I care not why you’re here, only that you are.”
This wasn’t going as planned.
I wasn’t sure if this was the time or place to tell her Fen was on his way. It might be better if he surprised her. If I told her, she would grill me, and I didn’t have the answers, and that could lead to pain and agony on my part.
Abruptly, she turned, heading into the room.
This one was impossibly bigger than the last one, going on as far as the eye could see. Its huge, meandering river had been intermittently erupting into flames as we’d chatted.
I took off after her. She made her way toward the banks of the river. Each time a patch burst into flames, it was preceded by a loud whooshing noise. It took everything I had not to jump back like a scared kitten until I figured out the warning sound.
Hel didn’t glance back, which was a relief. Another whooshing sounded to my right. I looked. Through the fire, a pair of eyes stared at me. “Oh my goodness!” I cried. “Is there a person in those flames?”
Was I walking next to the River Styx?
Hel paused. “This is the river Gjoll. That up ahead”—she gestured with her bone arm—“is the bridge Gjallarbru. Once the dead cross over, they must traverse the bridge, and once they do, they receive their fate from me.”
Okay, so not the River Styx.
Still, it was a river of death. “So, every time there’s a burst of flame, it means someone has died?”
“That is correct.” She narrowed her eyes. Well, she narrowed one eye. It was hard to narrow the other one, as it didn’t have any flesh around the socket. “He who has been born and raised in Asgard knows these things. Who are you?” She wheeled around, heading back to me. Her voice held accusation with an undertone of malice.
I had to finesse this the correct way. “My name is Phoebe Meadows,” I said. “I’m a very new Valkyrie, and I wasn’t raised on Asgard. I was raised on Midgard.”
She raised her head and took an obvious sniff, half her nose wrinkling. “You are a demigod.” It was a statement. “Why were you raised on Midgard?”
“Um, it’s a long story, but,” I said, “my father is Odin.”
Hel’s face changed, and I immediately regretted revealing that information so soon. “Odin? But he would know better than to send you here.” Her eyes flicked toward the river as another burst of flames erupted. “He is no friend of mine, nor my father’s.” Did that mean she had other friends? “Does he wish you harm?”
“Oh, he didn’t send me here, and if it makes a difference, I only learned he was my father a very short time ago,” I babbled. “We’ve only met once in person. See, my mother is a Valkyrie, and they weren’t supposed to be together. After I was born, she was sent to Svartalfheim, and I was sent to Midgard. It’s a mess, but there it is.”
“If Odin didn’t send you here, who did?” Hel was shrewd, cutting to the quick. My lame attempt at steering the conversation had no effect on her.
Another whooshing sound came from my right. This time, I used it as a distraction, because I didn’t want to tell her Baldur’s mother had sentenced me. I needed to see what was going on with the god of light first. “This is so amazing.” I motioned toward the flames and affected fake awe as I wandered closer to the stream. “I can’t believe the dead show up here like this.”
“If you fall in, there’s no retrieving you.” She seemed bored telling me that fact. “You’re alive. For now. But you won’t stay that way if you don’t take care.”
For now?
“Good to know,” I replied smoothly, taking a step back. I squinted at the ball of flames floating by. There was a distinct shape inside, not just eyes. I glanced up to find Hel regarding me quizzically. Her face was impassive, but I was relieved to see that I wasn’t in any immediate danger. At least not that I could detect.
She didn’t press me further about who sent me here. Instead, she began to roll away.
What was under those skirts? And did I honestly want to know?
The beasts had accompanied us, but only ten. The others had disappeared without fanfare. Hel went left, away from the river. Two thrones situated on a dais came into view. They overlooked the short bridge that spanned the river.
There wasn’t much else to see.
A crude table sat off to the side, clearly unused. There were a few knickknacks spread here and there, such as a broken chalice and a chest of some kind.
Suddenly, a flame shot over the bridge. Without hesitation, Hel made her way toward it. She stopped in front of the dancing orange vision, her tone commanding. “State your name and reason why you are here.”
I strained to hear.
The reply was soft. “Ranton Leiger. I murdered my wife.”
I was shocked by the blatant admission, but Hel certainly wasn’t. Made sense, considering where I was.
“I sentence you to labor for an eternity.” She flicked her wrist at the apparition. Before the soul could respond, it melted away.
