Death's Gift: Norse Blessed Book One

by B. Livingstone

  “Riles, roll over and look at me.” Getting down to my knees, I stretch my arm out, careful not to move too fast, and lay my hand on her shoulder. Her body flinches like an electric current ran through her body.

  “Gracey,” she gasps, unmoving.

  “Yeah, Riles. It’s me. I’m here.” Slowly, Riley rolls to her other side. She moves so slow, like she’s in immense pain. Her shirt shifts more, her sleeves pushed up showing bruises marring her all too pale skin. Small cuts line her collarbone and arms. Her eyes are dull and dark, sunken behind her cheekbones with dark circles that look almost purple in color. Her once bright fiery red hair is now so dull, reflecting the lack of life in her eyes. “Riles, what happened to you?”

  Her eyes snap to mine in disbelief and with a hint of anger. “You left me.” Her voice quivers as a tear traces her cheek. “And you’ll just do it again when I wake up. You’re not really here.”

  Walking on my knees, I move a little closer to her so I can sit on the edge of her mattress by her head. The sour smell of whiskey hits me like a freight train. Oh, Riley. I run my fingers through her hair and her eyes snap up to meet mine. I give her a small tentative smile that I hope is reassuring. “I’m here, Riles. Truly. Yes, this is a dream, but I’m still here. Just don’t ask me how because I’m not really sure myself.”

  Riley’s arms go around my waist as she snuggles her face into my thigh. She mumbles something incoherent, muffled by my leg. Her shoulders shake and her body hiccups with her sobs. Rather than trying to get her to talk to me, I just run my fingers through her hair soothingly. Patiently waiting until she is ready to return to me so we can talk about what the hell has been going on for her to land in a state like this.

  After what felt like hours, Riley’s body stills and her breathing evens to slow, steady, deep inhales. She’s stopped crying and is slowly beginning to pull back to look at me. “Are you ready to talk?” I ask her softly and full of concern.

  “You’re not really here, I know that. But regardless, I’m glad to be able to have you with me, even if only in my dream.”

  Ignoring that last bit, knowing my practical sister will never believe me, I ask the question that I know will snap her out of this. “Riley, where’s Matt?”

  Just that quickly, she’s in tears again and holding onto me like I’m a life raft. I have never, in all my life, seen her so small and frail. It would be easy to forget she was my older sister. Born to be a leader, an alpha, a queen.

  Something went very wrong after my death. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. She should be married and happy. Living a good life, with a good husband and a career.

  “Riley, look at me, please.” She just shakes her head, refusing to look at me. Sliding my hand under her chin, I give it a little push up. She lifts her head and finally meets my eyes. “Where’s Matt, Riley?” A tear slips down her cheek before she finally speaks.

  “He… He…,” she stammers, pausing, she takes a deep breath, and lowers her gaze before trying again. “He left me a month ago.” With that admission, her body breaks into a hiccuping sob.

  “Oh, Riley. I’m so sorry. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You were supposed to be happy and thriving.”

  I run my fingers through her hair again. Gently working through the knots, careful not to pull them. It may have been twenty minutes or an hour. I’m not sure, and I didn’t care. Soon enough, her body relaxes and her breathing evens back out. She’s calmer now and her tears have dried. “Riley, will you talk to me? Will you tell me what happened?”

  She sits up and wiggles her way to the corner of the mattress. Leaning against the wall she takes a deep breath and releases it on a sigh.

  “Honestly, I’m not really sure what happened,” she begins. “The night of your funeral, he was perfect. He was my rock, my firm foundation, my grounding wire. If he hadn’t been with me, I know I never would have made it through. But something happened afterwards. He became distant, physically, and emotionally. It was like a switch in his personality. He became angry if I cried over losing you, if I wasn’t feeling peppy enough to put a smile on my face in front of our friends.” She sniffs, holding back more tears.

  “One night he wanted to have people over, but I just wasn’t feeling the crowd. So, I stayed in our room and that made him angry. He never physically touched me, in fact he never touched me again after the funeral. No sex, no kisses, not even a hug.

