No Earthly Treason

by Genevra Black

  Indriði raised her red brows as she poured her Cosmopolitan. “Someone else?”

  “A sorceress named Tiralda. They were close friends, I guess.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Tiralda, really? She must be desperate.” With a laugh, she added, “I guess she’d have to be if she’s trying to send you after me. Ymir’s bones.”

  “I can tell that me asking you means a lot to her. So if telling her about Tiralda was bad, I can only imagine the blow-up that’s waiting for me when I tell her about you.” Edie scrubbed her face. “So I’ve been avoiding it. It’s not like I could defend myself if she lashed out at me.”

  She thought back to the horrible pain she’d felt when she and Astrid had first touched. She’d been sure she was about to die, and that had been an accident. How could she protect herself against that, especially considering she didn’t know how to manage any of her powers?

  Indriði looked confused. “What do you mean you couldn’t defend yourself? She’s a valkyrie, but you’re a hellerune. That counts for something.”

  Edie rubbed the back of her neck. “Ah … well. The thing is … I kind of don’t know how to use my powers. The only times I’ve ever really used them were—” She paused and thought. “When I accidentally raised my hamster, when I healed a bad burn on Cal’s face, and when I kept Mercy from dying. And I guess bloodmending. But that’s it. I don’t know anything that I could use to defend myself.”

  The Norn leaned against the bar, sipping her drink thoughtfully. At length, she said, “Damn. I hardly expected that. Astrid’s really left you defenseless? Now, of all times?”

  “She said she would look around for someone who could help me.”

  Indriði snorted. “Not sure where she thinks she’s going to find a hellerune around here. You’re most likely the only one in New England. I suppose she could find one trainer for each school of magic; blood, plague, shadow, death….”

  Edie had to admit, that made her spirits lighten. Of course—there were people who weren’t hellerunan who practiced those things individually. “That sounds okay. Why hasn’t she done that?”

  The Norn shrugged. “To be fair, I’m sure she’s hard-pressed to find people who practice the ebon magics and aren’t part of the Gloaming.” She straightened, swirling her glass in thought. “You shouldn’t even need teachers, though. That’s the beauty of being a hellerune. You should just know how to do it.”

  “Well”—Edie spread her hands palms up—“I don’t.”

  Indriði was quiet for a while, as if mulling over their dilemma. She pursed her lips. “Hmm. What are you finding so difficult about it?”

  That was a good question. She thought back to the gym, when she’d tried to tap into her powers. It wasn’t the energy she was having trouble with, but rather knowing how to release it. It was probably easier for people who had grown up around magic, seen what could be done with it. She was starting from zero. A painter might have all the talent and innovation and genius in the world, but if they’d never seen a tree in their life, how were they supposed to paint one? Someone describing a long brown log with sticks and leaves coming out didn’t really cut it.

  “It’s like,” she began slowly, “I know I can do it, I can feel it inside of me, but I can’t seem to get it out. I don’t even know where to start. Hell, I don’t even know what it should look like.” Edie sighed, starting to regret not accepting a drink.

  She watched as Indriði knocked back the rest of her Cosmo and emerged from behind the bar, crossing to look at the honeylocust trees through the huge windows. After a long period of silence, she sighed and spoke. “You know … I try not to involve myself in these politics. It’s been a hell of a long time since I believed the Reach could fix anything going on between the Gloaming and the Aurora. It’s too late for that, you know?” She looked over her shoulder. “The Reach worked during the Dark Ages for a reason. It’s done. It won’t do anymore.”

  Edie’s voice was quiet. “So what happens now?”

  Indriði smiled. “Just because the Reach is done for, doesn’t mean there’s nothing we can do. Something stops working, you tear it down; you salt the earth and you start over, with new requirements and measurements and leaders.” She finally turned fully toward Edie and approached, stopping only a couple feet away. “And you know what? I think you could do it.”

  “I— You think I could lead the Reach, too?”

  “Not the Reach. Whatever comes after it. I believe in Edie Holloway.”

  Edie couldn’t help but snort. “I can’t imagine why.”

