Valkyrie Rising

by Ingrid Paulson

  “You okay?” Tuck’s forehead creased. He turned and looked out the window, where I’d been staring. “You look like you just had a stroke. Want me to walk you home?”

  “I’m fine.” I shook my head.

  Tuck frowned and opened his mouth to say something but then snapped it shut. His jaw twitched as he glared over my shoulder.

  “Do you want anything?” Kjell appeared from behind me, pulling up a chair. “A drink? Or are you hungry?” Before I could even formulate my answer, he’d flagged down a waitress.

  “Maybe just some water,” I said, shifting in my seat as his arm draped around the back of my chair. I tried to keep my eyes on Graham, but Kjell leaned forward until his head was directly in my line of sight.

  I glanced back toward the door, to see if that man was still staring at me. He was, and he was no longer alone. Five men now sat at the table by the window, making no effort to conceal their objective. They were watching me. It couldn’t be a good thing that they were no longer trying to keep their surveillance covert.

  Kjell followed my gaze. “Don’t worry about them,” he told me. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” The way he was looking at me made me slide my chair a full six inches away. I should have been blown away to have a boy look at me like that—especially a boy like Kjell. But there was no way I deserved the unswerving, puppy-dog devotion in those baby blues.

  My grandmother’s advice from that morning floated back to me, and I decided that as ridiculously old-fashioned as she’d sounded, maybe she was right about the power of a certain type of look or glance. Maybe I needed to watch my step around Kjell. Even though I spent the rest of the evening doing just that, Kjell stuck to me like a tick that hadn’t fed in years. I wasn’t sure who it irritated most—Graham, Tuck, or me.

  BY THE TIME we left the restaurant, it was well past midnight. Everyone emptied onto the sidewalk and stood under the streetlamps, saying good night and gradually dispersing.

  There was a tug at my sleeve as I was joking around with Tuck, and I turned.

  “Ride home?” Kjell asked. He glanced over his shoulder toward two men who had followed us outside and were trying to look casual, smoking cigarettes. But they were staring straight at me.

  Walking home might not be the safest idea.

  Graham answered for all three of us. “That’d be great,” he said. At first I was surprised. I thought I’d have to force the issue with Graham, after Kjell had been all over me at the restaurant. But the way Graham was frowning as he sized up Kjell made it all too apparent that he was prowling for the opportunity for a tête-à-tête. While that irritated me more than Kjell’s stifling attention, it wasn’t enough to overpower my sense of self-preservation. We needed a ride home.

  When we came to a stop in Grandmother’s driveway, Kjell turned to face me. “When can I see you tomorrow?”

  I was mortified this was happening at all, but it was even worse to have it happen in front of Graham and Tuck. As if I didn’t have enough to worry about. I was already anxious without having to let Kjell down gently in front of an audience.

  “There’s this new restaurant, serves really fresh fish. We send our best catch to them,” he said. “Tomorrow night? I—I need to see you again.”

  That caught Graham’s full attention. He’d opened the car door, but now he froze. Waiting. Listening.

  “Just us. I won’t bring my friends this time,” Kjell added.

  While I had no intention of hanging out again with Sven or Margit, this was also sounding too much like a very serious date.

  In the rearview mirror, Tuck’s eyes found mine, and I knew it wouldn’t be fair to say yes when I was engaged elsewhere. Or at least wanted to be. Graham was watching me, too. His disapproval filled the car like floodwater, pressing the air from my lungs, suffocating me.

  Which is why I said, “Okay.”

  Even though it wasn’t an optimal way to assert my independence, it was the only route open to me—without causing a scene.

  “She hates fish, just FYI, Ahab.” Tuck slid out and slammed the door so hard the whole car shook. To make my misery complete, Graham didn’t get out until he’d caught my eye and given his head a shake. I hadn’t heard the last of this.

  If Kjell noticed, he didn’t care. He smiled like the conquering hero, which made me realize exactly how big a misstep I’d just taken. Who knew that acting out of spite could be every bit as limiting as having an overprotective brother boss you around?

