Midnight Burning

by Karissa Laurel

  I made a huge sandwich from the supplies in our cooler and ate it while I prowled around outside. A small yard reached from the cabin to the water. Acres of forest surrounded the little house on the north side of the property and bordered the driveway. Skyla said the neighbors’ places were no more than a quarter mile away on either side of us, but they liked their privacy. I walked the long gravel drive to where it ended on an unmarked state road in need of repaving. No cars rolled by even after a minute or two of watching, so I turned on my heel and strolled back down the driveway.

  Someone had built a fire pit near the bank of the lake, and a small dock protruded into the water. I kicked my shoes off in the grass yard and padded out onto the dock, finishing my last bite of sandwich as I went. The chill in the air made the water feel warm on my bare toes when I dipped them in, so I rolled up the cuffs of my borrowed jeans, sat on the end of the dock, and plopped my feet into the lake.

  No men, no gods, no wolves. I lounged against the wooden planks of the pier and stared into the blue sky, reveling in the peace and quiet that was only interrupted by the occasional bass boat in the distance, zooming across the water. I inhaled a deep breath and let it out in a huge sigh. A fly buzzed. A bird sang. A fish jumped up and landed with a splash. Skyla was right. This was way better than the city.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  I made several more rounds around the perimeter of the property while the others slept, checking for signs of intruders, but after each round, I wound up on the dock again, toes back in the water. This place reminded me of home, of Lake Norman, just a few minutes from my house. The few times my family had ever taken vacations, we usually wound up there. I had a feeling if my parents ever retired, my dad could happily spend the rest of his days camped out on a dock, responsible for nothing more than the supervision of a couple of fishing poles.

  I had promised Thorin I would call my parents, but now was not the time for dragging out cell phones. Their signals were too easy to track. What was I going to tell Mom and Dad anyway? What could I say that they would ever believe?

  The sun had almost set when Skyla stumbled down to the dock, still groggy and sleep drunk. She squatted beside me. “I feel a hundred times better after that nap. Now if only I could get a shower.”

  I moved as if I was going to shove her in the lake. “You can have a bath right here.”

  Skyla made the girliest sound I’d ever heard from her and wiggled out of my grasp. “Not funny.”

  “I thought it was very funny,” I said. “Who knew you could scream like that?”

  “I didn’t scream.”

  “No, it was more of a prissy-girl shriek.”

  “Don’t you have something better to do? Go fix us some dinner or something.”

  “Do we get more of those really great reconstituted meals like on our kayaking trip?”

  “Yes, unless you managed to catch some fish with your bare toes.”

  I pulled my feet from the water and checked my toes. “Nope, no fish.”

  “Then it’s spaghetti Bolognese.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

  “I bet your taste buds disagree.”

  Inside the cabin, Kalani and Inyoni had lit all the kerosene lamps and dug out a couple of old board games. They set up Monopoly while I put water on to boil for our dinner. Skyla made salads, and then we ate, played Monopoly, drank wine that Kalani pulled out from her grocery bags, and talked about a side of the Valkyries I hadn’t learned about during my stay in the Aerie.

  “So, the Valkyries were Odin’s battle maids,” I said. “What exactly does that mean? I can tell y’all are some tough cookies, but did you actually fight for him?”

  Kalani rolled her dice, moved her doggie figurine, and landed on my Oriental Avenue property. She counted out the rent money as she answered. “Primarily, our job was to attend to human battles. Odin tasked us to select the bravest and most skilled warriors to fill his halls in Valhalla. We were like your idea of angels of death.”

  Skyla snorted. “But here’s the kicker. They chose who would die in battle, decided which army would be victorious, and basically allowed the best ones to be killed. The soldiers were taken to these paradisiacal halls in the lands of the gods, which sounds like a great reward, only Odin was storing them for his use in Ragnarok, to fight on his behalf.”

  “But that is a warrior’s passion,” Inyoni said. “They live, die, and are reincarnated by the sword. It was an honor to be chosen for Odin’s army, and they were treated like kings.”

