Gurith’s eyes were awash with love when they met hers again. “You are only mortal now, Hlif. You are just as much at their mercy as I am.”
“Contrary to collective opinions,” Loki muttered, his tone amused, “we immortals do have lives and engagements to keep. So, instead of having you bleed my ear with your senseless love prattle, shall I give the General the signal to attack?” Seemingly, the epitome of boredom, Loki studied his fingernails before looking at them.
Hlif stepped closer to her half-brother. “Please, do not do this, Loki?”
“Do not plead with him, beloved. Instead, kiss me, take my breath away,” Gurith said softly and held her arms out to receive Hlif. Baffled by the strange request, but also unable to refuse the woman, Hlif walked into the loving arms.
“What are we going to do, Gurith? I cannot live without you and hopefully the same applies for you,” Hlif mumbled in the fragrant blond hair.
“Let us give him what he wants.” Gurith held onto her tightly when Hlif tried to move out of the embrace. “He will not stop otherwise.”
Hlif turned her head slightly to look at Loki. He was smiling broadly. She felt Gurith move in her arms, but couldn’t keep her eyes off the hateful, gloating face of Loki. She will make him pay for this. She will destroy him.
“Kiss me, Valkyrie,” Gurith said softly and Hlif complied. The kiss was deep and gentle and… different. Hlif pulled back slightly when she felt something poking her in the chest, breaking the kiss she looked down and gasped. The golden hilt of her dagger protruded from Gurith’s chest. Her eyes flew up immediately to meet the tender ones of Gurith.
“What have you done?” Hlif moaned sadly. “Oh my love, why?”
“No… No… NOOOOO,” Loki screeched as he tried to push between them, but Gurith held on with almost superhuman strength.
“I cannot let…” The pale eyes were dimming slowly. “… them steal my soul. I have immortalized you in there. At least this way my soul will roam the mortal realm. Find me, beloved, and remind me of our love.” Gurith closed her eyes for a moment and Hlif could feel her knees buckle slightly. “Kiss me again, my heart. Take my last breath and let it live inside you until we meet again.”
Knowing there was nothing else left to do, Hlif slanted her lips over Gurith and kissed the dying Queen with all the love she felt for her. She only lifted her lips when Gurith’s body went limp in her arms. She looked down at the pale face made blurry by the tears in her own eyes.
“I promise to search for you, beloved. Wait for me, for I will not rest until I have found you.” She swung Gurith's body into her arms and with a final glare at a dumbfounded Loki, walked away.
“I am not done with you, Loki, Odin’s son,” she muttered under her breath.
Chapter 1
“The document clearly states that failure to adhere to the stipulations could result in legal action. I’ve been in touch with the Nepalese Culture Ministry to find out if there was a way around that, but the answer is no.” Soft, red lips pressed together in annoyance. “Lisa, I assure you that we have done everything that was humanly possible. Now, all we need to do is sit and wait for all the red tape to be cleared before we put in another bid for the items.” A well-manicured hand curled into a fist as the woman listened to the person on the other end of the line. “We’ve known from the start that it would be difficult to get the Nepalese government to release the items to us. We’ve come this far and all I would ask of you now, Lisa, is to allow the process to be handled on the other side. I’ll call you as soon as I hear from them.” The woman listened quietly. “Yes, Lisa, I’ll call you. You’re welcome. Goodbye.”
Borgny ‘Bo’ Witteman hung up and yanked the headset from her head, upsetting her carefully coifed blonde locks. She fixed cold ice-blue eyes on the picturesque sight of the bustling street seven floors below her office.
“Vaughn again? Is it the fourth time she called in two days?”
Turning slowly, Bo fixed her assistant and friend with a cool stare. “That woman is impossible.” She threw the headset on her desk. “I can’t wait for the Nepalese to come back to me so I can get her off my back for a while.” She skirted the desk and gracefully sank into her chair. “What else happened in the past hour while my time was being hogged by Lisa Vaughn?”
