by Kris Tualla
“That’s… amazing?” Stevie said. “Unbelievable? Cool?”
“All of those. And tragic.” Hollis sighed. “He was killed in a battle in Italy and never saw his son.”
“Oh…” Miranda made a sad little moue. “That is tragic.”
“But Sveyn can tell you about him,” Stevie offered. “Not many people have living eye witnesses to their past.”
“True.” Hollis stood. “I better get to work. I can only imagine what’s waiting for me, plus we have a group coming in tonight.”
Stevie and Miranda stood as well. “Who’s coming?”
“The first lady who came is coming back. She was frustrated because one of her clients could see Sveyn, but she couldn’t.”
“We all can see Sveyn, now.” Miranda snickered. “Maybe he can dress up in a drop cloth and make her night.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Hollis stretched and looked at the clock. Five more minutes and the museum would be closed. One hour later, her patchouli-scented medium would arrive. A couple hours after that she should be relaxing on the couch with Sveyn and a glass of wine.
Her phone vibrated.
“Hello, Viking. Ready to grab a bite before the séance?”
“Hollis, we have a problem.”
“What?”
“There is a young man who refuses to leave the Kensington wing. He is demanding that someone open the case where the Blessing is.”
“I’m on my way.”
Hollis stuck her head into Miranda’s office. “We have a situation in the new wing. You might want to come with me.”
*****
Sveyn faced the twenty-something culprit. “She is coming with the key.”
The man rocked nervously from side to side. “Good.”
If Sveyn was asked to judge, he’d say the man was in the midst of some sort of health crisis. His skin sagged on his cheeks and there was a film of sweat across his brow. His clothes hung loosely on a frame that must have been more robust at some point.
In the gap between his coat and his chest was a holstered gun.
“If you do not mind, would you tell me what you want with the velsignelse av gudene?”
The rocking stopped. “The what?”
Sveyn folded his arms over his chest. “That’s the Nordic name for the icon—the Blessing of the Gods.”
“You say that like you know.”
“Norsk was my first language.”
The man pointed at the case. “It keeps you from dying if you have it. I need that.”
Though he believed it himself at one time, Sveyn flashed an incredulous look. “You don’t truly believe the stories, do you?”
The man’s face twisted. “If it’s not true, then why’s the case bulletproof and double locked?”
“It is for show.” Hollis appeared in Sveyn’s peripheral vision. He turned toward her. “Here she is now.”
Hollis stopped where she was. “Can someone explain to me what’s going on?”
“I need the icon. I don’t want to die.”
“No one wants to die.” Hollis took a step closer. “What’s your name?”
He glared at her. “Why do you care?”
“Because it’s more polite than saying hey you.” Hollis took another step. “My name is Hollis, and that’s Sveyn.”
A nervous glance bounced from Hollis to Sveyn and back.
“Keith.”
“Nice to meet you, Keith.” Hollis gave him a shaky smile. “Are you ill?”
The rocking started up again. “Cancer. In my blood.”
“Bone marrow transplant?”
“Didn’t work.”
Hollis looked empathetic. “Chemo?”
He shook his head.
Sveyn wasn’t sure if that meant he had not tried this chemo thing, or if it did not work either.
Doesn’t matter.
“So you think this metal and wooden object will make you immortal?” Hollis looked and sounded skeptical.
Sveyn stepped forward.
“Get back, man!” Keith opened his jacket to show the gun Sveyn already knew was there.
Hollis gasped. She did not.
Sveyn put his hands up. “I will stay here.”
“Why do you have a gun, Keith?” Hollis’s voice was strained. “I hope you aren’t going to shoot yourself.”
Keith looked momentarily flummoxed by that suggestion. “No! I brought it in case I need it.”
Hollis looked relieved. “Well that’s good.”
Keith blinked. “What?”
“She’s glad you do not plan to shoot yourself.” Sveyn smiled approvingly. “And I assume you do not plan to shoot anyone else, either.”
“I don’t want to. Unless you make me.”
Sveyn shook his head. “I am not going to do that, Keith.”
