Black Ice

by Susan Krinard

  “You’ve hurt him,” she yelled, pushing at Vidarr. “You said you’d never … Damn you, let me—”

  Vidarr struck her. The blow numbed her entire face, and her teeth cut into her lips and the inside of her mouth.

  “Vid!” Vali yelled.

  But her head was ringing, and she barely heard him. Dragging one wing, Orn hopped to the table and half jumped, half flew to the chair.

  “I will tell,” he said. “I will tell.”

  “Orn…” Anna mumbled through rapidly swelling lips. “Don’t—”

  “Vali, take care of the bitch,” Vidarr said. “I’ll question the bird back in the office.”

  “Vid—”

  “Remember, you fucked up. You couldn’t even finish the second part of the job. Do what I tell you, and maybe I can fix it.”

  Heaving himself up from his chair, Vali all but crept to Anna’s table. He took her arm to help her up.

  “What second part?” she whispered. “Vali—”

  But he swept her up in his arms, carried her through the back rooms and up the stairs. Anna caught one last glimpse of Orn before they passed out of sight and Vali took her into the bedroom. He didn’t try to apologize as he laid her down, but in a moment he returned with a washcloth soaked in warm water. He bathed her face, despite her efforts to turn away, and then retreated with his chair to the far side of the room. He knew she wouldn’t accept anything from him, not even the food and water or the shower she so desperately craved.

  Maybe they’d try to force her to eat and drink later. Maybe they’d do worse. But she’d survived before, when Loki had tried to make her talk. And even before that, in the memories. Even torture hadn’t broken her then, and it wouldn’t this time, either.

  There was always a way.

  It was soon very clear that neither Vali nor Anna was anywhere in the vicinity of the loft. Bryn had returned with the Einherjar who had been running patrols, assuring Mist that they’d come back as soon as they had found a way around the stalled traffic and blocked streets. But neither she, Mist, Edvard, nor the Einherjar could find a single trace, magical or otherwise, of the people they hunted.

  The loft had suffered considerable damage, as had the buildings to either side, but the factory seemed to be structurally sound. Mist’s thorough physical and magical search in the area failed to turn up any sign of Kirby and Lee. She could only hope that, since the cats had had the sense to escape when she hadn’t been able to help them, they’d eventually return.

  Afterward, Mist saw to it that Eir, Gabi, and Ryan were put to bed until they were fit to be questioned. Gabi was still a little gray, and her hands were swollen. But Eir was far worse off. Mist considered risking an ambulance, but it didn’t seem likely that one would come when there were probably hundreds of injuries much more severe demanding their attention.

  “Rick told me that Jormungandr was only about the size of the loft,” Bryn said, continuing the council’s discussion in what passed as the Einherjar’s living room. “He was tiny compared to what he should be.”

  “You call that tiny?” Bunny asked with a grimace.

  “How did Loki get him here?” Bryn asked. “The bridges are still closed, assuming the World Serpent was in the Void with the rest of that asshole’s kids.”

  “We don’t think it was the real Jormungandr,” Mist said, choosing her words with care. “Not completely real, anyway.”

  “Real enough to kill people,” Rick said, “and make the whole city shake.”

  “Gabi isn’t dead, is she?” Mist reminded him.

  “I know Loki’s good at illusions,” Bryn said, “but from everything you’ve been telling us, he’s not anywhere strong enough to do something like this.”

  Mist had already made the decision not to talk about the appearance of Freya’s “ghost,” or share most of what she and Dainn had discussed about either apparition. “We can only speculate at this point,” she said. “But assuming Loki managed it, Vali’s and Anna’s disappearance happened while we were fighting the Serpent.”

  “Loki thought he could get to Anna while we were busy with Jormungandr,” Bryn said. “Hurting us was only a side benefit.”

  “He was going to come after them again sooner or later,” Mist said. “It ended up being sooner, and in a way I never would have suspected. I should have been prepared.”

  “No one could have expected this,” Bryn said, gesturing broadly to encompass the large room and everything beyond it.

  “But I’m responsible,” Mist said, her throat tightening with misery. “Maybe not for what happened to the city, but it shouldn’t have been so easy for him to kidnap Anna and Orn.”