Marion pushed away from where she’d been leaning against the doorjamb. “Harold and Gemma are on their way to the airport. They’ll meet with the Sandovals in Washington before Gemma continues on to Ohio to visit her family. She took a week’s annual leave to check up on her mother who’s recovering from a mild stroke.”
Bo’s eyes widened. How did she not know about that? “We must send flowers and a card and offer our help in any way we can.”
“Already done. Mrs Pritchard received her flowers this morning.”
Once again astonished by the woman’s competence, Bo smiled broadly. “You’re a star, Marion. Thank you.”
Marion smiled, but her eyes were hooded as she looked at Bo. “Just doing my job, boss. However, you can thank me over lunch, if you want.”
For a moment, neither said anything as they stared at each other. “Marion…” Bo began, but the brunette held up her hand.
“Just lunch, Bo,” Marion said softly
Marion Grady was beautiful, brilliant, and extremely competent. Bo doubted she could have made a better choice when she picked the woman from a list of candidates fifteen years ago. They worked together like a well-oiled machine, with Marion anticipating Bo’s every need even before the lawyer knew what she wanted. Together they had built the small law practice into a formidable corporate leader in the niche market of Antiquities and Cultural Law. Now years later, Bo headed a team of four talented young lawyers and three archaeology researchers servicing fifteen long-term clients.
It was finally reaching her dream and reaping the awards that led to Bo inviting Marion to an art gallery opening of a friend and client. Drunk on success and champagne, they ended up at Marion’s place. Six hours later, Bo had crept out of the loft with her lace thong stuffed in her purse and her Manolo Blahnicks in her hand. She had cursed herself for being the worst kind of fool on her drive home. The most difficult thing for her to ever do was to tell Marion that what had happened was simply a mistake. That was a year ago and although they managed to salvage their friendship, the awkwardness remained.
“Yes, I’d like to have lunch with you. Just give me ten minutes to make a call to Nepal and I’ll come meet you.” She put the headset on but quickly turned back to Marion. “Will you get us a table at the Turin? I actually crave their ceviche.”
Marion smiled. “Yum! See you soon.”
When the door closed behind Marion, Bo lowered her head until her chin rested on her chest. She will probably never forgive herself for what had happened that night between them, because Marion didn’t deserve to be treated that way. There was an obscene number of women Bo could’ve called to scratch her itch, instead, she took advantage of a dear friend. Of all the mistakes she has made over the years, that one rated the highest.
The shrill ringing of the phone interrupted her thoughts. “Bo.” She rolled her eyes. “Lisa, I haven’t heard back from the Nepalese yet.” A small frown formed on her forehead. “Yes, I know Professor Shawn Whitaker.”
***
The restaurant was bustling with the lunch crowd when Bo entered. Her eyes swept the crowded tables and she offered a small smile when she spotted Marion’s little wave. She carefully stepped around waiting staff, conscious of numerous eyes following her passage. It stopped bothering her a long time ago, but it didn’t mean she didn’t sometimes feel a bit conscious of all the attention her presence generated. She had been a supermodel before and had been stared at more times than she cared to remember as she walked runways across the world. As she made her way to where Marion waited, she wished that it hadn’t been the case today. She was nervous enough as it was. This was the first time she would meet with Marion outside the office since their disast
rous one nightstand. She didn’t need strangers witnessing her unease.
“Hey. I thought you stood me up,” Marion said softly as Bo took the seat opposite her.
The remark was probably meant to be a joke, but Bo could hear the genuine concern in Marion’s voice. She focussed her gaze solidly on Marion.
“I’ll never stand you up, Marion,” she said earnestly. “I had a call to take care of which took longer than anticipated.”
Marion smiled, the tension in her shoulder easing slightly. “Lisa Vaughn again?”
“Not this time,” Bo muttered as she looked around for the waiter. “Have you ordered already?”
“I’ve ordered your ceviche and asked them to bring it over once you arrive.” Marion took a sip from her water. “So, what goes this time?”
