by S. T. Bende
As always, his trick worked like a charm.
“You carry those things all the time?” Mia giggled delicately.
Henrik shrugged, and I squeezed his thigh under the table. He was the best at handling Mia. Gods, I loved him.
“Forget everything you’ve ever read about Ragnarok,” he ordered. “The kill count, the survivor list, the destroyed realms doc—all of it.”
“There’s a document of destroyed realms?” Mia’s voice reached a whole new octave.
Oops.
“Like I said, forget about it. The true prophecy of Ragnarok is short, and succinct, and tells us very little. It says—” Henrik cleared his throat and made quotation marks in the air with is fingers. Oh, gods, he wasn’t going to actually tell her the verbatim prophesy, was he? “Ahem. ‘With the death of Balder, the powers of darkness will burst from their tethers. Jotunheim shall crack open; a terrible frost shall suffocate all things good.’”
Holy Helheim, Henrik was telling her the prophecy. Mia’s eyes were wide as saucers, and she’d resumed shredding her cuticles. I nudged Henrik under the table and sent a silent stop talking, you idiot, which he either didn’t pick up on or chose to ignore.
“‘The great beast will attack, the wicked ship sail, and the light of Asgard—’ouch! Why’d you kick me, Brynn?”
“Okay,” I interrupted with a beatific smile. “That’s enough prophecy quoting.”
“What? What happens to the light of Asgard?” Mia’s head whipped frantically between Henrik and me. “Who’s the great beast? What ship? You can’t just stop!”
“We can, and we will,” I said, mentally rescinding my praise of Henrik’s calming abilities. “Because the truth is that in centuries—millennia, really—of trying to interpret that prophecy, none of us have been able to work out a plausible interpretation. There are infinite variables that create thousands of potential outcomes. The beast could be a fire giant or a frost giant, or some creature we’ve never encountered. It could be Fenrir or Hymir, or even an Asgardian who turns dark. And our Midgardian followers were Vikings, for Odin’s sake. The ‘wicked ship’ could be a vestige of one of a thousand wrecked vessels…or something one of our dark realm enemies build. We just don’t know.”
“Yes, but—”
“The one thing we do know,” I continued, “is that Balder’s death is the call to arms. But a substantial period of time could very well pass between his death and the initial battle. So yes, dark times are ahead, but the best thing we can do until then is support Tyr, try to heal Freya, and enjoy this period of peace, however short or long it may be.”
“Förbaskat. Freya.” Henrik looked down at me with big eyes. Was I going to have to kick him again?
“Freya will be fine,” I asserted. She had to be.
“If she’s not better by the time the fighting starts, who’s going to command the valkyries? Brynnhild was removed from her post—with reason—but did Freya ever appoint a successor?”
“No. Nanna’s been handling Love—though I’d imagine she’ll need a replacement now too. But Freya’s still guiding the valkyries, with Tyr’s support.” Of course, once Ragnarok went down, War’s sole focus would need to be on overarching strategy. He wouldn’t have time to oversee Odin’s elite female fighting squad. Which meant we’d need another high commander. Where were we going to come up with anyone who had even close to Freya’s level of experience? Gods, we were screwed.
No, we’re not. Everything’s going to be fine, Aksel. Fine. Because…“Freya will just have to be better before the battle begins. We’ve probably got a few weeks—maybe months. We’ll get her well.”
“The world’s going to end in a few weeks?” Mia’s voice climbed another octave. We were seriously failing to keep her calm.
“Or months,” Henrik offered.
“Or never,” I corrected. “We could win, you know.”
“We could?” Mia asked hopefully.
“Absolutely,” I said, stomping on Henrik’s foot the second he opened his mouth. He winced, but shot me a look that said, got it. Thank gods we were finally on the same page.
The truth was, the prophecy was clear on how Ragnarok would end. According to the Norns, fire would consume the earth, and darkness would swallow the sky. Nobody god or mortal, would survive.
Nobody.
“We could most definitely win Ragnarok.” The lie slipped easily through my too wide smile. “And the best thing you can do to help us is keep holding down the home front with your seriously epic dinners and cookies. And continue working on your Unifying with Elsa.”
