River of Shadows (Underworld Gods #1)

I’m about to make another joke, anything to lighten the mood and dissolve my nerves that are out of control, when suddenly there’s a loud BOOM and the entire crypt shakes, pieces of the ceiling crashing down, nearly hitting the statues.

“What the fuck!” I cry out and Kalma reaches out to steady me.

I must find Death, Sarvi says, and the unicorn gallops out of the crypt, hoofbeats echoing against the walls, black mane and tail flying behind it.

“What was that?” I ask Lovia as the dust settles. “Do you get earthquakes here?”

She shakes her head. “Not that I’ve felt.”

“Not for a long time,” Kalma says gravely. “Come on, we need to get out of here. The crypt might not be safe.”

He puts the crown back on the altar and then takes me by the elbow, quickly leading me out of the crypt, with Lovia and Raila right behind me, carrying my train so I don’t get stuck on something.

We’re just past the wine cellar when there’s another BOOM and everything shakes again, bottles of vintage rolling off the shelves and crashing to the floor. Fuck, Death is going to be pissed about that.

“Bombs?” I ask as I’m ushered up the stairs. “How about bombs? Do you guys do bombs in this land?”

Kalma doesn’t say anything, though there’s fear in his eyes, something I never expected to see in the wizened old man.

“Are the Realms colliding? Are we under attack? Veils flopping over? Someone tell me what’s going on,” I tell them as we get to the main floor. “Hello?”

“Loviatar,” Kalma says to her. “You take Hanna to your father’s quarters. The wards will hold there against whatever the hell this is. Make sure she can’t leave, and that no one can get in. And I do mean no one.”

I shall go too, Raila says, making a move to the stairs.

“No,” Kalma says sharply. “No, you are coming with me, Raila.”

I exchange a look with Lovia. I don’t like the idea of being locked up in Death’s room, but I do like the idea of being protected by wards from this strange attack on the castle. I mean, it is an attack, right? Hard to say since no one will fucking answer my questions.

Kalma grabs hold of Raila’s arm, holding her tight enough that I hear the bone of her arm snap and he practically drags her away. Ouch. What the hell was that about?

Meanwhile Lovia is running up the stairs with my dress in her hands and I’m taking the steps two at a time to catch up.

“What was up with Raila?” I ask Lovia as we round the corner of one level and take the stairs to the next. “Pretty sure Kalma just broke her arm back there.”

“I don’t know,” she says warily. “But if Kalma does something like that to you, you probably deserve it. He might think Raila is a spy behind all that’s happening, whatever this is.”

“A spy? She’s the spy?”

“My father has a saying, never trust the dead.”

“I thought his saying was never trust the living? Which, by the way, he got from Beetlejuice.”

“Never trust the dead, never trust the living, never trust a God, and never trust a redhead,” she adds, “which is all because of my redheaded mother.”

“So basically trust no one.”

“Bingo.”

And as if on cue, another crash rocks the castle and both of us nearly fall over the railing of the stairs, a long way down.

“We need to hurry,” Lovia says, reaching over and pulling me up straight. We run even faster now up the stairs, past Deadhands who are running the opposite way, their swords drawn as if going into battle.

Hell, I have no idea what’s happening outside these walls, maybe there is some epic battle going on, an all hands on deck type of situation.

Finally we get to the top and to Death’s quarters, a place I still haven’t been yet since it’s been forbidden to me. Lovia tries to push open the doors but they don’t budge. Panic lines her face and then she fishes out a set of skeleton keys from her boobs and inserts the key.

The door opens, revealing a large lair that could only belong to Death. Everything is black. Everything is lush and stark and hard and soft, and a million contradictions. His private quarters are like all of Shadow’s End in concentrated form, and his essence oozes from the gleam of the dark floors, to the metallic black designs of the wallpaper.

But while the door to the room is wide open, it’s not easy walking through. There’s a feeling of thickening air, like something solid pushing you back, similar to the feeling of walking through the tunnel under the waterfall.

“It’s the wards,” Lovia says, her face straining as she pushes forward and finally we both go stumbling through, my ears popping as I try not to trip over a rug.

“Father!” Lovia yells, searching the room, while I go straight to the window and peer out to see what’s happening.

Of course I can’t see a damn thing. The world is covered in the thickest layer of fog I’ve ever seen. I don’t even know if it is fog, maybe it’s smoke. Even though he’s been avoiding me, the weather hasn’t been too terrible the last few days. Not sunny like the day he told me I was marrying him, but it’s been pleasant. But this? It’s foul and I wonder if it’s all his doing.

“He’s not here,” Lovia says, sounding panicked. “Do you mind if I go look for him? I’ll be okay out there, and you’ll be safe in here. Just lock the door behind you and don’t leave this room. Okay? He’d kill me if something happened to you.”

I’m not planning on leaving, but I don’t want her leaving me either.

I swallow hard, feeling so scared I might vomit.

Somehow I have enough courage to nod. “If you say I’ll be fine here, then I’ll stay.”

“I’ll be right back,” she says. Then she marches over to a stand of armory in the corner, picks up a sword, twirls it around in her hand, and then grins at it in satisfaction before heading through the wards again and out the door.

I quickly head to the door and fight through the ward again to lock it. Then I turn around and face the room, wondering what the hell is going on.

Some fucking wedding day. The groom doesn’t show up and then the venue gets bombed.

The little attempt at humor falls flat though when the castle shakes again, though subtle now, the boom sounding far off. Either the attack is subsiding or the wards really do have me protected.

I sit down on the end of Death’s bed and try to think. Of course it’s bigger than king-sized and all black satin and velvet, with iron posts and skulls in the corners. Definitely didn’t get this at Ikea either.

Another distant boom sends the mirrors rattling against the walls and I get up, wondering if I should huddle under something just in case. I’ve had my fair share of earthquake drills, but when the actual earthquakes shake up Los Angeles a few times a year, I usually spend most of the time thinking about taking shelter but not actually doing it.

Another boom makes the walls tremble and my heart leaps in my chest. It’s been racing steadily this whole time and I have to remind myself to breathe in deeply, in case I fall victim to a panic attack. Somehow I’ve survived all of Tuonela without really having one, but now I feel utterly alone for the first time.

What if everyone dies? What if this is part of the uprising?

What will the Old Gods do to me if they find me? Gouge my eyes out like the old believers? Will I be sent to Oblivion? Or to Inmost for eternity, to be turned into a Deadmaiden for them? What horrors do they inflict on mortals engaged to Gods?

Okay, now I’m having a panic attack.

Suddenly there’s a tapping at the window.

I can’t help but scream.

I whip around and look, terror seizing me, expecting to see the eye of a giant at the window, saying “Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum, I smell the blood of a social media manager.”

But no.

It’s Rasmus.

I don’t know how, but it’s fucking Rasmus.

He’s sitting outside the window, a window that’s hundreds of feet up in the air. His red hair is tousled by the high winds and he’s waving at me, like he just stopped by after dinner to see if I was home, wanting a beer and a chat.

“What the hell?” I say, rushing over to him. I fling the window open, careful not to hit him with it. “Rasmus?” I cry out, blinking fast at the wind in my eyes.