Indriði.
Edie looked up at the massive townhouse, then back down at the piece of paper in her hands. 3 Olive Street, Alderdeen. She glanced over at Cal, who was sitting on his throne: behind the wheel of his white 1963 Cadillac Eldorado, affectionately named “Ghost,” for the spirit who possessed it. Ghost had taken a pretty serious beating on their way to Maine a couple of months ago, but since then, Cal had fixed her up good as new. You couldn’t even tell that she’d had some of her leather upholstery and a big chunk of her dashboard melted by a witchwolf’s primal fire.
Edie took a deep breath and said, “This is the place.”
The huge building took up a good portion of Olive Street. The upper floors were mostly hidden by the honeylocust trees lining the sidewalk, but Edie could see the entrance: cherrywood double doors on a roomy stoop, flanked by what appeared to be a doorman. The outside of the building was meticulously clean stucco, the ground floor windows had neat little planters in them, and she could make out balconies further up, surrounded by intricate wrought-iron railings.
Cal squinted at the house. “Well, la-di-da, how hoity-toity.”
Edie turned and sighed at him. “She is, like, a demigoddess. What did you expect?”
“Whatever.” He put Ghost in gear. “I just don’t know why they have to flaunt it.”
“If you had that much money, you’d probably want to flaunt it, too.” She grinned.
He didn’t respond.
When she’d received the letter the day before, her first thought had been that it was a trap—the Gloaming, trying to lure her out of the house, to an address where they could jump her. It had only taken a quick call to Astrid to confirm that the blue spider was, in fact, the lesser Norn’s personal pet, and that it wouldn’t have delivered a message for anyone else.
Still, she wasn’t completely comfortable with the fact that Indriði would only meet with her alone. So, she’d come prepared: a hunting knife was hidden in her jacket and a bone-handled machete was sheathed at her hip, both borrowed from Mercy. Sure, she had no idea how to wield either of them, but how hard could it be? They would have to do until she learned how to use her own magic. Maybe she should get one of those runic staves.
Cal pulled around the corner and circled the block again. He stopped at the end of the street and parked the car in the only available space.
“I’ll be here.” He didn’t look at her as she unbuckled and got out of the car. He slipped his new smartphone out of his pocket. “I’ve got Astrid on speed dial just in case.”
“I’ll text you when I’m done,” Edie said warily, checking to make sure her weapons were in place. Despite the equipment, she didn’t feel prepared.
She took a deep breath and turned, starting down the block. With her jacket pulled tightly closed, she could hide about half of the machete, but she still glanced around her as she approached the townhouse’s front stoop, hoping that no one would look her way and decide she didn’t belong in this part of the city. Fortunately, the street was largely empty, aside from a woman walking her dog on the opposite side and a runner who wasn’t even using the sidewalk.
She could feel someone’s gaze on her, though. As she approached the big front doors, she realized they were the eyes of the doorman she’d noticed earlier. He looked human, but Edie had long since learned to doubt her senses in that regard. He kept his eyes trained on her as she made her way up the front steps and stopped before him.
“Hi.” She waved awkwardly and fumbled in her pocket for the Norn’s note. She wasn’t exactly sure how to address a doorman—it wasn’t often she went to a place that had one. “My name’s Edie. I’m here to see Indriði.”
“Good for you.” The doorman looked her over, his gaze slowing when he spotted the machete at her hip. “What makes you think I’m going to let you in?”
“Er, I have this note.” She drew it from her pocket and smoothed it out before handing it over. “A giant blue spider gave it to me.”
That definitely wasn’t a sentence you said every day.
The doorman examined the note, eyes darting quickly as he read its contents. Edie had read it so many times that she could practically recite it word for word: Dear Ms. Holloway. Please forgive my delayed communication. During that awful party, it came to my knowledge that you were looking for me. If you still wish to speak, I’m ready. Come to my home at 3 Olive Street, Alderdeen, and present this note to the guards. All the best, Indriði.