“Unifying is hard.” Mia paled. “What if I don’t have it mastered by the time the fighting starts?”
“Just do your best.” Henrik shrugged. “Elsa’s got the skill down, though she’ll be pretty busy healing the wounded—”
Was I going to have to kick him again? “What Henrik’s trying to say,” I interrupted, “is that two Unifiers—even one who’s only halfway trained up—are better than one Unifier. You’ll help as best you’re able.”
I’d thought my words would pacify Mia, but her nostrils flared as if I’d lit a fire under her. “I don’t do anything by halves.” She spat the words out, as if they’d left a bad taste in her mouth. “I will learn this. And I will help you. And I will fight at your side and defend our realms with every ability I have, so help me, God.”
“That’s our girl.” Henrik cuffed Mia on the shoulder across the table.
My smile didn’t quite reach my eyes. “Absolutely. We’ve got this. Now eat up, and when we’re done, I’ll check on Freya.”
“She’s been asleep since right after breakfast,” Mia said anxiously. “Elsa’s supposed to come over later on—bring Freya some flower essences, and pick up the roast I made for her and Forse. I offered to drop it off, but I think they need some space.”
“I’ll call Elsa. Why don’t you and Henrik finish that…pie?” I eyed the pastry cloth covering something on the countertop. “What are you working on for Jason?”
“Meemaw’s red velvet torte,” Henrik said. Of course. Because it was red velvet everything when an Ahlström came to visit.
Not that I was complaining.
“Right. You guys bake. Elsa and I will get Freya in fighting shape—er,” I amended, when Mia’s face paled, “in tip-top condition. Then it’s early to bed for everybody.”
Because the truth was, we had no idea what tomorrow would bring. And if, Odin forbid, the fighting began while Tyr really was still in Asgard, we needed Mia alert so we had the greatest likelihood of evacuating her to one of our secure locations.
And after that…Odin help us all.
**
“Hei hei. We’re back!” Tyr’s voice rang up the stairs with false cheer.
In typical overprotective fashion, he’d insisted on accompanying Mia to the airport to pick up Jason. He hadn’t left her side since returning from Asgard, except during the briefing he’d given Henrik, Forse, and me while Mia trained with Elsa. Apparently, things were, in fact, as dire as they seemed. We were to review war drills, increase production of debilitating tech, and prepare for immediate relocation to wherever hostilities broke out, all while avoiding detection by the mortals. It was hardly an ideal time for Mia’s brother to visit, but not only would canceling his trip at the last minute have aroused suspicion, but Mia desperately needed a dose of the normalcy her family provided.
And it could well be the last time she ever saw her brother. Alive, at least.
Stop it. Think positive.
“Hello?” Mia called out. “Anybody home?”
“Be right down,” Henrik shouted. He turned off the mini blowtorch, and raised his safety goggles so they sat on his forehead. He appraised the closer with a self-satisfied smirk. “This seems like a good place to stop. We’ll let the transformer cool, and finish it up tonight.”
“Then we can run some tests tomorrow.” I grinned at my partner. “Odin help the jotun, or fire giant, or whatever that thi
nks it can open a portal anywhere near this bad boy. They’ll be shipped to the nether realm before they know what hits them.”
“I hope so, Brynnie.” Henrik’s brow furrowed. “I know we’re putting on a good face for Mia, but you do realize the odds are stacked against us?”
“When aren’t they? We’ve been fighting impossible odds since the day I joined this team. The fact that we’re still alive means somebody inside that Norn compound is on our side.” My throat tightened at the memory of my sister, a junior Norn who’d died protecting Midgard during Freya’s first kidnapping. I liked to think Anja looked out for me from her seat in Valhalla.
“You’re right, sötnos. Somebody out there is on our side.” Henrik wrapped his arm around my waist. He removed my goggles, placing them on the table before gently pressing his mouth to mine. His tongue trailed across my lower lip, then delved into my mouth, massaging mine in a dance that sent my blood pooling south. When my lips tingled and my face was thoroughly flushed, Henrik pulled back with a lazy grin. “Come on. Let’s grab Jason, head down to the pool table, and kick Tyr’s butt. We can resume saving the world after lunch.”
