Twilight Magic (Rune Witch Book 6)

by Jennifer Willis

  “I know you’re shy, Maksim,” Freya said. She reached for a cookie and handed it to him, but Maksim made no move to eat it. “I simply want to understand what you can do, so I can help.”

  Sally leaned against the wall. She knew it was unwise to push the boy when he was uncomfortable and afraid. All the cookies in the world could never truly comfort a child separated from his family. And they still didn’t know the extent of his magick, or what might happen if he tried to bring it forward while he was feeling anxious.

  Again, Sally kept quiet. She watched Maksim watch Freyr as he paced slowly across the floor, and Sally realized with a small shock of horror that Freyr’s socks were smoking inside his boots.

  Sandwiched on the couch between Saga and Freya, Maksim sat up straight and held his hands out in front of him. He squinted in concentration and the air above his fingers began to glow blue. Sally held her breath as the light in his palms started to dance and flare, and she remembered her own struggles to control the painful sparks of chaos that used to erupt from her fingers when she was feeling tense or upset. But Maksim appeared calm and in control. His shoulders relaxed and he even smiled a little when he looked to Freya for her reaction.

  “That’s very good.” Wide-eyed, Freya glanced at Sally, but Sally kept her place against the wall. Freya shifted a couple of inches away from Maksim. “What else can you do with that?”

  The front door opened again and Thor blustered into the house with a shouted announcement that no one could possibly guess who he had outside in his truck. He stopped cold when he came into the living room and spotted Freyr standing by the hearth.

  “Jormungand’s grisly tongue! Cousin, it is good to have you under this roof. Freyr!” Thor barked out a laugh and strode across the floor, but in a flash of blue light, Freyr was simply gone.

  Stunned but undeterred, Thor turned in a quick circle, looking for any sign of Freyr. “Is this another one of your tricks, Vanir? Show yourself!”

  “I’m sorry!” Maksim’s voice was tight and thin. “I didn’t mean to do it. Thor startled me.”

  “What happened?” Saga asked. “Did you kill him?”

  “Saga!” Freya exclaimed.

  Maksim started to cry. Freya tried to hold him close to comfort him, but he fought against her embrace and wrapped his arms tightly around himself.

  Sally didn’t see any piles of ash or other smoking remains on the floor. “I don’t think anybody’s dead,” she said, but of course she couldn’t be sure. Freyr had been standing right in front of her a moment ago, and now he wasn’t.

  Thor ran a hand over his face and forced a smile as he looked down at Maksim. “Don’t worry. That pesky nature spirit never stays dead for long.”

  Sally gave a startled laugh. Freya handed Maksim another cookie and he nibbled at the edge of this one.

  “I’m sure he’s fine,” Freya said. “Freyr’s been having trouble staying put when we’re away from Mt. Bachelor. He’s probably just zapped back to his volcano lair. I thought he could handle a longer trip. He’ll be okay. He’s got his PlayStation to keep him occupied.”

  Sally could tell from Freya’s face and her wary glances at Maksim that the goddess wasn’t at all convinced that her brother was unharmed. Maksim looked ashen as he got up from the couch, said he needed to use the bathroom, and left the room.

  Sally followed Thor outside onto the front porch and watched Heimdall try to coax an addled young woman out of Thor’s pickup truck. The woman was wrapped in a blanket and hid her face in its folds. She kept muttering sharp curses in a language Sally couldn’t understand.

  “Who is that?” Sally asked.

  “Another wayward soul,” Thor replied.

  Sally waited for him to say more, and he gave an irritated huff. His breath froze on the air and scattered tiny ice crystals into his beard.

  “We found her in the antiques warehouse. Had to incapacitate a couple of guards to get her out.” He nodded toward the truck. “That’s Zorya Vechernyaya. Goddess of the Evening Star. Or, what’s left of her. At least she finally stopped screaming.”

  Sally wasn’t familiar with any such goddess, and she deliberately didn’t ask what the screaming was about. But the fact that this Zorya Vechernyaya person had been found in the Balkian Brothers warehouse coupled with the woman’s continued curses at Heimdall gave Sally a pretty good idea of her origins. Sally thought of Maksim sitting inside.

