by Kate O'Hearn
Freya shook her head. ‘Not yet. I don’t want to scare them. The moment people see me they think I’m either an angel or the Angel of Death.’
Archie scrunched up his face. ‘Well, technically speaking, Gee, you are kind of an angel of death. Just one meant for the battlefields.’
‘I guess so,’ Freya surrendered.
The air was fresh and crisp as they walked through the darkened neighbourhood streets. Most of the homes they passed had their lights on and held a warm, welcoming glow. From each home, Freya could feel the emotions of the people inside. She was wearing her helmet, so no one saw her.
‘OK, here’s their street,’ Archie said. Most of the houses were dark and many front yards had SOLD signs in them or were boarded up. Two looked as if they had been burned down. It seemed the entire area was moving out.
They counted down the numbers until they reached one of the few lit houses, right beside a burned-out hulk.
‘Number forty-five, here it is,’ Archie said.
Freya looked up at the house her soldier had lived in with his family. It was a simple, two-storey structure. The house looked like it had seen better days and was in desperate need of repair.
‘Tyrone lived here?’ Orus said. ‘No wonder he went off to war!’
Freya swatted the bird. ‘Be nice.’
From the street, Freya could hear the sound of a baby crying. ‘That’s Tyrone’s baby daughter, Uniik. He never got to hold her. She was born while he was on the battlefield and he died before he could come home to see her.’
‘That’s so sad,’ Archie said. ‘I read that Valkyries can choose who lives and who dies. Couldn’t you save him?’
Freya removed her helmet and became invisible. ‘He was badly wounded. It was his time to die and I couldn’t change that, even if I wanted to. I brought him to Valhalla but promised to let his family know they were in his thoughts every minute.’
Archie and Freya stood in silence as they listened to the cries of the baby. ‘Stay here. I’ll get in through the baby’s window up there. Then I’ll take a look around. I won’t be long.’ Freya opened her wings and pulled her helmet back on.
‘Be careful,’ Archie warned. ‘If the family is in danger, they might have a gun.’
Freya smiled at her new friend, even though he wouldn’t see it. ‘I’ll be careful.’ She didn’t bother to tell him that while she wore her armour she couldn’t be wounded.
Freya leaped into the air and flapped her wings. It was a short flight up to the window of the baby’s room. She gripped the sill with one hand and shoved open the window with the other.
With little effort, she hauled herself inside. Orus returned to her shoulder when she stood. Freya walked over to the crib.
Uniik was the first human baby she had ever seen up close. She was beautiful. Her dark skin was the same colour as Tyrone’s. She had a head of dark curly hair and a powerful cry, bursting with life. She had kicked off her covers.
‘She’s cute, but a little loud,’ Orus complained.
Wearing her gloves, Freya stroked the baby’s face with a trembling hand. ‘Shhhh, little one,’ she whispered gently. ‘It will be all right. Your father loved you dearly and gave his life protecting you.’
Suddenly a light came on in the room as a woman’s voice cried, ‘No, please, you can’t take her!’
Freya’s wings flashed open as she turned and was met by a pleading old woman standing in the doorway. Her dark face bore the wrinkles of a long, troubled life and her body was wasted by age and illness. ‘Angel, take me if you must, but leave my granddaughter alone.’
It took a moment for Freya to realize that she was still wearing her helmet. ‘You can see me?’
The old woman moved stiffly as she knelt down before her. ‘Please,’ she begged. ‘She’s just a baby with her whole life ahead of her. If you must take someone, take me. I am old and ready to go.’
‘This is not good,’ Orus said. ‘If she can see you, she’s dying.’
Freya removed her helmet. ‘I’m not here to take anyone. I knew Uniik’s father and promised him I would come. Do not be afraid of me.’ As she helped the old woman to rise, Freya felt pain coming from her. Pain, and something else; something hovering very near. It was a feeling of impending death.
The old woman squinted up at her. ‘Why, you’re just a child!’
‘I am old enough,’ Freya said. ‘I was with Tyrone Johnson when he died.’
The old woman grasped her chest and staggered back. ‘My Tyrone? You were the one who took my son?’
