Shatterproof

by Stein Willard

  Those were the words that Hlif had dreaded the most. A chill shot through her body and she threw the half-eaten donut back on the plate.

  “Is he alone?”

  “No. There are four others with him. What do you want me to do?”

  Hlif’s eyes hardened. “Keep him from her, at all cost.”

  “Ok, boss. We’ll call you again later.”

  Hlif sank into a chair, her knees shaking badly. She looked down at the phone in her hand. It would be so easy to call her and tell her to pack up and leave the city. Explaining the reason why would be the tough part. Since Bo had been sent to the States, Hlif had arranged for a team of highly skilled assassins to keep an eye on her. They had her under surveillance twenty-four hours a day. During Bo’s modelling period, she even had one of the men go undercover as a male model, to keep an eye on her.

  Hlif touched the lock of hair she kept sealed in an amulet around her neck. As long as it was close, it kept her from transforming during the day. After the murder of Bo’s parents, she had ransacked the house for any physical piece of Bo to test her theory on whether the young woman was her reincarnated soul mate. She’d found a lock of Bo’s hair in her mother’s private collections and after confirming Bo’s identity, Hlif had it woven into several talismans around her body.

  She was ready.

  Ready to send Loki, Odin’s Son to the deepest, darkest corner of hell.

  Chapter 3

  “Sara Laramie. Do you need me to spell that for you?” Bo listened to the mini-meltdown. “I didn’t imply that you can’t spell, all…” She held the phone away from her ear, her lips pursing. “Speak to me like that again and I’ll find you and slap you silly. Do you hear me?” She listened to the hasty apology. “As long as we understand each other. I pay you for a service, so you do your job and drop the attitude. I need that info before the end of the day.”

  She hung up and pocketed her phone. The little nitwit needed a takedown. In fact, she had that coming a long time. The cabbie turned down the street where Witteman & Associates was located and she frowned at the number of people on the sidewalk. She paid the driver and got out. Marion and Martin spotted her and came rushing towards her. The anxious looks on their faces made her brace herself for the worst-case scenario.

  “What happened?”

  “A gas leak. The building will be on lockdown for the rest of the week,” Marion explained.

  “The rest of the week! How are we going to get any work done?” She was flying out on Friday and that left only one day to see if she could rescue the Vaughn transaction. Then there was the meeting at three. “The meeting?”

  “I called and cancelled all meetings for the rest of the week. Dobrov tried for an off-site meeting, but I followed protocol and told him that unless I get the go-ahead from you, I can’t give him an answer.”

  “That’s good. Where are the others? We could get together at Sal’s for an early dinner and discuss the way forward. Martin, ask for a private room when you make the booking. Marion, come walk with me. We have the Vaughn case to discuss.” They stepped away from the crowd. “How well do you know Sara Laramie?”

  “Sara Laramie? Why?”

  “First, tell me what you know about her,” Bo insisted.

  Marion scrunched up her face. “She comes from old money. Great pedigree. She runs a respectable gallery downtown. She married a gorgeous, billionaire, who is related to the Bells family. Not much is known about her, except that she and her spouse jealously guard their privacy. Why are you asking me about Sara Laramie?”

  A group of teenagers on their skateboards came hurtling towards them and Bo protectively pulled Marion out of the way. “The Nepalese blacklisted Lisa, but she’s willing to bankroll the project, even if it’s not shown at her own gallery.”

  “Wow! That’s… that’s generous of her,” Marion stumbled over her words. “What do you want to do now? Ask Sara to be the host?”

  “Yes. I need to get in touch with Ram at the Cultural Ministry. I’ll be leaving on a morning flight for Iceland. Is there anything else that you think demands my attention?”

  “Only the Dobrov meeting. I could handle it in your absence, but I won’t make any commitments unless I have your okay.”

  “Great. In the meantime, I’ll ask our unnamed friend to check into Mr Dobrov too. Five million for hooking him up with a team sounds too good to be true.”

  Marion grinned. “I knew you’d think so.” Bo looked up to the third floor that housed their offices. “What?”