  “It’s not a coincidence,” she said.

  “It never is,” Thor replied.

  “Come on now.” Heimdall’s voice was gentle as he assisted the newcomer. He nearly lost his footing on the slippery pavement as he braced himself against the open door. “It’s okay. We’re at a safe place now. Safe and warm.”

  Safe. Sally wasn’t sure she knew what the word meant anymore. There was no escape from the mayhem that followed her. She was the flame of chaos, and catastrophe was drawn to her like an endless stream of moths. Or maybe she was more like a sparky bug zapper, and her friends were the insects. She might not have generated this current morass of weirdness, but she again found herself stuck in the middle of it. Sally crossed her arms tightly. If she were still living at home with her parents, would all of this be happening in their living room instead?

  Freya exploded out of the house and hurried down the steps to assist Heimdall. Between the two of them, they managed to extract Zorya Vechernyaya from the truck and guide her through the front gate and up the walkway toward the the house.

  “Thor?” came a familiar, sing-song voice from next door.

  Sally had met Thor’s neighbor, Carol Tilson, on only a few occasions, and she felt her spirits lift as Carol waved and stepped off her own porch and headed their way. The woman was chronically effusive and almost supernaturally good natured. Although Carol’s timing was pretty much always problematic, Sally felt herself smile at her approach. Thor’s quiet growl was simply an added bonus.

  Carol stepped carefully over the icy sidewalk to join Sally and Thor on the porch. “Oh, Thor! And Sally,” she breathed in her trademark voice that filled every syllable with astonished wonder. “I’m so glad I caught you.”

  The woman’s smile dimmed to an expression of determined concentration as Heimdall and Freya trundled by with the new goddess wrapped in the blanket.

  “Hello, Carol,” Thor boomed in a strained greeting. “What can I do for you? Help you move heavy furniture up the stairs, or maybe clear out your gutters? Something simple?”

  If Carol knew he was mocking her, she didn’t let on. “Well. I wanted to ask how the boys are getting along. The weather changed so quickly, and I didn’t see them playing in the yard. So I wanted to be sure no one was sick or injured.”

  Sally backed up a few paces to stand in the doorway. She’d heard about how Carol had placed herself physically between Thor and the shady men who’d come around looking for Maksim. For all Sally knew, that was just Carol’s way of insinuating herself into her neighbors’ business. But there was something subtly magnetic about the slight woman and her bottomless cheer. Power recognizes power. Sally pushed the thought away.

  While Thor tried to reassure his neighbor that everyone was fine, Carol waxed breathlessly poetic about the sudden postponement of an early spring, how she loved the change of the seasons in her garden even with the strenuous yard work, the joy of returning to the outdoors after long months nestled by the fireplace while the Earth rests, and how human beings could adopt their own patterns of hibernation if they would learn to follow the seasons and not try to remake the great outdoors to suit their own immediate whims.

  When Carol paused to take a breath, Thor motioned toward the open door behind him. “Okay, but we’ve got a new guest, just arrived, and I’m afraid she’s had a bit of a shock.”

  “I know!” Carol stepped forward and gripped Thor by the elbow and Sally by the shoulder. She lowered her voice. “Is she all right? A relative of little Maksim’s, perhaps?”

  Sally looked into Carol’s face
and saw a fire in her eyes that hadn’t been there moments earlier. Her concern went beyond superficial inquisitiveness or a passion for community building.

  Carol leaned closer. “Another one of their hostages. That’s what they are, or were, isn’t it?”

  Thor nodded.

  Carol let go of them both. “I’m here for you. Whatever you need. I’ve seen more of this world than you might think.” She paused. “I understand how brutal and awful and downright criminal some people can be. Not just to each other, but to the Earth!” Her voice broke, and tears brimmed at the corners of her eyes.

  “Here comes the Woodstock Wonder,” Thor muttered under his breath. Then his eyes bugged out when he realized he’d said that out loud. Sally tried not to giggle.