‘I did not want to,’ Freya started as she steadied her. ‘But I had to. It was his time. He was wounded and dying, nothing could change that. All I did was end his suffering.’ She reached into her pouch and pulled out Tyrone’s phone. ‘Your son gave me this. He showed me his daughters and begged me to come and protect his family. He regretted that he never held his new baby and couldn’t say goodbye to his wife.’
The old woman looked at the phone. Tears rose in her grey-rimmed, brown eyes and her chin quivered. ‘They are united in death,’ she spoke softly. ‘Victoria was killed in a hit-and-run accident almost six months ago, not long after Tyrone died. They never caught the driver.’
‘She is dead?’ Freya looked away, unable to understand. She felt her temper rise as she learned of yet more violence. ‘Is that all this world is? Violence and war? People hurting each other for no reason?’
‘Sometimes it seems that way,’ the old woman said. ‘But it does have goodness as well.’
‘Where?’ Freya demanded harshly. ‘I have yet to see it. All I find is pain and loss. Boys are beating up boys for no reason, and Tyrone’s wife has been killed. It is all so ugly.’
She balled her hands into fists and crossed the room. ‘My sister tried to tell me that people had changed. That soldiers cared more than they used to and that I was wrong to judge them so harshly.’ She turned quickly on the old woman. ‘But I am not wrong. All there is here is hatred and fighting!’
‘I told you,’ Orus whispered in her ear. ‘There is no beauty in Midgard. Asgard is where you will find it.’
The old woman reached out for Freya’s gloved hands. ‘Please don’t judge us all so harshly. Believe me, child, our world does have more. Look at my granddaughter . . .’ The old woman escorted Freya back to the crib. She stroked the baby’s head with a trembling, aged hand. ‘So filled with life and so innocent. She will do no harm in this world. My Tamika wants to be a doctor. She will help people.’
She turned pleading eyes to Freya. ‘All you have seen are the horrors. Stay a while. Soon you will learn there is beauty too.’
Freya shook her head. ‘I wish I could believe you, but I find it impossible. Perhaps there are some individuals who are good. But as a whole . . .’
‘As a whole, we must still find a way to live together.’
‘Yes,’ Freya agreed. She gazed down on the baby. Uniik had stopped crying and was reaching up to her. Freya let the baby grasp her gloved finger and smiled as she giggled and tried to pull it to her mouth. ‘What will happen to Uniik and Tamika when you die?’
‘You know I’m dying?’
Freya nodded. ‘You could see me while I was wearing my helmet. Only the dead and dying can. And I can feel your pain. You are unwell.’
‘Cancer,’ the old woman sighed. ‘I’ve got a few weeks, months maybe. But not enough time to protect my girls. They don’t know yet. How can I tell them when they’ve lost so much already? That is my biggest fear. We have no family left and they will be all alone.’
Freya frowned. This couldn’t be the danger Tyrone referred to. He didn’t know his wife would die or that his mother had cancer. What had he meant when he’d said they were in danger? She wondered how much worse it could get for his daughters.
‘I’m Alma Johnson,’ the old woman finally said.
‘You may call me Greta.’
‘Greta, I was about to make myself some cocoa. It helps me sleep when the pa
in gets too much. Why don’t you come down with me? We can talk a spell. Let me try to tell you about the good of this world.’
Freya looked out the window and saw Archie down on the street. He was alone in this world too.
‘I have someone with me. It’s very cold out and he is shivering. May he come in?’
‘Of course,’ Alma said. ‘Is he an angel too?’
‘No, he’s just a boy.’ Before leaving the room, Freya looked back down on Uniik. The baby had settled to sleep. ‘This is the closest to a human baby I have ever been. In sleep, I can see traces of her father’s face. Tyrone would have been proud.’
Alma smiled at the baby. ‘Just like her grandma.’
‘If someone had ever told me I’d have an angel sitting right here at my kitchen table drinking cocoa with me,’ Alma said, ‘I’d have said they were crazy.’
