Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Midnight Burning
Copyright © 2014 by Karissa Laurel. All rights reserved.
First Edition: May 2015
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
For Mom
“The Sun fares swiftly, and almost as if she were afraid: she could not hasten her course any the more if she feared her destruction.”
“It is no marvel that she hastens furiously: close cometh he that seeks her, and she has no escape save to run away.”
“Who is he that causes her this disquiet?”
—Prose Edda, Snorri Sturluson (1179 – 1241)
Translated by Arthur Gilchrist Brodeur,
Ph.D. Oxford University Press, 1916.
Chapter One
My brother, Mani, once told me Alaska was the first place he had ever travelled where he knew he was somewhere different—somewhere decidedly not home—before he ever set foot on the ground. I didn’t understand what he meant until now. Outside my airplane window, the glassy waters of Cook Inlet reflected a bright blue late-summer sky. Dark and looming, the Chugach Mountains encroached from the east. Far to the north, the ghostly, snow-crusted visage of Mount McKinley rose above the landscape, an ancient king, high on his dais, surveying his kingdom.
By comparison, Mani and I had been raised somewhere a little more commonplace. Home was a small town in the foothills of North Carolina, over three thousand miles away. And this was the first time I had ever left it. I probably should have eased into long-distance travel in the same way I eased into a cold swimming pool—one toe at a time. A trip over the border into Gatlinburg. A weekend visit to D.C. But no, I had taken a plunge from the high dive instead, and boy, was I in over my head.
The captain’s calm and assuring voice spilled across the cabin, announcing our approach and descent into Anchorage. Seatbelt signs chimed and flashed. A pair of flight attendants swept down the aisles, collecting trash and reminding passengers to raise seat backs and lock away tray tables. I closed my eyes, drew in a deep breath, and urged my heart to return to its regular pitter-patter pace, but it refused to obey.
I breathed in again and trapped the breath in my lungs. Chill, Solina, I told myself. It’s only a week. I could survive anything for one week, right? And I wouldn’t be on my own. My brother’s best friend, Val Wotan, was at the airport waiting for me. Val had texted me a dozen times to make sure I hadn’t missed my connecting flights or fallen out of the plane somewhere over Canada. Val was expecting me, and I was a glutton for fulfilling others’ expectations. I also owed this trip to my brother, to the honor of his memory. How could I ever look myself in the eye again if I gave in to my doubts? If I didn’t give Mani my absolute commitment?
Val deserved my loyalty, too. In the few years I’d known him, Val had risen from casual acquaintance to something I wasn’t quite ready to label, but just thinking of him made my heart beat a little faster, my breath come a little quicker. Val had earned my regard by being the sibling I couldn’t be for Mani after he’d left home. He had watched Mani’s back, made him welcome and comfortable in a strange and foreign place. He had even saved my brother’s life once.
I chuckled, remembering how Mani had loved to recount the story of the raging bull moose—deep in a rutting frenzy and crazed by the need to mate with anything female and fight anything that wasn’t. Not long after Mani had first arrived in Alaska, he and Val had gone off on a backpacking trip. They came upon the moose on the edge of a meadow and caught it off guard. The moose turned its hostile gaze on Mani, lowered its rack, and charged. Stunned and uncertain how to react, Mani stood frozen in place and watched his life pass before his eyes. Meanwhile, Val calmly drew a .44 Magnum from the side pocket of his backpack and fired off a warning shot. The moose reconsidered his challenge and lumbered away into the woods.
If only Val and his gun had been there the night my brother died. Then I might be coming to Alaska for an entirely different set of reasons.
After an uneventful landing and a short taxi to our gate, the other passengers filtered out from the rows of seating and disappeared through the exit doors. The cabin emptied, and still I sat. My presence drew the attention of a flight attendant passing through on his way to the back of the jet. His sudden halt and surprised expression woke me from my daze. “Is something wrong, miss?” he asked. “Can I help you with anything?”
I blinked and shook my head. “No. Sorry. I’m just… just…”
He patted my shoulder. “First time flying?”
It was a convenient excuse, and not a lie, so I took it. “Nerves got the best of me, I guess.” I rose and stumbled out of my seat. The attendant helped me collect my luggage from the overhead bin. I smiled and thanked him.
“It’s no trouble,” he said. “And it was my pleasure.”
When Val met me at baggage claim, he swept me into a crushing bear hug, and I sank into the comfort of his strength. “God, Solina,” he said. “It’s so good to see you.”
