No Earthly Treason

by Genevra Black

  Edie wondered just how different. “She was nice enough to let our friends stay with her for free. She’s good.”

  “Speaking of that,” Cal said, quickly changing the subject, “you still gotta find somewhere to stay, too. Guess it’ll have to be with Astrid.”

  He was right that she had to find somewhere other than Tilda’s. She already attracted so much trouble, and since that probably wouldn’t change any time soon, it was for the best that she and Mercy stay far away from each other, at least until they were more secure. But staying with Astrid now, after what Indriði had said?

  “Right….” She tried to play it cool. If Cal found out that she was suspicious, who knew what would happen? Their relationship seemed so tenuous to her already. Would he decide whatever he was trying to get out of this wasn’t worth it—cut his losses and kill her? “I might just take my chances and stay at the apartment.”

  Cal looked at her like she’d turned green.

  “It would be nice to get the apartment to myself for a while.”

  He snorted, raising his voice a little. “Uh, yeah, and fucking dangerous.”

  “I don’t really feel like hanging out with Astrid day in and day out, to be honest. She’s a little much.” Okay, that part wasn’t a lie. She didn’t know how Satara did it. Astrid seemed super overbearing—she couldn’t imagine how much worse it would be living with her as a mentor.

  “She is kinda intense, but is it worth getting raided? Those everfuckin’ Watchers are getting closer to your neighborhood, kid. Who knows when they’ll decide to cut the crap and come after you directly? Sounds like they already sent someone in to test the waters the other day.” He jerked his thumb back in the direction of her apartment.

  He was right. No way the breathstealer was a coincidence. Or had it really been a breathstealer at all? A million conspiracy theories had already formed in her mind in the past couple days. She didn’t think Cal had powers like the ones Mercy had described. Then again, since he barely trusted her, she didn’t know everything about him.

  “I’m not ready to see her,” Edie said truthfully.

  Cal made a face. “Not ready? Not ready for what?”

  “I’m going to have to tell her Indriði said no.”

  “So?” He threw up a hand. “Just do it. It’s not your fault the stupid Norn’s got beef.”

  Edie thought back to Astrid’s reaction when she had told her that Tiralda refused to join the Reach. She’d probably be more prepared for Indriði to say no, but then again, Indriði’s answer seemed especially important to her. Edie didn’t want a repeat of that tantrum. “I don’t want her to get angry at me.”

  “Why are you so scared of her?”

  Edie took a long sip of water to buy herself some time. Her stomach was starting to hurt again. “Where do I even begin? She’s terrifying, for starters. And….” Jesus. How to put this without coming out and admitting she didn’t trust him, either? “I’m not sure she, you know, has my best interests in mind. Even if she thinks she does.”

  Cal raised a brow. “So you don’t trust her?”

  And there it was. Edie floundered for a moment before shrugging.

  “Listen,” Cal said, “she’s not perfect. And yeah, she can get overzealous about things. But she’ll listen, and she means what she says. She’s trustworthy. You’ve got my word.”

  That doesn’t mean much if I can’t be sure of your word, Cal. “But…” Edie began tentatively. “It’s just, I’m so new to this. There are still so many nuances that I don’t have any idea about, you know? I can’t make informed decisions when I don’t know what the hell is going on or what she’s talking about.”

  “That’s what I’m here for,” the revenant insisted, standing, almost squaring up to her. “I can translate all the Norse mumbo-jumbo.”

  He wasn’t getting it. And Edie knew she should drop it before he realized she had found out he was lying to her. “Okay,” she said noncommittally. “I’ll talk to her soon.”

  When she glanced back up, he was wearing an expression that mirrored how she felt: I don’t believe you.

  Their staring contest was interrupted as a guy with two of the tiniest dumbbells Edie had ever seen and extremely tight shorts did moving lunges past them.

  “Jesus Christ,” Cal mumbled, “I can see what religion that guy is.”

  Edie snorted loud enough to cut some of the tension.

