by PJ Friel
I just wanted to know one thing. “Why? Why would a Ljósalf work with a Svartalf? You’ve been enemies for thousands of years.”
Naoko’s gaze flicked to mine and she smiled. “You may be content to remain here as Odin’s lackeys, but I have other plans for my life.”
“You’re a fool if you think this asshole won’t stab you in the back. It’s what they do.” I looked the Svartalf up and down. “Who are you, anyway?”
He chuckled. “Bravado is always so amusing. I am Eamon Duff, loyal servant to his Majesty King Alvis, but you will call me Bani. Heed my name so you can tell Hel who sent you when you get to her domain.”
Finally, we met. I smirked at the man. Death wasn’t much of a threat. My energy would go back to Yggdrasil when I died, not Helheim or even Valhalla. That was the fate of a berserker. This was the end of the line for me.
“Sir, there’s chatter on the police band. Local PD has been dispatched to check on a disturbance at this address,” one of Duff’s men interrupted.
“Well, it looks like we’ll have to move this discussion elsewhere. Gather our dead. No traces left,” Duff ordered.
“I have just the thing for that,” Naoko offered.
Duff smiled at her. “I knew you would.”
“Three prisoners to travel?”
Duff glanced at Frank, who was leaning against the wall, sweating profusely, and completely lacking in color. “Only two. Put your old friend out of his misery.”
Eugenia struggled against the magic holding us, her eyes wild with fear. Naoko moved to Frank and grabbed him by the throat. He tried to resist, but just sunk weakly to his knees.
She traced a rune over his heart. “Cease.”
Frank dropped to the floor.
“Frank!” I called his name, but he didn’t respond.
Naoko raised her arm and traced a glowing symbol in front of me and Eugenia.
My eyes drooped and my knees buckled. With every blink, Duff’s men got closer to me, but there was nothing I could do. My limbs weighed a thousand pounds each. The last thing I saw was Frank’s sightless eyes.
CHAPTER 46
BRYN
Time.
It could be a friend or it could be an enemy. Tonight, we were falling on the “I want to eviscerate you” side of the fence. An accident turned my seven minute drive into fifteen. Fifteen lifetimes. None of them had a happy ending.
Obviously, no one has ever accused me of being an optimist.
I had to admit there was a tiny spark of hope in me, though, until I roared up the driveway and almost ran over my motorcycle. All the lights in the house were out and it felt as if the entire neighborhood held its breath.
Too late. I could feel it in my gut. Didn’t stop me from grabbing a sword out of the trunk and racing into the house.
On autopilot, I hit the light switch by the door. It flared to life and I jerked in surprise. My bag still sat by the door where I’d dropped it not quite an hour before. I stalked forward and stopped at the end of the entryway, listened for the creak of a floorboard, a hush of breath, the whistle of a blade swinging for my neck.
Nothing.
Gripping my sword tighter, I advanced. My aching stomach begged me to turn around and leave, but that was the old me. The girl who ran away from her heritage, and from her parents. The girl who left her best friend standing in a club. The Bryn Ullman who loved Trygg Mackenzie didn’t run anymore. She charged into the darkness, not away from it.
One deep breath. I entered the living room, flipped another switch. And that’s where I stayed, frozen in the light. Me, the badass sword wielder. Me, the woman who doesn’t run. Me, Bryn.
I didn’t move a single step.
But Brynja, the little girl who needed her daddy more than anything in the world, she kept moving, while I stayed behind in a bubble of frigid silence.
I watched her drop her sword.
Watched her drop to her knees beside her daddy.
Watched her grab his bloody hand.
Watched her touch his face.
And when she threw back her head and opened her mouth to scream, I begged the universe to let me stay a watcher.
Instead, the universe shattered around me and my throat opened, anguish gushing out, an endless stream of lava that burned me alive. “Daddy, please! Don’t leave me. Oh god, please, don’t leave me.”
But it was too late.
I was too late.