  “And it was probably even easier than he thought,” Rick said. “Where’s Dainn? He was the one you originally sent to watch Anna, right?”

  His voice was heavy with suspicion, and suddenly all eyes were on Mist. She took a deep breath.

  “Since I sent you all to look for Vali and Anna when they first disappeared,” she said, “you weren’t here to see the end of the fight.” Praise the Norns, she thought, that no one else had, except Edvard. And he’d keep his mouth shut. “Dainn helped me kick Jormungandr back to wherever he came from. He assumed Vali was looking after Anna when he joined me.”

  “What if Vali betrayed us?” Bryn asked.

  21

  The living room fell silent. No one wanted to believe it, least of all Mist. At first she’d wondered if Vali had told Vidarr about Orn, and let his elder brother persuade him to kidnap Anna when the opportunity presented itself. That was bad enough.

  But that meant Vali would have had to have been on the alert for a chance to take Anna every moment since he’d learned about her and Orn … unless he already knew the attack was coming.

  Now she was forced to consider the very real possibility that her initial fears might be true. Had Vali and Vidarr carefully planned this entire event right under Mist’s nose? Why in sweet Baldr’s name would the brothers ally with their father’s deadly enemy

  “I don’t know,” Mist said. “Even if Vali has been … involved with Loki in some way, he may have been forced into it. And if Vidarr has some idea of keeping Orn away from Loki, he’s more stupid than I thought. We may have time to get Anna and Orn back before Loki takes them, assuming we’re right about any of this in the first place.” She rose from the single battered couch, eager to get away from the worried stares. “I want to thank all of you for your courage in distracting the Serpent. We’ll meet again before we take any further action. Resume the patrols, and stay on the alert. If the ground cracks open anywhere else…”

  There were nervous laughs and snorts and assorted grumbles as the Einherjar scattered to resume their business.

  Since Dainn had left the area of the loft after Edvard had joined the searchers, and Mist didn’t yet have the heart—or the courage—to face him again, she set aside her worry for him and entered the makeshift infirmary in one of the larger offices opening onto the factory floor.

  In spite of her weakness, Eir was speaking quietly with Gabi and Ryan. Mist nodded to her, pretending not to see her ravaged face, and sat down a little distance from the layered sheets and blankets that served as the ward’s temporary bedding.

  “You’re lucky you’re not badly hurt,” she said to Gabi. “What you did was very stupid.”

  Gabi didn’t have the grace to look ashamed. “I had to do something,” she said. “I couldn’t help Ryan, and—”

  “I have your knife,” Mist said,“and you’re not going to try something like this again. In fact, you won’t get the chance. I expect Mr. Tashiro to call any time now.”

  Muttering in Spanish under her breath, Gabi glanced quickly at Ryan. Mist moved to the young man’s side. He wasn’t up to much protesting when she removed his bloody shirt, though he squirmed and blushed.

  Dainn had been right, Mist thought as she examined his chest. It wasn’t Ryan’s blood.

  But Dainn had said the beast had tried to kill
Ryan. For the second time. At least the first time, he’d still looked like an elf. How in Hel was she going to deal with that thing she’d seen him become? How could she possibly fulfill her promise to help him?

  Or he fulfill his promise to help her?

  “Ryan,” she said, covering him with a blanket, “Do you know what happened to you?”

  “No,” the young man muttered, his gaze carefully averted.

  “You do remember that you had another seizure? Dainn brought you out of the house when I couldn’t.” She flushed at the memory. “Isn’t there something you can tell me?”

  “It was—” Gabi began. A quick glare from Mist silenced her.

  Scrubbing at his eyes, Ryan shook his head. “I sort of remember Dainn carrying me.” His voice tightened with frustration. “I didn’t see.”

  “It’s okay, Ryan,” she said, trying to soothe his obvious shame. “When we first met, you spoke of ‘things rising up.’ Well, you were right. Jormungandr certainly did that.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ryan stammered. “I think I was about to die. Dainn saved me. He painted some kind of … Runes on me with his own blood to keep me alive.”