  After a moment, he looked back at her warily and gestured around the gym. “So? What next?”

  “I, uh … I dunno.” She tried to keep her tone light. Keep playing it cool. “I feel stronger, but I can’t really defeat monsters by deadlifting them.”

  “Well, I can’t teach you offensive magic,” Cal replied tersely.

  “I know, but since I’m thinking we’re probably going to get into more fights before we can find someone who can teach me, I need to learn different stuff. A knife and a machete aren’t going to cut it.”

  The revenant crossed his arms, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he looked over each machine around the gym. Finally, his gaze stopped on the punching bags in the corner of the cavernous room. “I know where we can start.”

  Edie followed his gaze and frowned. The few times she’d seen people using those, it was always huge, profusely sweaty men who screamed and smacked the poor heavy bag like it owed them money. That wasn’t really her style. But Cal had already turned around and started toward them before she could protest, so she followed.

  He positioned himself slightly behind the heavy bag and motioned for her to stop a couple feet from it. “You know how to punch?”

  “Kind of. Mercy taught me a little.”

  Cal rolled his eyes. “Has Mercy every actually punched anyone?”

  “Considering how often you piss her off, she may soon.”

  “Okay, what do you know?”

  Edie curled her fist and punched the air—basic, if a bit limp. Then she turned her hand up. “That’s it.”

  His shoulders fell a little, unable to hide his disappointment. “We have a lot of work to do.”

  “I could’ve told you that.”

  He pointed up and down at her. “The first and most important thing in a fight is keeping your hands up in front of your face. You want to block the chances of your opponent pounding your noggin as much as possible. So put ’em up. Try to stand straight and firm, but keep relaxed.”

  “Okay,” she said, getting into position and glancing at him. “Now what?”

  “’Kay, important thing to keep in mind when you’re using one of these suckers.” He sidled up next to her and raised his fists. “You wanna work the bag, not attack it. You’re not pushing, right, you’re punching. Thrusting your entire arm through this guy is not what we’re aiming for. Here, watch.”

  Cal planted his feet and began to strike the bag. It was mostly a hail of small punches that snapped back to him each time, shaking the bag instead of swinging it. Occasionally, he’d come in with a stronger blow. He moved with the bag the little it did move, keeping the distance between him and it roughly equal the whole time.

  “You kinda want it to be a continuous, uh … flow, I guess. Always keep your hands up and keep the punches coming. We’re not looking to strike with max force every time. You wanna—”

  “Work the bag.”

  “—work the bag, right.” He touched the bag to steady it, then backed up. “You try. Remember, punch like a … like a cobra. Strike in and let it rebound back to you. Keep your arms relaxed and your feet ready to move.”

  Edie raised her hands. “Shouldn’t I be wearing gloves?”

  “If you do it right, you won’t need ’em.” He crossed his arms, waiting expectantly.

  “I really think you underestimate my tenderness.” Nonetheless, she planted her feet and threw a few punches. They didn’t make quite as much impact as Cal’s, but he was right—even after a few cycles of punching, her arm muscles felt fine, and her knuckles only stung a little.

  “Pr
etty good. Try and use your middle knuckle, not the two smaller ones. It’s stronger. And keep your hands up, for god’s sake!”

  She adjusted herself and focused on the bag again. At intervals, he’d bark out an order and remind her to keep the distance between herself and the bag equal. Eventually, it became a pattern that started to feel more natural, and she found herself more comfortable with moving around the target.

  As Edie thought she was starting to get the physical aspect, she felt something familiar come over her. It was like electricity stroking her arms, waves of energy beating at her skin, eager to be released into the world. It was the same feeling she’d had during the battle with Sárr, when she had been so incandescently angry that she had almost, almost been able to tap into her powers. But she wasn’t so much angry with Cal or the bag as focused on her punches.

  Slowly, it occurred to her that this feeling was magic. Not the kind she’d used to heal Cal or Mercy or herself—not even the kind she’d used to raise her poor hamster, Hervey. This was a different feeling, like her blood was heated from battle. Her body felt ready to deliver magical blows instead of physical ones.

