Just as she had during the war. As Gabi cried, her face buried in her arms, Mist checked the makeshift bandage she’d tied carefully around Ryan’s head. Her experience in treating mortal injuries didn’t extend to head wounds, and she was no healer.
What in Mimir’s name had she really learned? What had she done?
She clenched her fists, feeling as if she could become a beast herself with only the slightest effort. It wasn’t just what she had done. Loki would only have risked a direct attack if he had overcome his fear of Freya and her supposed ability to manifest her power through her daughter.
If his intent in sending the Jotunar had been to kidnap Ryan and create as much chaos as possible in the process, he’d been wildly successful in the second goal. Would he consider that success worth the loss of three of his minions and the questions that might be raised when their bodies were examined by mortal authorities?
Mist laughed. Oh, he’d find a way to deal with it. He wouldn’t be constrained by pedestrian mortal ethics or morals. She was. She had known about the Aesir’s survival for all of thirty-two hours, and already she’d lost any small advantage she’d ever had, dead Jotunar notwithstanding.
She hadn’t thought it was possible to despise Laufeyson more than she did already. She’d hated him for what he’d done in Asgard. For what he’d done to her. But now, her hatred was something incandescent, a spark that required only the lightest touch to become a conflagration. He was responsible for what had happened to the kids, to Dainn, even to the stranger.
She glanced across the room at the mystery man, who still wasn’t moving beyond a few random twitches. Who in Hel was he? He certainly didn’t look like someone who could hold a katana like a fifthdan kendoka. He was wearing casual but well-made khakis and sports jacket, now torn and rumpled, but no overcoat. His build was slim and wiry, and his handsome Asian features were more pleasant than threatening. The lines framing his light brown eyes fanned out from the corners the way they often did in people who loved to laugh.
All in all, he could be any young and successful professional enjoying a day off from work, if being out in this kind of weather was something he found enjoyable. But why would a man like him be walking by on Illinois Street just in time to join a battle?
If she was going to make any attempt to salvage the situation, she had to do something about him, and quickly. He had witnessed a savage fight between one man and three giants, a battle the “man” had won beyond all probability and with stunning skill and brutality. Mist had been deliberately vague with the ambulance service dispatcher about the circumstances surrounding Ryan’s injury, but she doubted this guy wouldn’t be so discreet. He looked like the kind who would describe everything in loving detail. He would say that she hadn’t only defended Dainn unequivocally but had also encouraged him to leave the scene of a crime.
Once the ambulance showed up and the EMTs called the cops— which she wasn’t going to do, since she needed to buy all the time she could—she wouldn’t have any chance to turn things around. The police would be after Dainn, and Mist might find herself under arrest.
Not that they could hold her. But Dainn could turn on anyone who threatened him. The cops wouldn’t stand a chance. And Loki would win.
Mist scrubbed the sweat away from her forehead with the back of her arm. She might be able to hide the stranger until the cops were gone, but that was hardly a permanent solution. If it came down to his life or the fate of Midgard . . .
The fate of Midgard wasn’t in her hands, she reminded herself, but Freya’s. Freya, who had given her daughter skills she couldn’t depend on.
Except one.
The bile rose in Mist’s throat. Dainn had told her that her mother had glamour that could “induce feelings of lust, love, and devotion with only the slightest effort,” and that mortals would be particularly vulnerable to the effect. Mist had the same ability. An ability she hated with all her heart.
Hel, maybe it wasn’t even possible. But it might stave off disaster until she could find a better solution.
“Gabi,” she said. “I know this has been very difficult for you, especially when you still don’t really understand what’s going on.”
“I do understand,” Gabi said, rubbing her hand across her wet face. “Those things are giants. They came to get Ryan. This is all some kind of war.”
“Whatever Dainn might have told you isn’t enough,” Mist said. “But I promise I’ll explain as much as I can once Ryan’s okay. Right now I need you to listen to me. There are a few important things I have to take care of, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to speak to you again before the ambulance arrives. The police will be coming, too. Dainn and I could get into bad trouble, and things could get very complicated for you.”
Gabi stared at her, defiance on her deceptively innocent face. “If it wasn’t for Ryan, I’d just go. But I won’t leave him.” She glanced at her friend, her lips turning down. “What do you want me to do?”
Mist leaned closer so the stranger couldn’t overhear if he came to. “I told the dispatcher that we heard noises in the gym when we were sleeping, and we came down to check it out. There were three men, and one of them hurt Ryan when he tried to stop them. They got away. You don’t know anything else. Got it?”
“It would be better if I didn’t talk to them at all.”
“I need to make sure they don’t start looking around the house until I’m finished. Do whatever the paramedics tell you to, and take care of Ryan. I’ll come after you as soon as I can.”
She shook her head, flinging her dark hair away from her face. “No. Call the ambulance guys and tell them not to come.”
“Gabi, you know Ryan might be badly hurt.”
“I know.” She looked down at her hands. “I can help him.”
“Gabi—”
“I know how,” she said. “I was just afraid to try it before.”