  “So, do you do that now?” I asked. The Monopoly game had lost all interest for me. “Do you decide if battles are lost or won?”

  “We don’t because no one asks it of us. If an Aesir were to command it and reinstate our full powers, then yes, we would return to our old ways.”

  “But that hardly seems fair,” I said. “Wouldn’t taking the best soldiers leave one side more vulnerable to defeat?”

  “We come from all nations. We have no allegiance to earthly governments or political parties,” Kalani said, putting on a patient teacher face. “We pledge our allegiance to the Aesir. We are impartial to human factions.”

  “But what about good versus evil?”

  Inyoni snorted, but Kalani silenced her with a look. “It’s all a matter of perspective, isn’t it? Both sides think they’re good. They think their god is giving them support. They all think the enemy is evil. Who is right?”

  “Couldn’t you say the same about good and evil for the gods?” I asked. “I bet Helen would say her cause is just.”

  Kalani shook her head. “When speaking of gods, good and evil is more elemental. It isn’t Shiite versus Sunni, democracy versus theocracy—it’s a hurricane versus a stalk of wheat. Do you know which the humans are in this analogy?”

  Kalani had a valid argument, I could admit that, but that fact settled into my gut like spoiled meat. In a way, the Valkyries and I were on the same team, but in my mind I was still the person I had been a month ago, before I knew these truths. That Solina had a rigid sense of right and wrong, good and evil. This new realm blurred those lines, and adapting to that took time.

  I stood, gathered dirty dishes, and dumped them into a sink full of suds I made from the leftover boiling water we had used to reconstitute our dinner. The other women went on playing Monopoly, but a solemn air had settled over the room. Out here on the lake’s edge, with no traffic noise, no electronics, no hum of appliances, the quiet was substantial, almost sentient. So, when a flock of birds sent up a cacophony of screeches and wing flapping, the racket ripped through the atmosphere like a bomb, so startling that all four of us flinched.

  I looked to Skyla; she cut her eyes to the front windows facing the dark lake. The Valkyries jumped to their feet, drawing weapons as if from thin air. Inyoni clutched a sword – a long, silver, old-fashioned thing – and Kalani held a wide, curved knife in each hand.

  “What’s happening?” I asked, clutching the stem of an acrylic wine glass as if it, too, were a weapon. I didn’t understand the Valkyries’ sudden defensiveness.

  “Birds,” Inyoni said.

  “Yes,” I said. “And we are excited about that why?”

  “Birds are portentous of many things,” Kalani answered.

  “Death,” Inyoni said.

  “The arrival of a deity,” Kalani said.

  “The sighting of a tasty horde of gnats,” I said. “The proximity of a predator. A good, stiff breeze or the onset of a storm.” A sharp clap of thunder underscored my sentiment. A moment later, the metallic rattle of rain on the tin roof dampened the flame of everyone’s anxiety. We all audibly exhaled.

  “Are y’all going to sleep with those under your pillows?” I asked, motioning to their weapons.

  Aghast, Kalani said, “Of course. You would too if you didn’t have the ability to boil blood with your bare hands.”

  “But why swords? Inyoni, you said your hands were all you needed.”

  Inyoni nodded. “For
regular human predators. Helen and her kind are not regular.”

  “What does that mean?” Skyla asked.

  “It means that mundane weapons have no effect on them,” Kalani said. “Not in the long run. Oh, they feel pain, and bullets and fists can weaken them temporarily, but their immortality is obstinate.”

  Skyla looked at me. “That would explain why the wolf wasn’t bothered by my bullet.”

  “If bullets don’t stop them, then what good are a couple of blades?” I asked.

  Inyoni stepped closer and held out the flat of her sword. She ran her finger over the surface, and only then did I notice the carvings in the metal. I had seen something similar engraved on the bracelets on Thorin’s wrists—letters or figures, but from an unfamiliar alphabet. “Runes,” Inyoni said. “Words of magic bestowed on the Valkyries by Odin. They were one of the greatest gifts he gave us. The only trick we have for defeating immortality.”

  I frowned and leaned forward to get a closer look at the markings. “You could kill Thorin and Val with this?”

