The Branded Rose Prophecy

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  Ylva gave her a small smile. “I’ve known you since you were ten years old. Do you think I didn’t figure out long ago what your tell is? You can’t lie to me.”

  Charlee couldn’t meet Ylva’s gaze. “Just a friend. I just want to call a friend.”

  “Asher?” Ylva asked, and her voice was very gentle.

  Charlee swung her legs off the lounge and faced Ylva. “You loved your husband very much, didn’t you?”

  Ylva drew in a breath. Slowly. “Yes, Charlee, I did.”

  Charlee watched her face carefully. “He wasn’t Einherjar, was he?”

  Ylva grew still. Statue still. It was an echo of the same way Asher responded whenever she said too much.

  “Did he know what you are?” Charlee asked, almost whispering it.

  Amazingly, Ylva’s eyes filled with tears, which spilled down her cheeks. “Oh, Charlee,” she breathed.

  “Did he know?” Charlee pressed. It was important she know the answer to that.

  Ylva wiped her cheeks. “I didn’t want him to know,” she said, her voice strained. “I thought it was kinder for him to think I was as human as he was.” She pressed her fingers to her lips. “Charlee,” she said through them. “I’m so sorry it came to this.”

  Charlee stood up. Carefully. “I have to speak to Asher.”

  Ylva jumped to her feet, too. “Charlee, please, please, be very careful what you say to him. Asher is…he’s…”

  “He’s still Einherjar,” Charlee said. “And I’m just human,” she finished bitterly.

  * * * * *

  Charlee barely noticed the sumptuous décor. She could only just process the names of people as they introduced themselves and almost immediately forgot them as soon as they turned away.

  This last one, the woman she was following, was Margery. From her classic skirt suit and the sensible heels, Charlee tagged her as a senior secretary of some sort. Margery walked right up to a set of double doors, made of wood with brass fittings. She tapped lightly on one of the doors, then turned the handle and pushed it open. “Go right on in,” she said, with a smile.

  “Thank you,” Charlee told her, but couldn’t summon up a smile. It just wouldn’t form.

  “Would you like some water, dear?” Margery asked, her voice lowering. “You’re very pale.”

  Charlee shook her head and Margery stepped aside, letting her go through. Charlee heard the door shut behind her, but that was something else that barely registered.

  Asher was standing in front of a big executive desk and for the first time, his pristine suit matched his surroundings. “Is this the mountain coming to Mohammed?” he asked, smiling. “I am finally graced with a visit here.”

  He was coming toward her. Charlee’s heart squeezed and her pulse zoomed. The noise was starting to come back. She held out her hand, silently begging him to stop. “I know,” she said. Her voice broke.

  “Know…?”

  Charlee swallowed. “I know everything I need to know. I know you can’t say anything. I even know why, now. But it doesn’t matter because I found out anyway.”

  “Charlee….” He was coming toward her again, his expression concerned.

  “I know what you are, Asher.”

  Shock slithered across his face. He halted, just as she had wanted him to. “Who told you? Ylva?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I know you’re Einherjar. I know Ylva was once a Valkyrie. I know that laun has kept you silent all these years. I know the story of Kate and Salomon now.”

  Asher closed his eyes and turned away. He walked slowly over to the big window, his feet wandering, until he was standing at the glass.

  Charlee made herself breathe, shallow and fast, but enough so that the screaming white noise receded a little. “What I don’t know, what I can’t figure out is, why you didn’t cut me out of your life years ago, when it still wasn’t too late.”

  He dropped his head.

  “Asher?”

  “I tried.”

  “What?”

  “I said, I tried.” He turned to face her. “I couldn’t do it.”

  “We’re forbidden to be together! You knew that, but you kept me dangling, all these years.” She sucked in a breath. She was shaking now. “You could have found some excuse. Anything. You were moving to Timbuktu. You had a wife and three kids in New Jersey. I’m too ugly with this damned scar—”

  “Charlee!” He was shocked.

