Shatterproof

by Stein Willard

  Aspen had an enigmatic look on her face. “Did they ever find out who did it?”

  “I’m afraid not. The case went cold quickly, and most people had already forgotten about that.” He took a sip of his wine. “But I’ve invited her to Iceland since I plan to have an exhibition in the States once we’ve wrapped up everything here. I’ve petitioned the Icelandic government to consider recognizing the tomb as a heritage site and to convert it into a museum.”

  He hadn’t heard back from the cultural ministry, but that didn’t mean they weren’t considering it. Entering the tomb and walking down the stairs into the large cavernous room that held the massive ship, was quite an experience. The atmosphere when entering the tomb was awe-inspiring and he could tell that it had the same effect on the delegation from the cultural ministry they had over during the official unveiling of the tomb four months ago. Shawn wanted the public to feel the same reverence when they entered Gurith’s tomb. The woman had successfully defended Iceland against the invasion of foreign armies on several occasions to protect its natural resources from raiders. The new generation needed to know that and respect the woman’s prowess as a leader and battle tactician.

  “Where’re you off to, honey?”

  He blinked and looked around the table. Everyone was looking at him. “I hope they consider my request favourably. Queen Gurith deserves a noteworthy place in Iceland’s history.” He caught Aspen’s eye and noticed the gleam of appreciation in her dark eyes. He gave her a small smile.

  ***

  Bo stood and collected the plates, only to have Hlif shoot to her feet and reach over.

  “No, I’ll take care of that. You don’ have to.”

  The other woman was already taking the plates from her and Bo felt herself staring at Hlif’s extended hand. It was larger than the average woman’s hand. The nails were clean and clipped short; practical hands. She looked up and blushed. Hlif was staring at her with a peculiar look in her eyes.

  “It’s no bother. You’re hosting us and you cooked. The least we could do is help clean up.” She held the woman’s gaze, finding herself falling into the turbulent depths. “Please.” At that moment, she wasn’t sure why she was begging this woman. Was it still about the dishes or did it have something to do with the inexplicable pull she felt towards her?

  “I think,” Magarethe began, breaking the moment, “I’ll leave you two to decide while I go get ready for bed.” She turned to Hlif and in Icelandic, thanked her for her hospitality.

  “I assure you that I’ll be fine cleaning up here. You’ve had a long day and must be tired.”

  Hlif had moved around the island to come stand next to her. She was dressed in only her shirt and undercoat. The cut of her clothes made it was evident that the security business paid extremely well. Hlif smelled wonderful too – of wrinkled sheets and spent sex. Bo mentally shook her head. What was happening to her?

  “I’d like to help.”

  Hlif smiled; an action that made her eyes light up and caused Bo’s grip to tighten on the dishes. “In that case, I offer my assistance.”

  Bo silently breathed a sigh of relief when Hlif moved away to fill the sink with water. What was it about Hlif that made her act so out character? When close to the woman, she felt like a hormonal teenager crushing on the quarterback. How she could ever have thought herself immune to the impact of a beautiful woman, was absurd.

  Hlif threw a look over her shoulder, spurring Bo into action. She reluctantly collected the dishes and moved over to where Hlif was waiting for her. Hlif accepted the dishes and as she was about to dunk them in the foamy water, her rolled-up sleeve loosened and began to slip down her arm.

  “Let me.” Bo reached for her arm. The moment she touched the brunette’s skin, a sharp electric current shot through her body. She bit down on her lip and with shaky hands, hurriedly rolled up Hlif’s sleeve, and put some space between them.

  They both stood frozen for a long moment, before Hlif cleared her throat.

  “Thank you.”

  Bo could only nod and was looking around for a dishcloth when Hlif pulled a drawer open to retrieve one.

  “Thanks.”