Mr. Doorman still didn’t look particularly thrilled to be dealing with Edie, but his brow smoothed. He nodded and handed the note back to her before wordlessly moving to the side and opening one of the doors.
A wave of cool, fragrant air greeted Edie as she stepped into the foyer. It was sweet and earthy, like flowers and cinnamon, and she couldn’t help but feel a sense of calm wash over her as she entered. Unlike the classical exterior, the interior of the house was shockingly modern. Shining white floors, slate walls that glittered like real stone, an imperial staircase with steel balusters woven into the shapes of spiders’ webs. In the center of it all, over a dozen silver pendant lamps, dripping with crystals, were arranged in the shape of a chandelier.
On the left side of the room was a sleek horseshoe desk, behind which sat two men wearing gray shirts and badges. One of them was clicking around a massive computer screen in front of him. Beside his keyboard was a black baseball cap with a “Security Officer” patch on the front. Behind them, an elevator with platinum doors stood between two long hallways.
The man behind the computer looked up at her expectantly as she approached the desk. Suspicion rolled off both guards in waves. Even though she knew she was supposed to be there, she suddenly felt like a trespasser.
She mumbled a greeting and slid Indriði’s note across the desk. Both of the security guards seemed to be human, just like the doorman. She managed to make eye contact with the one she was standing in front of now, but there was no change, no telltale sign of a revenant or wight.
“What’s this?” the guard behind the computer asked, like she’d handed him something worthless. His voice echoed off of the walls even at normal speaking volume.
“It’s a note from Indriði.” Edie tried not to let uncertainty creep into her voice. “The doorman already let me pass, so can I see her?”
The security guards exchanged glances, then the second one leaned forward and picked up a silver desk phone from its cradle, holding it between his ear and shoulder as he pressed a couple buttons. Edie looked around the foyer as he had a brief conversation with someone on the other line, wondering why all of this security was necessary.
“Okay, fine. She’ll be here.” The guard finished his call and set the phone back down, then looked up at Edie. “The lady’s steward will be down to meet with you in a second. You can wait over there.” He jerked his head in the direction of a white-cushioned bench next to the elevator, but never took his eyes from Edie or the machete at her hip.
“All right. Thanks.” Thanks for nothing, more like. She was starting to think she’d never meet this woman. So far, she’d had to go through the doorman, security guards, and now a manservant was going to come escort her to the lady of the house? Was never moving a muscle part of being a weird rich person or part of being a demigoddess?
Edie took a seat on the bench and drew her cell phone out of her pocket. A notification from Satara was already waiting for her. Someone had made a group chat with her, Edie, and Cal—probably Satara herself, considering how useless Cal was with a smartphone.
[Satara Izem]: How’s it going?
Edie couldn’t help but smile. Despite their rocky beginnings, Satara and Edie had become friends. It was hard not to like someone who had put their life on the line for you, and Satara had turned out to be a lot more understanding of Edie’s many failings once it was made clear that Edie didn’t even want to be the Reacher. Edie was beginning to understand Satara more, too. Everyone kept trying to convince her that she had to be a fierce, f
earless warrior, but there was so much more to her than that. She could be as vulnerable and uncertain and loving as anybody else.
It seemed to Edie that living with Astrid, fighting for her since she was sixteen, had been so intense—maybe so traumatic—that Satara tried to quash those feelings.
Did Astrid see that?
Edie doubted it. The valkyrie didn’t strike her as cruel, only oblivious to the fragility of humans after having not been one for so long—if she ever had been. Edie had never actually gotten a straight answer from anyone on how valkyir were made. Still, it didn’t change the facts.
Satara had also been brave enough to offer to be Edie’s gym buddy, even though she hated being in public—which Edie could definitely relate to—so they had socially-awkward solidarity.
[Edith Holloway]: it’s going… weird… I’m not dead yet but it is weird
[Cal Bonjovi]: WEird ho w,,
[Edith Holloway]: Did you seriously make your chatsapp name Cal Bonjovi?
[Cal Bonjovi]: it ask ed 4 a last nmame,.
