Page 37

Chapter Seventeen

T hrowing open the huge double doors at the front of the Mansion of Belief, Hopper stopped at the top of the steps and snapped his fingers.

In the blink of an eye, he and Pat stepped on to the banks of his favorite place on all of Dreki Island, the jetty next to the gorgeous meadow of flowers he would always think of and his and Hel’s special place.

Caught in a moment of revelry, his trip down Memory Lane was cut short when Pat tapped him on the shoulder and asked, “I don’t remember this place being this quiet.”

Looking left and right, he opened his mind and pushed the Magic he’d been given by the Big Four to the far reaches of the island.

There were little blips on his Mystical radar, but nothing magnanimous enough to be the Amazonian Clans.

They had to be there? They couldn’t have left without either he or Pat lifting the protective Enchanted sphere they’d placed of that part of the island all those centuries before.

Turning in a complete circle, not even Pat’s whispered, “Afe playing Ring-Around-the-Rosies by yourself, or are you winding up for something big?”

“Neither, Asshole,” Hopper huffed. “I am tryin’ to find…”

Then he felt it. The eerie, creepy feeling of Dark Sorcery, or incredibly evil intentions, of hate. That was it. It was pure, unadulterated hate.

And it was pointed right at him.

“Do you feel that?”

“Oh, yeah,” Pat immediately replied. “That’s bad juju. Real bad juju. And it’s strong.”

“There’s something familiar about it,” Hopper murmured. Slowly traversing the flat, wet rocks that formed the banks of the jetty, he thought aloud. “I’ve not felt that exact Sorcery before, but something like it.”

Swatting at his arm, trying to get rid of the feeling that ants were crawling over his flesh, he stepped off the stones onto the lush, green grass. Opening the unique mental link he shared with Empress Scathach, Queen Doireann, and Princess Rionach, he called, “Hello. Ladies. Where are you?”

Not his usual, cheerful self, but nothing was normal or how it should have been. With every passing second of silence, a fierce sense of dread filled his soul.

“Sorry for eavesdropping,” Pat prompted. “But I must ask, have they ever not answered?”

“No,” Hopper deadpanned. “Never.” Pointing towards the highest peak on the island, he added, “That’s where we’re headed. It’s…”

“Where the shitty sense of death is?”

“Yep.”

“I might be overstepping, but has…”

“No, the link I share with the Clan Leaders has never been so hollow and dark,” Hopper answered, knowing precisely what his Cousin was about to say.

“It feels like someone severed the connection. There’s not even a spark of their inherent Magic or that of the Dragons with whom they share their soul. They’re just… not there.”

“So, heigh-ho, heigh-ho, up the mountain we go?”

“Yeah, up the mountain we go, thanking Auntie Uni and Mo Nat that our legs are a helluva lot longer than the Seven Dwarves.”

“Ha! For sure,” Pat chuckled. “I hadn’t thought of that.” A single step later, he added, “And we’re not using our talents because…?”

“Because I have the sneaking suspicious that whoever or whatever stinks like Lucifer’s armpits after an especially lengthy workout, wants us up there. Even more, wants us to ‘unwittingly’ fall into the most obvious trap in the history of traps.”

“And since we know it’s a trap, we’re gonna walk right into it?”

Chuckling despite the situation and for Pat’s benefit because he was trying so hard to lift his spirits, Hopper snorted, “Yes, exactly. We’re gonna walk right into it because (A) We’re Omnipotent Beings, (B) They’re not Omnipotent Beings, and (C) I am pretty sure whoever or whatever lured us here never imagined we’d happily do what they wanted us to do.

They were all prepared for a fight where they could launch into some major villainous monologue and bore us into submission. ”

“Oh,” Pat mused with a slow, emphatic nod. “See? I told Faye and Desi that you weren’t just watching every superhero ever made to waste time. I assured them that there was a method to your madness. I knew there had to be more…”

“Pat.”

“Yeah.”

“I hate to burst your bubble, but…”

“But you watch superhero movies because you like superhero movies?”

“You got it in one,” Hopper nodded, moving closer to the side of the mountain as the winding trail narrowed. “But thank you for covering for me.”

“Oh, I wasn’t covering for you. I was merely using you as an example when the girls started bitchin’ about my obsession with cooking shows.”

“Ha!” Barking a single laugh, he nodded. “At least, we’re always there for each other.”

“You know it, Bud.”

Walking in silence for the next few minutes, Hopper tried to come up with at least one person or being who had the nerve to lure him to the island, the wherewithal to capture, hopefully, not kill or harm, three Clans of Amazonian Dragonesses, and more to the point, had the ability to penetrate the Magical protection he and Pat had created and maintained for centuries.

Whoever or whatever they were about to face had to be packing some gumption, but what bothered him the most was that the closer he and Pat got to the pinnacle of the mountain, the more familiar the Mysticism felt.

Stopping mid-stride, he held up his hands when Pat was about to speak and stood perfectly still.

Inhaling deeply, Hopper let his eyes slide shut.

Clearing his mind of anything but the Sorcery nipping at the exposed skin of his arms, he searched for the Mystical thread that all Magic–Light or Dark–possessed.

Deeper and deeper, he delved into his mind’s eye.

Slowly floating through his own consciousness, Hopper was just about to give up when he spied a dim, dull, flickering beam the color of a pumpkin left on the vine too long, grapes that were well past their sell by date, the gray of dreary, London morning, and totally out of place, the bright green of a fresh blade of spring grass.

