by Eva Chase
I was already shaking my head. This was too much. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not a valkyrie, and I’m obviously not dead, and… This is crazy. Do you have any idea how crazy this is?”
“We brought you back,” Loki said, so matter-of-factly it chilled me. “And we brought you back as a valkyrie. Quite a trick in itself. Your powers only manifest as you need them or call on them… It’s easy enough to demonstrate.”
He twitched his fingers, and a small knife appeared in his hand. Without missing a beat, he slashed it across his other palm. Blood welled up along the angry line, thick and a red so much darker than his hair. Freya grimaced and looked away.
And something stirred inside me.
My pulse thumped heavier, echoing through my head. A prickling raced through my muscles. Every nerve seemed to perk with a sudden awareness. The space between my shoulder blades quivered with a deepening itch.
“You can feel it, can’t you?” Loki said. Both he and Freya were studying me now. “The call to battle. Where blood is spilled, the valkyries fly. All you have to do is open your wings.”
“I—I don’t have any wings,” I said, but my voice sounded weak through the thumping of my heart.
He smiled. “Of course you do. You just have to let them out.”
The itch on my back dug in even deeper. I sucked in a sharp breath. Wings. I couldn’t have wings. Let them out? How—
In the back of my mind, without even meaning to, I pictured broad feathered wings like the one I’d caught a glimpse of before, spilling out from my skin. The itch between my shoulders burst with a jab of pain. Something—some part of me that I could feel echoing all through the rest of my body—stretched out against the thin fabric of the blouse, straining and unfurling and tearing right through.
I stumbled forward at the sudden weight and grabbed the bedframe to catch myself. The torn blouse hung from my chest, and from my back…
My throat tightened. I made myself glance back.
A huge wing, the feathers mingled white and pale silver, loomed over me.
My nerves jittered, and the wing twitched in response. Because my nerves ran through it too. Because it was part of me, just like the one I could feel weighing on the other side of my back.
I squeezed my eyes shut. The comb dropped from my fingers. “No. It can’t—”
But it was. It was real. I could see them. I could feel them, not just on me but in me.
Loki’s voice reached me, still smooth but gentler now. “You can send them away when you want to, too. They’re yours. They follow your command. Just pull them back into yourself.”
Yes. Get them away. Get them off of me. I clenched my teeth and willed that weight back into my body—let me absorb it, let them be gone.
The feel of the wings shrank until there was nothing left but a twinge on my back. Then that faded too. I opened my eyes with a gasp.
Freya had already opened the wardrobe. She pulled out another blouse, this one sleeveless and ivory, and offered it to me as she cut a glance toward Loki. “Let’s try not to go through too many clothes all at once.”
I accepted the shirt to replace the torn one drifting against my back. My fingers curled into the cool fabric. My hands were shaking. I bent to grab the comb off the floor, as if it could do much for me now.
Gods. Valkyries. And I was somehow mixed up in this all the way down to my bones.
I swallowed thickly and looked up at the god and goddess who’d just witnessed my transformation.
“Can you start over from the beginning? With the long version, this time.”
4
Aria
As I stepped into the big room where I’d first woken up, I took in all the details I’d been too overwhelmed to notice before: the speckled gold pattern overlaid on the lighter yellow of the wallpaper, the two sofas and scattered armchairs with ornately carved teak frames. A bunch of lilies sat in a porcelain vase on one of the matching side tables, giving off a pungent perfume.
I never liked lilies. They made me think of funerals. At Francis’s—
I cut off that thought before it could send me into the downward spiral of memory and meandered as if at random to one of the chairs. It wasn’t really at random. I’d picked the chair closest to the far doorway. The one that, if I’d read the layout of this building well, should put me in the right direction to reach the front entrance.
The teeth of the comb bit into my palm as I sat on the firm cushions. I kept my fingers wrapped tightly around it. The people who’d brought me here might not be people at all—might be actual gods, or something like it—but even if that was true, that didn’t mean I was safe here. Or that I wanted to stick around.