“Try what, Gabi?”
“Do you know about curandismo?”
Mist had heard about it. Curandismo was a kind of folk magic, usually healing, that was practiced by certain men and women in Latin culture. It was strongly based on their Catholic faith. As she and Dainn had discussed earlier, there were mortals who could work magic, but they were few and practiced under a shadow of anonymity.
“Are you saying you’re a curandera, Gabi?” Mist asked gently.
“You think I’m crazy,” Gabi said, “but I know how. Mi abuela taught me in Mexico, before my brother and me came here. I can heal him.”
Mist could understand why the girl would want to claim a gift to match Ryan’s in some way, even if it was all fantasy. “I can see you believe in it, Gabi,” she said, “but—”
“Let me try.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t want the police to come. You have to let me try.”
Something in the passion of Gabi’s voice struck Mist with doubt. It was remotely possible. Two kids with magic might be drawn together. They might be drawn to Mist.
“Por favor,” Gabi said. “You said you had important things to do. Give me your phone. I’ll call them and tell them not to come. If I can’t help Ryan, I’ll call the ambulance guys again. I promise.”
Mist looked at Ryan. It wouldn’t make much difference now if she could comfort Gabi by letting her try to help her friend. The ambulance was bound to show up any minute.
She looked at the stranger again. He was finally showing signs of waking up. She had to work fast.
“Okay,” she said. She pulled out her cell phone and handed it to Gabi, rose, and then started toward the stranger. He was still too dazed to resist when Mist threw him over her shoulder and carried him into the hall. There was no sign of Dainn except a smear of drying blood on the hardwood floor and the wall near the door.
Gritting her teeth, Mist hauled the mortal straight to the kitchen and into the laundry room. Kirby and Lee, crammed in the small space between the washer and dryer, hissed and streaked from the room, glossy coats bristling like a porcup
ine’s quills.
Mist dropped the man to the floor near the door to the tiny yard and removed the belt from his wrists. He opened his eyes and slowly focused on her face.
“Easy,” she said when he moved to rise. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Where are the kids?” he demanded, his baritone voice hard with accusation.
“The ambulance is on its way,” Mist said. “They’ll be taken care of.”
“Where’s your friend?” he said, biting off the word.
“Gone.”
He moved again, and she pushed him back down. His eyes widened as he felt her strength.
But he recovered from his surprise quickly enough. “I don’t know how you know that lunatic,” he said, “but you helped him and urged him leave. You’re an accomplice to murder.”
“Murder?” Mist laughed grimly. “You have no idea what you saw.”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
All at once his voice had gone soft, almost sympathetic, as if he hoped to lull her into some kind of confession. She knew better than to fall into that trap.
“Those men attacked the loft,” she said. “They tried to kill us. Dainn protected the kids and defended himself.”
“Protected them?” the stranger said, losing his brief calm. “You let him—”
“I tried to get the kids away,” Mist interrupted, “but they got back into the gym.”
“Are they yours?”
“I don’t intend to be interrogated by you or anyone else,” she said.
“You do realize that your friend threatened the boy before you interfered?”
“I told you he’d never harm them.”
“You made it clear you thought he’d kill me.”
“I wasn’t going to take any chances.”
“Then you told him to go, even though you knew he could hurt others.”
His accusation was painfully close to the truth. “I couldn’t control him,” Mist said with complete honesty. “I did calm him down for a little while. But I don’t believe he’d hurt innocent people. Just the ones who attack him and his friends.” She glanced at his swollen nose. “I’d say you got off easy.”
The stranger’s hand flew to his face. “You think that’s funny?”
“I’m deadly serious.” She held his hostile gaze. “Now you can tell me who you are, and what you’re doing here.”
“Who are you?” he demanded.
“This is my house. You’re as much an intruder as the men who tried to kill us.”
“Koji Tashiro,” he said shortly.
“And what are you, Koji Tashiro? A Good Samaritan who just happened to be walking by at eight in the morning?”
He must have heard the sarcasm in her voice, but his demeanor didn’t change. “I was here looking for someone,” he said. “But that’s not the issue now, is it?”
“It is to me.” She rose to her feet, taking full advantage of the potential threat her looming height presented.
“I asked you if those kids were yours,” he said, staring up at her calmly.
“They’re street kids,” she said. “They were hungry and scared, and I gave them food and a place to sleep.”
“They’d have been safer on the streets,” he said.
He was right, and for that she had no excuse. “I didn’t expect someone to attack my home.”
“But you obviously have some idea who those men were,” he said.
“I didn’t know them,” she said. “As I told you, they were trying to kill us.”
“Very few people, even hardened criminals, just burst into a house and start killing. Do you have any enemies?”
Only the worst, Mist thought. “None that I know of,” she said.
He weighed her words and frowned. “Then it must be your violent friend. Did he get on the wrong side of some drug lord?” His expression softened to one of earnest concern. “If he’s involved in trafficking, he could bring more violence down on you and anyone close to you. Do you really want that?”
“He isn’t on drugs,” she said.
