Dead Embers

by T. G. Ayer

  Fen led us through the dark, shuttered house to another door, which opened into a deserted alley. An old truck idled outside; the engine coughed and sputtered as if the warm and dusty Cairo air was slowly choking the life out of it. The bed of the truck lay bare except for a stack of loose boards and clumps of grubby chicken feathers, which reminded me of the poor, now-dead bird I'd seen in the souk.

  "Aimee and Joshua, please sit in the front with the driver." Fen withdrew two passports from his satchel and handed them over, along with a stack of papers. "These are papers you will need to get through the checkpoints. There are clothes on the front seat that will allow you to blend in with the people of this country. It is safer for you to travel as natives rather than tourists, hence the need for the native garments."

  I smiled. Fen had a funny way of saying things sometimes. He opened each passport, rubbed his thumb over the photographs and handed one to each of the waiting Warriors. Joshua pocketed his passport and smashed a fez onto his head. He frowned as he straightened it, clearly unhappy with having to play dress-up. Aimee giggled beside him as a black robe engulfed her; once done up, it hid her entire face except for her eyes.

  The rest of us jumped in back, still glamored and safe from prying eyes. Impatience gnawed at me, with annoyance fighting for space. I couldn't understand what all the cloak-and-dagger spy stuff was about. The driver put the truck in gear, and the engine churned and screeched before it settled into a regular rhythm that sounded far too much like the vehicle was about to throw up. Soon we began to slowly roll down the street. Way too slow for my taste. Come on. I can walk faster than this.

  The trip felt interminable, the potholes and bumpy ride churning my stomach even worse than the Bifrost did.

  When we finally halted at a checkpoint I sent a silent grateful prayer up to Odin. Somehow the prospect of falling off a cliff seemed welcome when compared to the rocking and rolling in the back of the ancient truck.

  Great. Just what we needed. A carsick Valkyrie. Probably because I was meant for flight, not road travel.

  Neither Mika nor Sigrun seemed to mind the ride. They sat opposite me, moving back and forth as we bounced on the untarred roads, patiently awaiting the end of our trip.

  At a checkpoint, a soldier rapped out a command, and our driver rolled his window down, greeting him in Arabic. The soldier didn't answer, just stared back, irritation clearly imprinted in his dark scowl. He barked another order, both his tone and volume harsh and demanding.

  Beside me Fen stiffened, bringing both his hands together, steepling them, the movement slow and deliberate. Both Warriors handed over their passports and waited while the soldier inspected the documents and scrutinized Joshua and Aimee, an unfriendly, suspicious gleam in his eyes.

  I feared the man would have the audacity to ask Aimee to remove her head covering. Sigrun, on my right, tensed, and I knew exactly how she felt. Blood thundered in my ears, and I held my breath, waiting. I craned my neck to watch the soldier as he walked around the car to the passenger window. He motioned for Joshua to roll the window down, and in that moment I was glad for my friend's dark looks. Courtesy of his Indian mom, Joshua had jet-black hair and a pair of ebony eyes to match.

  My heart thumped louder when the soldier shot another instruction at them. Joshua glanced back at the driver, then pushed the door open and stepped out of the car very slowly.

  My heart sank. The soldier's nostrils flared, as if the truck and its occupants angered him. The look on his face didn't bode well for Joshua, or for us. I met Fen's hooded eyes, but the gathering night shadowed his expression. Only the tightness in his shoulders confirmed my fear.

  Joshua was about to get arrested.

  Chapter 15

  The soldier squinted again at the passport, then stared up at Joshua's face. Way up. Joshua towered head and shoulders above the soldier. A desperate giggle rippled through me as I realized for the first time since my friend had been reborn into his role as einherjar, Warrior of Valhalla, how much Joshua had grown.

  Joshua's jaw tightened as he stared down his interrogator. Nobody breathed. Fen still sat with his fingers pressed firmly against each other. Perhaps he was praying really hard. At last the soldier gave Joshua a nod and walked around the back of the truck. He stopped, stooped low to inspect the undercarriage, then returned the passports to the driver.

