Closing it tightly around my middle, I cast my searching gaze down my form and realized you could only see the faintest glimmer of my dress beneath. Keeping one hand protectively locked over my stomach, lest the flaps of the jacket open, I plucked at the collar, jacking it as high up as it would go.

  The jacket was old and smelt like a seriously unappealing mix of stale coffee and mold. The more I looked at it and noted the concrete stains smattered down the front, the paint splashed over the shoulder, and the plaster dust ingrained in the fabric, the more I realized it was probably used as a rag.

  It didn’t matter.

  It did its job, and now I had to do mine.

  With one last steeling breath, I clasped my hand around the stone and shoved it protectively into one of the thankfully large pockets of the trench coat. I checked the lining of the pocket methodically with my fingers, searching for any holes. The last thing I could afford was for the Drift stone to fall out and tumble into the gutter.

  I turned to the view and stared at it. There was a storm building along the horizon, marching towards the tall towers and spires of Saint Helios. Though I was inside and well out of reach from the wind, I felt a puff of it play against several strands that had fallen loose from my bun. They beat against my neck and tickled my jaw.

  I closed my eyes, prayed, turned, and walked out.

  10

  Thankfully, the whole building was under construction. The lifts didn’t work, but fortunately the fire exit did. I found my way down to the first floor then out into the city beyond.

  The second I walked outside and my bare feet struck the asphalt, was the second the heavens opened up.

  With an earsplitting clap of thunder, light flashed all around me. Then the rain drove down. It didn’t start off as a patter. It didn’t spit and drizzle. It slammed down like the first volley from a celestial army. Hey, maybe it was. Maybe this was the prelude to a full-on invasion by the gods.

  My thoughts were a mess, a goddamn mess, if you’d pardon the pun. I kept running through everything I’d learned, everything Vali had told me….

  I kept shivering.

  My magic wasn’t arcing up or anything – the evening was getting colder by the second. It might have been late summer, but it felt like the middle of winter. Pressing my teeth together and listening to them chatter in my skull, I kept one arm locked around the middle of my jacket and the other hidden in my pocket as I clutched the stone.

  I want to say I felt something as I wrapped my fingers around it as tightly as they could manage. I want to say I could sense its power.

  I couldn’t. The stone just felt like a cold, dead lump of rock.

  I couldn’t get Loki’s last words out of my head. They played around and around my mind as I squeezed my eyes shut.

  Time to slaughter the cattle.

  I kept walking the city streets, hoping a plan would strike me. The only thing that struck me was the weather.

  I pressed further into the meager protection of my overly large jacket as the rain drove down from above. It was so violent, I swore it would tear through me. It pounded into the sidewalk, swept towards the gutter, and pooled over the street.

  I was cold. Frozen to the bone. This cold didn’t come from within – from my magic – so it wasn’t as easy to push back. I shivered as I tried to pull the jacket even further around me.

  Long ago, I’d stopped smelling that unattractive combination of old coffee and mold. Now this jacket was the only thing saving my last scrap of warmth and protecting my identity from the passing motorists.

  My bare feet slapped through the puddles that now drenched the sidewalk and rushed towards the gutters. I felt like I was walking through a growing river, as if Saint Helios was about to be swallowed up by the very ocean beyond.

  I had no idea where I was going. Heck, through the drenching rain, I could barely recognize where I was. The city seemed twisted somehow, every street and laneway I turned down a washed-away version of its previous self.

  Though I’d lived in Saint Helios my whole life, in many ways, I barely knew the city. Sure, I knew my way around. I could even pick out the horizon line on a postcard. Yet I barely recognized the feel of the place. Saint Helios was a city hemmed in by the ocean on one side and desert on the other. Water and earth. Heat and cold. Its inhabitants embodied that distinction in their dichotomous dress and personalities. I passed slick businessmen running under awnings so they didn’t blemish their Armani suits. I also passed bums flitting down alleyways to huddle against the sides of dumpsters.