“Do you know how many people say that about their loved ones?”
Loved one. How wrong he was. “It’s my turn,” she said. “What did you mean when you said you were looking for someone?”
He seemed to realize he wouldn’t get anything more out of her unless he gave her something in return. “I was looking for a boy named Ryan Starling,” he said.
16
Mist’s immediate thought was that he’d been sent by Loki along with the Jotunar to get Ryan. If one method didn’t work, try another.
“What do you want with him?” she asked.
“I’m a lawyer representing his aunt’s estate. He’s the boy in there, isn’t he?”
A lawyer. She wasn’t sure it could get much worse. If he was telling the truth.
“How is it that you happened to come looking for Ryan just in time to witness all this?” she asked, shrugging out of her torn jacket.
“Are you accusing me of something?” Tashiro asked.
“It can work both ways, Mr. Tashiro. I don’t know you, and you’re making pronouncements on things you know nothing about. Why should I trust anything you tell me?”
He began to stand up again, and this time Mist let him. They stared at each other. She noticed that Tashiro was fidgeting, clenching and unclenching his fingers as if he was aware of some danger he hadn’t anticipated. His hand trembled as he lifted it to brush dark, sweaty hair away from his forehead.
It wasn’t fear, at least not of violence. She saw it in his eyes: the awakening of desire, the heat, the sudden awareness that she was not only an antagonist.
She hadn’t even begun to push her “glamour,” but he was beginning to feel it anyway. Even if he was Loki’s agent, he was still susceptible to Freya’s influence.
And she had to take full advantage of his weakness.
She undid the top two buttons of her shirt. “Did someone send you to look for Ryan?” she asked softly.
He blinked. “I told you. His aunt asked me to find him. She left him substantial assets in her will.”
“How did you find him?”
“I have contacts all over the city. I asked around.” He sucked in a sharp breath. “Why does that matter?”
Mist knew she couldn’t put it off any longer. Holding her self- disgust at bay, she remembered again how it had felt to “become” Freya that moment in Asbrew . . . golden honey-mead warmth and the scent of primroses, the peace and love—and naked lust— that had so completely enveloped her and overwhelmed Loki Laufeyson. She began to fashion a new image of herself as she had shaped the Rune-staves in the gym—a figure of surpassing beauty, perfection of skin and hair, full of hip and breast. An illustration drawn solely for the pleasure of men.
She leaned very close and undid the rest of the buttons one by one, pulling the shirt open to reveal the thin T-shirt underneath. “Tell me the truth, Koji.”
His eyes focused just where she wanted them to. “I don’t . . . know what you’re talking about. No one else sent me.”
Mist knew he was telling the truth. She heard it in his voice, saw it in his body, felt it in his soul.
“Whatever business you have with Ryan,” she said, “you’re not going near him until he’s safe in the hospital.” She moved closer still, her chest almost touching his. “Is there anything else you want to tell me?”
“You . . . have to tell the police everything you know.” He hesitated, swallowing several times. “You must see that your friend needs help.”
“Is that your judgment as a lawyer, Mr. Tashiro?”
“It’s the only choice you have.”
“And what do plan to tell the police?”
“Only . . . what I witnessed.”
She raised her hand to brush his cheek with her fingertips. “Just facts? No speculation?”
His head jerked. “I—”
“Why don’t you remind me exactly what happened?”
&n
bsp; Confusion crossed his face. “You know what happened,” he stammered.
“Do I?” She ran one fingernail along his jaw.
His gaze dropped to her parted lips. “I . . . they—”
“It was self- defense, wasn’t it?”
“I . . .” His eyes met hers, and his expression told her he was slipping out of her grasp. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Mist.”
“Ms. Mist, I’ll only report what I saw. The kids can make their statements when they’re able to. There’ll be someone there to—”
“Koji,” she said, stroking his hair. “You don’t have to make this so difficult.”
His eyes began to glaze over again. “I know you’re hiding something,” he said, glancing away.
“Look at me, Koji. What could I be hiding?”
Sweat trickled down his temple. He was still fighting her. “You know . . . who those guys were,” he said, “but you’re afraid to . . . identify them.”
“What would I be afraid of?” Mist purred.
“Like I said,” Koji whispered, gulping audibly, “it’ll be better if you . . .” He drifted into silence and closed his eyes.
Mist dropped her hand from his face and listened. Still no sirens. Gabi must have called off the ambulance.
Norns will she knows what she’s doing, Mist thought. Pushing that worry out of her mind, she leaned so close that her lips nearly touched Tashiro’s. “I’m sorry we had to meet under such unfortunate circumstances,” she said. “But everything will be all right now, won’t it?”
He opened his eyes. “I’m sorry, too, but—”
“Look at me, Koji.”
He obeyed her, though his head jerked in a last- ditch attempt to resist. In his brown eyes she saw the reflection of the beast she had created. A beast of beauty, as hungry as any wolf.
“What . . . what do you want?” Koji asked, his breath coming faster.
What did she want? Mist thought with amusement. Everything, of course.
Mist Page 24
