Pete rested his hands on his hips. “You can, and you will. Right now.”
“Yes, sir.” Max nodded. “Please remember I’m only the messenger.”
“We promise not to shoot you,” Mike said.
Max drew in a shaky breath. “The fifth line is ‘A sacrifice, giving up one life, can stop the war and end our strife.’” He covered his eyes again.
Pete’s stomach turned in one direction, his heart in another, until it felt like his innards were swirling in a blender with extra sharp blades. Destiny would not be the sacrifice. The entire fae realm could fall into hell and churn in the tarpits for eternity before he would allow them to take Destiny’s life.
“Oh, dear, indeed.” Crimson returned to scrying, and Mike’s palm glowed red again.
“Don’t even think about it,” she said.
Mike fisted his hand. “I’m a Devil’s Advocate. I can locate her, but you’d have to pay a price.”
“Unless you want your furry bunny balls hanging from Satan’s rearview mirror, you’ll stay as far away from my beloved demon’s glowing hand as possible. Trust me.” She closed her eyes and whispered another prayer.
“Satan stopped collecting testicles ages ago.” Mike rolled his eyes as if he expected her to know that. “Now he’s keeping people’s sanity in jars on a bathroom shelf. He’s got thousands.”
“How big is his bathroom?” Pete asked, taking a step away from the demon.
“Massive,” Mike said.
“Oh! I think I’m getting something,” Crimson said. “They’re in this realm for sure. I… Dammit, I lost it.” She opened her eyes. “Looks like it’s time for a wild goose chase.”
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
“Why are you doing this?”Destiny struggled against the heavy chains securing her wrists. Another set of chains attached the cuff on her ankle to the concrete wall behind her.
“With Pete trapped in the earthly realm, I can finally take what’s rightfully mine.” Helga waddled toward the person chained to the opposite wall in their makeshift prison. Long, matted hair, the color of dishwater, covered the woman’s face as her head hung toward her chest.
“Do you mean Easter?” Destiny twisted her wrists, trying to collapse her hand enough to slide it out of the bind, but the more she struggled, the tighter it got. A painful ache spread from her hands up to her shoulders, her chained leg mimicking the sensation up to her kneecap.
“If so, you didn’t have to destroy my bakery. He can’t even remember who he is, much less how to cross realms. He’s trapped here because of me.”
“I know that,” Helga snapped. “You did me a favor, and it’s the only reason I haven’t drained you dry yet. Your time is coming.”
The goose honk-laughed. “But this one…”
She used a wing to lift the woman’s head. As her hair fell away from her face, Destiny gasped. The goddess of spring, once glowing with youth and vitality, now held an ashy pallor with sunken cheeks, the light in her lavender eyes nearly extinguished.
“Once the realms see what I, the golden goose, can do with Easter, Frigg will have no choice but to make me a goddess. I’ll drain this sad excuse for a deity dry, absorb the rest of her power, and take her seat in the hierarchy.”
Helga turned Eostre’s head from side to side before letting her chin fall against her chest. “I should have been Frigg’s choice, not you.” She stretched her neck forward and flapped her wings, letting out a honk loud enough to wake every vampire in New Orleans.
“I’m better than you. I always have been.” She ruffled her feathers before folding her wings against her body.
So, this was the act of hubris from the prophecy. But Easter was Eostre’s holiday, and Pete was the one she’d chosen to carry it out. From what the goddess had told them, even if Helga delivered goose eggs around the world, it wouldn’t matter.
“It won’t work.” Destiny scooted toward the wall, leaning her weary body against it. Her head spun as if she’d been drugged, so she rested it against the concrete. “The fae pantheon will become unbalanced, and even if Frigg makes you a goddess, the seconds it will take for you to fill the seat are all the angels will need to swoop in and claim the realm as their own.”
“You don’t think I know that?” Helga squawked. “You don’t think I’ve thought it all through? I know what I’m doing better than some defective angel who’s been living on a wing and a prayer.”
Defective. If that didn’t describe Destiny to a T, she didn’t know what else could. Coming from a rabid, arrogant goose, the word shouldn’t have stung. Helga’s opinion of her shouldn’t have mattered in the slightest, but “shouldn’t” didn’t stop it from burrowing into her chest and stabbing her right in the heart.
“She’s not defective,” Eostre rasped. “She’s…” The goddess sucked in a pained breath.
“Save it for the Valkyries.” Helga sneered and waddled toward the darkened hall. “Oh, wait. You’re dying in prison, not in battle. I’m sure Hel will be happy to hear all about it.”
