Black Ice

by Susan Krinard

  “Are you all right?” Mist asked Tennessee.

  “I think my leg’s broke,” he said, trying to smile. “But I’ll live.”

  “Rick, Bunny,” Mist said, “Can you take care of him? I’ve got to go after Loki.”

  “You can’t,” Bunny said, touching the spreading bruise on her cheek. “You look like you’re about to fall over yourself.”

  “He may have taken the raven. I have to get it back.”

  “I saw it fly after Bryn and Anna. I think it’s okay.”

  Mist fell back against the wall, wondering if she could even walk as far as the bikes haphazardly parked outside. She wasn’t sure she could summon any more magic, not even the simplest protective spell.

  She was cursed lucky that Loki had chosen to flee. She couldn’t believe he’d give up that easily. Rick laughed. “Well,” he said, rubbing his arm, “now I understand why you warned us when we got ourselves into this.”

  “Fuckin’ right,” Tennessee muttered through gritted teeth.

  “Guess we’ll have to learn how to fight your way,” Rick said. “What we know ain’t good enough for them giants.”

  Bunny shook her head. “Never thought the bad guy could look so … so—”

  “Normal?” Mist said with a snort. “Well, normal if you don’t consider he’s made himself into one of the most attractive men most mortals will ever see.”

  “Made himself? You mean that’s a disguise?”

  “No one knows what his true form is,” Mist said.

  “Shit,” Rick said, shaking his head. “Where’s Edvard?”

  Mist recalled her impression of something large and brown. “I think he followed Loki,” Tennessee said. “Shithead. He’ll get himself killed.”

  But there was absolutely nothing Mist could do about it. Forcing herself to move, she helped Rick break a few long pieces off the shattered door and splinted Tennessee’s leg. Bunny helped Rick maneuver Tennessee onto the back of Rick’s bike, and Mist mounted Tennessee’s motorcycle. After she’d started the engine, Rick pulled up beside her.

  “Hey,” he said through slightly swollen lips, “did you cause that earthquake?”

  Mist cast him a startled glance. “I don’t see how,” she said. “There’ve been a couple already, and I didn’t cause those.”

  She had to admit it was strange timing, but not only where the quake was concerned. She kept remembering Loki’s words: “This woman you protect insists that our fine-feathered friend is a parrot.”

  An illusion, a false appearance of the kind Loki—and Odin—were capable of? Who in Hel was Anna, and what could she possibly have to do with the All-father? Why had the bird shown up now, and how had it known to come to Mist for help? Did Loki have some reason to suggest that Odin had sent a new ambassador in Freya’s place?The questions were piling up in Mist’s brain faster than she could make sense of them. And she wondered just how much she was going to like the answers.

  Dainn was struggling to find an appropriate response to Danny’s unexpected question when he heard a single motorcycle approaching from Twentieth Street.

  “Stay where you are,” he told Ryan. He ran outside and waited, an unreasoning terror locking his muscles. The vehicle rounded the corner, and he saw Bryn’s distinctive winged helmet bent over the handlebars. A helmetless female passenger, her dark hair flying behind her, clung to the Valkyrie’s waist. Bryn rolled to a stop at the curb.

  Dainn spoke the only word his voice permitted him.

  “Mist,” he said.

  “Okay, last time I checked,” Bryn said, pulling off her helmet. “She was holding her own.”

  “And you left her?”

  “Didn’t have a choice.” She gestured to her passenger, who climbed off, her legs nearly giving way beneath her. Bryn caught her and helped her stand.

  “Anna,” Bryn said. “The raven belongs to her.”

  As if it had heard her words, a jet-black bird dropped out of the sky and landed lightly on Anna’s shoulder. It seemed to be missing a few of its tail feathers, but it was still a magnificent creature.

  It stared at Dainn so intently that he began to feel it knew him personally. Instinct urged him to back away, not from any physical danger but from something far more deadly.

  He held his ground, and suddenly the raven lost interest in him. The young woman reached up to touch the bird, her hand shaking as much as her legs.