  “My stuff’s still up there.”

  “Nope. Martin put everything in your car. If you wait here, I’ll get the keys from him.”

  Bo’s phone rang. “Witteman.”

  “She came up clean. Very private woman and very hot. Was that all?”

  Bo looked around. Of late, she had the feeling she was being watched and that feeling was quite strong today. She looked to where Marion was speaking to Martin. “There is one final name, Tear. Ilya Dobrov.” She waited for the explosion to follow instead she got a quiet ‘sure thing, boss lady’.

  “Thank you, Tear. Expect to see your payment within the hour.”

  “Talk again soon.”

  Marion came to stand next to her. “Your car keys. We’ll meet you at Sal’s.”

  ***

  The phone hit the wall with incredible power and shattered spectacularly. The man sat back in his chair, his dark eyes churning with menace as he took in the men standing before him. Their fear hung heavy in the air, none of them making eye contact with him.

  “What do you call this?”

  A large, muscled man met his gaze. “What do you mean, sire?”

  Loki, aka Ilya Dobrov, pinned the man with a lethal stare. “This is what’s called a missed opportunity.”

  The man quickly lowered his gaze. “Sorry, sire.”

  “Sorry is not good enough, Lars. Unless we get this done, Valhalla will remain a fantasy for all of us.” He noticed the men cringe at that thought. They were all warriors and yearned to be in the company of their fellow warriors and relations. But as long as the soul of Gurith was still not captured, they were not welcome in Valhalla.

  As if luck was out to taunt him, Bo Witteman was the spitting image of the Warrior Queen. Tall and gorgeous with those same unusual, colourless eyes. He had almost fainted when he saw her image on the cover of a magazine in Paris. Knowing that Odin must’ve seen it too, had made him break out in a cold sweat.

  He had gambled hard and harshly all those millennia ago. All, so he could position himself favourably in the court of his father. Instead, he messed it up for himself.

  Odin mourned the loss of his favourite daughter and most valued adviser. On top of that, Loki had lost the soul of Queen Gurith, which led to Hlif cursing and denouncing Odin. That brought the Valkyrie the harshest of punishments. Odin’s wrath led him to cast her in stone for all eternity standing guard at her beloved’s tomb. The great god was beside himself with regret for his impetuous reaction to his grieving daughter’s plight. Unfortunately, his punishment was not retractable. For only the return of the Queen could release Hlif from the curse. As Hlif suffered her punishment in silence and with commendable courage, Odin turned his wrath on Loki. It was as if Odin could see right through him. Loki found out later, that he did. Odin didn’t have to say it, but it was there in his eyes. The utter disgust when his father looked at him. The revulsion when Loki tried to get close. In the end, Odin cast him from Valhalla. His father’s final words still resonated through Loki.

  Valhalla is a beacon of bravery and prestige for many warriors. Tainting it with cowardice and scheming is tantamount to a mortal sin.

  Since then, Loki had tried to make his way on the mortal plains. He had created his own band of brave soldiers to follow him, but over time, many had given up on seeing Valhalla and paid seers and witches to end their existence. In the end, he had been left with only four loyal warriors. No matter how angry he got at their incompetence, they w
ere all he had. When he was cast from Valhalla, Odin also stripped him of his powers. Without them, he was vulnerable. Loki had never bothered to learn how to fight, unlike Hlif, who was a celebrated warrior. The best female Valkyrie ever. If he were to alienate his last line of defence, Hlif would sweep in and take him down without a moment’s hesitation. His only advantage was that Hlif was not in the possession of an immortal weapon. Thus, she couldn’t kill him.

  “Let’s put our heads together and see how else we can trap the woman,” he said calmly and saw the men relax. “Any ideas?”

  ***

  Hlif sniffed the drink, inhaling the delicate aroma. She’d developed a taste for expensive drinks. The brandy was three hundred years old and she’d bought two barrels, which were stored at her winter estate in Norway. She had her staff fill a few bottles for her, which she brought with her on her travels. Hlif sniffed the brandy again. This particular drink was to celebrate. Markus called earlier to inform her that Bo’s office block had experienced a gas leak and had to be cleared. Hlif was puzzled as to why he’d chased Bo out in the open when Loki was obviously hunting her. He informed her that Loki had an appointment set up with Bo for later that afternoon.

