“I quite agree,” Dainn said softly.
Immediately Mist regretted her remark, but it was too late to take it back. Bryn looked back and forth between them with an expression that made Mist wish she and Dainn had a big chunk of the Great Void between them.
She wondered how Bryn would feel about Dainn when she learned who the elf really was. Dainn Faith-breaker, traitor to the Aesir. Would she understand as Mist had learned to do?
Mist wasn’t about to mention that now. She leaned toward her Sister. “Listen. I want to make sure your people understand what they’re riding into. We have to find the other Treasures, keep Loki from getting too far ahead of us, and be prepared to fend off attacks at any time—all while we try to reestablish our connection to Freya and Ginnungagap.”
“That’s a pretty tall order,” Bryn said. “You do expect other mortals to help save their world?”
“I’m counting on it,” Mist said.
“How do you plan to get them?”
“They’ll be coming for the same reason you and the Einherjar did,” she said, avoiding once again the subject of her glamour, and trying to convince herself that what she said was true. “I’m working on buying a few warehouses that can be set up as dormitories. Meantime, we need to put your people through their paces, find out what battle skills they have and what they need to be taught.”
“One benefit of being descended from gods, elves, and heroes,” Bryn said, “is that they all have excellent reflexes and natural fighting ability.”
“With knives, maybe, and hand-to-hand,” Mist said. “But I’m not talking about bar brawls or fistfights. Since we’re still confined to ancient weapons—”
“—because firearms and bombs and such won’t work for either side in this fight,” Bryn said, confirming what Mist had told her earlier.
“Right. Your people will have to be good with swords, spears, and axes, and learn how to use them both to kill and disable. The most important thing is to get them up to speed quickly.”
“I’ll take care of that,” Bryn said.
“You’ll be covering a lot of ground alone.” Mist rubbed her gritty eyes. “I won’t soft-pedal this. It’s going to be tough, and even though it was something of a draw this last time we fought, Loki still has the advantage. He just can’t bring any more Jotunar over from Ginnungagap, at least not until—if—the bridges open for our allies in the Shadow-realms.”
“But you think Freya closed the bridges?”
“We’re still not sure. But one way or another, you’re going to be facing all kinds of magic, from Loki and the giants he already has. People are going to die.”
“We know that,” Rick said, running his hand over his perspiring pate. “We have from the start.”
Mist nodded and leaned back. “We’ll need regular patrols to keep an eye on the Jotunar and whoever else Loki has crawling around the city stirring up trouble,” she said, “and we’ll need to keep on top of the local news, papers and Internet for any strange goings-on. San Francisco is at the center of this, so at least we won’t have to be scouring the whole world or even the entire country for signs of his influence. Loki’s going to look for followers who are easily corrupted, who want money or power or both. If any of your people have dealt with street crime—”
“You think we’d naturally know people like that, huh?” Rick cut in. “Just because we ride bikes? Because maybe we’re not pretty, like your boy here?”
“I’m sure that’s not what she—” Bryn began.
Rick got to his feet. “Bryn says we’re supposed to follow you without asking any questions. You want to test us. What if we want to test you?”
2
“Rick!” Bryn said, rising to face him.
But Dainn was already within reach of the biker, his expression far from friendly. Mist could hear his heart rate increase, see the twitch of his upper lip. His eyes were all pupil. His fists clenched, and she could feel the hair rising on the back of her neck.
She got up slowly. “Dainn,” she said.
He didn’t so much as glance at her. Rick’s eyes narrowed in calculation, as if he had somehow identified the source of Dainn’s unexpected behavior.
But neither he nor Bryn could possibly imagine what Dainn was capable of.
“Dainn,” she repeated slowly and distinctly. “Stand down.”
“Rick, go round up the Einherjar,” Bryn said in a voice that brooked no disagreement. “I want to talk to them as soon as possible.”
With a grunt and a glare at Dainn, Rick obeyed, slipping past the elf without touching him. Dainn watched him leave, his muscles tensed as if he’d pursue and bring the biker down like a starving wolf after a stag in winter.
