as if searching for his sword.
“Guys, can we not?” I snapped. “Bjarni’s right, I need… help. Saga guided me during the trials, and when I healed Magni.” I bit my lip as unwanted images of exactly how Saga had helped me came flooding back. I looked up at Modi. “Can you do the same?”
He grimaced, and I could sense his urge to protest about my presence bubbling right underneath the surface, but for whatever reason, he kept it back this time. Lips flattened into a line of displeasure, he ground out, “What do you need?”
“I’m not sure. Saga… he reached inside of me somehow and guided my magic,” I explained, trying to recall what the non-sexual aspect had felt like.
“Hmm,” Modi grunted, and before I could blink, his hand came down on my shoulder and power zinged through my bones like a bolt of lightning.
I straightened with a yelp, my vision turning pure white—and then in a blaze of heat I was pushed forward at barreling speeds, thundering through tight pink tunnels and throbbing organs until finally, a warm golden glow surrounded me.
Impatience washed over me—not my own emotions, I dimly realized. Modi was here with me. Inside of me.
Crackles snapped around me—irritation. He was waiting for me to call my magic.
I did, not wanting to test him. This was nothing like Saga’s gentle guidance—it was like riding a fucking thunderstorm inside my own head. A short-tempered thunderstorm.
My magic came more willingly this time, but it still seemed sluggish, as if I was trying to wring water from the muddy bottom of a well.
Where is she?
I let the question echo through the golden light until it tremored through my entire being—and then everything went gray.
“Don’t search for me, little one.”
I blinked at the sweet, familiar voice echoing all around me.
“Freya?” I muttered, twisting around to see her. “Where are you?”
“Lost,” was the infuriatingly unhelpful answer.
“Who took you? We’ll find you."
“You don’t have time. And where I am, no human can follow. Ragnarök is more important, child. Was Mimir in Valhalla? Did he…” Her voice faded to a whisper, her words eluding me.
“We didn’t find Mimir. You’re breaking up,” I called, feeling all kinds of dumb for sounding like this was some sort of driving-through-a-tunnel-on-a-cell-phone situation.
“…don’t have much time. Your energy’s fading. You need to let your mates tend to you, or your power will be drained. You’re still weak after healing Thor’s son. Don’t waste your time in Folkvangr. Go. Save the world, omega. Only you six can do it.”
“Wait!” I cried, because this time the fading of her voice seemed permanent, the gray mist emptier, as if I was the only thing there now. “You can’t go. We need help. We have to find Loki, and—”
My voice died when what she’d said finally took root.
“Wait… what do you mean, ‘let my mates tend to me’?”
Only silence met me. Silence, and a distinct sense of foreboding.
“You can’t be serious. Freya! Come back!”
“Enough!” This time the voice that rang through the mist seemed to come from all around me, and it was distinctly more aggressive—and followed by a hard shaking. “I said—enough!”
The mist evaporated in a burst of lightning and scattered around me in twinkling flakes. I blinked dazedly at Modi baring his teeth in my face as the world slowly racked back into focus.
“You’re bleeding all over the place. What kind of a seer are you?” he growled as he wiped none too gently at my face and nose. His hand came back red. “I knew taking a human on this journey was a folly.”
“Well, if you wanna argue with the Norns, be my guest,” Bjarni said as he shoved him out of the way, wrapping an arm around me so he could ease me to the floor. “There we go, nice and easy now.”
The floor was cool under my palms as I steadied myself against it, but thankfully my leather pants shielded my butt from the chill. I was still feeling kinda dazed from whatever I’d just done, and I was grateful to not have to try to keep my balance.
“Well?” Modi pressed. “Did you find our wayward goddess?”
“I spoke with her,” I said, but was interrupted when Bjarni promptly pressed two fingers around my nose and tilted my head backwards.
“Whant are ynou dnoing?” I protested, batting weakly at his hand. “Staph int.”
“Don’t be difficult,” he hummed, unconcerned with my efforts to shoo him. “The sooner we get this nosebleed taken care of, the sooner you can tell us