  “One kiss!” she railed at him. “Did you have fun watching me trail after you like some dumb dog that is hoping for her next treat?”

  “Stop it, Charlee. I mean it.”

  “You can’t stop me,” she shot back. “I’m single, white and female. And I’m human.”

  “You’re upset.”

  “Damned right, I’m upset!” she screamed. “Do you know how much I wanted you? Dreamed about you? About us together? If you had only said something, years ago, I could have…I would have….” Done nothing different. You would have done exactly what you did. You took the other road, because that’s where Asher was.

  She buried her face in her hands, the cold truth chilling her and stealing away the temper she had been trying hard to build all the way downtown. She felt cold, used, and exhausted and desperately wanted to be held and comforted, but that was never going to happen. Not now. Not ever. It had never even been a possibility, except in her own starved imagination.

  His arms came around her, hot and comforting. “I’m sorry, Charlee,” he whispered. “I was selfish. I wanted you in my life any way I could get. I told myself I wouldn’t let you get hurt and that let me do it.”

  Charlee blindly wrapped her arms around his neck, her cheek against his shoulder. “I hate you.”

  “I know.” He pushed her hair away from her cheek. Slowly he drew his finger along the scar. “Hate me as much as you need to, Charlee. I deserve all of it.”

  She sighed. “I can’t. I tried once, but I just can’t. You’re my superhero.”

  Asher groaned. “That stupid, idiotic fantasy of yours. Hasn’t this, right here, proved I’m just as weak as the next man?”

  She lifted her head from his shoulder, to look at him properly. “But you’re not a man, are you? I can’t decide which way it worked. Compared to the Amica, I’m a scarred, mere mortal so your self-restraint all these years could be explained that way, but—”

  “Hel’s hounds, Charlee,” he whispered. “Don’t do this.”

  “—but my ego, it seems, would prefer to think that you have been writhing in agonized dilemma and that’s why you won’t touch me.”

  “Damn, but you will never leave well enough alone, will you?” His eyes were blazing with something that seemed like fury.

  “It’s a simple ques—”

  His lips stole the rest of her words, pressing against hers with a hard, demanding pressure that snatched away her breath. His hand was in her hair, holding her head so that he could kiss her harder. His tongue thrust into her, and Charlee closed her eyes as her body seemed to ignite and burn in white-hot flames. She couldn’t get close enough to him, even with his arm holding her pressed against him.

  Asher groaned and lifted her off her feet and carried her three short steps until her back was against the wall. He put her back on her feet and his lips pressed against the flesh between her breasts, revealed by the V-neck of her dress. Moist heat bathed her flesh, making her moan in desperate need. She clutched at his head as his mouth trailed up the length of her throat, sending ripples of pleasure down her body. He reached her mouth and kissed her again.

  There was a soft ruffling noise and something brushed her feet. His jacket. He had dropped it heedlessly to the floor. He pulled at the ties of her dress. “You can halt this any time you want. But I won’t. Not now.”

  Something primal and feminine leapt inside her. “Don’t stop.” Her voice was husky.

  He closed his eyes briefly, his chest rising. Then he tugged on the ties, unravelling them, and her dress parted. His gaze almos
t burned with intensity as he took in her body. His hands trembled as he fitted them around her waist. “So small.” His voice was as hoarse as her own. His thumbs brushed down her flesh, making her shudder.

  The urge to hurry was building. Charlee reached for the belt on his pants and slipped it undone. Trembling, she slid down the zipper, feeling the heat against her knuckles, and sought for the opening.

  Asher’s fingers curled around her wrist, halting her. He lifted her hand up, and up, until he had her wrist pinned against the wall, next to her head. He looked into her eyes and shook his head. It was a tiny movement. “I can’t.”

  She swallowed. “I’m not enough.”

  “You’re more than enough.” His jaw rippled. “I want you. I’ve wanted you for years and you know that. But you also know what I am.” He stood up, and gently closed her dress.

  Charlee stared at him, breathing hard. “You dated all those women. Human women. They had no idea about you and the Kine. I do know. It should make it easier, not harder.”