  “You’ve got it all, kid.” Indriði spread her hands. “You’re kind, bright, cautious but open-minded. People respond to that. Every leader starts somewhere. Talent is tempered with experience. See?” She crossed her arms, assessing Edie. “The only thing you’re missing that people will really respond to is power. To protect yourself and to, you know, give you legitimacy. Prove your birthright and all that.”

  “Yeah.” Edie scrubbed her face. “So, the important stuff. I don’t suppose you know anyone who can help me?”

  The Norn skipped a beat, but then picked right back up. “That’s the thing—I don’t think training is what you need. And why put it all that work if you don’t need it? You don’t need someone who isn’t a hellerune telling you how to control your powers. You could probably level the city right now, if pressed.” She laughed, going behind the bar and starting to mix another drink. “No, what you need is a … push.”

  “A push?”

  “You’re like a balloon. You know, the pressure is building and building. If you wait too long, let it build too much, you’ll explode, and no one needs a feral hellerune on their hands right now. You need to be dealt with before dealing with you at all is dangerous.”

  Edie envisioned a balloon with her face on it, and Indriði holding a giant thumbtack, getting ready to stab her. If the pressure was low enough, a pinprick would let the helium out gently. If she waited until she was full to bursting, a pinprick would tear her apart.

  She couldn’t be sure exactly how accurate the analogy was, knowing as little as she did about magic, but Indriði was right about the pressure. That was what it felt like … and the Norn definitely had more experience in these things.

  Edie drew herself up, sitting straighter. “Okay. I wanna let it out.” She chewed her lip and looked at Indriði. “Can you help me? Is there something you can do? I’d— I’d make it up to you somehow.”

  Indriði was going wild with the cocktail shaker again, though she had a pensive look on her face. “Funny thing, actually. I was just reading about these particular artifacts and wondering if I could get a hold of one—as a curiosity, but maybe it could help. Please tell me you know what a fylgja is?”

  Great, more stuff to learn. As if she didn’t have info leaking out her ears already. She cringed apologetically. “Sorry, I don’t.”

  “It’s sort of….” Indriði tilted her head back and forth as she poured her second cocktail. “It’s a spirit, usually an animal, that watches over you. A guardian. But it’s you, too—part of you. It dies, you die, and vice versa. Sometimes it takes form depending on your character, like a fox if you’re exceptionally clever, or an owl if you’re serene and wise, a wolf if you’re loyal and protective. That kind of thing.”

  “Like a Patronus?” The second she blurted it out, Edie felt like an idiot. Who the hell talked about their Patronus anymore? What year was it, 2007?

  To her surprise, though, Indriði pointed to her and nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! Exactly like that.” She sipped her drink and shrugged one shoulder. “Generally not as fun, though. See, fylgjur usually travel before you. They’re about a day ahead of you in your timeline, give or take, so they pretty much go where they please. They might come back to warn you about what’s about to happen, might not. Sometimes, other people’s fylgjur will come visit you, to sort of feel you out before they meet you.”

  Edie swallowed, dread filling her stomach. “Do th
ey show up in dreams?”

  “More often than not, that’s where you’ll see them. A sleeping brain is more open to nonlinear time than a waking one. Why?”

  “No reason.”

  Indriði motioned for her to wait for a moment, then set her drink down and crossed the hall to her study. When she came back, she was holding a book browned with age, its bindings fraying at the corners. The spine had clearly been gilded at one point, but now the title was only etched into it in a slightly darker shade of brown.

  Hauling all five feet of herself onto the barstool next to Edie, Indriði opened to a bookmarked page and began flipping back. “Since they travel ahead of us, it’s damned difficult to make them appear. They’d have to come all the way back to our present to reveal themselves. Still, there are some rituals that can sort of pick them out of the future, drop them right in front of you. Lucky for you, you have a Norn on your side. We’re good with time.”

  She finally stopped flipping the well-loved pages, smoothing the book out. It was written in an alphabet Edie couldn’t even begin to comprehend, but she leaned over to look at the book anyway. The passage staring back at them featured an illustration of a diamond-shaped prism.