  As the rain drove down heavier and heavier now, I felt like it was undressing the city before my very eyes. As it washed the streets bare and sailed down the sides of the brick and metal buildings, it smoothed away the grime to what lay beneath.

  I’d always pictured Saint Helios a little like myself – like someone trying to get by.

  And, a little like myself, Saint Helios wasn’t all that lucky, wasn’t all that pretty, and, if you scratched the surface, you probably wouldn’t like what you’d see.

  But did it matter?

  Didn’t it matter what Saint Helios could be, not what it was?

  I’d always had a hard view of myself. My mental commentary either switched between blaming the world or tearing myself down. Blame it on my family, but a little of their spite had become ingrained in my mind.

  No matter what I achieved, I was always telling myself it wasn’t enough. No matter what personality vices I overcame, I always told myself something darker lay beneath.

  So that had made it easy, right?

  I stopped as that thought struck me, as a new wave of wind buffeted my already soaked jacket and sent it spiraling around me.

  My cripplingly low self-esteem had made it easy for someone like Vali to twist me to his desires. No, I didn’t hate the man. On the contrary, I could hardly deny my feelings for him. Nor could I deny that he had kept me frozen in this world. Which was quite appropriate considering I was a frozen witch.

  The point was, if only I hadn’t hated myself so much, if only I hadn’t kept doubting myself, I would never have given in to him. I would have forced him to tell me everything about this world, everything about who I was, and, most importantly, everything about who he truly was. I was reminded of what I’d overheard in that strange room with the incredible window that stared right up to heaven. The god with Vali had spoken of civilizations that had come before the gods, and Loki had spoken of humans like cattle.

  Those mysteries lay at the heart of this situation, and I was no longer going to vacillate.

  I pushed forward, a plan forming in my mind.

  While it was of critical importance that I keep the Drift stone safe, I also needed to figure out what it was. I couldn’t return to Vali’s tower, and god knows I couldn’t walk the city streets hoping to find a friendly practitioner of magic.

  There was only one place I could go, wasn’t there? Back to my grandmother’s mansion. Not only had Vali assured me that it had its own powerful magical protections, but my grandmother had known all about magic. There was every possibility that she had books on the subject, and more than that, powerful magical objects that could help me now.

  Now I had a plan, there was no stopping me. Though the wind kept buffeting against me and the rain kept driving down in drenching sheets that slashed across my cheeks and exposed hands, I now ran. My bare feet slapped against the puddles that were collecting along the pavement, and flashes of my incredible blue dress could be seen swaying underneath my jacket.

  Despite the fact the powerful storm had cast the city into near total darkness, I knew exactly where I was going. I let my heart lead the way, and I lost track of time as I wound a path to my grandmother’s mansion, a path to safety, and a path that would lead me to the truth.

  Yet Vali would be right – once I learned the truth, there would be no turning back.

  11

  Maybe this was predictable. Maybe Loki would be able to figure out exactly where I was going. But what choice did I have? I had to get somewhere safe.

  I ticked my head back and spied those imposing cast-iron gates. At exactly the same time, a shiver yet a thrill crossed down my back, shaking my legs and shifting through my feet.

  I still had one hand pressed into my pocket, my fingers locked so tightly around the Drift stone I could have crushed it to dust.

  Don’t ask me how I knew, but I got the impression there would be no going back this time. Walk through those iron gates and enter my grandmother’s mansion, and I would finally find out the truth that had been kept from me for so long.

  I teetered on the spot, shifting forward only to shift back a full step.

  This wasn’t right, my nerves told me as they took flight through my gut. I moved to turn. But that’s when the iron gates opened. Sure, they had a pretty fancy security system. My grandmother had paid top dollar for them. But they should not open at someone’s approach, let alone at their retreat.

  As a chill raced down my back, I swore I felt a rush of magic burst out from the open gates. Heck, I swore I could even hear it as it crackled through the air, sounding like a sparking fire that had just been fed a mound of dry wood.

