A Vigil in the Mourning (Soulbound #4) - Hailey Turner Page 0,40
for the onslaught of Ragnarök, Patrick wondered what the god saw these days.
Patrick swallowed dryly before reaching for the nearest glass of water. “Heimdallr.”
The immortal that stories called the shining god smiled, flashing gold teeth. “Yes. I see your lessons stuck.”
The knowledge that Heimdallr might have been watching him from a distance all these years made bile creep up Patrick’s throat. He forced it down with more water.
“Your ravens said you wanted to talk,” Patrick said, wanting this conversation over with as soon as possible. “The Norns wanted me to find you. They seem worried about your safety, but you’re a god, so I think you’ll be fine so long as you steer clear of the Dominion Sect. General Reed ordered me to find you. He thinks you might know where the Morrígan’s staff is, but I don’t think he knew you were immortal.”
Odin didn’t immediately answer and took his time choosing which piece of prime rib he wanted, slathering it with horseradish once it was on his plate. A waiter came over from the bar with an open bottle of what Patrick thought was wine, but turned out instead to be mead. It looked like liquid gold when poured into the wineglasses. Patrick waved off a pour for himself and Wade.
“It’s rude to decline an offer from the gods,” Frigg said mildly.
“My track record isn’t great with your kind, and Wade is underage. We’ll stick with water.”
“My son brews it locally at Eiketre. It is offered at every bar in this city,” Odin said.
“I don’t drink while working a case.”
Which wasn’t exactly true, but no way was Patrick willing to deal with gods while impaired in some way. The last time he’d done that, he’d ended up with a soul debt.
“You might be better company if you did.”
Odin raised his glass at Patrick in a mocking manner before taking a sip. Patrick dug his fingers into his thighs, trying to ground himself. “The Morrígan’s staff. Where is it?”
“You expect me to know where something not of my own kind’s making is?”
Odin’s derision came through loud and clear, but Patrick pressed on anyway. “Medb left it in the mortal world. We’ve been trying to find it before the Dominion Sect does. Our intelligence says they’re in town, so there’s a good chance the staff is as well.”
“Your mistakes aren’t mine to care about.”
“They will be if Ethan gets his hands on that staff and turns himself into a god.”
Odin set the wineglass down, half the mead gone. “The Morrígan’s staff cannot turn someone into a god. You need prayers and sacrifices for that.”
Patrick bit down on the inside of his cheek before releasing it. “Ethan has the Dominion Sect to pray for him and control of Macaria’s godhead.”
“What is left of it,” Heimdallr replied.
Patrick turned his head to look at the other god. “You’ve seen her?”
“Years ago, when you were but a child still before Hades hid her from my sight, and again last summer.” Heimdallr looked thoughtfully at Patrick before shaking his head. “Macaria’s godhead has driven your sister mad. What’s left of your sister’s soul is not worth saving.”
Patrick’s lungs locked up, his ears ringing at those words. He’d known ever since the Thirty-Day War that Hannah was lost to him, but some tiny shred of him always thought there could be a chance to save her. That the sister he’d loved for eight years before Ethan did the unthinkable could be pried free of Macaria’s godhead.
But human souls were never meant to carry such power, no matter how weak a god was from lack of prayers and worshippers and being forgotten by the world at large. These days, Hannah was just a vessel for their father’s machinations, a battleground for a future no Fates of any pantheon could see.
Patrick forced himself to take a breath, air whistling past his lips and teeth. “You’re the head of your pantheon. Ethan has a known track record of coming after gods in your position.”
“Let him,” Odin said with a disdainful twist of his mouth. “I fear no mortal.”
“He stole a godhead and carries its power in a mortal body for his use. Few have been so bold in the millennia we have walked Midgard,” Frigg reminded her husband.
“And they will die because of it.”
“The Norns wouldn’t have sent me here to help you if they didn’t think there was a legitimate threat. If you know where the Morrígan’s staff is, that would be reason enough for Ethan to come after