Val Wotan was a towering mass of rough-and-ready Alaskan adventure. A shaggy mop of auburn hair swept over his brow, and a day-old beard shadowed his jaw. He looked as though he could withstand any challenge the wilds of nature could throw at him. Broad shouldered, workman’s hands, ruggedly capable—he inspired my confidence.
“It’s good to see you, too,” I said. “A lot better than the last
time, right?” The last time Val and I had seen each other was at my brother’s funeral, four months ago. Since then Val and I had e-mailed or spoken on the phone weekly. Sometimes more. There were few others with whom we could share our common pain.
Val leaned back and peered at me. “We were all in a bad place then.”
“To say the least.”
The sympathetic look on Val’s face stirred up my grief.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I miss him, too.”
I swallowed my tears and swatted Val’s shoulder. “Don’t get me weepy in the middle of the airport.”
“Look around, Solina.” Val gestured around the airport. “Everyone gets emotional at a homecoming.”
“This isn’t home.”
“They don’t have to know that.” A smile crept onto my lips. In return, Val rewarded me with a blazing bright one of his own, and it warmed my heart. The brotherhood Val bestowed on Mani had passed to me, like an inheritance. He told me when I started planning this trip that he’d be there for me in any way I needed. Before my brother’s death, I would have known exactly what to do with that offer, but now? Now my heart was bruised, raw, and full of grief. I didn’t know if there was room in it for anything, or anyone, else. It was so damaged and fragile. How could I risk causing it more harm?
Someone cleared his throat nearby, and Val released me from the hug. He motioned to a man standing a few feet away, watching us with eyes narrowed and arms folded over his chest in an austere stance. “Solina, let me introduce you to Aleksander Thorin. Mani’s boss… and mine.” Val grimaced at that last bit.
Modern-day Viking—that was my first impression of the man who had employed my brother for the past three years. Aleksander Thorin embodied the stereotype: icy blond coloring, an imposing physique, a subtle air of menace and threat. All he needed was a couple of braids woven through his long hair and a bearskin cloak instead of his blue flannel button-up. His dark eyes evaluated and dismissed me in one blink. Not much of a welcoming party, is he?
“My Jeep is in the shop,” Val said. “Thorin offered to give us a lift.”
I nodded by way of greeting. “I didn’t mean to impose, Mr. Thorin.”
“It’s no trouble, Miss Mundy,” he said in a deep and rumbling voice. “Although I’m not convinced your coming here was the best idea. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s only going to stir up trouble.”
His unsolicited opinion raised my hackles. What did this man, this stranger, presume to know about me or my situation? “I came here to close out Mani’s affairs. See to his personal things. My parents and I have put this off long enough.”
“Thorin,” Val said, stepping between us. “Don’t give her a hard time. She’s not one of your tour guides.”
“Of course.” Thorin relaxed his severe posture, unfolded his arms, and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I apologize, Miss Mundy. Let me make it up to you. Dinner and drinks—my treat.”
Before I could misunderstand Thorin’s intentions, Val explained. “Boss Man’s hosting a get-together tonight. He does it every once in a while. Employee appreciation, you know?”
Part of me wanted to refuse because I suspected Aleksander Thorin rarely heard the word “no” and I liked the idea of ruffling his cool demeanor. But doing so might have denied me the chance to meet my brother’s friends and co-workers, and that was one of my many reasons for making this trip. I curved my lips into what I hoped was an agreeable smile. “Sure. Sounds great.”
My brother had lived in the harborside village of Siqiniq, a good two hours’ drive from Anchorage along a highway that wound among evergreen forests, snowcapped mountains, and the gray-green waters of Turnagain Arm, Kenai Lake, and Resurrection Bay. Aleksander Thorin drove with single-minded focus and only spoke if directly addressed, but Val talked about inane things along the way and pointed out local attractions: a forlorn and solitary roadside moose, the Alaska Railroad (but no train), and Beluga Point (sadly lacking signs of habitation).
Once we reached Mani’s apartment complex, Thorin eased his Range Rover into a space beside my brother’s old 4-Runner. He shifted into neutral but stayed behind the wheel, letting his SUV idle while Val helped me unload and tote my bags up to my brother’s apartment.
Someone had shoved Mani’s things into haphazard piles when they painted and installed new carpet in his living room. The reek of fresh latex and acrylic burned my nose and obliterated any scent of my brother that might have lingered.
“You okay here by yourself?” Val asked. “You’re probably going to run into a few ghosts.”
I inhaled a shallow breath. “I’ll be okay. It’ll be nice to be in Mani’s place with his stuff. It’ll feel like he’s around somewhere, waiting to come home.”