  They washed and dried the first plate in complete silence as Bo tried to figure out her strange reaction to Hlif. As a fashion model, she’d been around women, beautiful women, both feminine and butch. Some as beautiful as Hlif. However, none of them had ever exuded such raw appeal. Nor made her react almost violently to the silent call, Bo was aching to accept. Her need for Hlif to overpower her made her dizzy and…

  “Tell me more about the man who followed you here.”

  They had discussed the issue over dinner, but Hlif had graciously not pressed too much, wanting them to enjoy their food.

  “Well, except for the accident and the stakeout at my home, I’ve never seen him before.”

  “Was he threatening you in either of those encounters?”

  “Only when he came to my house. I didn’t like having him there.”

  Hlif glanced at her and this time; her eyes had a hard gleam to them. “You’ll be safe here, Bo. Let’s finish up here. I’m sure with jet lag all you must be dead on your feet by now.”

  Bo was tired, but knowing herself, her dreams would be overrun by a gorgeous Viking woman in an impeccable suit with beautiful hands and a devastating smile. Even then, she did need time alone though, to compose herself after the relentless assault of Hlif’s intense pull on her nerves and senses.

  She managed a small smile. “Yes, I could do with some sleep.”

  ***

  Shawn cradled the coffee cup in his hands as he stared into the flames in the fireplace. He felt a presence next to him and smiled up at his wife. She glanced meaningfully at his lap and he hastily placed his mug on the nearby coffee table to accept her. When she was settled in his lap with her arms around his neck, Shawn kissed her tenderly.

  “I’m so happy you’re here.”

  Jennifer grinned. “I had to come see for myself that the Nordic beauties were keeping their distance. It took me thirty-three years to house train you, I wasn’t going to let some Viking wench benefit from my hard work.”

  They giggled together and kissed. He knew that even as she joked about it, Jennifer was fully aware that she had nothing to worry about on that front. She was the love of his life and he adored her as much today as he did when they first met.

  “I couldn’t help but notice that you were a little distracted during dinner.” She searched his eyes. “Is it Bo?”

  “Yes.” He was the reason she was in Iceland. If something were to happen to her while she was here, he wouldn’t forgive himself. “I asked her here to discuss something with her.” An arched brow made him smile. Jennifer detested ambiguity. He thanked his lucky stars, he didn’t work for NASA or some such place. Keeping secrets was impossible with his wife. “I’ve come across a reprint of an old diary written by a group of Irish monks, who lived in Iceland almost fifteen hundred years ago. They documented the bloodline of a prominent Viking king, who settled here at the same time.” He pressed his face into Jennifer’s neck, taking in her scent. “Bo can be linked back to this king.”

  “WOW! That’s great news, isn’t it?” Jennifer said the last part cautiously, having somehow noticed his lack of enthusiasm.

  Shawn angled his head so he could look in her eyes. “Strange, untraceable deaths have plagued this Viking king’s bloodline. Inviting Bo here might’ve put her in grave danger.”

  Jennifer blinked. “Do you know who would want to hurt Bo?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Oh, Shawn! You need to do something.”

  He smiled. “I did. Hlif will handle it for me. I’ll give her a call tomorrow.”

  ***

  As soon as the door closed behind Bo, her grandmother turned to look at her from where she was sitting up in the bed, a magazine open in her lap. “What was that all about? Saying all that stuff and putting the poor woman on the spot like that?”


  “Poor woman, indeed,” Magarethe said as she closed the magazine. “That woman practically vibrates with lust in your presence.”

  “Holy…!” exclaimed in shock, simultaneously aware of the wild fluttering in the pit of her stomach. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

  “Why not, my dear? It’s not as if you hide your own infatuation any better than her.” She laid back on the bed. “It’s true, though,” she muttered. “You would make a beautiful couple.”

  Bo stared at her grandmother. How was she going to survive these few days with Hlif under one roof as well as her grandmother who lacked a filter? She walked over to sit next to the older woman and took in the room. It was decorated in the typical Scandinavian style. Tastefully minimalistic. The room was painted a light chrome colour with only a queen-sized bed and two bedside tables. A large painting of a picturesque fjord hung over the bed.