  Inyoni shook her head. “These might do more damage than a normal, human weapon, but these runes are particularly designed for the Jotunn and the creatures from their realm. Odin bestowed the Aesir with additional layers of protection. Secret runes that even we are not allowed to know. The Aesir are nearly indestructible.”

  “Nearly, but not completely,” I said. “The spear, Gungnir, would do the trick. Tori said so.”

  “Gungnir, Mjölnir…” Kalani narrowed her eyes and nodded at me. “Maybe even Sol’s fire.”

  I shivered as if swallowing a shot of tequila and changed the subject. “So what’s the plan for tonight?”

  “I’m taking the first half of night watch, and then Inyoni,” Kalani said as she strapped her knives into sheaths at her waist. She shrugged into a rain jacket but left it open for easier access to her weapons. “You get some rest. You’ll be back on watch in the morning.”

  “You’re going outside, in the dark and the rain?”

  Kalani shook her head. “I’m just going out to the porch. I want to be able to keep my ears and eyes open to what’s going on outside.”

  “I’d say good luck,” I said. “But when you’ve got weapons like that, luck seems a little superfluous.”

  Kalani patted my shoulder and said, “Good luck is never superfluous.” Then she went outside to greet the rain. I turned toward the living room and found Inyoni had traded her sword for a box containing the contents of another board game. “Anyone want to bet it was Colonel Mustard in the library with the lead pipe?”

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  The rumble of thunder and chant of rain provided a soundtrack to the rest of our evening. Skyla and Inyoni stayed in the living room and shuffled cards for a game of rummy while I went into the loft and read a mildewy mystery novel I had found in the same cabinet where the board games were stored. Skyla and Inyoni eventually dozed off, squished together on the futon like a couple of kids in the backseat of a long car ride.

  Despite their awkward posture, they must have slept deeply, because the shriek that ripped through the silence failed to wake them. Or had I heard it only in my dreams? Either way, it felt real and immediate.

  “Skyla,” I hissed, sliding from the loft. I slipped to the floor and knelt to unearth my boots from underneath the futon. She didn’t wake, so I said her name louder. “Skyla.”

  Skyla blinked and rolled her head around to face me. “Hmmm?”

  “When was Kalani due back?”

  Inyoni was awake now, too, quick and alert. She checked her watch. “A half-hour ago.”

  “What is it?” Skyla asked, whipping off her blankets and reaching for the knife stuffed between the cushion and armrest. The light from the kerosene lamp on the coffee table glinted on its edge.

  “I think I heard something. It sounded like a scream. I think it was Kalani.”

  “It’s not like her to be late,” Inyoni said. She stood and gathered her sword and a flashlight, which she passed to Skyla. Then she dug out another flashlight from her bag and clicked it on. The three of us went to the front door, and Inyoni shoved it open with a screech of protesting hinges. We peered into the darkness.

  My heart rose into my throat. “How? How did they find us?”

  Skyla froze, her body language indicating she was fierce and ready to fight, but she said, “We don’t know that it’s Helen. Let’s not jump to conclusions.”

  “You didn’t hear that scream,” I said. “Whatever provoked her to make that sound… it wasn’t her own shadow.”

  Inyoni’s face hardened. “Kalani is tough and formidable. Maybe it was Helen you heard screaming.”

  We stood in a semicircle around the porch door and held our breath, listening. The rain had eased and pattered softly on the leaves. An owl hooted. Something splashed far out in the lake, and then nothing. “What do we do?” I whispered.

  “Call for her?” Skyla asked Inyoni.

  Inyoni shook her head. “No, it will give away our position.”

  “If someone’s out there, they already know where—” Skyla’s statement was shattered by a scream, this one unquestionably terrorized and full of pain.

  “Kalani!” Inyoni jumped from the steps, blade drawn, flashlight bouncing in her other hand. She dashed into the yard, turning her light in an arc around the tree line.

  “Inyoni, wait!” I yelled. “We need to stay together!”