[Satara Izem]: I can change it…
[Satara]: There.
[Cal]: duck you
[Cal]: duck
[Cal]: DUCK
[Cal]: lissen.
[Cal]: IF,,, bonvoji ask ed me 2 mary him i wolud
[Edie]: I’m sitting in the foyer right now.... had to get past like 47 thousand people just to get to talk to Indriði’s butler. I’ll let you know how it all pans out
[Satara]: Good luck. Astrid and I can be there in a second if you need us. Cal, do you have a bead on E?
[Cal]: I nnow when edie so much, as has. To pee ,,,,, i got this
[Cal]: sttupid ducking fone
Apparently, he hadn’t had the heart to tell Astrid and Satara that Edie’s brain was temporarily completely closed off to him. Edie hoped it wouldn’t be a problem.
Ding.
She quickly put her phone in her pocket, careful to keep the knife in her jacket concealed. When she looked back up, the platinum elevator doors slid open, revealing—
—no one? Wait, no.
Her eyes darted downward. Just a very short someone.
Chapter Four
The man in the elevator couldn’t have been more than waist height to Edie, but he carried himself like a much taller individual. He was wide, stocky, and so muscular he looked like he could suplex Cal. His head was square, his brow and nose smashed in like a boxer’s, but the neat black suit he was stuffed into suggested he wasn’t at all interested in fighting.
Though he was humanoid, he was clearly not human: his impressive copper beard glinted very much like a penny in the bright foyer. His skin looked like polished silver nickel, dinged and scratched here and there like an old piece of machinery. The color and sheen of it shocked Edie for a moment.
He fixed her with flintlike eyes, his expression one of mild distaste. “Edith?”
It took her a moment to find her voice. After a pause, she stood. “That’s me.”
The man didn’t hold out a hand to greet her, but he reached forward and stopped the elevator doors from closing, beckoning her closer. “I’m Roggvi, Indriði’s steward. Come with me, if you please. She’s expecting you upstairs.”
Edie nodded and stepped into the elevator with him. Unlike the others, Roggvi didn’t seem a bit worried about her machete—in fact, he didn’t even seem to notice, looking rather bored as he pressed a button and let the doors slide shut.
Edie glued her gaze to the numbers counting up on the digital floor indicator, trying to distract herself from the awkward silence. She glanced at Roggvi. He was all dressed up. She was sure she looked like hell, despite having tried really hard to apply her makeup in a way that made her look less dead. Should she have worn something nicer to see Indriði, or were ripped jeans acceptable? Fuck. She’d been so focused on preparing for a crisis that she’d forgotten to make a good impression.
Oh, well. She was never battling in heels again—not after last time.
Finally, the elevator came to a stop and dinged pleasantly. The doors opened to reveal a long hallway, lit with natural sunlight coming in from floor-to-ceiling windows in the rooms to the left and right. The honeylocust trees in front of the street-facing windows blocked the harshest rays, so the light coming in was gentle, but bright enough for Edie to see comfortably.
Roggvi stepped out of the elevator and continued down the hallway unceremoniously. Edie followed, but slowed for a moment to look into the softly lit rooms. To the left was what looked like a lounge, with luxe white couches and chairs, a sleek bar with high stools, and a shimmering silver harp. To the right was a spacious study filled with bookshelves, a large glass desk with a wide-screen computer, and a couple of ergonomic kneeling chairs. On display between bookshelves were glass enclosures, the contents mostly obscured by thick white webs. She didn’t even want to know what kinds of arachnids called those home.
Edie’s gaze touched every piece of furniture in awe, taken aback by how modern everything was. She had imagined the Norn would live somewhere upscale, but she’d envisioned something more … Lord of the Rings? Rivendell, maybe? She had to admit, she was pretty intrigued to meet this person.
She picked up the pace and turned forward again, only to find that her guide had left her behind. For a short guy, he sure walked fast.
“Excuse me? Wait up,” she called out, continuing to walk ahead though she had no idea where she was going. Hopefully, she could figure out her way around the mansion, or else he’d notice she had lagged behind and would come back to retrieve her.