  If only her brain was.

  “Good!” Cal practically shouted. “Keep moving. The power in the punch comes from all the muscles in your trunk, not your fist. Don’t leave an opening. Let them flow into one another.”

  The feeling inside of her built up until it was a constant, almost painful buzz in her limbs, like static. It was overwhelming. made her bones ache. Agony.

  She was about to call a time-out so she could find some way to release all this confused energy when she was suddenly aware of someone approaching them. In the corner of her eye, she watched as they stopped just short of the mats and waited. Both she and Cal turned their heads to the newcomer.

  The girl standing there couldn’t have been more than sixteen years old. Her features were round, wide, and smooth, her hooded brown eyes crinkled into little half-moons as she smiled expectantly at them both. She tucked a lock of dark, chin-length hair behind one ear, revealing four or five piercings from the lobe to the helix. She wore a fleece-lined sweatshirt, skinny jeans, and men’s combat boots. In her arms was a large, white box.

  “Are you Edie?” she asked, presenting the box abruptly.

  Edie backed away from the bag and lowered her hands, taking a slow breath. “Yeah?”

  The girl shook the box a little. “She only said you’d be the lady with black hair, so, not very helpful, to be honest.”

  Edie chuckled uncertainly and took the box, testing the weight of it. It was heavier than she’d anticipated, and she tried to guess at what was inside. Cupcakes? She really hoped it was cupcakes, but it didn’t smell like baked goods. She picked at the tape on the side of the box, looking the girl over. “She?”

  “Yeah.” The girl shoved her hands in her sweatshirt pockets and continued without elaborating, “I was supposed to bring it to Edie Holloway at the 24-hour Fitness Galaxy. And I did, so … tip?”

  Coming out of anyone else, Edie would have thought the way she said it was pretty rude. But the girl was so charming with her earnest smile, holding out her hand, that Edie didn’t have the heart to scoff. Still, she didn’t have any cash on her, so she shook her head. “Sorry, nothing.”

  The girl didn’t seem particularly bothered, at least. She shrugged and stuffed her hand back into her pocket. “It’s all Gucci. Do you have any gum?”

  Edie raised a brow, but walked a couple feet to her vinyl-patch-covered backpack and produced a couple sticks of fruity gum. “Uh, here.”

  “Sick.” The girl immediately unwrapped them both and started chewing, then turned and left with a wave and a spring in her step.

  Once she was gone, Edie sat on the nearby bench, and Cal joined her. “What the hell was that about?”

  Edie snorted as she peeled the tape from the sides of the box. “Gen Z is even weirder than the generation before it. And now I sound like an old man,” she mumbled, finally lifting the cover of the box.

  A familiar smell hit her the moment she opened it, and though the contents were still wrapped in a layer of white tissue paper, she already had a feeling she knew what it was. She carefully picked up the note resting on top.

  Edie,

  Come see me soon. I’ve been thinking about our meeting. I have something I want to talk to you about.

  Indriði

  P.S. You’ll be needing this.

  She slipped the note into her pocket before Cal could see it and unwrapped the tissue paper. Sitting there, folded neatly and glittering with silver studs, was a new leather jacket.

  Chapter Twelve

  Now that Indriði had replaced her jacket, Cal assumed that they washed their hands of her and moved on. Edie, however, intended to answer that note.

  Getting to the Norn’s place without letting Cal know what she was doing was a delicate process. When she finally worked up the nerve, it had been almost a week since the breathstealer incident. Mercy and Fisk were completely moved out of the apartment, but the revenant hardly let Edie out of his sight anymore. He said it was because he was trying to protect her, but ever since she’d confessed that she didn’t quite trust Astrid, he’d seemed quieter than usual, more cautious around her.

  Since the moment she’d gotten the jacket and the note, she’d been planning how she would pull this off. She supposed she could tell Cal that Indriði wanted to talk to her again, but the last thing she wanted to do was make him suspicious of the Norn. If he knew she’d told Edie not to trust them, who knew what he’d do, or if she’d ever see Indriði again?

