“Thanks for the advice. I’ll take it under consideration,” Erik said, glad for the response.
Jake eyed him. “Dying is easy. Takes a lot to live for someone.”
Erik paused, his mind racing as the women came toward them.
Chapter Seventeen
For the first time in her life, Brenna wasn’t sure what to do. Or what not to do, as the case might be.
She’d been accepted wholeheartedly by the troupe, made to feel welcome as one of their own even though she didn’t have the same background as they did.
To start with.
The assembly had changed everything. The group said nothing outright about Erik’s overreaction to the teacher, but Helen and Lucy hovered over her all the way back, their silence speaking volumes. Brenna helped set up the tent as usual, her conversations restricted to soft comments about tugging this line tight, rolling out that sleeping bag.
She watched Erik and Jake talk, the two men falling silent as she approached with the other women. Mark was busy fussing with the van, making sure it was secured for the evening. Finally, he joined them, wiping his hands on a rag he stuffed into a back pocket.
They settled around the fire, each taking one of the chairs for his or her own. Coffee was poured, cups exchanged along with granola bars for their late-night snack.
“Excellent talk today,” Lucy started the discussion. “Really hit home with some of the kids. Caught the teachers in the back taking notes.”
Jake nodded. “A few of them went a little slack-jawed when they realized there was more to ’Nam than a video game. Real people, real experiences. Don’t get no extra lives.” He scratched his chin. “Except we gotta put that aside right now. We’ve got a problem. I’m going to let Erik tell you what’s going on, and then we’re going to talk. Don’t forget, this is a democracy—I’m not going to make any decision we all can’t stand behind. So speak up, and we’ll figure this out.” His gaze went to Erik, the nod letting him take the lead.
It took only a few seconds for Erik to recap the near-confrontation and for her to pick up the cover story created to explain Kara. The pain in Erik’s voice dug into her gut as he described the imaginary comrade lost in the ambush. It was plain to see he was channeling his own guilt into it, his agony at watching his friends die re-opening old wounds.
He finished, and everyone sat quietly for a minute.
“Damn.” Lucy was the first to speak. “I thought you seemed pretty wound up when that groupie showed up at the front of the stage, waving her phone around. Had no idea you were freaking inside.” She shook her head. “The last thing we need is for her to come at us when we’re in a public place with innocent people around. Women, children.” She glared at the edge of the compound as if expecting Kara to rush out of the shadows at them.
“We could cancel the rest of the appearances, drive straight to Washington non-stop,” Helen offered. She entwined her fingers and studied the fire. “But we’ve made promises…”
Erik shook his head. “We don’t want to cause you any trouble. Your stops are important, educational. You can’t give them up because of us. It’d probably be best for me to leave. I’m her primary target.” He didn’t look at Brenna, pointedly keeping his gaze elsewhere.
Brenna stumbled to breathe, trying to find the right words.
If he went out there alone…
Helen slapped her hands together, breaking Brenna’s train of thought. “Not an option.” She stared at Brenna. “You’re staying. Both of you. Kara comes at you here or at one of our presentations, she’ll have to deal with all of us. We’ll put her down, call the authorities, and press charges—all there is to it.”
They all nodded, one after the other.
Erik opened his mouth to say something but fell silent. After a few minutes, he smiled. “What’s our plan?”
Jake grunted. “Easy enough to start with—we keep you two in the back, out of sight and out of trouble. This started ’cause that woman recognized you from the circuit. We won’t make that mistake again.” He eyed Erik. “Grow out your beard, and from now on we’re calling you Erik Haldermann. Slouch, appear a bit ragged.” He turned his attention to Brenna. “You, lie low if any media comes around taking pictures of us. Make excuses, stay in the back behind us as much as you can. We’ll run interference, tell them you’re shy, not up to talking to anyone. I’ll vary up the route for a couple of days, take some side roads.”
Mark interrupted. “If she tracks us to the assembly, she can find us from the website.”
“What website?” Erik asked.
“We have a website set up, listing where we’re going. All the community centers, all the school meetings. It was created to ask for donations and give press releases, that sort of thing. She can figure where we’ll be for the next month.” Mark shook his head.
“We can fix that.” Jake nodded at Helen. “Get the laptop. We’ll shut the page down.”
She began digging through her backpack. “I’m on it.”
“Excellent,” Jake said. “Actually…” A devilish grin appeared. “Insert a recent shot of Erik.”
“What?” Erik almost shouted.
Jake held up his hand. “Put the picture up with his name and then note that we had a guest at this event, a bare-knuckle fighter who’s also a veteran. Add in that this was a one-time appearance and he’s heading South for an upcoming fight.”
“Misinformation.” Helen grinned. “She’ll see that and take the bait.”
“I don’t think you understand. She’s got no other goal in her life, no alternative to focus on. She won’t rest until she succeeds in her mission,” Brenna said.
Helen nodded, running her fingers over the keyboard. “We don’t let her.” She reached out and touched Brenna’s arm. “We don’t leave anyone behind. No matter what.” She studied the others. “Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Jake and Mark said in unison. Lucy hesitated only a few seconds before speaking.