I wondered what she’d meant by labor. What kind of work did a ghost do anyway? Hel rolled up the dais to one of the thrones, looking unfazed that she’d just sentenced someone indefinitely.
This was her job, all day, every day.
So many questions.
I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I made my way to the thrones. Something caught my eye as I moved forward. I had to stifle a scream, my hand settling over my beating heart. “Baldur? Is that you?”
I wasn’t sure it was the god of light, since he was almost invisible.
The ghost sitting in the throne next to Hel’s opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Or at least, nothing I could hear.
“How do you know the god of light?” Hel demanded.
I’d already confided to her that Odin was my father, so I answered, “He’s my brother.” Then, going purely on instinct, I added, “I didn’t know he was here.”
I had no idea why I said it, since Frigg banished me here for his death and Hel could feasibly find out. Something inside me just decided that now wasn’t the time to tell her my entire story, and I went with it.
“Gods don’t usually arrive on my doorstep,” Hel said, accepting my answer, staring straight ahead. “They go to Valhalla, which is a place they enjoy infinitely more than here.”
Feigning ignorance, I said, “Why would the god of light be here, then? He’s a good-natured guy who definitely never murdered anyone in cold blood.” Had he? I had no idea.
“Not all who are sent here have committed atrocities.”
“Are there specific rules for ending up here?” I asked, glancing around but finding no place for me to sit. Instead, I stood awkwardly by Baldur’s throne and waited for her response.
“There are no rules,” she answered. “It is all decreed by fate. Although, fate does not favor criminals and ne’er-do-wells. I cannot speak for those who enter Valhalla, but those who enter Helheim deserve punishment.”
She glanced pointedly at me.
I shivered as her creepy dead eye gave me the once-over.
My attention settled back on Baldur. He didn’t seem aware that I was there. I wasn’t sure if I could speak to him directly, but why not try? “Can you hear me, Brother?”
“If you wish to speak to him, you must pay a price,” Hel stated calmly.
“Pay a price?”
“Everything here has a cost. Nothing is given freely.”
“What will it take to speak to my brother?” I asked.
“Your blood,” Hel replied, with no sarcasm whatsoever.
She didn’t elaborate, so I said, “A few drops? Or, like, drained dry?”
“A few drops of your blood given to the river shall suffice.”
Hel was smart and negotiating with her was going to take some finesse. “If I give my blood, how long will I have to speak with him?”
“There are no units of time here,” she said, rolling one eye. “You will have sufficient time.”
“Can I speak with him in private?”
“Nothing in this realm happens without me knowing about it.”
Good to know.
That made things trickier. When Fen arrived, we would have to choose our words carefully. “Does Baldur remember his old life? Does he remember how he died?”
“He does,” she replied.
Honestly, if she’d had a nail file right now, she’d be using it on the nails of her good hand. I couldn’t possibly bore her more if I tried. I was failing miserably at complimenting her, and just about everything else. This was such a strange conversation.
“Can he hear us right now?” If he could, I could weasel in some information to let him know what was going on.
“He can only hear me.”
“Every time I want to talk to him, do I have to give blood?”
“No,” she said. “The cost will be different each time.”
“Does it get more…expensive?” That wasn’t a perfect word, but it was the best I had. I needed to know what I was getting into.
She examined me, and the hairs on my arms stood up. Hel wasn’t the magnanimous type, so I knew I was playing with fire by goading her. She was likely indulging me because I was one of a kind—a distraction from her daily monotony.
Once she decided I wasn’t, things would change.
“The cost for anything is at my leisure,” she finally replied. “It’s dependent on my mood and how greatly you desire such a thing. As I said, you are my first. Everyone who’s ever entered this realm before has been dead, or has died quickly thereafter. You are an anomaly.”
She might as well have said I was a kitten she was toying with. I couldn’t imagine what was going to happen once Fen arrived.
Speaking of that, where was he?
I glanced around casually, trying not to draw attention to the fact that I was searching for Yggdrasil or a cillar. I couldn’t imagine Fen would arrive way out of town like I had. He’d be the second anomaly down here. One who was related to the hostess. “I think I’ll wait to talk to Baldur,” I said. “Does the offer still stand for later?”
Hel scrutinized me, the good side of her lip edging downward.
I was saved from her displeasure by a loud, booming sound, followed by a sharp blast of light.