Descendant by Lesley Livingston

Author:Lesley Livingston
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins

XIII

Rory lay in a dull fog of painkiller-induced numbness, listening to the voices outside his door. When he’d first regained consciousness, he’d been disoriented and confused. Now he knew at least he was in the guest bedroom of the posh penthouse condo his father kept in midtown Manhattan—and he knew that whatever they’d pumped him full of, it wasn’t anything even remotely over-the-counter. Only something magick-infused could make him feel that good. Especially considering the beating he’d taken . . .

Rory Starling had never had a very high pain threshold.

And so when Fennrys had attacked him and shattered his arm in an attempt to make Rory drop the gun he was pointing at Mason, the pain of that injury might have clouded his judgment. After all . . . shooting the one guy they needed, the only known, readily available soul who’d crossed the barrier into the Beyond Realms and walked back out again whole and re-alive . . . well, that might have been a little hasty. Because if the Fennrys Wolf was dead, then their one shot at retrieving the Odin spear from Valhalla was gone.

Or maybe not . . .

Rory couldn’t remember exactly how he’d gotten to the penthouse. The last clear memory he had was watching his father destroy the rune gold that Rory had been using to augment Taggert Overlea’s strength and speed. Of course, Rory had pumped so much rune magick into Tag—hoping to use him as a point man for building his own personal warrior band—that destroying the acorn had also destroyed Tag.

But Rory, more to the point, had destroyed the Fennrys Wolf first.

I put a bullet in that son of a bitch, Rory thought. If that didn’t kill him, the bridge exploding must have. I mean . . . there’s gotta be a limit as to how many times a guy can die before it sticks, right?

And even though a dead Fennrys would probably nullify any chance of setting Ragnarok in motion, Rory felt a small, grim sense of satisfaction at the thought of the Wolf’s demise. But as he struggled to concentrate on the voices in the hall, it became increasingly apparent that the situation was a lot more complicated than Rory had stopped to consider.

“I would dearly love to know who, exactly, is responsible for the destruction of the Hell Gate,” Gunnar said in a tight, angry voice. “And I want to know where your sister is!”

“Don’t you think I do, too?” Roth snapped. “Why don’t you ask Rory what really happened on top of that train? He was there—he should know, damn it!”

Whoa, Rory thought blearily. Roth’s pissed.

That didn’t happen. Ever.

“I already asked him,” Gunnar snapped back. “He said he couldn’t see for the brightness as the train passed over the Hell Gate. And then, once it reached the other side, she was simply . . . gone. He has no other explanation—”

“He’s useless,” Roth snarled.

“—and I can come up with no viable scenarios either. At least not ones that don’t involve the death of your sister, Roth.

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