“Dainn,” Mist said quietly.
He turned to stare at her, shivered violently, and shook his head. He was about to leave when Mist called him back. He leaned against the wall, shoulders hunched, head down.
“Oh-kay,” Bryn said. “What was that all about?”
“You tell me,” Mist said, standing between her Sister and the elf. “Why the hostility from Rick, just because I asked a reasonable question? Why did he suddenly decide he had to test me?”
“I’ll have a talk with him,” Bryn muttered.
“I apologize,” Dainn said, his voice hoarse and almost unrecognizable. “There will be no trouble on my part.”
As if Dainn could make such a guarantee, Mist thought grimly. “We can’t afford internal conflicts now,” she said to Bryn. “You and I have a lot more to cover, but you’d better take care of your people. We can go over details later.”
“I’ll need to send some of them out for provisions, too,” Bryn said, watching Dainn out of the corner of her eye. “They’ve pretty much eaten you out of house and home. And we’ll need another refrigerator. Can’t expect the Einherjar to go without beer.”
Neither the human nor the divine ones, Mist thought. Though she’d be lucky if she ever saw Odin’s eternal warriors again.
“I’ll keep you posted,” Bryn said. She hesitated, glancing at Dainn again. “Can I have a word with you, Mist? In private?”
“Stay here,” Mist ordered Dainn. He remained where he was, staring at nothing. The women went into the kitchen.
“If it’s about Rick and Dainn—” Mist began.
“It’s about us, back during the war,” Bryn said, her piquant face very grave. “You asked me before how I survived the Nazi attack in Norway when you thought I was dead. I never got around to telling you, with all the other things.…” She sighed. “That rag lady who introduced me to Rick and told me to find my family? I saw her when I was lying in the snow, or someone like her. At least, I thought I did. And then I woke up in a cabin, alone, and healed of my injuries. There was a kind of … voice in my head that told me to go and keep on going without looking back.”
Mist stared at her. “So this rag lady has been following you around since the war?”
“It almost seems like it, doesn’t it?” Bryn said. “But I didn’t see her in all those years in between. I should have gone back to Norway, but I never did. I’m sorry I abandoned you, sorry I never tried to find you again.”
“You were killed and came back to life,” Mist said, clasping her Sister’s hand. “How could you return to the place where you died?”
“But I let you believe…” Bryn sniffed. “I let you carry that guilt for decades. I want to apologize for that.”
“I accept, my Sister,” Mist said. “At least we’ve found each other again, and we’ll win our war this time.”
“Thanks.” Bryn smiled crookedly. “If that lady turns up again, I’ll be sure to tell you right away. But I think I’d rather be dead than see her a third time.”
“That’s enough of that,” Mist said. She took her Sister by the shoulders and kissed her cheeks. “If you think of any other details that might matter, let me know.”
“I will.” Bryn bobbed her head, birdlike, backed away, and half ran out of the room.
Moving slowly, Mist returned to the living room. She was still in a state of shock over what Bryn had told her … almost as much as she’d been when Bryn had first turned up, alive and well, on her doorstep.
Who was that cursed rag lady?
Maybe they had another hidden ally. She could only hope.
Whatever Dainn was thinking now, Mist didn’t think it had anything to do with hope.
“What’s all this with Rick?” she asked him as she walked through the door..
“I am sorry,” Dainn said, his gaze locked on the carpet at his feet.
His humility and genuine regret flushed all the anger out of Mist’s body. He’d been there for her, suffered for her, and still she never seemed to know what to say to him.
“Bryn doesn’t know about you yet,” she said, “and I want to keep it that way until I’m ready.”
Dainn looked up. “Would it be wise to tell her who I am?”
“Are you talking about your identity as a condemned traitor to the Aesir, or about the part of yourself you almost put on full display a few minutes ago?”