Freya and Archie exchanged looks, but said nothing. It was easier to let the old woman believe she was simply an angel. Archie was still shivering as he grasped his steaming cup of cocoa for warmth. Freya and Orus were enjoying home-made chocolate-chip cookies.
‘Tell me what happened to Tyrone’s wife,’ Freya asked.
The old woman sighed and shook her head. ‘There’s not a lot to tell. Victoria was walking home from work when a car hit her. We’re sure we know who it was, but when we went to the police they said there was no evidence. It’s been six months and nothing has happened to bring them to justice.’
Archie frowned in confusion. ‘You said you reaped Tyrone a few days ago.’
Freya nodded. ‘I did. But time moves differently between Asgard and here. A few days there means months here.’ She focused on the old woman. ‘If you know who killed Victoria, there should be no problem. Those people must be punished.’
The old woman shook her head and sighed. ‘It is not as simple as that. We need proof, but we have none. So those people get away with murder.’
Freya frowned at Alma. ‘Your son told me he knew his family was in trouble but Victoria hadn’t told him what it was. He was desperate to get back to you. Even after I delivered him to Valhalla, it was all he talked about. Is this part of what Victoria was afraid to tell him?’
Alma nodded. ‘She didn’t want to worry him, but it was getting bad.’
‘I promised Tyrone I would help. What can I do for you?’
‘I don’t think even an angel can help us,’ Alma said sadly. ‘They want this house and will take it by force if they must.’
‘Who wants your house?’ Archie asked.
‘John Roberts Developments. They’ve bought up most of the houses on this street and the street behind us so they can build their condominiums for Chicago commuters. But me and several others won’t sell. They are offering less than the value of our houses. We won’t be bullied out of our homes. But they’ve started to burn us out. Just last week our neighbour’s house burned down.
‘So we’ve seen,’ Archie said.
‘But if they are using violence,’ Freya said, ‘wouldn’t it be better to go?’
‘If we let men like that drive us away, we are surrendering to evil. With my last, fading breath, I will fight them. They won’t drive my grandbabies from their rightful home. It is all they will have.’
‘Even if it means you may be hurt?’
Fiery determination rose in Alma’s eyes. ‘Even if it means that. Good must stand up to evil or we are all lost.’ She paused and her eyes faded. ‘It’s my Tamika I worry about. She walks to school. What if they go after her? The police won’t protect her.’
‘I could walk with her,’ Archie volunteered. ‘You don’t live too far from me. I could come here right after my paper route.’
‘Would you do that?’ Alma asked. ‘I would pay you.’
Archie shook his head. ‘I don’t want your money. Just to help, if I can.’
Freya looked at him in disbelief. He was being threatened by bullies and wouldn’t defend himself. And yet he was offering to help a stranger who was in greater danger. Humans confused her.
‘And me,’ Freya finally said. ‘I will go to school with you both.’
‘What!’ Orus cried. ‘Freya, this is getting out of hand! YOU CANNOT STAY HERE!’
Freya looked at the raven on the table. ‘I promised Tyrone I would protect his family. That’s what I intend to do.’ She looked up at Archie and Alma. ‘I am going to stay here until this danger has passed. But I will need your help.’
‘What can we do?’ Alma asked. ‘Please tell me, Angel, I will do anything.’
Freya rose and opened her large, black wings. ‘Teach me how to look like a human.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
It was late in the night and Freya was wide awake. Archie had gone to bed hours earlier. In Asgard, Freya did sleep. But here, she felt no need. She decided to use the time to explore Brian’s bedroom.
It was all so strange and yet wonderful. She tried on his leather trousers and a belt to keep them secured. She liked the way they felt and looked. Then she tried his heavy black boots. They were too big, but when Freya stuffed the ends with tissue they fit fine. She tried on some of his shirts, cutting slits in the back so they fell around her large, bulky wings.
Alma had said she was a dressmaker by trade and had offered to make Freya some special clothes to wear to school; Freya planned to take her up on the offer.
‘Are you trying to look like a boy?’ Orus complained. He was seated on the bed, pecking at the shiny buttons on a discarded shirt.
‘No, I’m trying to look like a human,’ Freya explained. ‘And you really aren’t helping.’