  “Loki had her,” Bryn continued. “Somehow I think it’s pretty important to keep her and her pet out of his hands.”

  Her pet, Dainn thought. A raven with the scent of Odin all over him.

  Odin, who had cursed Dainn as Huginn stabbed at Dainn’s flesh.

  This was not Huginn. But if he belonged to the All-father …

  “Why did Loki not kill her and take the bird?” Dainn asked, brutal in his fear for Mist.

  “She and the raven have some kind of bond, Bryn said, hostility in her eyes. “And I don’t think Orn would let anyone catch him, anyway.”

  “He wouldn’t,” Anna said.

  “And now you’re safe,” Bryn said, taking the young woman’s arm.

  Anna looked at the Valkyrie blankly, as if she were speaking the Old Tongue. The young woman’s bare feet were nearly blue with cold.

  “Let’s get you inside and warmed up,” Bryn said.

  Gently guiding Anna toward the door, Bryn passed by Dainn without a glance. Once again he stood unmoving, listening, casting his senses wide for the sound of engines. The wind whipped his hair over his face, moaning and laughing.

  After thirty endless minutes, the other motorcycles rounded the corner onto Illinois. Dainn watched them pull up around Bryn’s vehicle: Tennessee, his leg splinted, perched behind Rick on his bike. Bunny.

  And Mist.

  Dainn’s muscles unlocked. He waited while each of the Einherjar dismounted, removed their helmets, and walked toward the door in silence. Rick supported Tennessee, who was obviously in considerable pain. Bunny looked at Dainn’s face and hurried after them.

  “Is everything all right?” Mist asked, stopping before Dainn.

  “You defeated Loki,” he said, his voice stretched thin by the wind.

  “He ran.” She rubbed her arms. “But it was close, Dainn. Very close.”

  If Mist had not been clear that there was to be nothing but friendship and alliance between them—if anything more had been possible—Dainn would have made an utter fool of himself, driven to his knees by this Valkyrie, this magnificent woman unlike any other, mortal or goddess.

  But he stepped back, grateful that the beast was still quiescent in its cage. “Did you use the ancient magic?” he asked.

  Her teeth began to chatter. “I … I’m not sure. But … if I did, nothing happened. No fugue state.”

  “And your tattoo? Did it trouble you again?”

  “A little. Maybe it’s really an earthquake detector.” She gave a shaky laugh. “We saved Anna and the raven. That’s all that matters.”

  “No,” he said. “It is not.”

  “You shouldn’t have worried about me. You’ve got enough—”

  She swayed forward. Dainn caught her. She clung to him, her forehead resting against his chest. A light snow began to fall, finding its way under her collar and melting on her hair.

  He rested his hand on the nape of her neck, aware that his pulse had risen to an unreasonable speed. Her fingers dug into his arms, an almost painful pressure he welcomed.

  “I’m tired, Dainn,” she said.

  “I know.” He smoothed her hair. “You need rest.”

  “You keep saying that.”

  “And still you refuse.”

  Mist looked up with an attempt at a smile. But it didn’t last. She began to tremble. Her lips parted. She searched his eyes, looking for the vital thing, the monster, that stood between them.

  “It’s gone,” she said, wonder in her voice. “How?”

  He managed a smile of his own. “Not gone,” he said. “Sleepin
g. Where is Edvard?”

  Mist blinked. “He went after Loki. All we can do is hope he didn’t do anything stupid.” She pulled away and stood very straight, challenging her own weariness with her usual courage and stubborn will. “Right now, we have other priorities. We know Anna’s connected to the raven and the raven to Odin, but not how. Or why the bird is here in the first place. I plan to talk to her first thing the morning—” She laughed. “Hel, it’s already morning. I hope she can handle all the questions I’m going to be asking. I have a feeling we’re in for a few major surprises.”

  Surprises, Dainn thought. He had resolved not to tell Mist about Svardkell right away, knowing how difficult it would be for her to hear the truth.

  But he knew, now, that it couldn’t be put off as he had hoped. Not all of it.

  “There is something I must tell you,” he said.

  She met his gaze, Dainn could see her bracing herself for bad news. “Go ahead,” she said.

