Jewels and Feathers (Race Games 3)

CHAPTERFORTY-SEVEN

“Muni!”

“Muni! Where are you?”

Muni heard them as clear as day long before she saw them. The fog hadn’t been only in her mind. It had been literal. She broke through the fog that had been obscuring her and everything else from view like a train, clearing the last of the haziness. Skidding to a stop and panting, she met the eyes of the three men who had been frantically searching for her.

“Oh, thank Odin,” Brin breathed, rushing forward.

Eirik and Vidar weren’t far behind, in a hurry to check her over. She had no doubt she looked a mess. Besides the oil and swamp mud coating her skin, her hair was a loose tangle around her face, and she could feel the telltale crackle on skin around her face where mud must have dried on. Still, she was wrapped up in arms immediately and held, as if she wasn’t disgusting.

“Are you okay?” Eirik asked when he released her. “We couldn’t find you.”

“I’m fine,” Muni reassured him, self-consciously brushing at the mud on her face. She only successfully smeared oil in the same spot.

Vidar studied her for a moment. “You found something.”

She nodded. “There’s more than one person pulling the strings,” she said. “Deadmont made a comment earlier, but I wasn’t sure. I know now that it’s true.” She gestured toward the car. “Should we finish the race?”

Brin pumped his fist in the air and rushed over to the car, opening the driver door for her. Muni couldn’t help the smile on her lips as she climbed inside, waiting for him to shut the door behind her and rush to the other side before she began to buckle her harness. They all settled in, prepared to cross the finish line no matter what.

The car roared to life when Muni pressed the ignition button, and before Vidar even had his door all the way closed, she had the car in first gear and took off.

“And those in charge are celestials,” Muni added as they began to race through the bright light toward the finish line.

“You know for certain?” Brin asked, looking down at his tablet. “The tiny witch claims there is only twelve miles until the finish line.”

“Yes, I’m certain,” Muni answered his question. “The Impostor Hugin practically admitted it. His voice was familiar. . .something about the tenor, but I can’t place my finger on why.”

For a moment, she simply focused on the road before her, going as fast as possible. The longer they were in the race, the more chances the gods had of moving against them. This wasn’t about anything other than survival now.

“Muni—” Vidar began, drawing her attention.

“Later,” she interrupted, knowing what he wanted to discuss and not ready to hear it. She had just enough bravery to glance at him and see his nod before she focused back on finishing the race.

“They tried to convince us we were dead,” Eirik pointed out. “For a moment, I almost believed it. This place looks almost exactly like Valhalla.”

Muni met his eyes in the rearview. “They’re desperate. Sadly, their illusions almost worked. It took me far too long to realize it wasn’t Hugin standing before me.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Eirik argued. “We all fell into the trap.”

“Not I,” Brin countered. “I knew it wasn’t my mother from the beginning.”

“Ten Miles until the finish line,” Google announced, and Muni pushed the car harder.

It wasn’t until they got within eight miles of the finish line that the efforts to stop them began. The souls wandering around Valhalla, the puppets, turned as a unit toward their car on the track, and when Muni came over a bend, they stood across the street, blocking them. She just barely slammed on her breaks and stopped in time to not barrel into them.

“What are you doing?” Brin growled. “Keep going.”

“But I’ll hurt them,” Muni murmured.

“They’re not real,” Eirik reminded her. “Illusions and puppets. These aren’t actual warriors.”

Muni frowned, realizing her mistake. “You’re right.”

She stepped on the gas the same time as Vidar slammed his fist on one of the weapons panel buttons. Large guns rose from the hood of the car and began to fire in rapid succession. The imposters didn’t even move, didn’t scatter, as the large bullets ripped through them. It didn’t stop them, though.

Skin began to melt from the puppets, leaving behind muscle and bone. They rushed forward, and when they began to roll over the hood of the car, Muni grimaced.

It became a fight to the end, one recorded for all to see. The drones kept pace with the McLaren, catching it all on camera, letting the world know the Council had broken the rules by changing the final section of the race in the middle of it.

“Three miles until the finish line,” Google said.

“Yes, tiny witch! We know!” Brin grunted.

Vidar pushed button after button on the panel, until those throwing themselves in front of the car began to disintegrate at impact, as if whoever was in control of them was losing that control. Their power was slipping. That, or the closer to the finish line they grew, they less they were able to manipulate reality.

Muni grit her teeth and kept going, each puppet hit forcing the car to move slow and steady despite her need to go faster. Any faster, however, and they’d lose control, and they hadn’t come this far only to give up now. One of the puppets leapt onto the hood and held on, his face growling at them through the windshield. Vidar reached across and turned on the washer fluid. The water hitting him alone was enough to make him fall to ash.

“One mile until finish line.”

“Almost there!” Eirik shouted. “Go, Muni!”

The car began to shake beneath them, as if it was prepared to fall apart at any given moment. Muni clenched her fingers on the steering wheel as the light around them brightened, blinding them. It had to be the final effort to slow them down, the puppets all falling to ash before they even reached them. It was as if the closer to the finish line they grew, the weaker the puppets were.

The light dimmed and the checkered flag came into view.

“There it is!” Vidar shouted.

Eirik hit the back of her seat. “Go, Muni!”

Brin began a loud battle cry that nearly hurt Muni’s ears, but she didn’t fault him. Her own voice joined his a second later. The others weren’t far behind until, as one unit, they were screaming at the top of their lungs in victory.

Together, they slammed across the finish line, and the crowd in the stands erupted around them.