  “Great,” Kjell said. “I’ll pick you up at seven?”

  “I’ve gotta go,” I said, already wracking my brain for the out that I would deliver in the morning. “Good night.” My eyes were glued to Tuck’s retreating back. His posture was ruler straight, his shoulders tense, and when he didn’t even turn around at the sound of my footsteps, I knew he was mad. But not as mad as I was at myself.

  Everything that had happened during the last week was tearing at me from the inside. Just two short weeks ago, my relationship with Graham was the biggest worry on my mind—how to go from little sister to actual grown-up person who could manage her own life. Now it was the tiniest item on my pile of problems, from the lingering mystery of Astrid and her bobsled girl sidekick to Kjell’s creepy behavior. Together, all these things fueled my inexplicable premonition that something dangerous was circling, moving closer to both Graham and me. And overriding it all was my certainty that I didn’t have much time to piece it all together—to figure out what was happening and to fix it before something terrible happened.

  AS SOON AS Graham’s bedroom door clicked shut down the hallway, I opened my window and climbed up onto the roof. I made enough noise that Tuck would be sure to hear me. Then I sat back, hoping he’d accept my olive branch. I knew he was mad at me for agreeing to go out with Kjell, even if his reasons were muddy. He could hardly expect me turn up my nose at every other boy just because he kept flirting with me. I’d seen Tuck in action enough times to know it was a fair bet he wasn’t serious. And he probably expected me to be able to tell the difference. Still, it was hard to keep my feelings out of it, especially when Tuck and I were walking so very close to the edge.

  After five minutes, I started to get angry that Tuck wasn’t coming. It stung that he would just blow me off—like he didn’t even need to acknowledge that things were weird between us lately. He was taking Graham’s overprotective act to a whole new award-worthy level.

  My temper was just getting warmed up when I heard a noise coming from the direction of Tuck’s window. Then the warmth applied itself to a different feeling altogether.

  Tuck’s hands appeared on the edge of the roof, followed by his head and shoulders as he pulled himself over the edge.

  He walked softly across the roof and sat down at my side, close enough that his arm pressed against mine. I knew I’d been forgiven. I leaned back on my elbows, his proximity soaking into every pore like a soothing balm.

  We were quiet for a long time, for what seemed like ages.

  “I don’t like him,” Tuck said. “Graham doesn’t either.”

  It took a second for me to figure out what he was talking about, but when I did, I couldn’t hold back an impatient sigh. “Do you really think that’s going to win your argument?”

  “Is it an argument?” he asked after a tense pause. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re trying to keep him at arm’s length. Or is little Ellie playing hard to get?”

  “Unlike some people, I don’t play games with people’s feelings.”

  “That’s right,” Tuck murmured. “You just go out to dinner with them even when you’re not interested.”

  “Of all the people in the world, you’re the last person who has the right to criticize anyone on this subject. How many girls are you dangling along right now?”

  He looked at me in the darkness, and suddenly I wasn’t sure if I had the courage to do it—to put words and a name on what had been happening between us. The flirting and the strange, priva
te smiles. The way even now his hand was resting too close to mine.

  “None.” The word slammed into me, knocking every last breath from my lungs. Apparently it wasn’t even worth mentioning—the weird games we’d been playing. “But we’re not talking about me. Do you like him?”

  I glanced at his profile in the darkness, but the expression on his face as he stared out over the fjord could have meant anything. Tuck could teach the Mona Lisa and the Sphinx a thing or two about mystery.

  “Not like that,” I said. “And honestly, I’ve got bigger things on my mind than boys.”

  He turned all the way toward me, shoulders too, until his face was so close that even in the darkness I could see the way his pupils expanded, devouring the gray from the inside out. Now they were watching me, unreadable as ever. One eyebrow arched. Waiting for me to elaborate.

