Destined (Desolation #3) (18 page)

In the morning I woke to golden light dappled over the bedcovers. Michael had slept on the couch, tucking me into his own bed late last night—I didn’t even remember saying goodnight, I’d been that tired. Now I stretched and drew a deep breath through my nose, relishing the scent of him everywhere. I closed my eyes and drank in the happiness, the peace that whispered through me, in sync with the shimmering light all around. 

After a time I heard Michael moving about in the other room, and smelled the unmistakable scent of coffee—though I knew it wasn’t a drink normally found on Asgard. That simple thing made my heart rush with love for this man who knew me so well and would do even the smallest of things to ensure my comfort.

I dressed quickly, and for half a second thought about doing my hair as Fahria wore hers—in a sort of braided knot that sat low at her neck. But in the end I’d opted for a ponytail. I couldn’t change everything at once. Before I left the room, I stared at my skin—no longer as pale white as I’d been for so, so long, and my eyes were no longer the endless ebony black of a demon. Now flecks of gold swam in their dark depths making me a hundred shades of relieved.

But I knew what I was. What I still was. No amount of sunshine skin or flecks of gold could undo the half of my DNA that belonged to my father. But I also knew I had been through a refiner’s fire. With Aaron’s help and love, most of the darkness had been burned out of me, the bad changed for good, the evil cast aside to make room for the golden spark that no longer resided in my heart alone, but permeated every single cell of my being.

I knew what I was. And what I was, was glorious.

I am glorious.

So when Michael reached for me, every hope and all his love laid bare on his face; when his eyes hungrily devoured me and searched my eyes . . .

I knew what he saw in me.

He saw what I wanted to be. 

Desolation. The end of Father’s reign. The end to the evil he constantly levied on the innocent Gardians on Midgard. I no longer despised my name, but embraced it. I would be the weapon my mother hoped I would be. I would be my father’s undoing.

What am I going to tell Miri?” We walked hand-in-hand down the street, smiling at the people we passed. They greeted me happily, their faces reflecting their joy, their hands reaching to touch me. I had a brief flash to the wanters and needers in Hell and all the many times I plowed through them as though I were a rock and they the stream that rushed past. I had despised their touch, their need to take something, anything, from me. But in Asgard everything was different; the people gave, asking nothing in return. They gave their blessings. Told me how glad they were to see me. How much they loved me.

I felt like two separate persons walking among them—there was this part of me, the part they remembered, the part that remembered them. This was the part of me Aaron had sacrificed himself for. But there was another part—the part I knew best. The girl who let her friends down. The girl who had abandoned a most brave and generous guy to the clutches of an evil goddess. The girl who had to tell her best friend that she’d left the love of her life behind. What could I possibly say to make it okay?

 “What do you remember? Of this place?” Michael gave my hand a gentle squeeze, pulling me out of my reverie and grounding me in the moment.

Small shops, their colored signs hanging over the doors, lined the quiet street. A statue of the Æsir god—Odin’s father—rose tall and glorious from the square opposite Odin’s palace. The figure reminded me of Heimdall—larger than life with a wavy beard and hair. He held his right hand high, a lightning bolt clutched in his fist. 

We’d stopped walking as I stared up at the giant statue. I suddenly had the feeling of déjà vu—standing there with Michael reminded me of the times we’d stood like this beneath the stony gaze of a cherubic statue in St. Mary’s cemetery. Of all the times I’d wished for an answer, for some indication there was more in the universe—some hope or guidance beyond the usual.

What if there is?
A voice, like a forgotten part of myself, whispered in my mind.
What if we aren’t really alone? What if the gods do still exist?

“Desi?” Michael squeezed my hand again.

I shook my head to dislodge the strange line of thought that had taken up residence in my foggy brain. “I think I remember most of it.” We stood in a little park with green grass, stone benches, and flowers of all variety and color. When I tipped my face upward to see Michael, I found him smiling at me expectantly. “I remember all of it.”

His lion eyes lit up, all golden sunshine and dark chocolate, and his lips quirked into a delicious smile that made me want to cover it with kisses.

And so I did.

He stumbled a little in surprise as I leaned into him, pressing my lips to his. I felt him Become, felt him wrap his arms around me, and then his wings. Felt nothing but joy and exquisite release as he transported us from the public square to the quiet, fragrant sanctuary of our garden.

And still we kissed, his lips both soft and demanding, pulling out the best of me, claiming every wild beat of my heart.

It had been so long since we’d been together like this. No more tender kisses full of hope and fear. No more fleeting moments of love. No more restraint. And absolutely no more doubt. 

Michael felt alive with fire beneath my hands, beneath my lips. He held me so close I could hardly breathe. I wanted to breathe with him, be one with him. I pulled myself closer and felt his body respond to mine. Our kisses grew more insistent, until all I could think about was Michael.

His taste.

His touch.

His love.

Oh, love. Glorious. Everlasting. Complete.

Sometime later I lay snuggled in the crook of Michael’s arm, gazing up at the blue sky above us. 

“I wish we could stay here forever,” I said. I closed my eyes and tried to push the world away, tried to concentrate on this moment, on right now. 

“I do, too.” He traced his fingers over the golden whorls on my arm, following their course from fingertip to shoulder. I shivered beneath his feather touch. “So much is the same and yet—nothing will ever be the same again.”

He brushed the hair back from my neck and let his hand rest there. I opened my eyes and found him gazing at me. “I knew, even before we actually met, that you were destined for great things. Did you know it? Back then?”

I closed my eyes and willed myself to Remember. To truly examine what I knew and not just what I dreamed or imagined. “I suppose there were clues all around, weren’t there? The way Mahria trained me harder than any of the other Valkyrie. The staff Odin gave me from the Tree of Knowledge.”