He was gone. Skin pale, but still warm. How was he dead and warm while I was alive and freezing? His eyes stared up at me. Blank. Unlike his skin, they were cold. No light or life left.
“You should have let me stay,” I sobbed. “Why didn’t you let me stay?”
I rubbed his raw, bloody knuckles. He’d fought so hard to stay alive, to give me a chance to live, but what life did I have now?
“What do I do now?”
I gently closed his eyes, kissing each one, then crossed his hands on his chest. Leather peeked out from under his shirt. Ten years ago I’d given him a bracelet on his birthday and he still wore it.
The summer after I turned sixteen, my mother left us. I thought she’d cheated and they’d let me believe that. So many lies.
Dad tried to hide it, but I could see how much he missed her. I was so hurt and angry at her for leaving and at him for still loving her, but I was determined to be enough. To make sure my dad knew how much I loved him. To ensure he’d never follow in her footsteps.
So, I fixed all his favorite dishes and I made us father-daughter leather bracelets. His said ‘World’s Best Dad’ and mine said ‘Daddy’s Girl’. The smile he gave me as we’d snapped them on together never left his face until the day I ripped my bracelet off and threw it at his feet. I hadn’t seen it since.
Until tonight.
Silently, I removed my bracelet—Daddy’s Girl—from his left wrist and put it back on my own. Then I released my power, let the world around me disappear as I relived one of the best memories of my life and said goodbye to my dad for the last time.
The lasagna was soupy. I’d bled into the salad. Acrid smoke from the garlic bread choked me as I opened a window and then ran into the dining room and performed the please-stop-shrieking dance underneath the smoke alarm. At least the dessert wasn’t ruined. All I had to do was pick it up before my dad—
“Bryn!” his voice called from the entryway.
Got home.
He was early.
I sank to the floor and hung my head. What a disaster.
“Sweetheart, are you okay?” Dad dropped to his haunches in front of me. He cupped my chin and tilted it up to examine my face. “You’re not hurt are you?”
I shook my head.
He grinned at me. “Birthday dinner?”
I nodded.
He stood up and performed the dad version of the please-stop-shrieking dance. The smoke alarm apparently liked his better because it stopped caterwauling. “So, what are we having?”
“Lasagna soup, bloody lettuce, and garlic flavored charcoal briquettes,” I muttered.
His lips twitched, but he refrained from outright laughing in my face. “All my favorites. I’m starved. Let’s go eat.” He tugged me to my feet and I followed him into the kitchen.
Muggy heat hit me in the face, a combination of the oven and the sweltering August weather oozing in through the open window. At least my nose hairs no longer burned from the smell.
“How about you scrape the tops of those briquettes with a knife while I ladle the lasagna into bowls.” He winked at me. “We can skip the salad. Birthdays should be veggie-free, don’t you think?”
“You’re the birthday boy. Choice is yours,” I said, finally smiling.
“That’s right!” He grabbed the salad bowl and emptied it into the trash. “I’m declaring this a veggie-free celebration.”
Moments later, we sat at the dining room table with our runny lasagna and rocky bread. The evening should have been horrible and awkward. Instead, he praised dinner, whic
h ended up tasting pretty good. Then told me funny stories about his students at college and generally made it the most perfect day ever.
After we ate, I slid his present in front of him and held my breath as he unwrapped it. He stared at the bracelets for several long moments, completely silent.
The garlic bread turned to a brick in my stomach and the room blurred around me. He hated them. I just knew it. Such a stupid idea. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”
He shook his head, gave me a confused look. “What? Why are you sorry, honey?”
I reached for them. “I can get you something better.”
He clutched them to his chest. “No, you can’t. I’ve never gotten a more perfect gift.”
“Really?” I sniffled.
“Really. Thank you. Now, hold your wrist out.” He wrapped the Daddy’s Girl bracelet around me and snapped it and then held out his own wrist. “Put mine on for me?”
I nodded and did the honors. I traced a finger over the words. “You really are, ya know?”
“What?”
“The world’s best dad.”