  No going back. Those words echoed in my mind as I stiffened and turned to face the now open gates.

  My stomach pitched, my fingers became slick with sweat in my pockets, and I clenched my teeth with the power of a vice.

  I walked through the gates.

  My grandmother had a saying about crossing thresholds. Opening the door and walking through was a big deal to her. Maybe that’s why she’d had such a large mansion with so many rooms – because she’d got a kick out of opening every door in her house and rushing through them each and every day.

  Or maybe what my grandmother had referred to was something a little more magical than that. When a situation is allowed to build towards its climax, and you finally take your first step in the right direction, it’s like walking through a door, locking it closed behind you, and throwing away the key.

  As soon as I made it through the gates, they creaked closed behind me, the sound loud and distinct enough to make it over the whistle of the wind.

  I tipped my head back and stared at the mansion as it came into view. Was it just me, or were the clouds calmer directly above the building? It was only for a radius of several meters – yet I swear the storm couldn’t touch it.

  I found my fingers clutching tighter around the Drift stone as I mounted the long driveway that led right up to the front of the house. Fortunately, there were no cars parked out front, and the house was dark.

  I flattened a hand on my chest and took a breath. I also closed my eyes and winced. Vali kept promising me that he was keeping the truth from me for my own good. He obviously thought it would undo me. Maybe it would. But I could no longer run.

  I didn’t have a key to get into my grandmother’s mansion, but just as the gates had opened for me, as soon as I approached the large ornate door it too creaked open.

  My stomach tumbled with nerves, and sweat slicked my brow – not that you could tell, considering the drenching rain. As soon as I took a single step inside, crossing the threshold, the wind cut out. It was still there – I could hear it raging outside. It sounded as if someone had thrown a blanket over it. That, or I’d just walked behind the protection of a powerful wall.

  I hadn’t felt at ease since Loki had kidnapped me and taken me to the realm of the gods. In here I felt safe like I’d come home.

  I trailed puddles of water over the floor, my bare, cut, bruised feet dragging in mud and detritus from the city streets.

  Now I was inside, and alone, I took off the trench coat, unceremoniously dumping it into a pile by my feet.

  I walked over it, my beautiful dress sashaying around my legs.

  I strode through the large hall, heading towards the staircase.

  I caught a glimpse of myself in the ornate mirror as I walked past. Now my jacket was off, I saw my dress in full. Suffice to say, I looked like a different person. It was like I was out of some stylized painting, some artwork, some film. Either it was the reflected pale blue from the dress or whatever the magical comb was doing to my hair, but for the first time in my life, I felt like I was an adult, someone who had finally shrugged off their family shadow and walked out into the light.

  I let myself stand there and appreciate that feeling for all of half a second.

  Turning from the mirror, my expression once again becoming grim, I pushed up the stairs. With one hand trailing over the rails, leaving the faintest ice crystals in my wake, I made it to the fourth floor. I headed straight for my grandmother’s sitting room. If she had any useful books on magic or anything magical at all, I was telling myself that it would be there.

  As I mounted the stairs and reached the fourth floor, a flood of emotion overtook me. The last time I’d been here – when I’d found out that the grandmother I had thought hated me had in fact given me her entire fortune – I hadn’t been provided with an opportunity to explore the mansion. Now nothing was stopping me. Well, nothing but time.

  Sadness began to well in my gut, a lump that was driving hard down my torso and lodging just beneath my heart. I found myself uncomfortably locking a hand on my chest. No matter how hard and vigorously I rubbed my sternum, I couldn’t dislodge the sensation.

  This was a longshot, but with nowhere else to go, I was pinning everything on the hope of finding some useful information out about the Drift or the Drift stone. At the very least, I was hoping the purportedly strong magical protection of this mansion would be able to keep me safe for a time. But no matter where I ran and no matter where I hid, Loki would get me eventually.