  “I came home after work one day and found the apartment door open. When I got inside, everything was gone. All the furniture, dishes, dresser. Everything except my clothes that had been left in a pile on the floor in the middle of the room and a note.”

  I wait for her to continue but when her eyes focus on something in the distance, showing her reliving the moment, I pull her back to the present to finish. I place a hand on her knee, causing her eyes to meet mine and ask, “What did the note say?”

  Her eyes bore into mine before she replies meekly, “I don’t want to do this. I can’t do this. I don’t want to feel alone anymore. It’s time to say goodbye. Matt.”

  “What did you do?”

  She barks a sarcastic laugh, loud and clipped. “What the fuck could I do, Grace? I had nothing except my clothes and the few measly dollar bills in my purse. Our bank accounts were joint accounts, which he emptied. I had no one to turn to. No parents, no friends, no sister. I was fucked six ways to Sunday, and it was only Wednesday.”

  “Riley, I’m so sorry. I don’t understand where it all went wrong. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, but I promise you, I will help make it right. You’re going to be okay, Riley.” Her eyes were hopeless and devoid of any of the life that once fueled Riley. I wanted so bad to put that spark back in her. To help her find the hope, the drive, the will to go on.

  I’m about to say something, hopefully profound when something cool and wet envelopes my face, cutting off all access to air. Shocked, I rise quickly from the tub, realizing I had sunken under the water which has since turned cold. Dripping, I look around, taking in my bathroom back in the palace of Valhalla. Riley, I saw her, I know I did. How?

  More questions flit through my mind. There is only one person here that can give me the answers I need.

  I quickly scramble out of the tub, splashing water as I rush to my room. Dry and dressed, I step out into the hall. Closing my eyes, I reach out with my senses, homing in on the one person who can tell me what the heck just happened. Yeah, that’s a new gift too. I can sense the people I’m connected to, be it blood, power, or a bond.

  Finding him, I can feel his amusement, and I know he can feel my frustration in return. I swear his amusement rises, and I can almost see his smirk in my mind. I take off, a missile locked on its target, a woman on a mission. Don’t fuck with me. I am done playing nice. It’s about time these Gods gave me some fucking answers.

  “What the hell just happened to me? How the hell did I just see, feel, hell, even talk to my sister?” Odin sits at a small table in the kitchen while the cook bustles around preparing for dinner. Why is he in the kitchen?

  Fenrir walks past me with a rare smile in place. Taking a seat across from Odin, he pats the seat between them on the other side of the round table. I hesitate in the archway a moment thinking back to all the stories I heard about Fenrir over the years. A wild, crazed, merciless wolf. A murderer. Responsible for the death of his father. I haven’t spent much time with him since arriving. I don’t know how much I trust him, but I have a feeling Odin would protect me and he doesn’t seem too worried that Fenrir is present.

  Besides, you shouldn’t believe everything you read or hear. Didn’t they say he killed Odin? He doesn’t look dead to me. Then again, I’m supposed to be dead too, so there’s that.

  A kitchen hand brings a cup of hot cocoa with whipped cream and caramel drizzle, then sets it down in front of the vacant seat. “You knew I’d come looking for you.” It was a statement not a question, to which Odin nods his head.

  It’s Odin that breaks the
stare off we are holding. “We felt you leave Valhalla. It would appear that your gifts are not going to wait for us anymore. Come sit, Grace. Let’s talk.”

  One foot in front of the other… You can do this. My inner voice tells me. With my head held high and a look of irritation, I walk with an air of confidence that I so do not feel at the moment. I take my seat and lock eyes with Odin. “Talk. From the beginning.”

  My hands are wrapped firmly around my mug. My skin is cool, but my hands are warm. My leg bounces under the table. My mouth hangs open with the shock of surprise I feel. I don’t know why I’m shocked anymore. Nothing has been normal since I arrived in this place.

