Read Online Tricked by Kevin Hearne - Free Book Online Page A

wondered what it would be like if the people who abused the earth for personal gain were gone. « That was as far as I could go, and I waved such thoughts away. » But these are idle speculations, the basest form of wishful thinking. I cannot judge who deserves death. And there can be no new beginning without destroying much that is beautiful and innocent and worthy of praise. I cannot be a part of such destruction. «
    The poor widow’s face fell slack, and Hel’s next words were frosty. » You will oppose us, then? «
    » If you give me cause. «
    Hel brought her hand—or, rather, the widow’s hand—up to the left side of her rib cage. It sank a bit into the fabric of her dress and clutched at something there, and then she gracefully drew out a large knife etched with runes. There was no scabbard that I could see; she had pulled it straight from her substance somehow. I raised Moralltach to guard myself and heard a collective intake of breath from the spectators behind me.
    Hel laughed at our reaction. » Your Fae sword has a name, doesn’t it? «
    » Yes. Moralltach. «
    » This is Famine, « Hel said, pointing it at me. » Perhaps no match for a sword. You are the better warrior, I am sure, in any case. I’m not famous for my dueling skills. But this knife will be the death of you, regardless. « It began to twitch in her hand. » You see? It is drinking in your scent. The next creature it wounds will hunger for your flesh, and no other food will satisfy it. «
    Perhaps she expected me to quail in fear or beg her for mercy at this point. She seemed to anticipate some sort of reaction, so I remained still and alert for any attack, saying nothing. The daughter of Loki tilted her head quizzically.
    » Do you doubt that I know of a creature to whom your sword means nothing? «
    I shrugged.
    Hel hissed in frustration. » So be it. Roy. « The knife stopped twitching and she sank the » happy dagger « into its sheath—namely, her abdomen. Showing no ill effects from this, she turned and loped away to the north, in an extremely awkward and unsightly gait but at a surprisingly fast clip the widow never could have managed.
    › Ah. Good job, Atticus, you scared her off! ‹
    Not really. I’m in trouble .
    › But she’s running away , Atticus. ‹
    Right. She’s running to find someone to kill me .
    › Oh. Shouldn’t you stop her, then? ‹
    I suppose I should .
    » Sensei? What happened? « Granuaile asked. I didn’t have time to explain if I wanted to catch Hel. Gods Below, listen to me—why would I want to catch Hel?
    I gave chase anyway, eliciting cries of dismay from those behind me, who had no idea what was going on. I heard them pursue me, even as I pursued a wee Irish widow across the Colorado Plateau. I steeled myself to remember that the sweet little old lady was a malevolent goddess who didn’t belong on this plane of existence. And no matter how I wished it were otherwise, that goddess was skittering around here because of me.
    I’d been warned that my actions in Asgard would have dire consequences. The Morrigan told me they would, and so did Jesus—but he’d also said that only I could prevent the worst cataclysms from happening. Those cataclysms, I saw now, had to be the coming of Ragnarok; my actions had made the Norse apocalypse more likely rather than less. The forces that were supposed to stymie the onset of Ragnarok were either dead or crippled, thanks to me—and now there was no one around to deal with Hel on earth save myself.
    On top of that, there was that prophecy of the sirens of Odysseus: If I was interpreting events correctly, they had foretold that the world would burn thirteen years from now. Perhaps their prophecy coincided with the advent of Ragnarok? The sons of Muspellheim were supposed to set the world on fire, according to the old tales. Would Hel have her forces marshaled by then? Would it even take her that long? Regardless, I felt I had to stop Hel, if for no other reason