“Sounds good.” I hung my apron on a peg and traipsed happily from the upstairs lab.
When we passed Freya’s doorway, I glanced inside out of habit. But instead of the sleeping love goddess I’d expected to see, I was treated to a sight I hadn’t dared hope for. Not for a few days, at least. “Freya, you’re up! Sit tight. Let me get Elsa.”
“No need for that.” Excitement bubbled in Freya’s eyes as she shrugged a cardigan over her V-neck tee. The pale green looked gorgeous against her long strawberry locks, and there was a flush to her cheeks I hadn’t seen since she’d first awoken from her semi-coma. “I feel really good.”
“You slept all morning,” I said. “Maybe you should take it easy today. Read in bed, watch a movie. Henrik and I just watched Much Ado About Nothing–super fun. I can grab it and—”
“I said I feel good, Brynn,” Freya reiterated. “Better than I have in weeks. Maybe I just needed to power down for a few days. I don’t know.”
“Ja, but you’ve been pretty out of it.” Henrik said from behind me. “I’m with Brynn—we don’t want you overtaxing yourself. How about I go get the movie, and we’ll bring you up some food so—”
“For Odin’s sake, I said I am fine!” Freya exploded. “What I need is for all of you to stop treating me like I’m dying!”
Henrik’s chest tightened against my back. My breathing stilled as I took in Freya’s balled fists, clenched jaw, and narrowed eyes. It was the first time any of us had spoken the “D word” out loud. We couldn’t open those gates—we just couldn’t. Freya was my friend; my mentor; and more than that, she was the very source of love the worlds depended on to thrive. She had to be okay.
For so many reasons.
“Everything okay up there?” Mia’s tentative voice echoed up the stairs.
“Everything’s great. Here we come.” Henrik wrapped his hand around my arm and pulled me from Freya’s door. His gaze softened at the end of the hall, where he reached up to wipe my damp cheeks with the pad of his thumb. Freya pushed past us, her shoulder bumping against mine as she stormed down the stairs. I blinked helplessly, then turned imploring eyes to Henrik.
“How do we fix this?” I whispered.
He pulled me to him, cradling my head so my check nestled against his strong chest. “Come here, sötnos.”
I soaked in the comfort he offered for a minute longer than necessary before extracting myself. With a determined sniffle, I drew my shoulders back and wiped my eyes on my sleeve. “Everything’s going to be fine. Right?”
“Everything’s going to be fine,” Henrik confirmed. “She said she felt better than she has in weeks. Or, she did before we reminded her she’s sick. Who knows? Maybe she turned a corner.”
“Now? What could possibly affect her health more than the dozens of medicines, hundreds of energy healings, and the infinite number of flower essences Elsa’s pushed on her over the past few months?”
“I don’t know.” Henrik followed me down the stairs. “Maybe she really did just need some sleep.”
“Maybe,” I muttered, unconvinced.
We entered the kitchen, where Mia was uncovering plates upon plates of baked goods she’d lovingly prepared for her brother. “Oh, Jase, I’m so happy you’re here! Henrik and I made Meemaw’s torte, and her cake, and the apple pie you liked so much two Christmases ago, and—”
But Jason Ahlström wasn’t paying a lick of attention to his sister’s menu itemization. Usually he doted on Mia, and spent the first few hours of their visits reconnecting with the family member he so clearly cherished. But this time, things were different. Instead of the easy energy I was used to enjoying when two Ahlströms came together, the kitchen was thick with anticipation. With tension. Weird. Where was it coming from?
Henrik was normal beside me, and Mia was her usual cheery self. That only left Tyr, who beamed proudly at his girlfriend, his back to the counter and his arms folded across his chest. And Jason.
Oh. Oh.
I zeroed in on Jason, observing the way his knuckles cracked as he tightened his grip on the island. He ran one hand through his chocolaty brown hair, studying the goddess who’d stormed into the kitchen several paces ahead of me. His violet–blue eyes roved up Freya’s unfairly long, skinny jean-clad legs, along the cardigan that hugged her toned waist and strong arms, then settled on her porcelain face. One corner of his mouth turned up in approval, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the island in the universal male posture of interest.