  I exhaled only when the soldier stalked to the boom gate to raise the iron bar. Fen too seemed to relax, finally unsteepling his rigid fingers. The truck grunted, lurched forward, and we were on our way.

  The dusty horizon darkened, promising a swift desert nightfall. Safely out of the central city limits, we traveled for a short distance deeper into the residential area that bordered the city. In the gathering darkness, the buildings loomed, stacked cheek to cheek, so close that each house seemed to either lean against or suffocate the other.

  The ratchety old car grumbled to a stop beside a shadowed door whose blue paint had flaked away after years in the heat of the unforgiving Cairo sun. A house loomed over us, identical to the drab building attached to it, a thin three-story whose windows stared coldly down on us.

  Sigrun let out a sigh, easing the comically pained expression she'd worn for the entire twenty-minute ride. She'd wriggled throughout the trip, and I wasn't surprised. Now she stretched and leaned toward me to whisper, "Thank Odin that horrible ride is over. Valkyries were made to fly and fight, not be packed into Midgard vehicles on long trips like this." She added, almost to herself, "Next time I am flying."

  I grinned, and glanced beside me at Fen in time to catch his amused expression. We scrambled from the bed of the truck, grateful for the opportunity to stretch limbs that had taken a beating from the bumpy ride.

  Joshua jumped from the cab and scanned the darkness intently. Something told me he wasn't searching for signs of danger. Knowing Joshua, he was probably hoping for a glimpse of Mika. But my Ulfr friend paid no attention to his furtive glances as she checked her weapons and stood on the sidewalk, watching the street and waiting for her commanding officer. The darkness hid my smile; Mika was all business, but I knew she couldn't hold out against Joshua's charms for too long.

  The cool Cairo night seemed too still and too silent as the team gathered at the door, eyes on the street and the buildings around us.

  "Mika. Aimee. Watch the street. Everyone be aware, and be silent." Fen, too, kept his eye on the shadows around us.

  My heart tripped as I checked frantically for my glamor. No matter how many times I used it, I always felt as if I'd lose it when it mattered the most.

  The driver came around, handed a small object to Fen, nodded curtly and returned to the vehicle. I peered over Fen's shoulder, but the night hid the object in the shadows of his palm.

  He turned to fidget at the doorway. Metal scraped metal and the lock clicked.

  The door creaked open into a maw of blackness. The team slipped inside like a cluster of shadows, dark and silent. We'd made it inside the old Egyptian house, shutting the door behind us. So far, so good.

  My heart lurched again with the grumble and clatter from the truck as the driver revved the engine and slowly drove down the darkened street. The racket caused more than a few cringes and hasty glances from my team. Guess Fen forgot to give the driver the "silent and undetected at all times" speech.

  So far we hadn't been followed or chased, or shot at, for that matter. I was beginning to wonder what all the fuss was about. But despite my doubts, my heart still thumped as I waited with the others inside the deserted house.

  The musty darkness hung thick with incense and unwashed bodies. Mika's eyes glowed amber, and I could just make out the sound of sniffing as she scented the building. Although the room was large and airy, its whitewashed walls suddenly seemed to close in on us. The eight people gathered in the dark were tall, muscle-bound and took up far too much space.

  Great. First carsick, now claustrophobic. I was beginning to think I sucked at being a brave and strong Valkyri
e.

  I choked off a sigh and looked around. Though I couldn't claim to have Ulfr-sight, my eyes began to slowly adjust to the darkness and soon I was able to make out more than just the glowing eyes of our Ulfr partners. Before us, a single door sat open, revealing a dusty, silent passage. Nobody moved; we just waited for the next signal from Fen.

  I watched him, hoping he'd get on with it. How long were we expected to stand around waiting?

  He tilted his head, listening with what looked decidedly like a wolf's ear. I shuddered, hoping there would be no need for any of the Ulfr to transform.

  My own patience ran out faster than the rest. "Fen, what—"

  He glanced sharply at me, admonition clear in his amber gaze. "Silence, Valkyrie," he said, his voice low with a trace of wolf rumble. I cringed and wished I'd just shut up in the first place. He continued in such a hushed tone that I had to strain to hear him. "This is supposed to be our North African headquarters. Do you want to alert any spies who might have been following us, or watching us? Would you like to reveal the location of these headquarters to the Vanir?"