“Agreed.” She pointed at Brenna. “You should have told us about this before. I don’t want to lose you or anyone else.” She jumped up and ran to Brenna’s side before dropping to her knees and hugging Brenna tight.
Brenna drew a deep breath as she embraced Lucy. “We can’t lie anymore. About anything.”
“Brenna…” Erik’s voice was hoarse, the warning obvious.
She released Lucy and stood. “My name is Brenna, and I am a Valkyrie, one of Mother Freyja’s warriors. I was born over a thousand years ago.” She pointed at Erik. “A year ago, I came to the battlefield to take his soul to Valhalla, to place him in his rightful seat in the Great Halls. I failed.”
The words tumbled out, her chest growing lighter with the confession. “Kara, the woman hunting us, is another Valkyrie. She came to reap both of us, send him to Valhalla and me to my eternal damnation in Helheim for my disloyalty. She won’t give up, she won’t stop coming, until we’re dead.” She stopped and glanced around the circle, waiting for their responses.
Lucy finished wiping her eyes. Mark poked the fire with a stick. Helen rubbed her hands together, and Jake scratched his beard.
Erik nodded.
“Thanks for telling us.” Jake coughed. “Right. We’re all level now, and we’re going to keep our eyes open—all we can do.” He stared at Erik. “Good?”
“Good,” Erik said.
Lucy pulled Brenna down beside her again, staring at her. “I’m here for you, just like you’re here for me. All right?”
“All right,” Brenna said. She couldn’t think of anything else to say, the lack of a reaction to her confession stunning her into silence.
“I’ve got first watch,” Erik said. “See you at sunrise. ’Night.”
Slowly the others drifted away from the fire and into the tents, leaving her and Erik alone.
She waited a few minutes and rose, walking around the circle to face Erik.
“What did you do?” she growled, forcing herself to keep her voice down.
; His blank look infuriated her. “What?”
“I just told them I was a Valkyrie, and no one blinked. No one asked any questions; no one ran or screamed or freaked out. They might be warriors, but they’re sane human beings as well.” Brenna leaned in, letting out another snarl. “What did you tell them?”
He didn’t pull back, didn’t flinch from her anger. “When I met Jake for the first time, I told him you were a little…confused.” He tapped his temple with his index finger. “Thought you were a Valkyrie. Helped deal with the death and carnage you witnessed on the battlefield. You’re fine otherwise other than this little fantasy.”
She pulled back. “What?”
“Listen.” He drew a deep breath. “I was hoping this wouldn’t ever come out, but I always hedge my bets. Telling them you had some issues was a way to cover our asses in case we slipped up and talked about Valkyries or Odin or whatever.”
Her rage flared. “You should have discussed this with me first.” She glanced at the tent she shared with Helen and Lucy. “I don’t want them to think of me as being different.”
“But you are.”
The soft-spoken words shocked her into stillness.
Erik reached out and touched her cheek, the intimate gesture sending heat rushing through her veins. “You are a very special woman.”
“They’ll…” She swallowed, choking back the emotional rush. “They’ll think I’m crazy.”
“No more than the rest of us,” Erik whispered. “After all, you’re only human.”
She froze, caught between wanting to kiss him again and wanting to throttle him.
A piece of wood crackled and popped in the fire, startling her. She jumped back out of his reach, her cheek burning where he’d caressed her.
“’Night, Brenna.” Erik smiled and settled back in his chair.
“Good night.” She retreated to the tent, her head spinning.
Chapter Eighteen
The knitting had been Helen’s idea, brought about by Brenna asking what she was doing one day in the back of the van. She had seen knitting before on her travels, usually by little old ladies in the bus stations as they waited for arrivals and departures, but not up close. Now, as they spent hours every day sitting side by side, she was pulled in by the hypnotic movement of Helen’s hands, seen up close. She finally asked the older woman what exactly she was doing.
Helen immediately pulled out a spare pair of needles and handed them over, laughing as Brenna initially held them like knives, gripping them tight.
“I was hoping you’d ask. Lucy gave up on the second day out.”
Lucy, sitting in front of them, leaned back with a laugh. “I don’t have the patience.” She held up her cell phone, showing off a brightly colored game. “This is all I need to fill my spare time.” With a laugh, she turned back to tapping the tiny screen. “If I can ever get past Level 232…”
“I’m making hats for newborns.” Helen showed her the tiny square. “They go to the local hospitals, get handed out to all the babies. Here.” She took hold of Brenna’s fingers and manipulated the long plastic sticks, tucking her elbows down. “Let me get you some wool and we’ll start on a basic stitch. After that, the sky’s the limit!”
She couldn’t think of a reason to object, so she followed Helen’s lead.
It’d become a daily routine in the van, sitting side by side working on what might turn into a scarf, if she was lucky. Helen didn’t have any issue with her not joining in making hats and noted a scarf was a worthy project.
“Depending on where you go, you might need it.” She passed over another ball of brightly colored wool, adding a sky blue onto the previous dark green. “It’ll be spectacular.”