  He fastened and straightened up his clothing, moving slowly. “What is it that you want, Charlee?”

  “You.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Charlee laughed. With shaking fingers, she tied her dress closed once more.

  Asher sat on the front edge of his desk, his arms crossed. She suspected he was trying to look composed, but the joints of his fingers were white with the pressure he was exerting. “If it’s just me you want, you can have me. I’ll commit to you, body and soul.”

  Her heart leapt.

  Asher lifted a hand in warning, even though she had made no attempt to speak. His hand trembled and he returned it quickly to grip his arm once more. “But that’s all you can have, Charlee. Just me. The rest of it, the rest of my life…you can’t be a part of it.”

  Her elation evaporated. “Not even to talk about it?”

  “If they even suspect how much you know already…. Charlee, I’ve spent nearly all your life trying to protect you and not just from the Lightning Lords of the world. I can’t talk about it. There are laws.”

  “Laun,” she concluded bitterly.

  He drew in a breath. “Yes,” he said flatly. “But that’s not all. If you want this, if you want…me….” He hesitated. “I can’t give you anything else. Do you understand?”

  Charlee was back to trembling again. She shook her head. It was too hard to think, too painful to try and anticipate what he meant.

  “The house in the suburbs. The picket fence,” he ground out. “Children….”

  Charlee sighed. Of course. The final piece of the puzzle.

  Asher watched her, waiting for her reaction.

  She fumbled for the handle of the door, next to her hip. “I must think about this.”

  This time, Asher sighed. “Yes, you must.”

  * * * * *

  Darwin couldn’t understand why retirees bitched about retirement. He’d been retired for nearly six months already and every day was a joy to wake up to. He’d make himself a modest breakfast and head out for a long walk around the neighborhood. There were more interesting things to see and people to chat with than he’d ever suspected in his forty years living here. Now that he had the time and freedom to explore, the world around his house was opening up to him.

  After his walk, depending on how he felt, he would tidy up the house. But that didn’t always happen because it barely got untidy anymore. More often he’d go back to his office and settle in to catch up on email. Lucas was very good at writing, and even Ylva sent the odd polite and delightful note or two. Charlee hadn’t got around to getting her own computer yet, so she sent text messages, but he was working on converting her, any day soon. Then there were professors and librarians and scholars from around the world that kept up a running commentary on aspects of information retrieval, history and just plain ol’ interesting stuff, that kept him busy chatting. He loved the world-shrinking qualities of the Internet and email.

  After that he worked on what he liked to think of as his Projects. He had a long list of research subjects that over the years he’d always wanted to delve into deeper. In the back of his mind was the slowly forming idea of writing a book, but there was no hurry yet.

  Sometimes he’d work on his projects late into the night. That was one of the beauties of retirement: there was no one to answer to anymore. He could sleep all day and work all night if he wanted to.

  He walked down Trinity, admiring the leafy fullness of the trees and the way they bowed over the road, almost meeting in the middle, creating puddles of cool shade along the pavement. He reflected on how good life was.

  That was when the cab pulled up beside him and Charlee flung open the door and scrambled out of the back seat.

  Alarm crashed through his peace and joy as she hurried over to where he stood by the fence. Her face was white and pinched, and her eyes big and bewildered, reminding him of a little girl about to burst into tears.

  “What’s he gone and done now?” he demanded and opened up his arms.

  Charlee press her face against his chest and cried.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Darwin put the second bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream in front of her. “I’m told it helps,” he said. “Personally I think it’s just a good excuse to snarffle down ice cream, but give it a try.”

  Charlee smiled wanly at him and picked up the spoon.

  He settled at the table with his own bowl, for this was the perfect excuse to eat ice cream at ten o’clock in the morning. He had to keep Charlee company, after all. He caught Charlee looking at him.

  “Whenever you’re ready. Or not,” he told her. “Even if it’s just a big version of how prick-like men can be. I’m listening.”

  He was rewarded with another small smile. “Some men,” she qualified.