‘Why should I help you?’ the raven said. ‘The moment Odin sees us, he’ll have our wings.’
‘He’s not going to see us. We won’t be here that long.’
‘We’ve already been here too long!’ the bird complained. ‘Heimdall is bound to realize what happened. He’ll tell Odin and he’ll send out a Dark Searcher for us.’
‘All you do is worry,’ Freya said as she continued to go through the Steampunk clothing. ‘This is exciting. I’m going to a human school, filled with human kids my own age.’ She held a frilly black shirt up against herself and admired the look in the mirror.
‘There are no humans your age,’ Orus said. ‘You are over six hundred human years old.’
‘All right,’ she surrendered. ‘But at least I look their age.’
‘And act it,’ Orus muttered.
Freya threw the shirt over the raven as she continued to search through the closet. She felt butterflies of excitement rising in her stomach. This was a new adventure and one she’d never imagined she could be part of. Archie said he knew of a way to get her into school without too many questions. She just hoped she could stay with him. Though she had been tutored in Asgard, it sounded very different from the way Archie described a his school.
Freya and Orus spent the rest of the night going through the house. Not a cupboard or drawer went unexplored. Finally they settled in the lounge to watch television.
When Archie rose the next morning, he found Freya and Orus huddled together on the sofa watching a movie.
‘I thought I’d dreamed you,’ Archie said breathlessly. ‘But I didn’t. You’re really here and you did beat up JP to save me.’
‘Good morning, Archie,’ Freya said as she stood, yawned and gave a long stretch that had her wings touching the walls of the room.
‘Hey, I was watching that!’ Orus complained when she turned off the television. The raven hopped over to the remote and clicked it on again.
Freya shook her head. ‘If I am going to try to look human, we need to go back to Alma’s. Some of your brother’s clothes won’t fit over my wings. Oh, and I need your help with this.’ She tossed a box to Archie. ‘I found this in your brother’s drawer and want to try it.’
‘Hair dye?’ Archie said. ‘You want me to dye your hair crimson red?’
Freya nodded.
‘Why would you want to do that when your hai
r’s already beautiful? I mean, it needs a bit of styling but apart from that, it’s lovely.’
Freya shook her head. ‘Every Valkyrie in Asgard has long, flaxen hair. Since I’m the only one with black feathers, I want my hair to be different too. Will you help me?’
‘Sure. I think you’re crazy for wanting to change it, but if that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get. Besides, it’s what I want to do when I grow up.’
‘What’s that?’
‘I want to be a hair stylist. And you can be my first victim!’
Before breakfast, Freya joined Archie on his paper round. She wore Brian’s long velvet coat over her tunic and breastplate, and pulled on Archie’s thick winter gloves. She stood on the rear axle-rod of his bicycle as he tossed the papers to the doorsteps.
‘Faster!’ she called in excitement as he rode his bike down a steep hill. ‘Go faster!’
She was pressed up against his back, but careful not to touch Archie’s skin while she tapped his shoulder to urge him to go faster.
They squealed with excitement as they wove madly through the early-morning traffic and howled with laughter at the blaring car horns.
When they arrived home, Freya climbed off the bike, her eyes still wide with excitement. ‘That was the most fun I have ever had on the ground!’
‘Me too!’ Archie agreed. ‘I usually hate my paper route, but not today.’
After breakfast, Archie pulled on his heavy kitchen rubber gloves. ‘You’re still sure you want me to do this?’ He was holding scissors and a comb. ‘Once I start, I won’t stop.’
Freya looked up at him from where she was sitting on a backwards chair, with a towel over her sholders protecting her wings. ‘Are you sure you are completely covered and won’t touch my skin?’
Archie showed her that he was wearing two turtleneck sweaters with the sleeves pulled down past his wrists and the thick rubber gloves. ‘The only skin that’s showing is my face.’
‘Then go ahead,’ Freya said. ‘Start cutting.’
Orus moaned, ‘Your mother is going to kill you! Then she’ll kill me for not stopping you!’
‘What did he say?’ Archie asked.