He stood and pulled me against him, squeezed me tight. “I’m not sure about that. I’ll try my best to live up to it. But no matter what, you’ll always be my girl, Bryn. Always. I love you so much and this has been the best birthday ever.”
“You lived up to it,” I whispered as I pulled out of the vision.
“Hey,” a voice said as a hand landed on my shoulder.
I scurried away and jumped to my feet, fists clenched and ready for revenge.
“Whoa. It’s me.”
I dropped my fists. “Jace?”
The two FBI agents from Gideon’s crime scene stood behind him. Agent Harry Watson watched us as his partner looked around. Jace held up his hands in surrender.
Wait. They weren’t agents and Jace wasn’t my friend.
“You’re too late, asshole,” I said.
“Don’t talk to him like that,” Watson snapped. He seemed especially grumpy.
I didn’t care.
“You can fu—”
“It’s fine, Harry,” Jace said. “She has every right to yell at us. I’m sorry, Bryn.”
“Sorry doesn’t bring my father back!” I screamed in his face. It was unfair and I knew it, but all the pain inside me needed a target and Jace was the best I had.
“Calm down, okay? We’re here to help you,” Harbard interrupted.
“I don’t need your help now. Trygg and my parents are—” My frantic gaze darted around the room.
Wait. Dad’s body was the only one I’d found.
Hope jolted through my body and I charged across the hall. Tripping over a displaced carpet, I stumbled and nearly fell. Watson’s hand shot out to steady me, but I caught myself, sent him a glare. He held up his hands as if to ward off my anger. Wasting no time, I barreled up the steps to the second floor.
“Mom! Trygg!” I called out as I ran into my parents’ bedroom.
No answer and no sign of either of them. I ran into my old bedroom, then the guest room, then the bathroom. All empty and spotless. Standing on the landing, waiting patiently, was Harbard, who was suddenly Mr. Friendly Berserker. He leaned against the railing, gray eyes watching as if this whole thing was normal, as if my life wasn’t falling apart.
I wanted to shove him down the steps. Instead, I squeezed by him and raced back downstairs. They could be unconscious in the office or the downstairs bathroom, maybe even the basement, bleeding out as I searched for them.
At the bottom of the steps stood the other agent, examining a katana. I eyed him warily. He looked angry and it made me uneasy, but I wasn’t about to show it.
I showed him my teeth when he blocked my way. “Move.”
“No one alive is down here.”
Did he really think I was going to take his word for it?
“Move,” I repeated.
“Harry, let her look. She needs to see for herself. The cops aren’t coming so we have time,” Harbard said from behind me. His voice was soft and understanding. He seemed completely different from the man I’d interacted with twice before.
“Cops?” I asked.
“Someone called in a noise complaint. We headed it off. Don’t worry about it.”
Watson shot a long-suffering look at his partner, but he moved. I darted into the office then the bathroom. Spotless and empty, like the upstairs. So weird. My mom had been a neat freak, but this was abnormally so.
That tight feeling in my chest moved to my stomach and formed a pit of despair. I trudged to the basement door and pulled it open, flipped on the lights. Each thud of my boots on the steps echoed the beating of my heart, slow and tortured. When I reached the bottom, I sank down and buried my face into my hands.
They weren’t here.
I felt the steps vibrate under me and I knew without looking that Harbard was coming down.
“I know you wanted to find them here, but if you’d found them, they would have been dead. Not finding them means they’re probably alive, at least until whoever has them gets what he wants.”
I stood up. “He wants me.”
“I know.”
“Is Harbard even your name?”
“Yes. My first name is Grimm.”
“How nice for you. Now, get out of my way.”
I was wasting time here, searching an empty house and arguing with a man who didn’t know anything more than I did. The answers I sought could be found in what I wanted least to see.
My dad’s bracelet had brought me solace. Seeing his last moments would haunt me forever. I only hoped that the information I gained would be worth the price.
Grimm moved out of my way and followed me to my dad’s body. “What are you doing?”