  “Is Asher part of that fraction today?” Darwin asked, keeping his tone light and casual. He became alarmed all over again when her eyes filled with tears that trembled on the brink of spilling over. “Oh, hey, c’mon, Charlee. Please. I don’t know what to do with a crying lady. Ice cream is the best I’ve got.”

  She sniffed mightily. “You do just fine, Darwin.” Her voice was hoarse.

  Uncomfortable, he poked his spoon into his ice cream. He liked it stirred and creamy, until it was about running off the spoon. Not that he gave a damn right at this moment, but it was better than looking at her red eyes and the hurt look in them. “What’d he do?” he asked, damping down his anger all over again. If the bastard had been mean, or mistreated her in any way, he’d be right back in that restaurant to have a piece of him, oh yes.

  Charlee sighed. “He’s Einherjar, Darwin. It’s all true. Ylva was a Valkyrie, but she’s not anymore, because she chose to be with a human. But Asher can’t be with me. Not in any way that has any real meaning.”

  Darwin felt like half his brain had leaked out his ears. He scrambled to absorb what she was saying, hooking it up with all the speculations and theories they had bandied about for years. Finally he sat back, his ice cream forgotten. “You’re shitting me,” he breathed.

  * * * * *

  Darwin poured the last of the bottle of wine into her glass, and Charlee sighed. He had been giving her the lion’s share of the wine all night, and she knew he was trying in his gentle way to smother some of her pain under an alcoholic haze. It might have worked, except that her tolerance for liquor was so much greater than he remembered, now.

  She watched him fondly as he settled back into his customary chair, behind the stack of books spread out across the table. They had sat into the night like this many times in the past.

  “Drink up,” he told her, as he flipped one of the books that lay open back up so the page was facing him and tapped it. “She said ‘stallari,’ right?”

  Charlee nodded. “It’s not the first time I’ve heard it. I think Asher is one. It’s something to do with earls. The stallari report to them.”

  Darwin nodded. “That would make sense
. ‘Stallari’ is Old Norse. It means captain, or lieutenant. A fighting man. The leader of the earl’s fighting forces, perhaps?”

  “Would earls be in charge of the halls that Victoria kept talking about?”

  Darwin pursed his lips, considering it. “It’s hard to imagine that every hall would be run by a king. Too inefficient. But earls would make sense. What I want to know is who is running the show.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Darwin touched the books. “Someone has to be in charge. The mythology that humans recorded we’ve agreed is probably wildly inaccurate, but it’s all we’ve got for right now, and that mythology said that the Einherjar and the Valkyrie lived in Valhalla, and Odin was their leader. Odin is one of the major gods of the Norse pantheon. So where is he? And if he’s not around, who is the leader now?”

  Charlee wrinkled her brow, thinking through every hint, every intimation, every offhand comment that had ever been made within her hearing. “Why wouldn’t Odin still be around?” she asked. “He’s a god. If the Kine are immortal, then he most certainly would be. Why wouldn’t he still be here?”

  Darwin raised his brows. “You haven’t been keeping up with the reading list I gave you, have you?”

  “I’m too busy being Mata Hari and digging up cool factoids for you to drool over,” she shot back. “You’re the researcher, Darwin. You tell me why Odin isn’t here on Midgard.”

  Darwin blew out his cheeks. “Where to start? Okay, to begin, the Norse didn’t have just one god. They had dozens and dozens of them. Major and minor deities.”

  “Like the Greeks and Romans did,” Charlee said.

  “Yes, exactly. But the Greek gods and the Roman gods have strong parallels. The Greeks called their version of Cupid Eros, Mercury was Hermes, Neptune was Poseidon, Mars was Ares and so on down the line. The Norse didn’t have anything like the same sort of gods. Their gods were…well, here’s an example. Odin was known as the Furious One. He fathered sons by a dozen other gods and humans, too. Most of the Norse royalty—human royalty, I mean—counted ancestors in their family line who were the offspring of Odin.” He grinned. “And he gouged out his own eye.”