The rhythmic knocking of the needles reminded her of the warriors’ chants she used to hear echoing through the Great Halls. The two women sat there while Lucy chatted away, a mundane routine easy to fall into.
It was startling. Her single goal for almost a year had been to chase Erik down and kill him. Now she had to find something else to do, to focus on. Other than the man sitting in the seat ahead of her. She swallowed hard, tamping down the surge of desire rushing to the surface every time he caught her eye in the mirror.
She worried about Kara being on their trail. And for those around them who could suffer for their friendship.
That wasn’t all that nagged at her. There was something else, grinding against her nerves every morning she rose with the other women in the tent and helped with breakfast and packing up the camp before they piled into the van and drove off.
It’d been a full two weeks, and she couldn’t hold back anymore.
She crept out through the small opening, slipping her shoes on. The morning dew settled on the grass as she walked into the nearby clearing. The need was too much, and she couldn’t deny herself a minute longer.
Brenna needed to pick up her old routine, the shadow sparring and fighting a major part of her life for centuries. If she was going to fight Kara, she had to keep her edge—and that meant getting back into regular practice.
She might have been forced to use a knife in her attempt to kill Erik, but deep down, she missed her lance. Brenna longed to have it in her hands, the lightweight metal cool to her touch.
A long stick would have to stand in for the time being. She searched through the brush until she found a nice one, straight and in excellent shape. A few minutes to strip off the tiny branches and she had as good a staff as she was likely to find out here.
Time to begin.
Brenna stood in the middle of the clearing and closed her eyes, settling her soul. These exercises had filled her life for decades, going right back to her initial training. It was a meditation of sorts, a way of connecting with Freyja.
The connection might not be there anymore, but the inner peace came to her, the memories taking control.
The rod cut through the air with ease, slashing and jabbing as she spun around. Her muscles burned with the effort, but she relished it, the exercises helping her become balanced.
In her mind, she was back in the enclave, standing with her sisters as they went through the morning ritual.
Spin. Twist. Jab.
She took a quick step forward and slashed with the staff.
The wooden stick hit something hard and snapped back, freezing her in place.
She opened her eyes to see Erik in front of her. He held a short branch, less than half the size of her staff.
He wore no shirt, his scars proudly on display. The gray track pants hugged his hips, the running shoes damp with dew. He gripped the baton and laid it flush against his forearm.
His eyes met hers, one eyebrow raised in challenge.
She smiled and attacked.
…
He couldn’t sleep. He’d always been an early riser and had assigned himself the task of getting breakfast started—or at least coffee. It’d taken a few minutes to get the fire going, settling the old dented pot over the flames.
He spotted Brenna creeping out of the tent, pulling on her shoes.
Running away?
He dismissed the thought, noting she had nothing but her clothing on. Wouldn’t be smart to leave without grabbing her duffel bag and some supplies.
Erik crept after her, watching as she trotted down the trail to a nearby empty clearing. Brenna strode around, hands on her hips as she studied the trees.
He watched her twist and move with her eyes closed, the elaborate routine a mixture of tai chi and karate, hypnotic and enticing even as he recognized the lethal strikes illustrated.
Her short blonde hair bounced off her shoulders as she spun and jabbed, sweat beading on her face as she moved.
Erik swallowed hard, the desire stirring in his groin. There was nothing sexy about this, but he was reacting, the dangerous dance striking deep into his heart and soul.
I must be losing my mind.
He had to do something.
He couldn’t resist a challenge.
Erik reach
ed out and picked up a much shorter, thicker branch reminding him of a police baton. Solid in his hand, it reminded him that over the past week and a half he hadn’t done training of any sort.
Time for that to change.
He moved into the clearing, biding his time until an opening appeared in her silent ballet.
Erik stepped in, braced himself, and swung up.
The staff smashed into the wood, breaking the spell.
The reverberations shot up his arm, but he held his ground, the makeshift baton holding up well under the strike.
Her eyes flashed open and locked with his, the icy blue gaze melting as he smiled and raised an eyebrow, making the silent challenge.
Met and accepted.
She lunged forward as he did the same, moving within easy reach.
The battle was on.
…
Over the years, Brenna had sparred with hundreds of warriors. There were many fighters in Valhalla who came to the Valkyries and demanded a challenge—knowing if she struck them down, it wouldn’t be permanent and they would rise again at sunset. Few managed to get past her defenses and touch her armor before she ended the duel with a swift strike of her lance.
Freyja intended the Valkyries to be ready to fight when Ragnarok came. When they weren’t collecting souls, they practiced and sparred, fighting each other and those warriors willing to do so. Later on, she realized the deeper logic. The routines gave them the chance to purge themselves of the horrors witnessed on the battlefield, helping keep them sane.
Over the last few months, her skills might have grown stale, but she was having a good time keeping Erik at bay.
Good time meaning he was pushing her limits, the short strikes with his baton threatening to get past her invisible wall and score a blow. A light sheen of sweat covered his bare chest, the scars almost glowing as they moved around the rough circle.
She hesitated, her feelings in flux. A warmth flowed through her, a combination of the exercise and something else…something she was unsure what to do with.
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