“Getting the information that we need, hopefully.”
I dropped back to my knees and laid my palm over the wound in my dad’s side. Power flowed from my fingertips and a vision rose up. I stayed as far above the scene as I could, fighting against being drawn into my dad’s emotions.
Mom and Trygg immobilized. My dad leaned against a wall, a wound in his side. A Svartalf standing in front of him gave a command.
“Put your old friend out of his misery.”
A woman grabbed my dad by his throat.
Naoko?
Dad sank to his knees then Naoko drew a symbol over his heart. “Cease.”
The world disappeared.
“That bitch. I’m going to fucking kill her.”
“Who? What did you just do there?” Harry asked, standing with Grimm to block my way to the door.
“I don’t have time to explain this to you. Just move!”
“I’ll let you by, Brynja, but I can’t allow you to leave here without us. We need to get you secured. I just sent Jace to get your friend Dezi. She’ll be taken to the same place,” Grimm said.
Fear spiked my heart rate. I didn’t like the sound of that. I was going to tell them what I knew, but not if they were going to lock me up somewhere. “I already have my own ride. I don’t need to be taken anywhere.”
“I can hear your heart racing. You don’t need to be afraid of me. I work for Odin, your great-grandfather. I would never hurt you.”
I glared at him. “You say that like I should feel safe with you. The last time my safety was left in the hands of my family’s people, I was kidnapped and tortured for three days. You’ll have to forgive me if you don’t inspire confidence. I think I’ll handle this by myself.”
He winced and a look of sorrow flashed across his face before he schooled his features. “Don’t forget that you were rescued by a berserker.”
I looked him up and down then curled my lip in disgust. “You’re no Trygg Mackenzie.”
His fists clenched, but he didn’t try to use them on me. “That doesn’t change the fact that you need help.”
I wouldn’t argue that, but I didn’t trust them. They’d try to sideline me. I wasn’t a fighter to them. I was some precious little princess requiring
protection.
“Where are you trying to go, Brynja?”
“To find my mother and Trygg,” I stated the obvious.
“I can’t let you do that. I’m under orders.” Grimm stared into my eyes as if he was trying to find something.
“What orders? Whose?”
He shot a look over at Harry, who moved to the doorway, blocking that exit route. He shook his head as if Grimm had asked him a question.
“To keep you safe at all costs.” Grimm’s words were oath-like.
“In case you missed it the first time, I can take care of myself, so you’re dismissed. Go back to wherever you came from.” I dodged to the right, but he blocked my way again.
Another long silent look passed between the two men.
“Look, I’m trying to be sensitive to everything you have gone through tonight, but we really need to get out of here. It’s not safe. They could have men watching us right now and if they report that you’re here, then more will come. A lot more. As good as Harry and I are, we can’t take out forty Svartalf.”
“Speak for yourself.” Harry smirked.
“Not helping, dickhead.” Grimm’s growl made me shiver.
“If they’re coming back here, then here’s exactly where I want to be. You can leave.”
Grimm shook his head. I spun on my heels and marched toward the door. Harry blocked my way, gripped my wrist. I yanked it away.
“Listen to me. You need to go somewhere safe,” Grimm almost pleaded.
“No, what I need is people I can trust,” I snapped.
But who exactly was that? Everyone I loved and trusted was either dead, captured, or on their way to protective custody in a hotel.
“Who can you trust when the lights go out?” Harry echoed my thoughts. “They are the shadows that consume you. You can’t fight them by yourself, Princess.”
“She can’t fight them at all, Harry.”
“I don’t think that’s true anymore.” Harry cocked his head and studied me. “Is it?”
I looked back and forth between them. They were ticking me off. With every moment I wasted arguing with them, my mother and Trygg were that much closer to death.
My gut told me that there was no convincing Grimm. Even though he wore a kind expression, there was a hardness that seeped through. Harry was the smaller of the two and seemed to be coming around to my way of thinking. I’d just have to take advantage of that.