  Her efforts to shake Cal had started the night previous, when she’d complained about not feeling well. She’d even skipped dinner and fallen asleep on the couch to make it seem extra believable. She only had to get him out of the house for maybe an hour. He wouldn’t let her leave, sure, but once she was out, what was he going to do, drive around the city looking for her?

  Trying to appear as tired and weak as possible, she offered him the impossibly long shopping list she’d prepared that morning.

  “Uh … s’cuse me? What’s this?” The look on his face was something else—like she had offered him roadkill.

  “It’s a shopping list.” She forced out a groan of mock-pain. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but it really needs to get done, and I don’t feel well. I can pay you back….”

  Cal rolled his eyes. “You can’t wait another day? Who am I, your mom?”

  This wasn’t working. She had to bring out the big guns. She looked up at him and stuck her lip out, forcing her eyes to water.

  Cal just growled.

  “Please?”

  He waffled for a moment, then snatched the list from her, glaring as he read it over. “Okay,” he said, “fine. But you owe me one.”

  Twenty minutes later, she was riding the subway uptown, knives tucked into both inner pockets of her new jacket. The Watchers wouldn’t quit their jobs just because she had somewhere to go, so better safe than sorry.

  When she reached Indriði’s townhouse, she found that the doorman—a different one than before—knew her by name, and the security guards didn’t even make her wait for Roggvi. Edie rode the elevator up to the fourth floor again.

  As she exited, soft, twinkling music met her ears, and a familiar voice called to her from the lounge to her left: “Edie, is that you? I was wondering when you’d show up.”

  Edie turned to see Indriði playing her harp in front of the large windows, a corona of afternoon light hugging her form. She wore a silk blouse and trousers, which probably made it easier to straddle the harp.

  As she approached, Edie teased, “I thought you could see the future.”

  “I knew to find you at the gym, didn’t I? Give me a little credit, here.” The Norn smiled, dark-painted lips parting. “The future isn’t so cut-and-dry, babe. I knew you’d come see me, one way or the other, I just wasn’t completely clear on when.” She lowered her hands and stood, smoothing out h
er trousers. “I see you got the jacket I sent. It really suits you.”

  Edie couldn’t help but smile. She touched one of the spiked lapels. “It’s really great. Warm, too.”

  “It should last you a while, unless Augustus decides to jump on you again.” Indriði laughed and moved to the lounge’s bar. “If he does, the next jacket will be made of drake skin, I can guarantee you. You want anything?”

  “No, thanks.” She sat on one of the swiveling bar stools as Indriði busied herself behind the bar. “Thanks, by the way. You didn’t have to buy me a new one. That was decent of you.”

  “Bah.” The Norn waved a dismissive hand as she poured vodka, orange liqueur, lime juice, and cranberry juice into a cocktail shaker. “Stuff gets damaged; it’s a fact of life. But stuff also costs money. Money is time, and most of you humans don’t have much of that in the grand scheme of things. I break something of someone else’s, you better believe I’m using my own money to replace it.”

  Edie cracked another smile.

  “Anyway,” Indriði said as she shook her cocktail, “you didn’t come to chat about how flipping fantastic and generous I am, I assume?”

  Edie dug in her pocket and produced the note that had come along with the jacket. “Your note said you had something important to talk to me about.”

  The Norn turned to grab a martini glass from a refrigerated compartment behind the bar. “Oh, yeah. I wanted to know how everything went with Astrid.”

  “It … didn’t really go.” Edie bit her lip. “I haven’t gone to see her yet.”

  “She won’t like that.”

  “Yeah. Her shieldmaiden has been blowing up my phone, wondering when I’m gonna make it down there. She’s probably going to show up at my door someday soon.” Edie ran a hand through her hair, raven strands falling in her face. “I just … last time I told Astrid that someone refused to join the Reach, she went apeshit and tried to quit altogether.”