Bo exhaled noisily. “There’s been a find in Iceland and professor Whitaker wants me to meet him at his office in Reykjavik on Friday.” She poured herself a glass of water from the carafe. “Apparently this could be the find of the century.”
“I thought the scrolls of Queen Aspen two years ago, was tagged as the find of the century?”
Taking a small sip, Bo shrugged. “A lot is happening it seems. It’s as if the universe’s treasure chest is overflowing and it’s unloading some of its secrets.”
“Who… or rather, what is it that’s got the good Professor’s undies in a wad?” Marion asked with a grin. “Professor Whitaker is not someone prone to histrionics.”
The waiter appeared at their table and Bo ordered an expensive bottle of red wine. When she looked at Marion, it was to find the other woman looking at her with raised eyebrows. “What?”
“Whatever the phone call was about, it seems to have put you in a celebratory mood?”
Bo leaned over the table, grinning broadly. “It appears as if professor Whitaker has stumbled upon a find which could rival that of Queen Aspen.” She sat back slowly. “But that’s not the reason why I’m ordering a seventy-year-old wine, my dear.”
“Do tell, boss. Will it make us filthy rich?”
“Not really,” Bo commented. She lifted her water glass to her lips. “But I’m excited to find out something more about my heritage.”
Marion frowned. “Your heritage?”
“Yep. Professor Whitaker’s assistant mentioned something about a Viking warrior. I’ve always been fascinated by the Viking era.” She placed her glass on the table. “I can’t really explain it, but it somehow feels important for me to go and see what the fuss is all about.” Bo fixed Marion with an intense stare as she waited expectantly for Marion to ask the one question, Bo really didn’t want to answer now. The waiter’s approach saved her, but she knew how Marion’s mind worked and knew that this would be a very short reprieve.
She waited patiently while the waiter to serve them, avoiding Marion’s gaze. When the waiter finally left, she picked up her wine and sniffed it delicately before taking a sip. Suppressing a small moan at the tantalizing flavours, she chanced a look at her lunch companion.
“Is this what I think it’s about, Bo?”
Feigning ignorance to buy herself a few more minutes, Bo gave Marion a quizzical look.
“You know what I’m talking about? Is this about your parents?” Marion asked gently.
Her parents. Bo felt her heart clench at the thought of her parents. She wasn’t home the day it all happened. She’d travelled with her university hockey team to compete against their biggest rival. As soon as the match was over, a couple of detectives approached her coach. Her parents had been murdered by what they suspected had been a botched break-in. Nothing much was taken, except that whoever broke in took an obscene amount of time and detail in killing her parents. She had not seen the bodies, but the closed caskets at the funeral were indicative of the damage done to them.
Fearing for her safety, her grandmother had sent her to the States to live with her father’s brother, who owned an Antiquities gallery in New York. It took a while for her to adapt to life in the States and to depend on her uncle, but a talent scout spotted her in a coffee shop near her college campus and soon she was jetting all over the world, making her own money and having her face plastered on the covers of magazines and billboards.
After ten years, she called it quits and went back to school to get her law degree with a specialization in Antiquities. Her uncle was very proud on the day of her graduation and signed on as her first client. The rest, as they say, is history, but the senseless demise of her parents had always stayed with her. Bo hired private detectives to find out what had happened, but it seemed the culprits simply vanished without a trace.
Every one of the seven detectives came up empty-handed. But the short call with Professor Shawn Whitaker had brought it all up again. She wasn’t sure how a celebrity Archaeologist fit into the mix, but the man seemed confident that he could give her some information on her ancestry. Who knows, it could lead to the reason why her parents were killed. Alternatively, it might not. But Bo felt deep inside that she’d undoubtedly stumbled upon a break. For the first time in twenty years, she might have some answers.
Bo took a sip of her wine, its taste dramatically altered by her mood and she scrunched up her face. Marion was still staring at her.
“I don’t know if it even relates to my parents, but I feel I should go and hear him out.”
“Would you like me to accompany you?”