  So Dainn had supposedly almost killed the kid, only to save his life. Elf fighting beast. And winning.

  “Is Dainn … is he all right?” Ryan asked, smearing the tears across his face.

  “Yes,” Mist said a little thickly. “He helped stop Jormungandr.”

  “It really was one of Loki’s kids?” Gabi asked, her lip curling in disgust. “How did it get here?”

  “That’s what we plan to find out. And we’ll get Anna back.”

  Gabi’s eyes began to close, though she fought to stay awake. It didn’t work out that way. Soon both she and Ryan were sleeping again, and Eir, who had earlier assured Mist that both teenagers were recovering from their ordeal, lay down herself.

  Mist left the infirmary to find Bryn waiting for her. Rick, looking befuddled, stood at her shoulder.

  “You found Anna?” Mist asked.

  “Almost as good.” Bryn gestured behind her. A slightly rounded, red-haired woman with generous breasts and hips sashayed up behind them.

  “Rota!” Mist said.

  “Hello, my most upstanding of Sisters,” Rota said, winking as broadly as a barmaid.

  “Vali”—Mist gritted her teeth—“Vali said he thought you’d contacted us.” “I do think my little communiqué was rather clever, don’t you?” “It was,” Mist admitted. She embraced Rota and stepped back to look her over. “You’re—”

  “No need to be delicate,” Rota said, looking at Mist from beneath full lashes. “I’ve gained a bit of weight here and there, but it hasn’t exactly hurt me with the mortal males.” She smoothed her very tight pencil skirt. “In fact, I’d say it’s improved my … selection.”

  “Same old Rota,” Bryn said.

  “You did interrupt a promising affair,” Rota said. “I had very mixed emotions when I learned you’d put out feelers to find us.”

  “You knew we were looking for the others?” Mist asked.

  “I have my own very reliable sources,” Rota said. “Don’t worry, no one else knows about them. Certainly not Loki. And he would never have found me.” She ran a manicured hand through her artful tousle of fiery curls. “I’ve been going by the name ‘Rita’ in Brazil. Rita Hayworth.”

  “Oh, sweet Frigga,” Bryn said, rolling her eyes.

  “You won’t have much time for exploring your love life here,” Mist said brusquely. “You might have noticed that we’ve had a bit of trouble.”

  “Yes,” Rota said, her smile fading. “Quite a mess out there. I see I have a lot of catching up to do.”

  “Bryn can fill you in on most of it,” Mist said. “We’ve got several crises going on at once, and it’s hard to decide which one is the worst.” She searched Rota’s eyes. “Do you have it?”

  “But of course.” Rota reached into her shoulder bag and withdrew a single velvet glove. “I have two, and I wear them quite often. But this is the important one.” She laid the glove in Mist’s hand. “Jarngreipr … in the flesh, so to speak.”

  Jarngreipr, one of the three Treasures belonging to Thor. Without Thor’s hammer Mjollnir, it wasn’t of much use, since its function was to allow the Thunder God to control his weapon and catch it again, no matter how far it flew.

  Mist could hardly believe the flimsy thing was really a metal gauntlet twice its apparent size. “You keep it, Rota,” she said, giving it back. “There’s really no safe place to hold it just yet. Eir has hidden the seeds of the Apples and—” She broke off, not quite ready to admit her failure with Gungnir. Or with its owner’s sons.

  “Eir is here?” Rota asked.

  “In the infirmary. She’s had a rough time of it.”

  “But the others…” She glanced at Bryn. “Freya’s Cloak?”

  “Another long story,” Mist said. “Let’s just say that the Cloak was given to Horja along with Gridarvoll, and they’re probably well concealed somewhere pretty far away from here. We’ve been working to find them and the others.”

  “So has Loki, I presume,” Rota said. “Has he had any success?”

  Mist suppressed a crazy laugh. “Not that kind. Not that we know of, anyway. There’s a lot of very complicated stuff you’ll need to understand.”

  “Hmmm,” Rota said, glancing around the factory. “You’ve been living a very Spartan existence, I see. I don’t suppose you have a room for me?”

  “If you’ll stay in a hotel a couple of nights, I hope to have more accommodations lined up very soon.”