Freya and Loki had called the others in the house to join us. The five of them settled into seats they’d pushed into in a semi-circle facing me, Loki in the middle. The man with the shaggy white-blond hair who’d knocked me out with his touch sat at his left, next to the guy who’d hung back during that first encounter.
The two of them were like a study in opposites but somehow eerily similar at the same time. The second guy had his black hair cropped short, and his dark green eyes were narrowed while his neighbor’s bright blue ones drifted as dreamily as before. They were both a little shorter than Loki, with boyishly smooth faces and enough muscle to fill out their T-shirts, but the same features and build that looked soft on the dreamy guy had turned hard on the dark-haired one. He couldn’t even be bothered to look right at me.
They were both striking-looking in their own ways, that was for sure. Apparently being a god meant divinely good looks. Which was true for the guy at Loki’s right, too—the incredibly beefy guy with a dark auburn ponytail who’d tried to tame me with a sheet. When I looked at him, he gave me a smile that was slightly grim, but his broad, square-jawed face still couldn’t have been easier on the eyes.
I had no idea who light-and-dark pair might be, but given the company, I could make a stab at naming Mr. Muscles there.
“Let me guess,” I said, pulling my legs up onto the chair—better if they thought I was getting comfortable. “You must be Thor.”
The grim smile stretched into a wide grin. “Very good,” he said in his mellow baritone. “You catch on quick. Do you mind telling us your name?”
They didn’t know? I remembered what Loki said about me just fitting certain criteria. I guessed my name hadn’t gone into that evaluation.
For a second, my chest clenched, as if my name was something I should hold onto. But I couldn’t see how it really mattered. “Aria Watson,” I said. “Ari, preferably.”
“Nice to meet you, Ari,” Thor said. For a god with a reputation for going around smashing things up with a giant hammer, he seemed pretty chill. The welcoming vibe he gave off made me start to relax despite myself.
My gaze darted back to the other side of the room. “And you two are…?”
“Allow me to introduce the opposite twins,” Loki said with a flourish of his hand toward the pair. “Baldur and Hod.”
“Hello,” the dreamy pale guy said. His voice was melodic but kind of distant at the same time.
His dark… twin? shot a scowl Loki’s way and then turned his narrowed eyes toward me. “Good to see you’ve settled down,” he muttered.
Hod had some kind of stick up his ass, apparently. He couldn’t really be blaming me for freaking out, could he? Or was he peeved I hadn’t recognized them? Well, excuse me for not having read up on my Norse mythology in ten plus years. I’d had bigger things on my mind.
The name Baldur did sound kind of familiar, like he should be important. Hadn’t there been some retro game Francis had raved about that was Baldur something? That probably had barely anything to do with the actual mythology… if the actual mythology even had anything to do with the supposed gods and goddess sitting across from me.
“So,” I said, focusing back on Loki, since he seemed to be the biggest talker in the bunch. “You said you’d explain everything. What I’m doing here
. What you’re all doing here. From the beginning.”
“Yes. Well.” He smiled crookedly and ran a hand through his pale red hair. “You know who we are. How familiar are you with the stories that get told about us?”
“A bit,” I said. “It came up in school when I was pretty little. I probably read some books from the library or something. But I’m no expert.”
“All right. A relative blank slate.” His amber eyes glinted. “The basic stories are mostly true. They also happened a long time ago. Since then we’ve been a lot less busy. So now and then, we pass the time by coming down to Earth and seeing what we can do for you lovely mortals.”
“Or seeing what catastrophes you can create,” Hod put in.
Loki ignored him. “We came down from Asgard—our home realm—on one of those ventures some time ago, the five of us here and Odin. Odin as in the Allfather, my blood-sworn brother, her husband”—he jabbed his thumb toward Freya—“and literal father to the rest of this lot. We’re really the only ones who’ve kept together all that much. I’m not sure where in the nine realms Heimdall and Frigg and the rest of them are getting their itches scratched these days.”