She shook her head. “I’ll be gone for a week at the most and I would feel more comfortable knowing you’re here to run the show.” The waiter brought her food over and Bo felt her mouth water at the sight. “Did you order something for yourself?”
“The shrimp linguine. It should arrive shortly. When are you leaving?”
“At the end of the week. Lisa’s request for having the artefacts from Nepal shipped over is caught up in red tape from the Nepalese end. I’ve spoken to Ram to see what he can do from his side, but after the theft of priceless Himalayan statues from a Buddhist monastery, the Nepalese Cultural Ministry isn’t keen to have any more of their artefacts leave the country. Not even the exposure these pieces would give their country, seems to matter to them.”
Marion’s food arrived and they both began to eat. Bo was relieved that unlike the wine her dish wasn’t affected by her mood. When the silence at the table stretched for longer than was normal, she decided to stick to business.
“I’ve been so busy with the Vaughn case. What else is happening in the office?” She watched as a flash of sadness washed over Marion’s face. Bo didn’t avert her gaze, but she gave herself a hard kick mentally.
“We signed on a new client last week.”
“That’s good news. How many this year?” They were nearing the end of the year and it was almost time to close for the holiday season. Signing on new clients would mean they might have to work a couple weeks into the holiday if they want to keep the client on.
“Seven. They’ve all been serviced and are looking forward to future dealings with us. The client of last week is looking for some sort of a partnership with a reputable archaeologist or a team to excavate a site in Northern Iceland.”
Bo leaned back in her chair. “Did you explain to him that we are not a recruitment agency? We only intervene on the behalf of a client to have a foreign relic shipped from its country of origin to anyplace in the world.”
Marion grinned. “I explained it to him exactly like that.”
“And?”
“He offered us five million dollars to hook him up with a team of experts and a further five million to have whatever he finds shipped to a gallery here in the States.”
Bo gaped at Marion. “That’s a lot of money.” She took a sip of the wine and found its taste to have improved greatly over the past few minutes. She topped up Marion’s glass too. When people threw around money like that, it usually sets off alarm bells for her. “What did you tell him?”
“I told him I needed to talk to you first,” Marion said quickly. “I also suggested a face
to face meeting with you.”
She smiled at the younger woman. That was one of the reasons she hated herself for what she’d done to Marion. The woman was very good at her work and Bo didn’t know how she would’ve survived had she not given Marion a chance when she applied with a less than stellar résumé than the other candidates. “Thanks, Marion. Could you set up a meeting with him for the day after tomorrow?”
“Consider it done. In the meantime, could you try to wrap up the Lisa Vaughn issue, please? I’d hate to inherit her when you leave at the end of the week.”
Bo chuckled softly. Lisa Vaughn owned a number of reputable galleries in the States and they had been lucky and quite honestly, privileged to have landed her as a client. The woman brought in good business, but she demanded exclusive service for that privilege. Over the past five years, they had managed to meet and, on occasion, exceed her expectations.
Her latest project seemed to have hit a snag, though. No matter how many calls and cajoling Bo did, the Nepalese didn’t seem interested in having a showing of their ancient idols in the States. Up to now, Bo had been dealing directly as the liaison for Lisa Vaughn. Maybe she needed to muddy the water a bit. Make it difficult for both parties to see it as giving in to each other.
She also needed to do an extensive background check into Lisa Vaughn. Maybe the Nepalese aren’t saying ‘no’ to the showing, but rather ‘no’ to Lisa. Bo needed to find out if there was any link between their clients. Secondly, she needed to find out that, should the Nepalese government had an issue with Lisa, if there was someone they would say ‘yes’ too. That someone would need to be someone Lisa would prefer as well. That way the Nepalese get their exposure and tourism opportunities for their gorgeous country increases. Lisa gets the credit for bankrolling the project. A win-win situation for all involved.
“I might have another angle to see how we could work around this. If you could get Martin to clear my afternoon, I may just be able to perform a miracle today.”
Shatterproof Page 2