  “I only agreed to go out with Kjell to make Graham angry,” I said, surprising myself. I hadn’t had time to decide exactly how far I was willing to open up to Tuck. To tell him the full and complete truth about everything that was on my mind. “He doesn’t get to run my life. He treats me like I’m too stupid to tie my own shoes. Or decide who I’ll date or what classes I’ll take.”

  “Graham doesn’t think you’re stupid,” Tuck said softly. “Believe me. And if you’re upset, just talk to him—he’s a pretty smart guy, you know. The direct approach is bound to work better than revenge dating your stalker.” He settled back against the roof, his shoulder pressed against mine, and on reflex I found myself leaning against it. “Graham’s stubborn when it comes to you, but that can change. Just remember, to him, you’re still the little girl who sniffled on his shoulder when Tommy Wallen pushed you off your bicycle.”

  “Well, I’m not that eight-year-old anymore.” My voice cracked. I hated him for being right. And myself for being such a coward when it came to standing up to Graham.

  “No.” He shook his head without once taking his eyes off mine. “You’re not.”

  His face was closer now, even though I didn’t notice until his head tipped slightly to the side. It was a signal more universal than SOS and just as panic inducing. The devil on my shoulder told me to close my eyes, to let it just happen, so I did. Even with everything that was going on, I couldn’t let this moment pass me by.

  Tuck edged closer, so close I could taste the heat from his skin, so close the air I inhaled had also crossed those lips. So close I felt the passage of the few remaining molecules of oxygen he displaced as he leaned forward.

  I held my breath.

  I waited.

  And I sat like that for a full count of ten. When I opened my eyes, Tuck had turned away. He’d pulled his knees up against his chest and wrapped his arms around them. His head disappeared into the hood of his sweatshirt.

  The remnants of tension still lingered in the air, like ozone after a thunderclap.

  “Graham’s my best friend,” Tuck’s voice was muffled, far away. “Without him, I’d have flunked out of school. I can’t ask for anything else.”

  “Maybe you don’t have to ask,” I said. The slow spreading sting of rejection was leaving a trail of red up my neck and across my cheeks. “Maybe some things aren’t Graham’s to decide.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” He finally lifted his head and looked at me again. His face was so guarded, he could have been hiding anything. “But Graham’s opinion does matter. Even when he’s wrong.”

  I thought about that for a minute, but it seemed to me Tuck always got what he wanted—from anyone. He could outmaneuver Graham if he just tried hard enough. The real problem was that I’d misread the situation and forced Tuck into making awkward excuses.

  And then I realized that even if there had been a moment between us, a spark, and Tuck had felt it too, maybe he wasn’t ready to risk both Graham and me by acting on it. Either way, it added up to the same answer—complete humiliation.

  I wished with all my might that the whole conversation would just shrivel up and die and its brittle carcass would blow away on the wind. From the way Tuck let it drop like a stone, I knew he felt the exact same way.

  With that, we lapsed back into silence. And this time, not a comfortable one.

  It was just one more devastating item to add to the pile of my problems. Even if I couldn’t tell him what was happening, at least I’d had Tuck and this thing between us to make me feel less alone. Helping me bear the burden of all the secrets I was carrying around. All the crazy mayhem in my mind.

  In one fell swoop, the feeling of closeness with Tuck was gone. There was no way to pick up the thread of the conversation, to act like an avalanche of awkwardness hadn’t just buried our friendship alive. It would have been better to kiss him and let that make things weird if our friendship was in danger anyway.

  So I sat on the roof next to Tucker Halloway, feeling miserable and alone even in the company of the one person I wanted to be with. Wallowing in an unfulfilled longing that so clearly wasn’t reciprocated. I waited long enough that Tuck wouldn’t know how hurt and embarrassed I was.

  Then I rose. “Thank you for saving me today.” I forced my tone to stay light.

  “Anytime.” He relaxed back onto his elbows. I caught a flash of white when he smiled. “But you’d have been fine without me.”

  “We don’t know that, do we?”

  “You’re always better off without me.”