  “This is called a keeper paragon. If you drag a fylgja back through time and let go, it will only slingshot back where it came from, maybe even get hurt in the process. You have to make sure it stays put long enough to do whatever it is you need to do. So, that’s where this comes in.”

  “Does it hurt the fylgja?” Edie asked, struggling over the Norse pronunciation a bit.

  Indriði shook her head. “Nope, not at all. It’s only a receptacle.”

  “So what does this have to do with helping me with my powers?”

  “Good question.” She skimmed a paragraph with the tip of one neatly manicured finger. “You’re having trouble making the magic happen, but your spirit, your soul already knows what to do. You wouldn’t be a hellerune if it didn’t.” A smile bloomed on her face. “Maybe the perfect person to train you is you.”

  “My fylgja?”

  “If we can focus it in the keeper paragon, once your spirit is right in front of you, maybe things will become clearer. And if nothing happens, there are other things we can try. I can empower it. Make your spirit stronger. Maybe that’s the push you need to let it all out.”

  Edie pushed a lock of fallen hair behind her ear and peered at Indriði. “You’d really do that?”

  The Norn smiled again. “Like I said, I believe in you, Edie. I’m not Astrid’s or the Reach’s biggest fan—you know that. But you could really make a difference.”

  She sounded so genuine that Edie felt a little embarrassed. No way she could ever be that important … but at the same time, she found that she believed Indriði. If anyone knew what it took to make a difference, it would be a Norn, a literal weaver of Fate. If Indriði really thought she could do this, and do it without Astrid and the Reach, maybe she was right.

  “Thanks,” Edie said, barely louder than a whisper. She ran a hand through her hair, untucking the strand she’d just fixed. “Really. Thank you. But I don’t have anything to pay you back with.”

  Indriði sighed and closed the book, stroking the spine. “Tell you what … like I said, I was wondering if I could get my hands on one of these things anyway. I’ve been researching who I could get one from around here, and I have a name.” She stood from the bar, holding the massive tome to her chest. It was almost as big as her torso itself. “The problem is, he’s a collector, and these things are rare. I don’t think he’s going to give it up easily.”

  “Oh.” Edie was pretty sure she knew where this was going, and braced herself.

  “If you can convince him to give the paragon to me, you can consider us even.” Indriði turned and started walking back to her study.

  Edie slipped off the barstool and followed so they could continue their conversation, giving the spider tanks a wide berth. “I assume he won’t just give me the thing because I ask nicely? He’ll want money or something for it, right?”

  The Norn wrinkled her nose as she shelved the giant book. “No, he doesn’t care about money… but you’re right, he’ll want something in return.” She tapped her fingers against her mouth as she turned, going to a display case a few feet behind her desk chair. She unlocked it with a tiny key from a nearby shelf and began to sort through the things stored there.

  Edie watched as she withdrew a small black box and opened it. Inside was a piece of silk, and as the Norn unfolded it, Edie caught a glimpse of a skinny white cylinder.

  As Indriði plucked it out of the bed of silk, it left behind a dusty residue. “This is gátt-krít—doorway chalk. Tracing a complete, connected, three-sided doorway on any surface will allow you to use the surface you outlined as a door. Essentially, you can use this to go through any wall. With powerful magic, you might even be able to make a heimdyrr.”

  Edie eyed it. “Is it rare?”

  “Very rare. Once you use it up, it’s gone forever.” She tucked it back into the silk and took the bundle out of the box, handing it to Edie. “I’m willing to bet this is one of the only pieces out there.”

  “What if he wants something else?” Edie asked as she took it and slipped it into her shoulder bag.

  Indriði sighed. “Then I guess I’ll have to go to him and get the paragon myself.” She went to her desk and jotted the address down on a scrap of paper, then handed it to Edie. “Let’s try and make it so I don’t have to do that, m’kay?”

  Edie sighed. Right. No pressure.