  I paled, feeling very foolish. I really hadn't paid much attention at the briefing to have missed all this vital information.

  "Listen. Can you hear that?" Muffled voices drifted to us from somewhere below. "I assume this building has a basement. We need to find it."

  I raised an eyebrow and waited. What did we have Ulfr for, if not to sniff out hidden nooks and crannies? Sure enough, only seconds later Mika beckoned to Fen, pointing at the far wall. Half-hidden in the shadows and tucked directly behind the entrance door sat a second, almost invisible door. Painted to match the whitewashed walls, it blended so well into the wall that it wouldn't have been easy to spot even in the daylight.

  Fen twisted the knob, and the door swung open, a rush of cool air rising to meet us. A stone staircase dropped down into the darkness below. Fen waited for the team to descend before shutting the thick wooden door and following us down. And he seemed to have suddenly dispensed with the need for creeping about and being silent. His heels echoed as he marched down the darkened stone stairs. The narrow steps and shadows forced those of us without wolfish night-vision to tread carefully.

  My fingers trailed the cool wall as we descended. This was what it must have felt like when the first Egyptian tombs were opened. Taking steps into the cool, musty unknown darkness. I assumed Fen knew where the hell he was leading us. Of course, should we meet danger, Fen would surely go all werewolf on our attackers' asses and save us all.

  I hoped.

  At the bottom of the staircase, a pair of large, metal double doors greeted us, held open by matching, rickety wooden chairs pretending to be doorstops.

  Light poured through the opening.

  Bright fluorescent light.

  Fen strode straight in; he seemed so in control. Unlike the rest of us. I followed the team inside and stopped as we reached the middle of the room. A scattering of fluorescent lamps lit the underground room, which buzzed with energy, computers, maps and whiteboards. It took my breath away, literally. Seemed the others around me were equally surprised.

  "I'd never have imagined they'd be this organized," Joshua whispered from behind me.

  A dozen or so Warriors and unglamored Valkyries milled around, tapping computer keys and marking maps, speaking into cell phones and satellite phones. It looked like the center of operations for the CIA or MI6 or some other spy-type group. Amazing to think that many of these operatives were from a realm most people thought didn't exist. Equally fascinating was how temporary everything looked. As if it would take mere minutes to grab laptops and phones, maps and foldaway tables, and make a quick getaway.

  Fen paused at a nearby computer, studying the monitor, before turning his attention to a large map on the far wall. His movements drew a few curious glances from around the room, but none of the Warriors approached him. Everyone remained at a respectful distance, although an Ulfr or two did give him a respectful bow when he looked at them.

  No one stopped their work. Computer keys clicked. Somewhere, a printer whirred. Very efficient. As I studied the frenetic room, I found myself nodding.

  "So you like what you see?" a sharp voice asked.

  My wings shivered beneath the glamor. I turned to the speaker and met a pair of icy blue eyes. She stood straight-backed, her head tilted to look at me. Her blonde hair glinted in the white light. A pair of dove-grey wings framed her head, still and silent. I had to force my own wings to stop their little flutters. Something about this Valkyrie made me nervous.

  The twist to her lips resembled a smile, but her eyes were cool. Not an Astrid glare, but hardly a warm welcome. And when those eyes shifted away from me and settled on Fen, her entire face transformed. Wow. A nice big smile for the general. So, her wintry welcome had been solely blasted at me. Great. Another blue-eyed blonde who wasn't all that fond of me.

  Fen grasped her hand with his, a greeting I hadn't seen before. But then again, I'd barely had much interaction with the Warriors and Valkyries, what with running around after Freya's bling. "Valkyrie Ingrid." Fen nodded at the blonde woman.

  "My lord Fenrir." She bowed her head slightly, and I blinked. First time I'd ever heard anyone call him "my lord." She hesitated a moment before continuing, "I assume it's still all clear outside?"

  "Do not fear, Ingrid. Neither my team nor I have given away the location of your headquarters."

