The goddess’s frown turned into a scowl. “What?”
Hel pointed at her outfit. “Your clothes? Where’s your dress?”
“Oh, you caught me helping out during the war. What did you need? I heard you calling, but it took me a while to find your location.”
A bad feeling settled in Hel’s gut. “What war are you talking about?”
“Midgard’s Second World War, why?”
Hel rubbed the throbbing pain growing between her eyes. “You have no idea why I’m here or why I’m with Émilien, do you?”
Freyja shook her head. “Should I?”
“You sent us here, Freyja, or your future self, anyway.” She frowned. “Although, that fact has been questioned. Maybe you were sending us to where we would find the answers, and it just so happened that place was here—in the past.” Hel flipped her hand in the air between them, her exasperation growing. “But that’s neither here nor there. I need you to heal Émilien. He was injected with demon poison.”
Freyja dropped to a crouch and rested her hand over Émilien’s forehead. With a sad expression, she met Hel’s gaze. “I’m sorry, my friend, but I can’t help him. Removing demon poison is relatively easy, but in his case, with his mixed DNA, I could do irreparable harm if I even tried.”
Hel’s heart sank. She swallowed the large lump of fear lodged in her throat and nodded. “Thank you for coming. I’m not used to people responding to me, so this means a lot.”
Freyja stood and walked around the large werewolf to stand in front of Hel. Holding Hel’s trembling hands in hers, she smiled. “I have always and will always consider you my friend. I have never forgotten the times you showed me kindness when you didn’t have to, especially during Alfheimr’s Great War. You call anytime, and I will answer, always.”
Her amethyst gaze flickered to the two demons. “I believe your new friends here may have a solution, but you need to hurry. They have yours and Émilien’s best interests at heart, so trust what they do.”
Tork’s body jerked. “And you know this how?”
Freyja smiled. “I’m not only a goddess in the Norse Pantheon, but I am also a practitioner of seidr, the most organized form of Norse magic. I know many things, demon.”
His brows rose. “I thought only Óðinn had that ability.”
Freyja’s expression turned serious. “No, he is not the only one.” With a wave of one elegant hand, she motioned toward Émilien, who looked as if his body had shrunk by half of his original size. “There is no more time to waste. He is dying.”
Tork turned to Hel and opened his hand. In his palm lay a large black diamond. “I need you to press the gem to your lips and think of your husband. Pull up your favorite memory with him and hold that in your mind until I say you can stop.” She reached for the diamond, her fingers barely touching the cold stone when Tork laid his large hand over hers. “You must be certain, Hel. No hesitation or he will die. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
She scowled. “I’m not stupid. I will not fail him.” Tork nodded and let her pick up the diamond. With a soft exhale, she pressed her lips to the cool black surface. She let her memories run through her mind, back to when she told Émilien he was going to be a father. No one had ever held her as tightly as he had. His happiness had filled her cold heart, and for the first time in her life, she knew what it was to be loved and love in return. It was that memory she grabbed onto so that Émilien would live.
He had to live because nowhere in the Nine Worlds would be worth living in if he wasn’t somewhere in them too.
14
Émilien floated in a sea of agony. How long, he had no idea. Each wave of pain lasted longer than the previous one until it was the only thing he knew. Even his vision consisted of darkness. Every so often, amid the vast expanse of black, swirling eddies of red formed to carry him along another river of torment, then he would return once more to blackness, frigid in its strange comfort. It reminded him of Hel, her cold touch soothing and painful at the same time.
From far away, he heard voices. At first, they seemed familiar, but when the crushing pain returned, they sounded almost demonic. During one of these cycles, he recognized Shalendra’s sweet tone and tried to call out to her, but he couldn’t remember how to speak. The only sound he could make was the high, painful whine of a wolf. His daughter wouldn’t understand, and he had to tell her something...
What was it he needed to say…?
His thoughts turned chaotic. Behind his clenched eyelids, a brilliant kaleidoscope of color exploded, and a heavy pressure settled on his chest. The weight increased and shoved all the air from his lungs. Gasping for oxygen, his body jerking up and his limbs flailing, as he struggled to breathe.
Arms surrounded him, and a familiar frigidity cut through the overwhelming sensations. The fresh scent of lilacs filled his nostrils, and the pressure eased. Drawing in a much-needed breath, he sighed. “Hel.” He wrapped his arms around her thin frame.
“You scared me spitless, you big oaf.” Hel raised up and held his face between her hands as she stared into his eyes. “Don’tdo that again, Émilien. Ever. Do you understand me?”
He nodded, his gaze following the tear sliding down her cheek. Clearing his throat, he tried to smile and think of a witty remark. Instead, he pulled her back into his embrace and held her. Not once in his long life had he ever believed he would have this chance again. The chance to hold her and feel her heart beating against his. Gods, how he missed this.
“I’m sorry,izr?.I’m sorry for everything,” he whispered against her ear.
She sniffed but didn’t move. “I’ve missed hearing you call me sweetheart in Elvish.” She cleared her throat. “Émilien, what are we doing?”
He smiled, the fear in her voice pounding at him. For himself, he could stay like this forever if it meant having her back in his life, but she wasn’t ready for that, especially in his current form. Being married to a man or elf was one thing, but a massive wolf?Thatwas different. “We’re not doing anything but comforting each other after a scare.”