  “You listen to me, young man,” Carol grabbed him by the elbow and gestured at the snowy branches and the icy sidewalk. “You think all of this was an accident? Global warming, sure, even though too many people either don’t believe it exists, or worse, think they can’t do anything about it. But this . . .”

  She glanced at the street where a minivan was inching along on chained-up tires, carrying children bundled in layers of wool, down, and high-tech puffy insulation as they pressed their faces against the fogged windows.

  “This is something else entirely.” Carol let go of his elbow and rested her hands on her hips. “When you’re ready, you’ll hear what I have to say. You think you’ve lived long enough to know the way of things, but you don’t know nearly as much as you think you do. It’s a blessing and a curse, being what you are.”

  Sally felt suddenly dizzy and rested a hand on the doorframe. Being what you are?

  “They’re messing with the natural order of things.” Carol’s grim expression broke into a friendly smile, and she patted Thor on the arm as he towered over her. She glanced at Sally. “And it’s good to see the real authorities are on the scene.”

  Before Sally could ask what Carol meant by that, the aging hippie pulled her long cardigan tight around her bony frame and made her way carefully down the frozen steps. “If the boys get cabin fever, they’re welcome at my house for a change of scenery. I have lots of toys and boardgames from when my boys were little, and for when the grandkids come visit.”

  “She’s an odd one,” Sally said as soon as Carol was out of earshot. She wondered if it was any coincidence that Thor found himself living next door to this curious character.

  “You have no idea.” Thor gestured Sally inside and shut the door behind them.

  “Do you think she knows about you, and your family?”

  “At this point, anything is possible,” he replied curtly, ending the conversation.

  Back inside the house, Sally and Thor were immediately swept up in the commotion of getting the latest newcomer settled. Heimdall pulled a rocking chair close to the hearth and stoked the fire. Zorya Vechernyaya’s raven hair glistened in the firelight as Freya helped her into the rocker and pulled the blanket up around her shoulders. Saga offered her own mug of hot chocolate, and Sally perched on the arm of the couch to watch.

  Even though she was the Rune Witch and the rightful keeper of magick in the twenty-first-century Norse pantheon, and even though they had called her in specifically to consult on whatever labyrinthine scheme was unfolding under Thor’s roof, Sally felt more like an outsider, watching and waiting to see what might happen next. It was entirely within her power to involve herself more—to speak up, to ask questions, or even to take charge—but she hung back and played the part of the curious observer.

  With a jolt, she recognized the trickster in her own behavior. Worse, it felt completely natural.

  “Vesha,” Heimdall gestured toward the woman in the chair by means of introduction.

  Eyes wide and darting from face to face, Vesha wrapped her hands around the warm mug and held it close to her chest.

  Saga inhaled sharply when she heard the name. Heimdall glanced at Sally and shrugged. “She’s Slavic.”

  “Yeah. I got that part.” Sally reached for the last cookie on the coffee table and bit off a chunk of it. Vanilla with butterscotch. It practically melted in her mouth. “Anything else you’d like to share?”

  Saga carried the empty cookie plate out of the room, no doubt to fill it up again.

  Vesha’s dark hair spilled forward into her face, and she pulled her knees up to her chest in the chair. Her business suit was ill-fitting and looked out of place with the dirty tennis shoes on her feet. If Heimdall insisted this woman was a goddess, Sally was willing to take him at his word. But the woman hadn’t uttered a single syllable since she’d entered the house.

  “Vesha!” Maksim’s voice rang out as he came in from the hallway. He rushed across the floor in his stocking feet and threw his arms around Vesha’s knees. She smiled, put her mug down on the floor, and rested her hands atop the boy’s head.

  Heimdall frowned. “Maksim, you know her?”

  Maksim lifted his head and smiled brightly at Vesha. “She is my protector. My mother chose her for me.”

  Vesha lowered her feet to the floor, and she gently rocked in her chair as Maksim rested his head in her lap. She stroked his hair.

  Heimdall leaned down to catch her eye. “Vesha, don’t you know me?”

  She tilted her head, and a flicker of a smile touched her lips.

  “As a matter of fact, I think I do.” Her soft, silken tones sounded to Sally’s ears like the hush of dusk. “We were familiar with each other, were we not?”