  Dream walking. That’s what Odin called it. Apparently, I can enter others’ dreams and interact with them. My body was here in Valhalla, but my soul left and was intertwined with Riley’s in her dream. He said I can do this with anyone, but it’s easiest with another dream walker.

  Will my dreams ever be normal? Not that they were to begin with.

  “Grace?” Fenrir’s concern filled voice pulls me out of the shocked daze. “You still with us?”

  “Huh?” I blink with a small shake of my head, snapping myself from my stupor. “Oh, yeah. So, let me get this straight. I can just waltz into anyone’s dreams now and start messing around? Can I make them dream of whatever I want, like a haunting or is it only like meeting up with an old friend as I did with Riley?” I was rambling out questions at a mile a minute, unable to hold my racing chaotic thoughts at bay.

  Odin places his hand on my arm, effectively slowing my thoughts and halting my mouth. I have never done well with the unknown, not once I understood what my dreams were. And the possibilities of this new gift — power— are completely unknown to me.

  “You can visit with someone in their dreams, just as you did with Riley this afternoon. As you develop your skills, yes, you’ll be able to manipulate one’s dream to your will. However, before we get into training your dream walking abilities, you need to learn to control your emotions. We need to continue our talks about your past and deal with those. I would also like to talk about why I asked Fenrir here.” Odin’s tone brokered no argument.

  “Okay,” I say numbly, my mind still reeling. I can see Riley again. I can talk to her. Hold her. Heal her. A smile flits across my face at the prospect.

  “Grace, I know you are excited about being able to connect with your sister. But you cannot.”

  My face immediately drops with those words. It feels as though he has just punch me in the gut, repeatedly. I was about to protest with all the reasons I had to see her, had to help her, when he raised his hand to silence me. “I know. I know she is hurting. I know she is in a dark place. You will help her, just not in the way you think. Until you see it, you must not interfere.” He leans closer, placing his hand on my shoulder, “Trust me, dear. She will be all right, and you will help her in time.”

  I want to protest. To lash out, but he doesn’t allow it. He’s already moving on.

  “As to why Fenrir is here.” He nods to Fenrir. “Fenrir, if you will.”

  Fenrir turns to look at me, assessing me and my reaction to him. I try not to allow rumors to fill me with fear of this man. But I can’t help wondering if any of them are true. Pushing past my comfort zone, I try to remind myself that mythology is just that, myths, legends, stories passed down over time. Just like with that game we played in grade school — Whisper Down the Lane— things tended to get jumbled and confused the more the story got told. Besides, I knew that Odin would never allow me to be hurt.

  “I want to talk about your wolf.”

  My what?

  4

  Grace

  “I’m sorry… My what now?” Disbelief at how wrong that statement was washed over me. A sense of loss and longing taking root at what I never had but always wanted. “I’ve never had a wolf,” I say softly, trying to hide the depth of my feelings.

  “But you do, dear,” Fenrir says with a genuine smile that lights up his eyes. “There is a wolf deep down inside you.” He leans forward; his arm outstretched towards my chest. “She has been caged there for many years, but we can set her… and you, free.”

  Hope blooms in my chest with each word he shares. “Really?” I dare not to hope, I really do try, but how can I not? “If I have a wolf, why has she never shown herself?”

  Fenrir’s eyes flash with a wave of tense anger before he schools himself enough to answer. “You were cursed at an early age. Effectively locking her so deep that you could not even glimpse her. She is weak from being disconnected from you, but we can fix it. We can break the curse, but…” His words die as he looks to Odin. A searching look, like he’s not sure if he should continue or how to word this next part.

  They share a look of concern, yet determination shines between them before Fenrir looks back to me. “We can break the curse that binds your wolf, but please understand there are risks involved.”

  With desperation and hope flooding me, I jump to my feet and pace, wanting this done. “I don’t care about the risks. Break it. I’ve never felt whole. I’ve always felt like there was a piece of me missing. I just thought it was because my parents died when I was young, that I was missing them. But you’re telling me there was a piece of me, my wolf, that is bound by a curse. What if that’s what I’ve always been missing? What if that’s why I feel like there’s a void in my soul? Break the curse. Please.” Tears begin to well in my eyes as I think about my wolf curled up into a ball, being bound by a curse. What pain she must have endured all these years while I remained oblivious to her torment. Gods, how she must hate me by now.

