House Of Gods 9 - Samantha Snow Page 0,10

they haunted him to this day. She felt sorry for him, for all of his guilt and pain and anger. If she could have given him peace, she would have, even after all that he had done.

“Sometimes,” she said softly. “We have a choice. A choice about whether to let those things that haunt us devour us whole, or to use them to make us stronger. I think you are a stronger man that you think. Perhaps this is your chance to let your past pain strengthen you.”

Baldur looked shocked and opened his mouth with the intent to tell her she knew nothing about his pain or the absence of choice that he felt when confronting it. But instead, he saw her soft and gentle eyes looking into him, and he felt ashamed for thinking that he would hurl any unkindness at her. He closed his mouth and looked over at his son, the mysterious and mischievous infant who had everyone baffled and apprehensive. This time, when he looked at him, instead of seeing the seed of revenge he had planted in the hopes of enacting his own vigilante justice on everyone that had hurt him, he saw a brand new little life with the potential to be broken or bolstered. He saw a confused little boy who would be affected and possibly scarred by every decision his father made from this moment forward. And for a second, he saw what Kemma was saying…he saw a chance to be something else. Maybe he even had a chance to be loved by someone again, maybe even her.

“Should we look around a bit while we wait?” Kemma suggested.

“Can’t hurt, I suppose,” Baldur said as he shrugged his shoulders.

They both got up and started to explore the inside of the witchy cottage. It was a feast for the eyes. All of the eclectic-looking trinkets and glass jars filled with colorful liquids; there were even things that looked like they were moving, although they couldn’t tell if it was by mechanical or magical means. A pile of thick grimoires was stacked neatly beneath one of the windows, and Kemma began to flip through some of their well-worn pages. They were full of spells that were both interesting and frightening.

“Where did you actually find this witch?” Kemma asked. “Has she always lived here outside of the city?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Baldur shook a bottle with a pink, foaming liquid in it, but then quickly put it down when it started to make a strange whirring noise. “Someone inside the palace came and told me about her. I’d never seen her before, but there was mixed word about her within the great hall.”

“What kind of mixed word?”

“Some said she had lived outside the palace gates for as long as they could remember, and others said she had just appeared there suddenly not days before I myself had even arrived.”

“And didn’t you think that to be a bit strange?” Kemma asked.

“Sure, but witches are supposed to be a bit strange, aren’t they?”

Kemma shrugged. “I guess.”

“When I came to meet with her, she seemed like she already had an idea of how to help me.” Baldur looked suddenly remorseful. “I was in such a hurry to get it done, to get the hex underway once I found out that you had arrived in Valhalla, that I didn’t even stop to ask her for the details.”

“Well,” Kemma said in a more upbeat tone. “That’s why we’re here now, right?” She smiled at Baldur, and he felt completely unworthy of her kindness.

Out of the corner of her eye, Kemma noticed a letter sitting on the windowsill. She hadn’t seen it there before. When she reached for it, it had Baldur’s name written across the front of it. She handed him the letter, and they both looked at it as though it were a bomb that might go off.

“Are you gonna open it?” she asked. “Looks like she was expecting you.”

“Yeah.”

Baldur slid his finger underneath the fold of the envelope and tore it open. Then he pulled out the letter written in familiar handwriting. Kemma stood in front of him, patiently waiting for her to tell him what the letter said. When he finished reading and looked up, there was no way to disguise the tears in his eyes.

“What is it?” Kemma asked as she instinctively reached out to touch his arm. “Is it bad? Or good?”

Baldur held the letter tightly in his fist for a moment longer before giving