  “The Jotunn is dead.”

  “How?” she asked, swaying a little. Dainn kept his hands to himself.

  “The cats led me to him,” he said. “The giant spoke to me before he died.”

  “You didn’t answer my question. I killed him, didn’t I?”

  “You are not to blame.”

  Mist covered her eyes with her hand. “Was it the wound, or the spell?”

  “The wound, I am certain.”

  “Let me guess. He was never a spy for Loki, was he?”

  “So he claimed.”

  “Then why did he attack me?”

  “He suggested that he was coerced. He was unable to elaborate.”

  “But he was with Loki’s Jotunar?” Mist asked, her words emerging in a rush. “Could have been working for Freya, and Loki found out somehow? But why wouldn’t she have warned you she had her own Jotunn spies in Loki’s camp?”

  “We can only speculate,” Dainn said, looking away. “I wish I could tell you more.”

  “It makes sense,” she whispered. “I killed a giant who probably suffered from Loki’s malice as much as anyone. If only I’d used more control—”

  “You have no cause to berate yourself,” Dainn said. “You were fighting for your life.”

  Mist swallowed. “What was his name?”

  “He called himself Svardkell.”

  “Did he suffer?”

  Dainn knew it was time to bend the truth. “I do not believe so,” he said. “But before he died, he did convey a message. A warning. About protecting the boy, and watching for traitors.”

  “He didn’t happen to say who they were?” she asked, bitterness creeping into her voice.

  “Unfortunately, he did not. But the boy must be Ryan, and you are already protecting him.”

  “Do you think he meant that Loki is coming after Ryan now?”

  “Clearly, we can take no chances,” Dainn said, “but it seems unlikely after the magic he was forced to use. Has Tashiro progressed in his plans for taking Ryan and Gabriella to safety?”

  “He’s working on it.” She hesitated. “What about the body?”

  “I took the liberty of giving it back to the earth.”

  “What?”

  “You are exhausted, and likely depleted. I thought it would be best that you not—”

  “You were so sure that you have the beast under control well enough to risk using that level of magic again?” She glared at him. “You said it was sleeping. What’s different now?”

  “I found a … new technique to keep it at bay.”

  “When did you discover this ‘new technique’?”

  “I meditated on the problem while you were away. I found a certain key I had lost. It enabled me to put the beast back in its cage.”

  Her stare suggested that she wasn’t sure she believed him. “How long will it last?”

  She had hit on the problem with the usual unerring precision. How could he know how long the herbal concoction would be effective? He had merely borrowed this control, not won it for himself.

  “I cannot be sure,” he admitted. “But I will know if it begins to escape again.”

  “Oh, Dainn.” Her eyes glittered with moisture. “I wish you hadn’t taken the risk, but I should be thanking you. I’m not sure I could have—” She broke off, clearly struggling against another open display of emotion. “We have more things to discuss, but I need to make sure Anna gets some rest,” she said, abruptly changing the subject. “Let’s go in.”

  Dainn remained behind, watching her walk toward the door and wondering how much more she could endure. Like a madman, Edvard had gone alone after Loki, perhaps believing his nature would give him some advantage if and when he caught up with Laufeyson.

  Or perhaps he was a traitor, and Dainn had yet to face the consequences of his decision to take the herb. Could Loki have sent the berserkr, hoping to rob Dainn of his primary defense against his greatest enemy?

  Bereft of answers, Dainn went inside, avoiding the others who had gathered in the living room, whole and injured alike. Ryan was still crouched by the banister on the second floor landing. He seemed utterly unaware of the commotion, or the new presences in the loft.

  “Who died?” he asked, repeating his earlier question as if their conversation had never been interrupted.

  Dainn sat on a step near the foot of the stairs. “Tell me what you experienced,” he said.

  “It was like someone … I mean, like someone’s soul or something just kind of blinked out,” Ryan said, shivering. “I’ve never felt that before.” He pressed the heel of his hand against the center of his forehead. “I think it could have been bad if it had lasted any longer.”