Hopefully.
Her semi-confident stride stuttered to a halt as she reached the end of the hallway and realized that it split into another, longer hallway. Left, right, or straight?
“Hello? Sorry, I got behind….”
No answer. She listened hard, but she couldn’t hear anyone walking or speaking nearby. Somewhere to the right, though, there was a distinct shuffling sound. It probably wasn’t Roggvi—he’d have heard her if he was that close—but perhaps it was another staff member who’d be able to put her on the right path.
As she turned down the right-hand hall, she rested a hand on the hilt of Mercy’s machete. This could just as well be some kind of trap. Who the hell walked that fast unless they were purposefully trying to lose someone? Edie gritted her teeth, every muscle tense as she continued down the hall. After ten feet or so, the hall forked again, and she stopped to listen. Right again.
Her pace was slow as she made her way down the hall. She had become completely turned around. There were no big windows illuminating this hall; it was almost as dark as if it were night. The shuffling had turned into a steady scratching, like someone was trying to scrape something off a surface.
A few feet ahead stood the only open door in this hallway, and Edie crept closer, listening for a while before saying “Hello?” again.
The scratching stopped, resumed softer and faster for a moment, then stopped again. An odd slinking sound followed, like something very heavy was being dragged across the floor. Before she could register what was happening, a hulking black shape had squeezed out into the hallway.
Edie’s breath hitched. She took a step back, looking up.
Two enormous yellow eyes stared back, pupils dilating as they met Edie’s. A long, pink tongue darted out from the darkness, and a wave of steamy bile breath hit Edie as the creature exhaled.
She took another step back, coughing, trying to collect herself. “Wrong way,” she finally choked out. “Wrong hall. Sorry.”
The creature didn’t seem to care. It slunk forward, shaking the floor as it thumped a wide, clawed foot right in front of her. As it shifted, she could see scales glinting. Then a rumble deeper than anything she had ever felt—somehow both soft and soul-shaking—emitted from the creature as it began dragging itself toward her. The dim light caught a pointy black tail whipping behind it.
Edie didn’t know exactly what she was looking at, but she wasn’t about t
o stick around to find out. She took a gulp of air, turned tail, and sprinted back from where she’d come so fast that the soles of her combat boots squealed against the wood floors.
Behind her, the creature issued another wave of heat and a reptilian bark, and pursued.
The floor below her trembled as the creature tore after her. Breathing hard, Edie hazarded a glance behind her and saw that it had four powerful legs and a muscular chest like a pitbull. Its giant tail skimmed along after it, and its huge nostrils flared as they made eye contact again.
Edie faced forward again and focused on running.
Cal, Cal, Cal, Cal!
It had been a trap. If she could get to the elevator, though, maybe she could get downstairs, fight her way past the guards, and flee. She turned left, and hope blossomed in her chest as the elevator doors came into view.
But the hope was only momentary. The floor shuddered as the creature used all four of its legs to pounce. Enormous claws punctured her leather jacket and grazed the skin of her back as the thing toppled her over. She rolled forward, and the creature wheeled around with her before turning, rolling her over, and planting a foot on her chest.
She looked into its eyes, and it looked into hers. In the light pouring in from the windows, she could finally make sense of what it was. A dragon.
Cal! She mentally shrieked his name, but it was no use. Damn this stupid wall!
The dragon was pressing her into the floor so hard that it felt like one wrong move would either sink its claws into her or break a rib. She lay there, breathless for a moment. She expected to feel hot jaws close around her head at any moment, but the dragon seemed to hesitate. It ducked its head a little, looking almost uncertain.
There wasn’t any time to analyze its actions—this was as good an opening as any. Edie slipped one hand down to her side and gripped the hilt of the machete. With a loud cry, she drew it from its sheath and slashed upward, pushing against the force of the dragon’s paw. The blade connected with its underarm, and all at once, the enormous pressure on her chest was gone.
No Earthly Treason Page 3