“Either, or both,” he said, surprisingly cool and matter-of-fact. “Bryn, like Vidarr, might choose not to work with such a traitor. And she will rightfully fear what I can become.”
“I told you I wanted to help you control it.”
“Yes. But now you must rest.”
She sighed at his stubborn persistence. “You’re the one who looks like Lee dragged you out of the gutter,” she said, heading for the kitchen again.
“I believe I have, on occasion, looked worse.” Mist flashed back to the day she’d found him, sprawled in the mud and dressed in filthy, ill-fitting rags. She almost smiled.
“I’d say it’s a draw,” she said.
“Nevertheless, I must remind you—”
“I thought we agreed that you’re not my mother,” Mist said, falling into one of the kitchen chairs. Her head ached like Hel, and she wished she had the energy to go get the ibuprofen out of the bathroom cupboard. She made do with massaging her temples, digging her fingertips hard into the muscle.
Dainn sat at the opposite side of the table. “Mist.”
She knew from the tone of his voice that she wasn’t going to like what he was about to say. She dropped her hands and regretted it immediately. “Spit it out,” she said.
“Are you certain you can trust these mortals?”
“You were just wondering if they’d trust you,” she said as he leaned against the counter. “I knew Bryn for centuries before the Last Battle, and we fought side by side in the Second World War.”
“Yes,” he said. “But it is her followers I doubt.”
“You convinced me to become the leader of our army, such as it is,” she said, “and now you won’t trust my judgment?” She gave him a hard, searching look. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe Rick has figured out you’re more than you seem, and he was testing you?”
“He cannot possibly know—”
“If the bikers are as unusual as Bryn says they are, we don’t know what’s possible.”
“If these mortals threaten you—”
“I can handle it myself.”
His gaze slipped away from hers. “You are right, of course.”
His sudden acquiescence didn’t make her feel much better. She took a breath, eager to change the subject. “What about Freya?”
”Nothing has changed. I still cannot reach her.”
“You can bet Loki will keep on looking for potential bridges with the hope of opening them,” Mist said. “All we can do is try to keep up. With luck, he’ll keep on believing that my abilities are dependent on my mother’s, and he’ll get sloppy.” She glanced at the clock. “I can’t believe the kids haven’t come down yet.”
“You did instruct them to stay upstairs,” Dainn reminded her.
“I didn’t think they’d be so obedient.” She frowned, remembering all too well how slippery they could be, and how badly they wanted to stay in spite of all the danger. “Can you go check on them? They should know at least some of what’s going on, even if they won’t be here much longer.”
The deep indigo of Dainn’s eyes grew darker still. “Are you sure I can be trusted with alone with them?”
“If you’re talking about what happened in the gym—“
“I tried to kill Ryan.”
“That wasn’t you, and it’s not going to happen again. Ryan still believes in you.”
“Because he has a…” Dainn trailed off, his expression both grim and bewildered.
“A crush on you?”
“He is hardly more than a child, even in mortal years, and you and I both know that the dangerous consequences of his visions are likely to become worse the longer he remains here.”
“That’s why Tashiro and I are working on getting him and Gabi away as soon as possible. But I hope you’ll be a little gentle with him until then.”
“Would that not be even more cruel?” Dainn asked. “Gentleness, as you call it, will only encourage him to believe—”
“That there’s some hope for him?” Mist said, feeling an unexpected tightness in her chest. “He’s not an idiot. He already knows there isn’t.”
Dainn looked at her, his entire body as rigid as stone. She knew what was going through his mind now, even though he’d only let her see it on rare occasions. Just as she had done her best not to let him …
Pummeled by the sheer force of his stare, Mist found herself remembering that kiss, the one that had brought her back from the fugue state she’d been in during much of the fight with Loki. Sleeping Beauty in reverse.
If things had been different … if there had been any way it could possibly have worked …
“I think I’d better eat something,” she said, rising to look in one of the ransacked cupboards. She found a package of ramen noodles and a jar of peanuts.