  In everything he'd done so far, Fen had protected the location of the Cairo HQ. Now it all made sense. The whole secret spy routine, the glamors and the fake identities for our two Warriors. And yet this Valkyrie had the audacity to question her superior?

  I glanced at Fen, waiting for some kind of admonition, but he merely nodded, as if he approved of her interrogating him on his methods. "We have very little time, could you give us the intel we need?"

  Intel? Fen, you did not just go FBI on us. What next?

  "Very well, Fenrir, if you will follow me." She stalked to the far corner of the room, her back still ramrod straight despite her obvious wilting to Fen's charms. I flicked a glance over at Sigrun. Satisfied she wasn't being consumed by little green jealousy monsters, I turned my attention back to the blond Valkyrie.

  I drew a little pleasure from the knowledge that despite having the whole blonde-haired, blue-eyed, Scandinavian thing going for her, she certainly hadn't received the beauty part of that agreement. Then I chided myself for being mean. She may have been plain, but that didn't justify my unkind thoughts.

  Ingrid paused before the large map taped to a wall, covered in dozens of little black pins. A single green pin gleamed among the forest of black. Ingrid poked a finger at it.

  "We have the location of one more einherjar."

  Fenrir scowled. "Just one?"

  "There were more." She threw a quick glance at the map, and my heart twinged at the flicker of sadness in her eyes. Apparently she was capable of emotion. "This one is all that we have left."

  Fen's eyes darkened beneath his thick eyebrows. "So it is true?"

  She nodded, then reached for the laptop on the nearest desk and tapped away. When she spun the computer around to face Fen, we craned our necks to see the photograph displayed on one half of the screen. The other half of the screen contained data, most likely information on this Warrior we were about to retrieve. I leaned closer to study the warrior-woman's picture.

  The dark headscarf concealing her hair did nothing to detract from the beauty of her face. Nor did the demure covering hide the strength of her chin and the fire in her eyes. I scanned the personal information detailed next to her photograph.

  Medeia Karim. Twenty-eight years old. Leader of a small resistance movement.

  Fen tapped the enter key, his movement so casual and confident that I froze. When had he learned how to use a computer? The more time I spent with Fen, the more I learned that surprised the hell out of me.

  The next few screens displayed long-range photographs and surveillance
pictures of the woman in and around the city and inside a building that looked like a museum or a library.

  Sigrun moved up from the back of the group, slipping in beside me for a better view. The dazed yet curious expression on her face reminded me that my Valkyrie friend was having one of her first twentieth-century Midgard experiences, and I was ignoring her. Some host I turned out to be. But then I wasn't really a host. Asgard had proved more of a home to me than Midgard had ever been, so perhaps I wasn't the best person to show my friend around.

  Sigrun tilted her head at the computer screen until she looked positively cross-eyed. I leaned over and whispered, "You all right?"

  Her grey eyes crinkled as she grinned and nodded. "Yes, I am very all right. Midgard is a much more magical place than I thought."

  I frowned. "Magical? What do you mean?"

  Sigrun nodded at the laptop screen, "You must have powerful magic to place the einherjar inside those black boxes."

  I smiled back at her, enjoying her childlike exuberance about a place in which all I could see was strife and poverty. But my smile soon faded. I had no choice but to spoil her pleasure. "It's not magic, Sigrun. That is a laptop."

  "A lap top?" She frowned, staring at my face as if I'd grown wings out of my ears. "What do you mean? What is it that goes on top of my lap?" She bent her head and gave her lap a quick inspection, then turned her curious eyes on me.

  "The computer. It's the computer that goes on your lap." I nodded at the laptop where Fen and ice queen Ingrid bent close to the screen, discussing the Karim woman.

  Sigrun smiled. "Ah yes, I have heard of your Midgard com pewters."

  I really wanted to giggle, but I squashed the urge, sure that any amusement would hurt Sigrun's feelings. "That black box Ingrid is using is a computer designed to carry around with you. You can use it anywhere, open it up and use it on your lap."

  "I still do not understand. How do you get the einherjar inside it?"

  Behind me, I could have sworn Joshua snorted, but he covered the sound with a choked cough.