Mist

giants here might be Mist’s kin. A cousin. A brother. Even a father.

She wouldn’t believe that. A father wouldn’t try to kill his own daughter. No one had ever claimed that the worst Jotunar didn’t love their own. It was everyone else they hated.

“There must be another way,” she said.

“What other way?” Vidarr growled, pushing away from the wall.

“Throw them out in the middle of Market Street and hope they all get hit by a bus?”

“I don’t slaughter things that can’t fight back.”

Vidarr snorted. “You were always so proud that you taught yourself to fight after all those centuries playing dress-up like a little girl wearing her Mommy’s pretty dress. You said you fought the Nazis, but—”

“I prefer to avoid unnecessary bloodshed.”

“Just like Freya. All peace and love, all the time.”

“I’m not Freya.”

“No? Then why don’t we wake the giants up and offer to challenge them one-on-one? I’m sure Hrimgrimir would like another shot at you.”

Mist had had enough. “I can understand why you’re feeling so bloodthirsty, Vid,” she said. “Your ego has always been a little on the tender side.”

Vidarr started toward her, fists clenched, his shoulders straining the seams of his shirt. Mist tensed. In spite of their contentious history, she’d never have believed that Vidarr would actively try to hurt her.

She didn’t get a chance to find out if he’d reached his breaking point. Dainn stepped smoothly between them.

“Are you both such fools?” he asked. “This is exactly what Loki desires.”

Mist and Vidarr turned to stare at the elf. She had been so intent on Vid that she’d almost forgotten about him, and Vidarr was reacting as if a cockroach had gotten up on its hind legs and started reciting the kennings of the All-father.

Vidarr lifted his hand to strike. Dainn made no move to avoid the blow.

“Stop it!” Mist shouted. “Vid, he’s on our side!”

Vidarr lowered his arm, but his body was trembling with rage.

“Our side?” he repeated. “The cursed Alfr who betrayed the Aesir?”

“What? Vid—”

“You didn’t recognize him? The traitor who should have been dead by Thor’s hand?”

Comprehension blinded Mist, leaving her groping for something to hang on to while the ground crumbled beneath her feet. “Oh, this is rich,” Vidarr said. “Freya didn’t tell her darling daughter the kind of scum she was dragging around?” He laughed viciously. “He didn’t even bother to change his name. Dainn Faithbreaker, the elf who started Ragnarok.”

7

Mist’s vision began to clear. Dainn’s face resolved from a blur to crystal clarity. There was no denial in his expression, no protest. Vidarr might as well have stated that the elf had black hair and deep blue eyes.

She should have known, just as she should have known that Eric was Loki. She had thought of the two most famous Dainns when she’d first found him but had never seriously considered that he might be one of them.

Dainn Faith-breaker. The only one of his people who had not fought with the Aesir in the Last Battle, because Thor had supposedly killed him for his defection to the enemy. Mist knew few details but those she’d heard in the rumors that circulated in Asgard after the Aesir and Alfar had sat in judgment over Dainn and condemned him to death; some had whispered that it was his last- minute warning that had prevented Loki’s forces from taking the Aesir completely unaware. Some said it was weakness, not malice, which had led him to join Loki, that Laufeyson had deceived him with claims of a desire for peace.

But neither good intentions nor weakness were excuses for the damage Dainn had done in giving, or allowing, Loki to obtain vital information that had weakened the allies. Though neither side had won the battle, what Dainn had done was unforgivable.

Now Mist understood why Loki had reacted so strongly to learning that Dainn was the elf who had met with Mist. He, like she and Vid, must have believed his former ally was dead.

How had Dainn evaded execution? Perhaps Freya had helped him. She should have despised him as much as anyone who had ever walked in Asgard, but now she had set him a task that would require absolute trust in his loyalty.

“ You,” Mist said to Dainn, unable to find words scathing enough to express her horror and disgust.

“Yes,” he said. “I have made many mistakes. I have been foolish beyond any expectation of atonement. But I did not start Ragnarok. I tried—”

“Scum,” Vidarr snarled. “Filth. How do we know you aren’t serving Loki now? And you—” He turned on Mist, pinching his nostrils as if he’d smelled something even worse than Dainn’s rags. “You’re no better than him. Loki wouldn’t have Gungnir if you hadn’t let him fuck you for six months.”

“Don’t go there, Vid,” Mist warned. “I didn’t—”

“Do you really want to take Gungnir back, or are you just pissed at him for making you his whore?”

Mist lunged at Vidarr. Dainn stepped between them again. Vidarr struck the elf in the temple with a bunched fist, and Dainn staggered. He righted himself quickly, showing no sign that he had been hurt at all.

Vidarr was going after Dainn again when Mist got in his way, steeling herself for a blow. Vidarr stopped just as his fist was about to connect with her head.

“I’m going to kill him,” he rasped. “Get out of my way.”

“I can’t let you, Vid. He may deserve to die for what he did, but now Freya has intervened, and she wouldn’t have done that without the agreement of the other Aesir. It’s not our decision to make.”

She could barely believe the words coming out of her own mouth, and Vidarr certainly didn’t.

“You’re defending him?” he asked incredulously. “Has he been fucking you, too?”

Clenching her jaw, Mist tried to let his sordid accusation pass through her. She turned back to Dainn. “How long did you think you could get away with this little charade?” she asked.

“If I had told you,” Dainn said, “you would have left me in the park, or perhaps even killed me..”

“You don’t claim to be innocent of the crimes you’re accused of?”

“I am far from innocent.”

“He admits it,” Vidarr said. “Move, Mist. Don’t make me hurt you.”

“He helped save both of us,” she said. “Isn’t that worth something?”

“He may have saved you, but I never needed his help.”

“Dainn took care of Loki’s Jotunar so they couldn’t come charging in to attack us from the rear.”

“He was responsible for the destruction of Asgard.” Vidarr drew a knife from a sheath at his back. “I will finish what my brother Thor failed to do.”

Mist held her ground. “Why so much hatred, Vid? You may be the god of vengeance, but this isn’t just about his betraying the Aesir. It’s personal.”

Vidarr’s stare was like Gungnir itself, piercing through Mist’s body and burying its point right between Dainn’s eyes. “I’m warning you one last time,” he said. “Don’t interfere.”

“You know the old cliche. If you want to kill him, you’ll have to walk through me first.”

For a breathless moment she believed that Vidarr was going to call her bluff. But he lowered his knife and strode to the door to the bar, walked through it, and slammed it shut.

Mist glanced at Vali. He sank deeper into his chair. “Let him go,” Dainn said.

She faced him, loosing the anger she’d been trying to keep in check. “He was right. Why shouldn’t I kill you?” She slipped Kettlingr from its sheath. “You’ve never stopped lying to me. For all I know, you led me right into a trap.” Her hand trembled on the sword’s hilt. “Why did you go over to Loki?”

“He deceived me, as he did you,” Dainn said, holding her gaze as if he hadn’t noticed the sword at all. “I