I tugged myself tighter to Michael’s side and breathed in the smell of him. “Mahria came to see me before she left. I was warming up in the courtyard, waiting for her to spar with me. I’d been planning a new move to try on her. But she refused my invitation. 

“I think she tried to explain, tried to tell me what she was doing, but words failed her. Instead she hugged me—only for a second—but enough to leave me reeling as she left.” I smoothed my hand down Michael’s strong chest. Felt the warmth and life of him, even my fingertips thrummed with love. “I think I knew, then, that I’d never see her again, even though I felt pretty sure our paths would somehow cross.

“I think I knew all that and maybe even more—but I never once thought I would be any kind of hero. I thought I was a good soldier—and maybe I was. That’s what Father and Akaros used against me for so long, anyway. Wasn’t it?”

For a long time Michael said nothing. Only the steady beating of his heart, the rhythm of his breath, told me he wasn’t asleep. When I glanced at his face, I saw him staring up at the sky. 

“Loving you hasn’t been easy,” he said. Everything in me stilled, as if each cell of my body held its breath. “All of us—we knew from the moment we laid eyes on you that loving you would be a journey fraught with danger. Lucy, Aaron, me and Mahria. Even Longinus, Cornelius, Miri and James—all of us. We all knew you. Before. The way you shone, the way you glowed with love and life—you were always bound for greatness.

“And like most great things, we knew your climb wouldn’t be a golden staircase. We knew there’d be a cost to loving you, a price to pay.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, the words skimming across his chest. He squeezed me to him.

“Oh, my love. I am positive not one of us would change a thing. It’s only that you are unlike us. You are like a lioness, beautiful and glorious, but fierce. And just as a lion loves his mate, he also knows she is greater than he.”

I breathed with him for the space of three heartbeats. “I don’t want to be greater than you. I don’t feel greater. I want to be loved and cared for, doted on and spoiled. I don’t want to be running into danger every five minutes, seeing the people I love die, feeling them ripped away by my enemies.”

“Love, you know Loki is not your enemy only.” He twisted toward me, making certain our eyes met. He radiated sureness, his words ringing with confidence. “You do know this, don’t you?”

Tears filled my eyes so I ducked under his chin and snuggled close. “All I know is that I’ve done a lot of bad things because of Loki. But I did them—not him. If I’m so great and glorious, wouldn’t I have known better? What of all the people who’ve lost so much because of me?

“Like you. How can you love me after spending an eternity in Hell? You won’t tell me what Father made you do—and I think it’s because it’s so awful you’re afraid to add to my burden. But I know what Hell is like. I know what Father is like. Whether you tell me or not, it is my burden. Everything Father has done is because of me.” I sat up, scooting away from Michael, and wishing for a longer skirt or jeans so I could wrap my arms around my knees.

“If it hadn’t been for me you would never have done what you did to Heimdall. James and Lucy wouldn’t be missing, Knowles wouldn’t be dead—Aaron wouldn’t be dead.” My voice broke and I buried my face in my hands, but managed to force the tears back down, my chest like a forest fire. I thrust my thoughts out through my burning throat, each word scarring me with its truth. “If only I’d done what Mahria and Odin wanted me to—if only I’d Remembered and finished Loki off right away—none of this would have happened. Midgard would be free. The people I love wouldn’t be gone.”

Michael put his hands on my cheeks and drew my face upward. He knelt on the grass in front of me and speared me with his gaze. He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again. 

I knew I shouldn’t dwell on all the bad that happened. Knew I should be glad to be here now—in Asgard, with Michael—but I also couldn’t pretend to be this awesome warrior hero that the others seemed to think I was—that even Michael seemed to expect me to be.

He pulled me to my knees and brought my face to his. He pressed his forehead against mine. Breathed my breath. 

“Love. We have both suffered at Loki’s hand. I know something of the burden you bear. But I promise you, I will gladly live the rest of my eternal life dedicated to the task of proving to you that you are, ever have been, and always will be, worth any sacrifice I could make. And I know—” I tried to drop my eyes, but he held my face firm between his hands and pulled back so I had no choice but to meet his gaze. “I
know
, that everyone who has ever loved you feels the same.”

“But—”

He swallowed any argument I might have given with his kiss. His hands slipped into my hair, pulled out the elastic that held it back and deepened his embrace. 

I tasted honey on his lips. I tasted hope.

I tasted love.

Do you forgive me? Can you?

I leaned back from him, searched his eyes, but he pulled me close again.

Can you?
he pressed.

There is nothing to forgive. 

For a moment an image filled his mind before he pushed it aside, forced it away. But I’d seen it, I knew the fear he still harbored. He remembered lying in Cornelius’ bed, recovering from his time in Hell. He felt the warmth of the whale-tail charm I’d given him, the one that protected him, and left me vulnerable in its absence. He remembered watching the darkness infiltrate my body, understood it was in me because of him. Because of what he’d done while under Father’s influence.

You need to forgive yourself too, because I already have.

Michael groaned, a sound of infinite need and hope. He wrapped his arms more tightly around me.

And will you? Forgive yourself? 

I will if you will.
I said the words that sounded so much more confident than I felt. But I remembered Aaron’s last words to me—that I should take what he had given me, his very essence, all his light, and use it to shine. For him. For love.

And in that moment, with Michael’s hands in my hair and his kiss on my lips, I thought,
Maybe I can let go of all the guilt I’ve clung to.

Let go of Father, and his claim on me.

Let go of Aaron, with thanks for his gift—for the chance he gave me at a life far brighter than the one I’d created for myself.