  I almost rose to that bait, offered up on a silver platter. Making it all too easy for me to take a cheap shot and let things slip back to the way they used to be. Our usual routine. But instead I decided to just let my honest answer come out. “No, I’m not,” I said. “Everything is better when you’re around.”

  Before he had a chance to reply and ruin everything, I scooted my way along the sod roof until I could lower my foot over the edge. I wedged my shoe into the drainpipe as I slid down the siding onto the window ledge. Tuck stayed where he was, propped up on his elbows, staring after me. He sighed and leaned back, looking up at the stars. I wondered how long he’d stay like that. After all, I wouldn’t be able to sleep until I heard his window slide shut and his soft footfalls before he climbed into bed.

  THE NEXT MORNING, my brain hurt from a night of restless, anxious sleep. I worried that things would be awkward with Tuck. I worried that I’d come home one day to find Graham staring back at me with white-on-white eyes. Or worse, that he’d disappear altogether. I worried that I was crazy for being so preoccupied with something that could be just a figment of my imagination, cultivated and nurtured by small-town gossips and mass hysteria. But as I scarfed down my breakfast, I mostly worried that if I loitered around the house, Grandmother would try to resume her modesty lecture. Or Kjell would call. I wasn’t prepared to face either eventuality.

  I grabbed a book and went to the nearby soccer field, where I knew I’d find Graham and Tuck. Fortunately, Kjell wasn’t there—even though I recognized a few of his friends on the opposing team. I settled on the sidelines, watching the pickup game gel together.

  During a pause in the play, when everyone else was catching their breath and grabbing some water, a tall boy jogged across the field and over to me.

  “Hi,” he said, glancing over his shoulder and shifting his weight from foot to foot like the grass was on fire. “Have you seen Kjell?”

  I looked over his shoulder too. A group of boys was watching us. “Not since he dropped me off last night,” I said, putting my bookmark in place.

  “He dropped you off last night?”

  I nodded.

  “Then no one but you has seen him since he left the bar,” the boy said. “Not even his mother.”

  “What do you mean?” I pressed my palms together. They slid, suddenly slippery with a thin film of sweat.

  “Just that. No one knows where he is.”

  “Maybe he’s fishing with his dad—or went on a trip or something?” It sounded pathetic, even to my own ears.

  “Or maybe he disappeared.” The boy was lo
oking at me like he expected me to reveal my horns and spit fire any minute. “Just like the people in the other towns. The Valkyries have finally come here too … and so have you.”

  “I’m sure Kjell is fine,” I said. “There must be a simple explanation.”

  The suspicion on his face was no longer thinly veiled. It was open and out there for the whole world to see. “Yes. I wonder what that explanation might be.”

  “You can’t seriously think I have something to do with this?”

  “There are some pretty interesting rumors about your family,” the boy said. “And you’re the last person who saw him.”

  “No, I wasn’t,” I said, rising to my feet, outraged. “Graham and Tucker were there too.”

  “You’d better watch your back. And if he doesn’t turn up soon, you’ll need to watch more than that.”

  Then he was gone, retreating to the safety of his herd. The other boys gathered in a circle around him, casting hate-filled stares back at me as he poured his lies and half-formed theories into their ears.

  Two other boys joined him when he broke away from the group and walked to the middle of the field. “This game is over,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” Graham called back from the sidelines. “You can’t quit while you’re ahead like this. At least give us a chance to catch up.”

  “Sorry, Graham, but the rest of us don’t feel safe here anymore.” He fired a hostile look in my direction. “Ask your sister if you want to know why. She’s caused enough trouble in this town.”

  Every eye on the field turned toward me. I was torn between wanting to curl up and die and wanting to march right out there and make that boy eat his words. The new, violent presence in my mind told me exactly how to do it.

  “If you have a problem with my sister, you can take it up with me,” Graham growled. His tone and posture introduced a side of Graham the world didn’t get see very often. Apparently it was one thing to ask me out but quite another to insult me. If I ever needed confirmation that it was a good thing I’d kept my mouth shut about everything, this was it.