Val arched an eyebrow. “And you honestly think you can clean out his apartment, box up his stuff, and move on?”
“It’ll be cathartic.”
He frowned. “Or masochistic.”
Val pulled out his wallet and rifled through the contents until he found a business card for Thorin Adventure Outfitters. He handed it to me. “I’m going to the store with Thorin. That card has the number on it. Call me there around seven, and I’ll come pick you up for the party. My Jeep should be out of the shop by then.”
The card displayed Val’s name in tiny print beneath the larger, bolder letters that spelled out M. Aleksander Thorin, CEO. “Chief Ego Officer,” I muttered.
“What?”
I waved in a never-mind gesture. “I’ll see you later.”
“Tonight,” Val said as he stepped past me into the breezeway.
I pressed the door closed behind him and went into Mani’s bedroom. In his closet I found his dirty clothes stuffed into a bulging hamper. After gathering a bundle of denim and cotton in my arms, I buried my face in the fabric. The organic odors of Mani’s skin filled my nose. Still breathing him in, I sank cross-legged to the floor and let the shade of my brother envelop me in its memories.
Chapter Two
Val opened the passenger door of his rust-encrusted CJ-7 and motioned for me to climb in. “It’s not much of a carriage, but we aren’t exactly going to a ball.”
“So, where are we going?” I asked.
“Just a place where the locals like to hang. It’s more of a dive than anything, but they have cold beer and good food. Best of all, Thorin’s paying for it.”
“I hope I didn’t overdress.”
Val chuckled as he appraised my scruffy knee boots and fleece jacket. He fingered the tail of the blond braid straggling over my shoulder and said, “You’ll fit in fine.”
The bar was so close we could have walked and saved the gas, but Val insisted on playing chivalrous knight. He parked in front of a building constructed from a hodgepodge of tin sheeting and cinderblocks. A hand-painted sign tacked to the wall by the front entrance welcomed us to “The Pits.” Val helped me from the Jeep and eased a hand to the small of my back. He held the door open and ushered me into the dark, crowded quarters, where the tang of old beer, fried food, and warm bodies slinked up close and curled itself around me.
With his hand still hovering near my tailbone, Val stopped us and shouted into the crowd of rowdy patrons. “Hey, everybody! Listen up!” The room fell silent. All eyes turned to us, and I blushed under the scrutiny. “This is Solina Mundy, Mani’s sister. She’s going to be in town for a while, so show her a good time, all right?”
Someone hollered from across the room, “Bring her over here and I’ll show her a good time right now.” The crowd hooted and whistled.
Val waved for quiet. “She’s a Southern belle, so she’s used to good manners.” He pointed toward the back of the crowd. “Hugh, that means you don’t stand a chance.” Everyone laughed again and returned to their drinks and conversations. Thank God. I hated being the center of attention.
A dark, curly-haired woman, tattooed and pierced, parted from the crowd. She slapped my shoulder and said, “Welcome to Alaska.” She offered her hand, so I s
hook it. “Skyla Ramirez. I was friends with Mani. He was a good guy. The best.”
“You worked with him?” I asked.
“Most of us did.” Skyla motioned around the room. “Almost all of us are Thorin’s employees or loyal customers.”
“You do adventure tours?”
Skyla nodded. “Kayaking is my specialty.”
“I’ve always wanted to try that.”
“Anytime, Mundy. Just give me a call.”
In a short time, I met more people than I ever hoped to remember. And they gave me more beers than I ever hoped to drink, although I tried my best to keep up. Someone stuffed the ancient jukebox full of quarters, and several people took turns dancing me around the room. For a while I managed to forget about Mani, or at least about the bad stuff. With all of his friends around, I remembered my brother as the fun-loving life of the party, and his spirit lingered in us all.
The jukebox went quiet, and conversation compensated for the silence until David Gilmour’s voice ghosted from the speakers, haunting in a way that gave me goose bumps when he crooned about being comfortably numb. I had added the song to my favorite playlist several months ago and often fell asleep to it playing on repeat. Val pushed his way through the crowd and pulled me into his arms. “Dance with me,” he said.
“Did you pick this song?” I asked as he swayed against me.
“Yes, why?”
“It’s one of my favorites.”
“Mm-hmm.” Val nodded. “Mani was a big Pink Floyd fan.”
“This jukebox has a very familiar collection of music.”
“Probably because your brother donated most of the records in it.”
“Why does that not surprise me?”
Val smiled. “He said that since he spent so much time and money here, the least they could do was play some decent music. Before Mani’s donations, they only had Willie, Johnny, and Waylon, the trifecta of country.”
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