  “To gas leaks,” she murmured as she took a long sip of the smooth liquor. She threw a glance at the bank of monitors, then at her watch. Professor Whitaker and his group were still busy at the dig site. She took a seat and watched as they crawled into a small hole in the mound. Hlif remembered the day like it all was yesterday.

  The hall was quiet as the warriors stood around the motionless body of their Queen. Their disbelief and despondency hung in the air like a tangible cloud. Hlif knew that Gurith had been their hope. The blonde had inherited Snowland from her father and under her fifteen-year reign, the once-rural settlement her father established had grown into a respectable trading centre. Gurith strengthened her armed forces through the knowledge she gained from the foreign traders she welcomed to her shores. From each, she had taken a battle strategy and incorporated these into her master combat tactics.

  Many clans arrogant enough to think they could best a woman in war, only to find the Queen’s army painting the vast plains of her domain red with their blood. Once she had successfully repelled advances from near and far, the message was delivered loud and clear. Attack the shores of Snowland at your peril. As beautiful as she was, Gurith was twice as ruthless, but her people adored her. Young girls suddenly saw the armed forces as a viable choice to support their families and bring riches and fame to their family names.

  That dream was now lying, stiff, and unmoving on the long table in the centre of the Great Hall. The men had slowly begun to filter out of the room to prepare the burial site, leaving Hlif alone with the servant women.

  “Milady, shall we prepare the body for burial?”

  Hlif rose from where she sat on the stairs leading to the throne. “Bring me water and soft cloths. I will see to her preparation.” The servants stared at her in mute surprise. “I will never get the chance to touch her again,” she muttered brokenly and that spurred the women into action.

  Throughout the night, Hlif bathed Gurith’s body with the utmost care and tenderness. When she was done, the women helped her to dress Gurith in her coronation attire. At dawn, she had opened the doors for the subjects to bid their queen farewell. The soft keening sobs had been Hlif’s undoing and soon, she too, couldn’t stop the tears running down her cheeks. Gurith’s soul was not in Valhalla and Hlif didn’t know where to start looking for her.

  She felt a presence next to her and found Gurith’s top General, Ragnar, next to her. “The site is ready, milady.

  She nodded and waited until everyone cleared the hall, leaving only her and six other warriors. She approached the body of her beloved.

  “I will avenge your death, Gurith. But first, I need to send you on this journey alone. Find your father and keep him company. I will look for you and when I find you, our love will set this world alight with its splendour. Rest well, my heart, and do not forget about me.” She placed a chaste kiss on the cool forehead and stepped aside so the women could wrap the body in linen. Afterwards, the warriors stepped forward to carry their Warrior Queen to her last resting place.

  Outside, Gurith’s subjects and warriors formed a guard of honour as the body was carried from the palace to the outskirts where a large sandy peak was visible from the city. The two-kilometre walk to the opening of the peak was made in silence.

  To Hlif, the construction of the tomb didn’t look like an overnight labour. Gurith either must’ve sensed her demise or received a warning from her Seer. Inside was the full construct of the royal longboat, filled with Gurith’s belongings. Hlif watched dispassionately as the warrior lay Gurith’s embalmed body amongst her possessions. Ten village girls had offered to accompany Gurith on her journey and their preserved bodies were placed around Gurith’s body.

  When the Seer entered, she curtsied as she walked past Hlif. The old woman mumbled incoherently before she swung her rattle through the air. The warriors left the tomb to wait outside, leaving only Hlif and the Seer. The woman turned to Hlif.

  “Please, accept my sympathy for your loss, Divine One.”

  Hlif shook her head. “Don’t address me as such. I’m Hlif now.”

  The woman gave her a toothless grin. “You will never just be Hlif, goddess. You are Odin’s most beloved daughter. He mourns you as we speak.”