  “Then I shall make arrangements,” Rota said. “For now, I’d just like somewhere to change my clothes.” She smiled over her shoulder at Rick. “You wouldn’t mind getting my luggage, would you?”

  The biker raced off to do her bidding, and all Mist could think was that Rota should have been Freya’s daughter. She’d been born with her glamour, minus the magic. And she had no scruples about putting it to use.

  Just like Loki.

  “What really happened with Dainn?” Bryn asked when they were alone.

  “I told you before. He helped me stop Jormungandr.”

  “You said he left Anna with Vali so he could fight beside you, but no one seems to know exactly what he did. And now he’s missing.”

  “Not missing,” Mist said, struggling to keep her voice level. “He needed to rest afterward, that’s all.”

  “But not in the loft,” Bryn said, her bright eyes very grave.

  Mist sidestepped the subject. “Why didn’t you tell me about Edvard?” she asked.

  “Why didn’t you mention who Dainn really was?”

  Here it comes, Mist thought. She couldn’t get out of it now.

  “How did you find out?” she asked.

  “I didn’t recognize him when we first arrived. But after I got to thinking, I remembered where I’d seen him. I was with Odin’s guard when he showed up to warn the All-father about Loki’s plans for attack. I knew what he’d done.” She turned her head aside as if she would spit. “Why Freya chose him…”

  “But she did, and Odin must have known about it. At least now I understand why Rick doesn’t like Dainn. You’ve got a loyal lieutenant.”

  “Yeah,” Bryn muttered.

  “And you’re still loyal to the Aesir. So Rick won’t provoke Dainn, will he?”

  “Not if Rick wants to live. I also know about Odin’s curse.”

  But you don’t know the half of it, Mist thought. “Let me deal with that,” she said. “He may have come to me on Freya’s behalf, but Freya isn’t here, and his problems are my responsibility.” “Is that all?” Bryn aid, ruffling her short hair with a callused hand. “I think he’s a lot more than just a problem to you.”

  “If I felt anything else, it would be irrelevant to our fight.”

  “Would it, Mist?” Bryn asked, searching her face. “Would it really?”

  “Drop it, Bryn. What about Edvard?”
r />   Bryn shoved her hands in her pockets. “I should have told you. I didn’t think it would be an issue until we actually got to the real fighting.” She paused.

  “I understand he helped you.”

  “He did. I presume that none of your other Einherjar is concealing some kind of hidden talent?”

  “Not to my knowledge.”

  “Then we’re done here. You have work to do, and so do I.”

  Her face creasing into a complex expression of anger, hurt, and defiance, Bryn backed away.

  Smoothing her half-undone braid, Mist wondered if Bryn’s resentment of Dainn would become a problem. If Dainn really had lost control of the beast again, it was all but certain.

  She had seldom seen Dainn so still. He was like one of those people who used to stand on street corners pretending to be a mannequin, refusing to move even if an observer did something outrageous like kiss or tickle them.

  Once, Dainn’s kiss had awakened her. The gods knew what would happen if she ever tried it with him.

  Of course that wasn’t going to happen. She tried to put off the inevitable by looking up at the sky.

  For once the morning was clear, typical of the kind of winter day San Francisco had known as recently as two years ago. The clouds had temporarily vanished, though the air remained crisp and the wind still cut through Mist’s jacket.

  But a day of storms would have been more appropriate for this meeting in the park, the little rectangle of frost-damaged trees and lawn that served as the neighborhood’s outdoor gathering place. No one else chose to brave the slush that covered the grass and dripped from tree branches, not after the chaos of the past few hours.

  At least, according the news, the city’s infrastructure was stable, even if half the roads were closed, holiday shopping had been severely disrupted, and plenty of cars had joined together in unholy union.

  As long as Jormungandr stayed in his hole, San Francisco would recover soon enough.

  Mist forced herself to look down and face what she’d come here to do.

  “Dainn,” she said.

  He snapped out of his silent meditation and looked at her. His eyes were normal now, the correct color and shape and expression, if you could call grim desolation an expression. He approached her slowly, head slightly down, walking as if he was afraid any rapid or sudden movement might awaken the beast again.