Last Rites (Darkling Mage 6)

The voice stopped. “Who?”

I rolled my eyes. “I was with the party that came to the Tavern that one time? I’m friends with Sterling.”

Helga hesitated. “I am not certain.”

I sighed. “Okay, fine. There were four of us. There was Sterling, then the big and hairy one, then the Japanese guy, and then there’s me.”

“Oh!” she squealed in delight. “The scrawny one. Yes, of course, Dustin.”

“Y-yes.” Scrawny? I tried not to let the offense color the tone of my voice. “That one. Dustin Graves. So again, could I speak to your employer, please? It’s very, very important.”

“Well,” Helga answered, again with some hesitation. “Listen,” she said, her voice more hushed this time. I could picture her speaking with a hand cupped over her mouth. “I do not think that it is prudent for you to speak to the All-Father just now. There is no reason to interrupt his work, and – ”

The blood rushed up my neck. I reached for Mom’s amulet, stroking the garnet, reminding myself to bite back my anger. There was no point getting mad at the valkyrie. Don’t shoot the messenger, as they say.

“I understand all that. I know he’s a very busy man. God. Whatever. But please, it’s a matter of life and death. Literally, Helga. I’m sure you understand the stakes at play here. Well and good, you immortals are bored with immortality. You’re looking for new things to do. But if the Eldest win, then we’ve got nothing left. Not even immortality. I can assure you.”

There it was. Silence. Slowly, I counted out the seconds, and sure enough, as if on cue, Helga sipped in a chestful of air, then sighed. “I will get him for you. But please, be mindful of the things you say.”

“Thank you so much,” I blurted into the receiver. “Thank you.”

Half a minute trickled by, and I strained my ears to listen for anything in the background, but Helga must have put our call on mute. Just as I was wondering what Odin might have been doing at the time – what, corralling live goats, or balancing the Tavern’s checkbooks? – a second voice came on the line.

“Hello?” it said, in a high falsetto.

“Yes, hi. This is Dustin Graves. I’d like to speak to Odin – I mean, Mister Odin All-Father, please.” I slapped my forehead. What the hell was I even saying?

“There’s no one by that name here,” the very clearly faked voice said.

“Listen,” I growled. “I just spoke to your receptionist – who, by the way, is a very lovely woman – and she told me that you were around, so please, let’s not play this game. The Eldest are coming, and you’re there hiding in a kitchen and playing at being a businessman.”

It was worth a shot. And you know what? Baiting him out worked. When the voice spoke again, it was deep, almost booming, like a god. Like someone who commanded the respect of an entire pantheon.

“The last mortal who spoke to me that way was split from his forehead to his crotch,” the All-Father said, softly, slowly.

“I was trying to get your attention, okay?” I said. “I’m sorry. I’m not even going to try to convince you to to fight with us against the Eldest. I just need information. Please.”

Odin stayed silent for a few ominous beats, but he cleared his throat. “Very well. But make it quick.”

“The end of the world is coming,” I said. “The Eldest have found a way to penetrate our reality. They’re not just sending their minions and servants this time. There’s been an attack in the city of Valero. Dozens of normals dead, a street blasted by a massive bolt of light from out of the sky.”

“And what do you expect me to do about it?” Odin said gruffly.

“A solution,” I said. “Surely there must be one. The Sisters, the Bazaar of Wonders, they told me to seek one of the truly ancient gods. The most powerful of all the entities that walk the earth.” Flattery, I thought, could get me everywhere in the past. Surely it would work here once more. “I need a ritual that I can use to seal the Eldest out of our world.”

I waited, but nothing. All I could hear was Odin breathing on the other end of the line. I waited some more, knowing that he was thinking, considering.

I wasn’t expecting his answer.

“No.”

The blood rushed straight to my temples. “You’ve got to be joking.”

“I said what I said, mortal. If this truly was the end of all things, if these truly are the end times, then I would know it.”

“What are you even saying? The Old Ones are coming. I killed one myself. Yelzebereth is dead, but more of them are going to infiltrate our world.”

Odin scoffed. “The more of them you kill, the better. This doesn’t concern me. The world will only end the way our words tell us it will end. With the Twilight of the Gods.”