  “I denounce that man and everything he stands for,” she said firmly. “The Odin I used to serve would not taint Valhalla with petty games and murder. It is because of him and his gaming that my beloved is no more of this world.”

  The Seer sighed. “Even if you denounce him, your blood is still mixed heavily with his, making you a god.”

  “Former demi-god. Spilling his seed in a mortal woman doesn’t make me special. Only the bastard of a corruptible man.”

  “Strong words, indeed. I hope Odin sees your rebellion, not as an affront to him, but simply an expression of your grief.”

  Hlif wanted to snap at the woman to stop placating her, but instead, she turned and walked away. “They are waiting for us so they can seal the tomb.”

  With one final glance at Gurith’s body, they both left the tomb. Hlif watched as the men sealed the entrance. She will be back after dark to ensure that Gurith was not alone on her first in her new home.

  “Boss, it’s late.”

  Hlif blinked at Frederic. He was dressed as a digger and looked the part, covered in fine dust. She glanced at her watch it was almost ten. She’d been daydreaming for close to an hour. She tossed her drink back and stood. Luckily, it was only a twenty-minute drive to the city.

  “I’ve been here for over an hour. Shouldn’t someone be manning the surveillance tent?”

  “Yes. Leif is waiting outside. He didn’t want to disturb you.”

  Hlif grabbed her laptop and jacket. She could feel hunger pangs, but would rather leave the last few kleinur for the men. On her way out, she met Leif. “My apologies, Leif. I got lost in thought as I sat there.”

  “No problem, boss. Drive safely.”

  “Thanks.”

  She got into her car and turned it in the direction of home.

  ***

  The private room at Sal’s wasn’t very big, but it worked well enough for an impromptu boardroom. Bo took a bite of her pasta as she read her emails. There was nothing from Ram yet, but with the ten-hour time difference, she might only hear back from him tomorrow.

  “Bo, have you read this?”

  One of the attorneys, Frances, pushed the New York Times over to her. It had a picture of Professor Shawn Whitaker and an attractive woman on the front page. Another huge find by a Whitaker, read the headline. She scanned the article and smiled. Professor Whitaker has finally found what he’s been looking for.

  Bo met the archaeologist at one of Lisa Vaughn’s soirees and the man enthusiastic about the excavation he was working on in Iceland. She’d been about to ment
ally cut out his expected droning about pottery shards and ruins, when he surprised her with the tale of the most prolific Viking Queen. Bo hung on the man’s every word as he told her snippets of how this queen’s father defied the Norse god, Odin, by taking his own life so Odin couldn’t claim it. By the end of the evening, they’d exchanged numbers.

  “I’m happy for him. He couldn’t talk enough about the Warrior Queen and how the world should know about her.”

  “Do you think we should approach him and feel him out? He might be persuaded to make use of our services.”

  Bo sat back in her chair. “No need for that. Come to think of it, I thought we’d only talk shop after we’ve eaten, but I think we could do both.” She pointed at the picture of professor Whitaker. “I’m leaving for Iceland early on Friday to meet with professor Whitaker.” She threw a glance at Marion. “He wasn’t clear about why he wants to see me, but it won’t hurt to meet with him.”

  Now that she’d opened the floor, the rest of the team eagerly participated. As she sat and listened to the volume of work her team was getting done independently, she once again thanked her lucky stars for not showing Marion the door when the woman first approached her. Marion had been instrumental in the process of hiring every member of the team. She threw Marion a small smile and got one in return. It was time to think of a reward system for the hard work the team was putting in. When she returned from Iceland, she’d look into it.

  Chapter 4

  The door was heavy, but it stood no chance against the woman who wanted to get inside. When she had it opened halfway, Hlif slid inside. It was pitch dark inside. She missed a step and tumbled the rest of the way down to the packed dirt. How she missed her powers right now. With them, she would be able to see in the dark and with a snap of her fingers sprout a flame from her finger. She picked herself up and coughed as she dusted herself off. She should’ve brought flint for the torches. As if her powers were still active, all the torches lit up simultaneously. Surprised, she looked around.