  Chapter Thirteen

  As Edie stepped out of the elevator and into Indriði’s vestibule, she clicked her phone screen on to check her notifications and barely held back a grimace. There were so many that they couldn’t even all fit on the screen at once. Probably all from Cal, wondering where she was.

  After this most recent visit with Indriði, Edie didn’t want to get him involved. She trusted him less and less with each passing day, and the fact that he seemed constantly on-edge didn’t help matters.

  She made sure her phone was on silent and tucked it away in her back pocket. Even though she didn’t want to be around Cal, she didn’t want to run into any Watchers, either. She had to be alert when she went to visit this collector. With a sigh, she drew the bundle of silk out of her bag to look at it.

  It probably wasn’t a good idea to go alone. Maybe she could ask Tilda for help? Tilda could hold her own, as she’d displayed at Zaedicus’s party. Then again, if something did go wrong, Edie didn’t want to paint an even bigger target on the wight’s back. She was supposed to be protecting Mercy and Fisk, after all, and a high-tech anti-magic security system could only do so much.

  Edie was so preoccupied in figuring out her next move that she almost careened right into someone as she was passing through the front door. They both stopped just short of collision.

  “Sorry,” she said absently, side-stepping to avoid them.

  To her surprise, they side-stepped, too, blocking her way.

  It was then that she finally registered the person. Her confused gaze began at their untied combat boots and went up their velvet leggings, over-sized plum sweater, and choker necklace. The face was familiar.

  “Oh, fuuuuck.” The girl’s half-moon eyes crinkled as she smiled. “What’s up, Edie?”

  The girl from Fitness Galaxy. Edie assumed, based on her tone, that oh, fuuuuck was a good thing in this context.

  “Uh … hi?” It came out a lot more confused than she had meant it to, but she’d never expected to see the girl again. “What are you doing here?”

  The girl motioned to the building behind Edie with one hand, sticking the other in her pocket. “Indriði’s the only person who lives here, so. I was coming to see if she had any errands for me to run. Don’t have anything better to do.”

  Edie looked her over again and raised a brow. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

  The girl grinned, threw a hang loose sign, and said, �
��Online classes, babeyyy.”

  “Oh. Cool.” If only Edie’d had that option; maybe she’d have done better in school.

  “I’m Sissel, by the way.” The girl gave a more subdued smile. “Sissel Inuusuttoq.”

  “Edie Holloway, but I guess you already knew that.”

  Sissel snorted; then her attention was drawn to the bundle of silk Edie was holding, and she tilted her head. “What’s that?”

  Warily, Edie pulled it a little closer to herself, almost trying to hide it behind her back. It wasn’t that she thought Sissel would try to take it; she just figured the fewer people who knew she was transporting it, the better. “Uh, something Indriði wanted me to deliver to a friend.”

  Sissel drew her mouth smaller, and the movement made the tip of her nose dip down slightly. “She’s supposed to call me if she needs something delivered. We have a system worked out.”

  “A system?”

  “Yeah! I’m a courier, right, for magic people? She kinda knows my dad so she tips me extra. Like, extra-extra.” She drew her hand from her pocket and rubbed her ear lobe, muttering, “She better not be phasing me out.”

  Edie shook her head. “No, it’s a special delivery. A one-time thing.”

  “Where to?” She stood on her tiptoes to try and peer at the bundle, though she wasn’t all that much shorter than Edie.

  Most people weren’t this insistent on knowing her business. Normally, she’d make it clear it had nothing to do with them, and they’d let her go about her day. This girl didn’t seem to be taking the hint, but Edie found herself more bemused than annoyed. “Oh. Um. I have to take it to a guy named Khenbu in, uh, the Financial District, I think.”

  The teen drew back and sucked in air through pristine white teeth. “Oof, that’s gonna be rough.”

  Anxiety crept up in Edie’s chest. “Why’s that?”

  “I know Khenbu. Sort of.” She paused. “I know someone who knows someone who couriered for him. He’s a fuglfolken, so he’s really finicky and doesn’t like letting people near his treasures. So even getting in is gonna be a hard sell.”