  “No. We need to get you the hell out of here,” Skyla said, grabbing my wrist in a painful grip. She tugged me off the porch, moving away from the tree line and toward the truck.

  “We can’t leave them,” I said, pulling hard against Skyla’s grasp. Damn, but she was strong.

  “We can leave them and we will. They’re warriors, Solina. Let them do their job. Let me do mine, too.”

  “Your job is to run like a coward?” I asked, planting my feet as we neared the truck.

  “No, it’s to make sure you escape and live to fight another day.”

  “But I—” A shadow moved in my peripheral vision, startling me into silence. Snarling and gnashing its teeth, a familiar shaggy figure emerged from the tree line opposite the one into which Inyoni had disappeared. The wolf’s amber eyes glinted in the beam of Skyla’s flashlight. The wolf raised his snout and bayed at a moon that was lost behind a thick layer of clouds. Chills broke out over my neck and shoulders, and I stepped closer to the truck. Skyla’s plan to run suddenly sounded like genius.

  “Come back to finish what you started?” Skyla brandished her knife at the wolf. “Didn’t get enough of an ass-kicking the last time and now you want some more?”

  Headlights and the rumble of tires interrupted her patter. The beams, like spotlights on a stage, lit up the scene; Skoll’s fangs gleamed in their glow. At least, I assumed the wolf was Skoll; it made sense, if Helen was sticking to the old ways. The car, a dark sedan, stopped, and its engine shut off. The headlights flickered off. The wolf growled again, but he held his place. Skyla and I found it prudent to do likewise. The driver’s door opened, and in the momentary glow of the interior light, I saw a familiar face.

  “Aw, Nate,” I said. “Tell me you’ve come to rescue me.”

  Nate shut the door and fell into darkness. His shadowy figure stepped closer to us, but Skyla waved him back, brandishing her knife and flashlight. “Afraid not, my dear,” he said.

  “That’s a shame,” I said.

  “A terrible waste, yes. I had grown quite fond of you after our introduction.”

  “I liked you, too,” I said, breathing hard with the effort of keeping my terror at bay. “But apparently I’m not a great judge of character.”

  Nate chuckled, completely nonchalant. “If I come closer, I think it is safe to assume you will roast my chestnuts, no?”

  I split my lips and showed him my best man-eater smile. “Oh, yes.” I would have given him an example, except it would have wasted energy that was better saved for battle. My fire was there
, though, sizzling under the surface, ready when I needed it.

  “And Helen Locke is quite insistent that nothing harm you other than Skoll, lest her plans fall awry.”

  “Right. The wolves eat the sun and moon to bring about Ragnarok. Been there, done that.” It was an old cliché, but I could think of nothing more apropos. “How does she even know it will work this time?”

  “Well, Solina, one good truism deserves another. How about, ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it?’”

  “So, we’re going to sit here and wait for Skoll to finish what his brother started? I don’t think so. Skyla and I put up a good fight, and I’d rather take my chances with you.”

  “That might not be a terribly unpleasant proposition, Miss Mundy, if you were a regular woman. But I’ve tasted of your fire and found that one time sufficient.”

  Skyla pushed forward. “Helen must give some really good head to get you doing all her dirty work.”

  Nate’s good humor vanished. “You shouldn’t speak of things you don’t understand. It exposes you as ignorant and vulgar.”

  “Well, we can’t all be as well versed as you and Helen in the language of megalomania.”

  I grabbed Skyla’s elbow and tugged her toward the truck. “It’s been fun getting reacquainted and everything,” I said, “but I have other plans for the remainder of my life. You wouldn’t mind moving your car out of the way, would you?”

  Nate chuckled, and it was a cold and menacing sound. “I think not. But you’re welcome to make a run for it. It’s more sporting that way.”

  I took another step toward the truck but stopped when someone came crashing through the woods behind us. Skyla and I turned, and the beam of her flashlight revealed an unfamiliar man clutching Inyoni in front of him and pressing a long-bladed knife to her throat. He stopped short when he caught sight of us, and his gaze fell heavy on me. “Why do I always have to eat the boy?” he said. “I’d much rather have had a taste of her.”