“Somewhere they don’t have to listen to you blather on?” Thor suggested, but his voice was amused and the look he gave Loki almost fond. He turned to me. “The important part is, Odin has a thirst for knowledge that’s never satisfied. He goes off on rambles all the time. So, he took off, and we didn’t think anything of it. Until year after year passed without any sign of him.”
Freya had folded her graceful hands in her lap. She looked up from them now. “He’s been gone nearly twice as long as his longest ‘ramble’ before,” she said.
I glanced from one to the next, trying to judge their reactions. “Okay,” I said. “That sounds like reason to worry. But he’s, like, a god, right? A pretty powerful one, if the stories are even mostly true. What kind of trouble could he have gotten into?”
Loki lifted his angular shoulder in a shrug. “There are beings of power in the realms other than gods. The Norns know even gods can turn on each other. And we aren’t simply worried about him out of the goodness in our hearts, though we have plenty of that.”
Hod snorted. Loki raised an eyebrow at him, but the sullen god didn’t speak.
Baldur had looked toward his darker twin too. “Brother,” he said in his lilting voice, gently chiding.
Hod’s stance stiffened. He waved dismissively. “Go on, trickster.”
So Loki did. “We’re somewhat restricted in our powers while we exist on the mortal plane here in Midgard. The longer we remain here, the more those powers diminish. But Odin is the only one who can call up the bridge that will lead us back to Asgard. Once, there were paths to the land of the gods here and there from the other realms, but after Ragnarok he closed them all off.”
“Got it,” I said. “You need Odin back to let you all go home, because you don’t feel godly enough here anymore.”
Thor guffawed and clapped the arm of his chair. “There’s one way of putting it.”
Loki spread his hands as if to say, What of it?
I shifted in my seat. “But what the hell do you need me for? You’re gods. What could anyone do that you can’t?”
“Ah, you see, we do have a few gaps in our range of talents,” Loki said. “And sadly, we never bothered to fit Odin with a tracking device. But we did discover that between the four of us with blood ties, we can bring about the valkyrie summoning. As a valkyrie, you have a different connection to Odin. In some ways a more direct one. And other special abilities that will serve the search well.”
“So, I just have to find Odin and that’s all there is to it?”
“We’ll need to train you in your powers first,” Thor said. “But they’ll come naturally to you, so that won’t take long.”
“And what happens after I find him?” Could I just waltz back into my regular life? Preferably without wings that wanted to sprout out of my back every time someone got a papercut around me?
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves yet,” Loki said.
Oh, no, I wasn’t letting them dodge that question. Or— “You’ve mentioned a couple times that there were other valkyries before me,” I said. “If we’ve got this special connection to Odin, shouldn’t they have found him already? What happened to them?”
Loki, Thor, and Freya exchanged a glance. Hod glowered at the floor, his mouth tense. Even Baldur’s dreamy aura seemed to dim slightly.
“We’re not totally sure,” Thor said. “They went looking, and they haven’t come back.”
“Our best guess would be that they were caught up in whatever caught the Allfather as well,” Loki said. “Which only lends proof to the possibility that he is caught and hasn’t simply lost track of time. But you’re better equipped than any of them were.”
Hod muttered something and shook his head. Baldur cast another tender glance toward his brother, but his fingers flexed against the arms of his chair. “We must give it a chance,” he said.
“Give what a chance?” I said, my fingers tightening around the comb. “What’s so special about me?”
The corner of Loki’s thin lips curled higher. “My companions here felt that an ideal valkyrie would be a young lady pure of heart and noble of deed. It’s my opinion that pure-hearted noble-doers are also pushovers. Seeing as their approach wasn’t working out, I suggested we look for someone more resourceful. Perhaps even cutthroat. Not afraid to get her hands dirty if survival required it. Wouldn’t you say that you fit the bill?”