  Thor snorted and turned away.

  “Yes, Vesha,” Heimdall said. “We were close. Well, your sister and I were.”

  Now it was Saga who was trying not to laugh. She dropped a plate overflowing with chocolate chip cookies, snickerdoodles, and chocolate sandwich cookies onto the coffee table with a clumsy clatter. “That’s one word for it.”

  “You dated her sister?” Sally asked. “Is that what’s happening here?”

  “It was centuries ago.” Heimdall kept his eyes on Vesha as he knelt in front of her. He rested one hand on Maksim’s shoulder. The boy still had his head in her lap.

  “What are you doing here?” Heimdall asked. “I thought you and your sister were long dead.”

  “Every night my mother prays to you. To watch over me.” Maksim’s voice was almost a whisper. “She told me to run. I didn’t want to leave her. I didn’t want to!”

  Vesha ran her fingers over the boy’s cheeks, brushing away his tears.

  “She said I had to run away.” Maksim wiped at his runny nose with the back of his hand and clung to the blanket over Vesha’s knees. “She said you would watch over me. The evening star would guide me.” Maksim coughed on his tears. “Now you’re here, too. You can save my mother and father!”

  Vesha looked at Heimdall. “I don’t know this boy. I do not even know where I am . . . ?”

  Sally remained on her perch on the arm of the couch while a few minutes of gentle, frustrated grilling yielded little new information. Vesha had no idea how she’d come to be in Portland. Maksim described his flight through the Portland’s old tunnel system, but he didn’t know much about the men who held his family and others captive. He recalled few, hazy details about his long journey from home, and those unhappy memories were full of shadows and pain. He couldn’t tell them about the origin of his magick, either.

  Sally got up and stood in front of the chair where Vesha sat by the fire. Maksim climbed up into the goddess’s lap and laid his head on her shoulder. Sally felt their power, the magick of one indistinguishable from the other, but she didn’t know any more about its flavor or nature than Maksim seemed to. And Vesha was an addled mess, alternating between moments of clarity and confused near-terror.

  Vesha looked up at Sally with pleading eyes. “Help me help the boy?”

  Sally took a step back. She wanted to admit to everyone in the room that she had no idea what to do. She didn’t know anything about Slavic deities or their magick. Any one of them—Heimdall or Freya or Thor
or Saga—had more authority than she did. Someone else should have been stepping forward to take charge, but none of them had a clear idea of what they were up against. An abused boy with mysterious powers had appeared on Thor’s doorstep. Shifty men had come looking for him, and now the goddess of evening or whatever was here, too. None of it was a coincidence, but there was no telling what any of it meant.

  The threat was vague but it was present and it was magickal, and magick was supposed to be Sally’s department.

  “Okay.” She blew out a long breath and rested her hands on her hips. “Here’s what I think we should do.”

  Vesha stood up and started screaming. Maksim slid off her lap and onto the floor, and he scampered away from her and into Saga’s arms as Vesha flailed at the open air. She shrieked as her dark hair transformed in seconds to long locks of white blond and her pale skin darkened to a deep, healthy tan. She collapsed, exhausted, into the rocking chair.

  Thor let out a low whistle. “Well, now we know what happened to Vesha’s sister.”

  Sally looked at him in confusion, and Thor gestured toward the nearly unconscious goddess by the fire. “Sally Dahl, meet Zorya Utrennyaya.”

  “Zorya . . . ?” she asked.

  “Utra,” Heimdall replied. “The Morning Star. Vesha’s sister.”

  Sally felt her mouth hanging open as she stared down at Utra. She had an unpleasant memory of sister goddesses and cauldrons of death and rebirth. Her mouth was suddenly dry.

  “Okay,” she said. “This has officially just gotten interesting.”

  7

  Maksim looked up into the goddess’s face, and nearly fell down as he stumbled away from her. She didn’t look like Vesha anymore. The long, black hair had turned white as snow, and her brown eyes now sparkled like icy blue diamonds.

  “I WILL NOT HAVE THIS!” Her voice was a commanding boom, like thunder from the sky.