“Protein,” she said, setting the jar on the table. “This is going to have to do until—”
She never finished the sentence. There was a woman standing in the doorway. Dainn followed her gaze and nearly leaped out of his chair.
It was the first time Mist had “seen” her mother as a physical entity, though the goddess had twice shared Mist’s body to fight Loki. Yet Mist couldn’t possibly doubt who stood before her.
Freya wore flowing robes that alternately revealed and concealed her lushly curved figure. Her golden hair hung in abundant waves around her shoulders, and the scent of primroses hung heavy in the air, almost cloying in its intensity. Her beauty was startling, but her eyes were cold, turning her seemingly benevolent expression into a cruel parody of itself.
Dainn had said he couldn’t reach her. Yet here she was, as if she’d taken strength from last night’s fight and had finally completed her physical transformation.
Or it would have seemed that way if Mist hadn’t been able to see right through her.
“Freya,” Mist said, quickly overcoming her shock.
The goddess didn’t even glance at her. She strode into the kitchen and faced Dainn as if she didn’t know her daughter was there. Fury radiated from her body in almost tangible waves.
“Traitor!” she spat.
Dainn stared at her, his face blank with astonishment. “Lady?” he said hoarsely.
“Freya!” Mist said, coming up behind her mother. The goddess ignored her.
“You know what you were to have done,” Freya hissed at Dainn, “and already you have failed.” She gripped Dainn’s arm, and he collapsed to his knees with a groan of something between pain and ecstasy.
Without thinking, Mist grabbed Freya’s shoulder. The goddess sent Mist flying back to slam against the wall. Dainn began to rise and was forced back down as Freya snatched a handful of his hair in her fist.
Mist scrambled up and went after Freya again. “What are you doing?” she demanded. “How did you—”
“You know the penalty,” Freya said to Dainn in her gentle, savage voice. “There is
no hope for you now.”
Dainn closed his eyes. “I know,” he whispered.
“Dainn!” Mist said. “Get up!”
He, like the goddess, seemed not to hear her. But he began to change, and all at once she saw a shimmer around him, a brilliant light, as if his body were dissolving in the heat of a dying sun. It caught Freya in its radiance, and Mist was struck with a burning pain as if she, too, were catching fire.
Dainn slumped to the floor. Freya vanished. After some indeterminate length of time, Mist found herself lying on the floor as well, her throat aching and Gabi crouching beside her. Ryan was with Dainn, who was on his knees and breathing harshly.
“Madre de Dios!” Gabi exclaimed. “Are you okay?”
“We heard someone scream,” Ryan said, his voice tight with anxiety as he peered into Dainn’s face.
Mist touched her throat and realized she must have been the one screaming.
She never screamed.
“I’m okay,” she said, getting to her feet. “Dainn?”
He looked up from the floor, his eyes bloodshot. “You saw her?” he asked.
“Did I see her?” Mist glanced from Gabi to Ryan and helped Dainn to his feet. “She was talking to you!”
“Quién?” Gabi asked. “Who was here?”
“I felt it,” Ryan said, his voice dreamy. “It reached all the way upstairs.”
“Is he all right?” Mist asked Gabi. “No seizures?”
“No.” But Gabi looked scared, and that wasn’t normal for the feisty teenager.
“What did you feel?” Mist asked Ryan.
Suddenly Ryan blinked, and the dreaminess was gone. “I don’t know,” he said, his expression collapsing into misery. “Light. A shape of someone. Something dangerous.”
“We’re not in any danger now,” Mist said, “so I’m going to have to ask you and Gabi to go back upstairs. We’ll talk about this later.”
“We know,” Gabi said with a moue of disgust. She took Ryan’s arm, and he didn’t resist.
Once they were gone—presumably—Mist led Dainn to a chair and made him sit. His face was bathed in sweat, as if he’d felt that strange fire that had burned around him like an exploding star.
“Okay,” she said, dragging another chair close to his, “what the Hel just happened?”
Black Ice Page 2