My shoulders tensed. How much did he know? Had he seen, somehow, exactly what I’d needed to survive?
Loki looked mildly back at me. They hadn’t even known my name—that meant they didn’t know any details, right? Just the gist of it?
I wet my lips. “I’ve survived a lot, if that’s what you mean, yeah.”
“Well, there you go. The others didn’t have the smarts to fend for themselves properly. I can tell you’ll do just fine.”
“You’ve already admitted you don’t know what happened to the other ones,” I said. “So you have no idea what I’ll even have to do. And I still want to know what happens if it is all fine and I get Odin back here for you.”
Freya leaned forward. “I suppose you’d return to Asgard with us,” she said. “Make a life for yourself there.”
“I had a life here.”
“As a mortal human,” Loki said. “You’re less mortal and not at all human now. That isn’t your world anymore.”
I bristled inside. He didn’t get to decide that. It was the only world I’d ever had, even if it was often a shitty one. I had people there who needed me. I had to get back to Petey before too long.
But I could feel their intentions dragging on me as they looked back at me, like those wings had dragged on my back. They didn’t care. They just wanted me to be their tool, for them to use to get what they wanted. What did they care what happened to me after? If I even made it through what the girls they’d summoned before me hadn’t.
They could stick that plan where the sun didn’t shine.
I tested my grip on the comb and the angle of my feet against the chair’s cushion. “Let me think about it,” I said.
Then I hurled myself over the arm of the chair toward the door.
5
Loki
She certainly was a slippery one, this new girl. One second sitting there casual as can be, the next leaping for the door as if Fenrir himself were at her heels. I had to admire her wits—and guts—even as I darted across the room to block her way. She was going to have to learn soon enough that she couldn’t outrun us.
Our pixie skidded to a halt when I appeared in front of the door. Her gray eyes flashed. She swiveled in a blink and bolted for the nearest window, her tangled blond waves flying out around her shoulders.
I glanced toward Thor. He was already moving to intercept her. We made a good team when the situation called for it, despite our many diff
erences.
But this girl—Aria, she’d said her name was—wasn’t an enemy. We needed to subdue her gently. Without her getting hurt in the process.
She fumbled with the window, but the frame stuck. Thor reached for her. “Ari—”
She flung herself away from him, ducking under his massive arm and scrambling toward the other doorway. I might appreciate her perseverance, but this chase was getting a tad tiresome.
“Ari,” I said calmly, my steps gliding across the floor several feet at a time. “Can I recommend less running, more talking?”
“There’s nothing left to talk about,” she said. She spun when I cut her off from the door and took off for the first door again.
All right, enough of this. “Hod,” I said, clapping my hands. “Do us a favor and work a little of that wintery magic on our guest? It’s difficult to have a conversation like this.”
The dark twin glared in my general direction, but then his head turned as he followed the sound of the girl’s footsteps. He swept his hand forward.
Ari jarred to a halt halfway across the room. She stared down at her legs, which had frozen in place amid a patch of conjured shadow. A frustrated sound burst from her lips. She looked around at all of us, her expression fierce. That damned comb was still clutched in her right hand, as if she could do the slightest bit of damage to any of us with that.
But this was what we’d asked for when we’d called into the void for a human spirit to shape into a valkyrie: a fighter. A survivor. Whatever she’d been through, no doubt she’d made it this far by not trusting anyone.
She was going to be perfect for this task, if I could just convince her to work with us instead of against us.
Her chin came up as I walked over to her. She stared back at me defiantly. “I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be part of this… rescue operation, or whatever the fuck it is.”
So much fire, even utterly helpless as she was now. I came to a stop a couple of feet away. A different person I might have extended a hand to, used touch to solidify the emotional connection I needed to make. But I’d seen how this girl reacted when anyone even got close to her. She’d been harmed by contact like that more than she’d been comforted.