  “I’m only here for a few more days then it’s back home for me. Your dream of me and Hlif having strong, Viking babies, would not work out, unfortunately.”

  “Sex is always a good start.” Magarethe said calmly and Bo shot her a startled look. “If you make it really good, she won’t have a choice, but to follow you home.”

  Bo shook her head slowly. “What’s this about, Grandmother? We haven’t seen each other for twenty years and on the first day of our reunion, you’re trying to set me up with a strange woman.”

  Magarethe sat up, her blue eyes burning with a peculiar intensity. “Because you can’t afford to be alone at a time like this, Borgny. You need someone to protect you and make all this worth it.”

  All this? What was her grandmother talking about? “What do you mean by ‘all this’?”

  The older woman looked away. “No one should be alone at any time.”

  If there was one thing Bo knew of her grandmother, it was the fact that Magarethe was a terrible liar. “I don’t believe you. So, I’ll ask you again. What are you really talking about?”

  The woman lifted her head. She had a haunted look in her eyes. “The world is a dangerous place. The fact that we’re hiding in a stranger’s home, illustrates my point perfectly.”

  “You didn’t want to talk about it earlier, but we’re alone now. Tell me why my parents had to die so we could live.”

  Magarethe got out of bed and walked over to the window. When a few long seconds passed without Magarethe saying anything, Bo joined the older woman.

  “Why don’t you want me to know? Don’t I deserve the truth so I can better protect myself?” Magarethe’s head snapped to the side and Bo was shocked to see the tear tracks on the woman’s face. “Grandmother?” She moved in to embrace the woman, but Magarethe evaded her touch. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know how to tell you,” Magarethe muttered brokenly. “You’ll hate me if you find out.”

  Bo was worried now. “You’re the only family I have; I can’t even begin to imagine hating you.”

  The older woman sighed deeply and went to sit on the bed. “About five hundred years ago, descents from a particular lineage ended up being killed or died in suspicious circumstances. As you might’ve concluded by now, we are descendants of that same lineage.”

  Bo was wondering how she never heard of it before. It had been happening for over five hundred years.

  “What lineage is that?”

  “Haardraad. We are descended from a Scandinavian warrior called Harald Haardraad. According to some oral accounts that have been recorded by a group of monks, who came to Iceland during that period, he was known as the first King of Iceland.” Magarethe smiled at her and Bo knew that her incredulity must’ve been showing on her face. “Strange to think we’re from royalty, hey.”

  Bo could only blink at the woman. She wanted to know why they were being hunted, but she didn’t want to press Magarethe and have the woman clam up.

  “According to what has been told from generation to generation, Haardraad seemed to have offended some powerful person, who vowed to wipe his existence, which included his whole lineage, from history.”

  Bo closed her eyes. It sounded like the script for a bad B-rated movie. The ambiguity surrounding the whole saga was insulting. She opened her eyes and found her grandmother watching her closely.

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “Not at all,” Bo replied quickly. “It all just sounds so…” She exhaled noisily. “I don’t know. Do you believe it?”

  Magarethe’s eyes turned hard and they glittered with deep anger. “Yes, I do.”

  Bo nodded. “Okay.”

  “I believe it, because my parents were murdered too.”

  Bo gasped as she watched her grandmother. She went to sit next to the woman, aching to touch her. Maybe hold her hand or something. After the earlier rejection, she wasn’t sure it would be welcomed this time around. She studied the older woman’s profile, watching helplessly as a tear ran down her cheek. It was obvious that the pain was still fresh for Magarethe.

  “I’m sorry, Grandmother.” She shoved her misgivings aside and reached for the woman’s hand. Her heart jerked in sympathy when she felt the woman clutch it desperately.

  “My parents sent me away to live with friends of theirs. They changed my surname, too.” She took a shaky breath. “I didn’t want the same to happen to my child.”