  Dainn could well imagine that a seer so sensitive could be drawn into the death of another. Such things happened among the Alfar, since they tended to bond closely in extendded groups. . If Dainn had lived among his own kind long enough, he might have suffered it himself.

  “I am sorry,” he said, “that you had to endure such an experience. But if it hasn’t happened before—”

  “Who died?”

  “The frost giant who attacked Mist.”

  Ryan sat up straight. “Shit,” he muttered, dragging his hand through his unkempt hair.. “So how come I felt him, and never anyone else who died when I was around, like when Gabi and me were out on the streets?”

  “I have no answer, Ryan,” Dainn said. And indeed he did not. Why should Svardkell’s death, in particular, affect the boy? Had this episode been provoked by Svardkell’s relationship with Mist?

  “Please,” Ryan said. “Don’t say anything about this to Mist or anyone else. I just want to forget about it.”

  “Ryan—” Dainn began.

  “Ry,” Gabi said from behind her friend. She came out to the landing, rubbing her eyes. “What’s all the noise?” She glared at Dainn. “What are you doing here? Where’s Mist? What’s happening?”

  Dainn rose. “There has been a fight with Loki, and Mist has rescued a woman he attacked. One of us will explain the rest to you as soon as possible.”

  “Yeah,” Gabi said. “The usual. Stay up here until someone comes, right?”

  “Look after Ryan. He has not been well.”

  “I noticed. Nice that you did.”

  Ryan cursed. “Nothing’s wrong with me, Gab.”

  “Come down if he becomes ill in any way,” Dainn said to the girl.

  “Will do, jefe.” Since there was no time to engage the young mortals in an argument, Dainn started for the living room. He still had to explain the most essential aspect of Svardkell’s message to Mist when they could safely be alone and she could process the information. Then they might properly consider why Ryan had been aware of Svardkell’s demise.

  Dainn was struck by the disturbing thought that it might be premature to send the young mortals away after all. And the strangely hopeful one that if Odin had become directly involved in the nascent war with Loki, Mist might no longer be in danger of losing herself to her mother’s will. He
might be spared the need of telling her just how far into the gutter the beast had dragged him.

  11

  Anna Stangeland sat in the oversized armchair by the fireplace, wearing a pair of Mist’s jeans and a flannel shirt in place of the ruined suit. A handsome gray parrot perched on her shoulder and stared at Mist with a probing yellow gaze.

  It was 10 a.m., and in spite of the deep shadows under her eyes, Anna had obviously gotten some sleep over the eight or so hours since Mist had taken her from Loki. Now the young woman wore the stubborn, wary look of someone who wanted answers she wasn’t sure she’d like. Mist, fighting to stay focused as she sat on the couch across from the chair, could hardly blame her.

  She knew just how vulnerable an exhausted person could be. She remembered almost throwing herself into Dainn’s arms. Had thrown herself, narrowly avoiding something much worse.

  Or would it have been worse, if Dainn had really managed to…?

  “You don’t have to be afraid, Anna,” she said, forcing her thoughts back into more productive channels. “You’re safe here.”

  “I’m not afraid,” Anna said. “Orn wouldn’t have come for you if there was any danger.”

  Mist studied her again, trying again to make sense of her part in this new and incredible development. Anna was a small woman, caught in a situation utterly incomprehensible to her, and yet her recovery was nothing short of miraculous.

  “I have a lot of questions,” Mist said, glancing at the parrot. “Very important ones having to do with what Orn really is, and your past with him. But maybe you have a few for me first.”

  “A few?” Anna said with a faint laugh. “Unless all this is some kind of nightmare, I only understand that most of what I believed about reality was wrong. I don’t even know where to begin.”

  “Why don’t you tell me what you do understand,” Mist said.

  “I know that Orn has been nagging me to find someone called Mist. When he turned into a raven and started talking to me in a way he never had before, I just assumed I was losing my—” She broke off, flushing. “I didn’t remember it when that”—she shuddered—“that man came after me, but Orn saved me from a fire that was completely confined to my apartment, a fire no one else seemed to notice. He was leading me in this direction when three very large men and this guy—“