Oh. This should be good.
My gaze darted casually to Freya, to see what my friend made of the mortal who was eyeing her like she was the last slice of pizza in the pie. I expected polite dismissal, or at best mild amusement. But Freya, her cheeks a rosy pink hue I hadn’t seen in ever, was staring back at Jason with the blend of fascination and frustration I knew all too well. I’d sported it myself every day of the Midgardian years I was stationed alongside Henrik yet not allowed to act on my feelings—when I’d known the love of my existence was right under my nose, and I was bound by the valkyrie code to not date him until Freya promoted me to captain—a rank I’d believed I wouldn’t achieve until long after Henrik was married, with babies and grandbabies.
As I wondered what Freya might possibly be considering, her mood abruptly shifted. Her gaze clouded in a mist of fury until abject loathing akin to what I’d once felt for the code shone like twin flecks of fire in Freya’s blazing eyes. It was an intensity of emotion—albeit an unfriendly one—I hadn’t seen from my friend in a long time. And while I appreciated that Freya seemed to have finally come alive again, the level of anger radiating from the goddess whose purpose was to fill our realms with love made my pulse quicken.
I shot Henrik a screaming should we step in? vibe. But Freya’s fury dissipated as quickly as it had come, my friend’s chest rising and falling as she seemingly struggled to regain control. And then…
No. Freaking. Way.
And then Freya, the Goddess of Love, who was forbidden by the Norns to give her heart away lest the worlds tumble into Chaos, blinked at Mia’s mortal brother as if he was simultaneously the most curious and the most abominable creature who had ever walked into her life. Awareness slammed into me like an electric prod as I realized that Freya’s nap had diddly squat to do with her improved health. It was Jason’s arrival—and his subsequent awakening of long dormant feelings, and the dream of a possibility Freya rarely let herself hope for—that made my friend look more alive than she had in months. But if that was the case…what the Helheim were we going to do about it?
CHAPTER FOUR
FREYA
JASON AHLSTRÖM WAS CONSIDERABLY better looking than I’d expected. The strong planes of his cheeks gave way to an impressively square jaw, and his eyes held the timeless intelligence innate in older souls. Despite the frat-boy vibe radiating from his f
lannel shirt and strategically ripped jeans, it was clear that Jason was a man in command of both himself and his world. The easy way he settled into the room filled with some of the most alpha gods in the Norse pantheon proved he had no problem holding his own—a trait mortal girls must have found highly attractive. Helheim, I found it highly attractive. Not that I’d ever admit it.
Ever.
Somewhere in Arcata, Jason’s perfekt match was registering said attractive mortal’s proximity. I knew this because the quadrant of my brain dedicated to my duties as Goddess of Love was flashing like a homing beacon, indicating a matched pair was nearby. I didn’t usually oversee human relationships—I’d relegated that task to the subsidiaries who served under Verdandi, the primary Norn who’d bequeathed me my matchmaking title. But Jason must have been entitled to special treatment—either because his sister was matched with War, or his union with his perfekt match was somehow vital to the realms—because the cue that should have gone to a subsidiary was beaming straight to me. The back of my brain was lighting up like a Midgardian Christmas tree. And it was giving me a major headache.
I threw a mental redirect at the light, sending it to the subsidiary Norn compound in Asgard. Then I shifted my focus to the mortal in front of me.
Jason leaned forward, his forearms resting lightly on the island countertop. He’d cocked his head to the side, studying me with an affected calm that only barely betrayed his interest. I supposed it was fair—I was the only member of Mia’s friend-family he hadn’t met yet. He was no doubt sizing me up. And apparently, he approved of what he saw.
Too bad I couldn’t say the same.
Despite Jason’s confident air and admittedly attractive appearance, the foremost detail in my consciousness was that he’d left my valkyrie to fend for herself in a sea of drunks. Proper gentleman, he was not. And in spite of the appreciative glance he was shooting my way, or perhaps because of it, it would serve me well to remember the kind of guy Mia’s brother really was.