  Bo couldn’t imagine the pain Magarethe must have been through with the death of her son. A picture of her smiling father flashed before her eyes. He was a wonderful man and a great father.

  “I’m sorry that you had to live through that,” she said gently. Maybe it was time to let Magarethe take a break. They could talk some more tomorrow. “Do you want me to help you get ready for bed? It’s rather late and we’ve had a difficult day.”

  Magarethe’s grip on Bo’s hand didn’t let up. The older woman looked lost as she sat in silence. Just when Bo had settled in for a long wait, Magarethe spoke up.

  “My child is not dead.”

  Bo blinked in surprise. Her grandmother was almost seventy years old and healthy as a horse. Nowhere in their correspondence had Bo picked up that her grandmother suffered from any neurological issues that would affect her memory or other mental faculties. Magarethe had been the one who collected her from home the day her of her parents’ murder.

  She’d just returned from her hockey trip and happened upon the horrific sight. She had called her grandmother first and then the police. Magarethe arrived looking as pale as a ghost. Bo remembered the older woman trembling violently as she held her.

  Bo gently turned Magarethe’s face so their eyes met. “He’s gone, Grandmother. You were there with me when the police came.”

  Magarethe shook her head. “He wasn’t my son.”

  Rocked by the confession, Bo’s mouth opened and closed. On the third try, her voice returned. “I don’t understand. How could he not be your son?”

  “Because I have a daughter.”

  A daughter? “But… but… Who is she? Where is she?”

  Magarethe closed her eyes briefly before she opened them again. Her eyes were almost colourless when she looked at Bo. “I’m looking at her right now.”

  ***

  Hlif sat in the dark, a glass of Brennivín in her hand. She’d thought of going to bed, but the idea of walking past the room that held her soul mate and not join her, was emotional torture. Instead, she decided to get herself a drink and settle in for the night. She didn’t need sleep, so the lack thereof wouldn’t affect her adversely.

  A night spent reminiscing was a normal occurrence for her. The hardest part was always deciding which moments to relive. There were so many wonderful memories. She blinked rapidly to clear the tears in her eyes. She ached to be near her beloved again. To hold her and be held.

  Hlif took a sip of the liquor. Her hand shook slightly and she wondered what rattled her more. The intensity of her feelings for Bo or the fact that the hardest part still lay ahead. Would Bo believe her when she finally told her that they were age-
old lovers and soul mates? What if Bo didn’t want to go further than the physical attraction she felt for Hlif? At least the attraction was mutual.

  She finished her drink and considered a refill. She quickly discarded the idea. There was a stalker out there threatening the woman she loved and she needed to be on high alert if she wanted to catch him. Maybe coffee was a better choice.

  She stood and turned, only to stop dead in her tracks. Standing quietly in the doorway leading from the hallway, was Bo. The way she stood there, still as a statue, alarmed Hlif.

  “Are you okay? Bo?”

  The silence that followed spurred her into action and she quickly approached the other woman. When she was close enough, the light coming in from the hallway revealed the sheen of tears on the blonde’s face. Hlif’s heart clenched painfully at the sight. She didn’t think; she simply acted. With infinite tenderness, she reached out and pulled Bo into her arms. She didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until she felt Bo relax into her arms.

  Breathe, she reminded herself as she folded her arms around the trembling body. She was desperate to ease Bo’s pain. As she folded the woman in a full-body hug, she decided to make Bo feel safe until the other woman felt ready to share her pain. She rested her chin on the blonde head.

  What could’ve happened in the hour after Bo had bid her goodnight? A soft sob came from Bo and Hlif swallowed. This was harder than anything she’d experienced in a very long time. She gently rubbed circles on Bo’s back. This was going to take some getting used to. Gurith was a tough woman. She rarely showed any vulnerabilities. A good example of her strength was evident in how she dealt with the threat from Loki two millennia ago. She rather sacrificed herself than allowed her soul to fall in the hands of the enemy. Bo was different. She was an intriguing mix of strength and vulnerability.