  Standing, Fenrir slowly comes to stand in front of me. Gently, he slides the mug from between my shaking hands. I hadn’t realized I was still holding it, clutching it like a precious treasure. He places it on the table and takes my hands in his. “Grace, I more than anyone, understands the void you feel inside. The feeling of missing a piece of who you are that no one can replace. The need to fill that space for fear it will only grow. While I want nothing more than to help you feel whole, I want to make sure you understand the risks involved in doing this. I want you to go into this fully informed. Understand?”

  Nodding, I meet his gaze. “I understand.”

  “Good.” He releases my hands and retakes his seat. Steepling his fingers in front of him, he appears to be contemplating something hard. Following his lead, I sit back down and wait while he gathers his thoughts.

  “Now, let’s talk risks. The process is excruciating. More agonizing than anything you have ever felt. There is a chance you could die. While we would use our powers to try to minimize as much pain as possible, it is not possible to shield you completely.”

  I blanch at his words and my anxiety begins to rise. Ignoring my racing heart, he continues, “I’ve been watching your training over the last two months. You are much stronger than you were. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally as well. I would not bring this up to you if I did not believe you were ready for the risks.”

  Wait. My eyes snap to his. A frown mars his face.

  “Wait. You’ve known, not only that I have a wolf, but that my wolf has been bound by a spell, for months and you never said anything? How could you let her continue to suffer, to let me suffer when there was a way to fix it?” Anger fills my core, a pressure building from deep down. My hands begin to shake as adrenaline floods my veins. “I could have been whole, yet you kept me broken. All so you could manipulate me, turn me into a warrior. A fighter for your cause.”

  Standing, I head for the door. I needed to get away from the two Gods who only had one care; their mission. Fenrir calls out, “You were not ready, Grace. I will not apologize for keeping you safe. For keeping you alive.”

  I spin on my heel, looking them dead in the eyes before responding with a sarcastic laugh. “That’s the thing though, isn’t it? I’m already dead, so what does it matter?”

  Storming through the halls, my mind replays the conversation.
My anger has not dimmed, in fact it only rises with every step I take away from those arrogant, self-centered, egotistical Gods.

  How could he keep this from me?

  Who does he think he is?

  “I won’t apologize for keeping you safe, for keeping you alive.” What? Did he think I’d go out and get myself killed? I would have waited until I was strong enough to survive… I would have.

  Turning the corner, I slam into a wall. Fuck! Where did that wall come from? Only it’s not a wall. It’s Baler. My hands rest on his bare chest, fingers flexing over the taut muscles of his pecs. That spark lighting low in my belly.

  My hands snap back as though they had been burned and land on my stomach. What the hell is that?

  My eyes meet his and whatever it is he sees has him reacting. “Come on, Little Valkyrie. You need to move.” He isn’t wrong. Even with the strange reaction to his presence only a moment ago, my body is still pumping with anger and adrenaline.

  Nodding my agreement, I follow him out to the training yard.

  “You’re lost in your thoughts. Get out of your head and get your emotions under control.”

  Landing on my back again, my frustration with myself ratchets up another notch. Damn it.

  “Do you want to talk about what it is that has all of your attention?”

  Flipping back up to my feet, with that kick move Baler showed me, I get back into my fight stance. “No,” is my only response before I lunge at Baler. My fists fly right — left — right. I continue my assault with my body, but my heart and mind are further away, stuck on the conversation with Fenrir.

  I have a wolf.

  She’s just locked away behind a curse.

  I have a fucking wolf.

  A solid fist made of stone clips my jaw just before a foot connects with my abdomen, and I sail back down to the ground once again.

  Rolling to my side, I brace myself up on one hand before collapsing back to the ground with a groan. “Fuck, Baler. That one hurt.”