Careful not to touch the tiny shaft of Sorcery, he focused on the latter.

If Mother Nature had taught him anything, it was when solving a mystery, one had to find the piece that didn’t fit, and there was no doubt that the gorgeous, brilliant green hue did not fit with other more dingy and depressing ones.

Skimming along the interlaced strings, it took only a few seconds until an image emerged in his mind.

There he stood, tall and regal with flaming red hair and eyes the color of emeralds, wearing the armor of Asgard and holding Laevateinn, the Flaming Sword of Destruction.

It was Loki, the Trickster god of the Norse Pantheon, and the father of Hopper’s Mate.

But that couldn’t be. Something simply was not right.

He’d seen Loki with Hel. Witnessed the Trickster god’s love and devotion to his daughter.

Hopper was also sure that over the centuries, Loki had heard, or simply knew, that he, the Omnipotent Being known as Hope was Hel’s One True Fated Mate, and vice versa.

“That just can’t…” He uttered the words aloud, opening his eyes as he turned and looked at Pat. “Did you see that?”

“I did.”

“And what do you make of it?”

“I think you’re right. There’s no way Loki would do anything that would remotely hurt Hel.

” Holding up the index finger of his right hand, he continued, “Don’t get me wrong, that Trickster god will never be a favorite of mine, but I do know that he loves his daughter and would never intentionally do anything to hurt her which means that by extension, he would never do anything to you.

” Moving his outstretched finger in a semi-circle, he added, “And this whole… Well, whatever it is, has ‘somebody wants to kick Hopper’s ass’ written all over it. ”

“My thoughts exactly,” Hop nodded. Facing forward, he sighed, “So. Shall we get on up there, and see meet our not-so-gracious host.”

“After you.”

Two more incredibly sharp turns and a perilous trip across a rope bridge that only stayed hanging with the help of a quick pop of Hopper’s Magic, and the Cousins were on the homestretch.

With every step, the hair on the back of his neck stood a little taller and dread climbing his spine dug its sharp, barbed claws into his flesh.

Turning to tell Pat to wait and let him go out first, Hopper got as far as, “Hey, Dude, I think…” Before a roar that reminded him of a 747 trying to land on his head rattled his entire being from the inside out.

Head falling back as the whoosh and rush of a high velocity blast of air almost pushed him off the side of the mountain, his hands instinctually slapped over his ears as a high-pitched whine tried burrowing its way into his brain.

A loud, cacophonous pop that shook the ground beneath his feet announced the appearance of a swirling, twirling ring of icy blue and midnight black Enchantment a second before a Magical portal burst to life and out flew none other than his Mate and the Valkyrie known as Liv.

Hopper couldn’t move. He couldn’t think. His heart skipped a beat. His joy at seeing Hel in all her glory was instantly doused with a tsunami of fear for her safety and the overwhelming need to protect her at all costs.

Feet moving before he completely facing forward, Hopper sprinted to the mountaintop as fast as his feet and his Magic could carry him.

With the last little bit of the rocky mountainside right before him, the ball of Hopper’s right foot hit the trail as his left foot pushed off and the Omnipotent Being catapulted himself into the air.

Landing with a thud a second before Pat followed suit, Hopper had just stood to his full height when a shrill, nasally shout slashed through the air like a weedwhacker through a flower garden. “Stop right there, you bitch, or I’ll blast you to pieces and your little Valkyrie too.”

“YOU?” Hopper heard Hel hiss, her confusion an afterthought to her outrage.

Not stopping, even as he realized that his Mate knew the person who’d lured him there, Hopper leapt over rocks, hurdled three separate rows of wild bushes and damn near ran right into the massive trunk of a massive mahogany tree, before Pat’s voice sounded in his mind.

“Slow down, Cuz. You need to get a lay of the land, find out what you’re up against. You will be no good to Hel if you charge in there like a bull in a china shop. Sounds like she knows this person. You need to…”

Stopping behind the last, crooked row of wild bushes, Hopper mentally whispered, “Thanks,” knowing Pat understood that it was all he could get out while his Mate was in danger and he was so close.

Peering through the brambles, Hopper shook his head, blinked his eyes, and finally mentally asked Pat, “Is that the weirdest shaped being you’ve ever seen, or am I losing my mind?”

“Nope, I am happy to say that you are perfectly sane and that is a… well… umm… That is… Let’s just say, that is the most unique physique I have ever seen.”

Nowhere near identical to, she, and he used the term loosely at that point, resembled a taller, not quite as humpbacked but more egg-shaped, Quasimodo with hair the texture of dried out hay, the color of an old pumpkin that stuck out in every direction from her overly oval head.

Long, gangly arms with knobby elbows were longer than entirely necessary and the fingers flipping and flitting in every direction as she screeched at Hel were gnarled with dimply, swollen knuckles that looked like small golf balls were way too big for the rest. Her skin was so thin that he could see each and every artery, vein, capillary, and muscle fiber the strange lifeform possessed, but it was the gray, mottled color that made him wonder if she was from a different planet.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Hel demanded. “Does Father know…?”

But that was as far as his Mate got before the odd-shaped being hissed, “Isn’t it obvious, my dear big sister?” Taking a threatening step forward, she added with a menacing cackle, “I’m here to put you in the ground, bitch!”