  I wasn’t one of those gung-ho types. My grandmother had been the kind never to back down from a fight. Me? Whenever anything got hard, I’d run for the hills. But the hills weren’t going to save me this time. This time, no matter what I did, no matter who I turned to, this would end in a battle. So I had to prepare myself.

  I didn’t know the first thing about mentally steeling oneself before battle. Hello, I was hardly a soldier here. All I could do was try to scrounge the scraps of courage the last six weeks had taught me.

  I hesitated as I reached the door to my grandmother’s drawing-room. My stomach was now a knot of nerves, and with every swallow, it felt as if I was trying to breathe in my lungs.

  My palms sweaty, my fingers rigid, I reached a hand out and opened the door. The handle felt cold and unyielding under my grip. My paranoid mind told me it was because I wasn’t worthy of entry.

  I was struck by how I was the absolute worst person to have inherited my grandmother’s fortune. Not just her monetary fortune, but her magic. If she’d just had a more loyal granddaughter than me, someone more trustworthy, someone who took their responsibilities seriously, she might still be alive….

  That chilling thought made me want to choke, but I pushed past it as I pushed into the drawing-room.

  It was untouched. Though the rest of the house looked as if it had been rifled through – as no doubt Beatrice had been sniffing through grandma’s goods over the past several weeks – nothing had been touched in this room. I fancied even Beatrice was a little awed by it. While the rest of the house had grandma’s unique taste, nowhere else felt as much like her as this room.

  My eyes locked on the gentleman’s chair and the China teacup that rested beside it on the ornate, carved table.

  I frowned as I approached it warily, my stomach kicking with nerves. More than anything in this entire house, it was that teacup that reminded me of her. With half-closed eyes, I could see her reaching for it, see the exact stiff, thin line pressed over her lips as she faced me disapprovingly.

  That knot twisting harder and harder around my stomach, I hesitated above the chair before turning and sitting in it.

  I expected to feel guilt and sorrow – some unholy mix of emotions I’d been pushing back as I grappled with the task of saving the world. While I felt those sensations, I also discerned something else that shouldn’t be there. Something that made me frown so hard I could have swallowed my lips.

  Magic. Distinct charging crackles of it were impregnated in the fabric of the chair.

  I’d sat in this very seat several weeks ago when Vali had taken me back here, and I hadn’t felt a thing. Now the magic shifting through the fabric was undeniable.

  My eyes pulsed wide open as I jerked forward, twisted around, and ran a hand hesitantly over the buttoned back of the chair.

  There it was again – powerful, charged, zipping magic. It was so strong, I had to clench my teeth against it.

  On instinct, I reached out and plucked up my grandmother’s teacup. As my fingers locked around the handle, I felt a charge of magic so strong I almost dropped the cup.

  I lurched back into the seat, the cup rattling on the saucer as I let it fall into my lap.

  There were two possibilities as to why there was now magic zipping around this room. One was that it had somehow found its way in here since my last visit three weeks ago. Another was slightly more disturbing. It had always been here, but I was only feeling it now.

  I’d been through a hell of a lot in the realm of the gods, and though the experience hadn’t lasted long, it had certainly taught me things about my power. Had I now learned enough that I could discern previously indiscernible magic?

  If that were the case, would it end with this? How powerful would I turn out to be? It was an unsettling question. One I thrust firmly out of my mind as I carefully picked up my grandmother’s teacup and rested it back on the table. I couldn’t allow myself to become distracted. No matter what was happening here, I had to keep my mind on the game. Loki would come after me. And I had to take this advantage while I had it.

  I pushed up. I began to methodically check the bookcases in the room, of which there were plenty. The room was large, at least 10 meters square. It took me a while to shift around each ornate bookcase, plucking out every book and searching them in turn for any charge of magic. Though at first I laboriously checked the titles and glanced at the contents, I realized that relying on my sense of magic would be quicker and far more accurate. Though there were several tomes that appeared to hold residual charges of magic, they weren’t enough to be significant.