Keith turned his attention back to Hollis. “Did you bring the key?”
“Yes, it’s right here.” Hollis held up the key on its chain. “But I’m afraid you are going to be disappointed.”
Keith frowned. “Why?”
Hollis took another step closer.
Sveyn glared at her. Keep your distance.
“Because the icon has lost its powers.”
“You’re lying,” he growled.
Hollis winced. “I’m sorry, but I’m not. We had some priests in here and they exorcised it.”
“I was there, Keith,” Sveyn added. “The thing screamed like nothing I have ever heard in my life, and then it went silent.”
“I’m telling you this because it’s not too late for you to change your mind,” Hollis offered. “The charges will be minimal at this point.”
Keith was rocking again. “No. No—you want it for yourself!” He pulled the gun from its holster but pointed it downward. “Unlock the case.”
Hollis glanced at Sveyn. He saw the fear in her eyes.
“Keith,” he said. “I am here to protect Hollis. Please do not do anything foolish.”
“If she gives me the icon, I’ll leave. No one gets hurt.”
Hollis stepped around the icon’s case. She punched in the code, got an error beep, and then tried it again. “Sorry. My hands are shaking.”
The electric lock finally snicked its acceptance of the code. Hollis slid the key into the manual lock and turned it.
Sveyn had been shifting his weight from leg to leg, inching forward in increments. Thus far, Keith had not noticed. His attention was focused on the icon.
Though initially leery, Sveyn’s discomfort around the Blessing disappeared when he heard the screams and saw the priests’ arms relax. The pieces stopped trying to reunite; the icon was no longer a danger.
Hollis opened the case and stepped back.
Keith set his gun on the opened acrylic top.
Sveyn evaluated his best moves while Keith reached inside the case and grasped the two halves of the icon.
“How do they fit together? Tell me!”
Sveyn took another small step, his palms out in semi-surrender. “She has never connected them, Keith.”
The man’s gaze jumped to his. “Have you?”
“Yes,” he lied. “Do you want me to show you?”
“And take them from me? I don’t think so.”
“All right, then. I will walk you through it.” Sveyn used his hands as he talked. “Turn them so they face each other like this. Yes. Now slide those grooves into each other.
While Keith concentrated on Sveyn’s instructions, Sveyn edged closer. He risked giving Hollis a back up nod.
She did so.
Keith’s head popped up. “Where are you going?”
“Nowhere.” She crossed her arms. “I just wanted a better view.”
Sveyn kept talking and Keith kept manipulating the Blessing’s two halves. After one last push, the pieces locked together.
No one breathed.
Keith looked at Sveyn. “When does it start working?”
Sveyn shook his head. “It cannot work, Keith.
Hollis told you. It died.”
The younger man panicked. “It has to work! It’s my only chance!”
Sveyn grabbed the gun.
The icon clattered to the marble floor and Keith launched himself at Sveyn.
Sveyn turned away from him and was knocked to the floor. Keith was on top of him, berserk with rage and pummeling him mercilessly. Sveyn rolled, using his superior size to put himself on top of Keith.
The gun discharged.
Hollis screamed.
Blood splattered.
Half a dozen uniformed police officers rushed into the room.
Sveyn waited for the pain. There wasn’t any.
Keith was howling and writhing beneath him. Sveyn was manually lifted from the younger man by a pair of officers.
“Were you hit?” one demanded.
Sveyn looked down at his body. “I do not believe so.”
Another officer was pressing his hands against Keith’s torso. Blood oozed around the pressure. “Paramedics here yet?”
An officer asked that question into his walkie-talkie. Sveyn looked for Hollis. She was talking frantically to another officer. Until her stark gaze met his.
Before he could think about it, Sveyn had her safely wrapped in his arms.
*****
Keith was rushed to the hospital under police guard. Statements were taken from Sveyn and Hollis, and the fingerprints on the gun’s trigger were compared to Sveyn’s. Even to the naked eye they didn’t match.
The Patchouli Medium was rescheduled and sent away with apologies and promises of a partial refund, and now Hollis, Sveyn, and Miranda sat on the floor in the Kensington wing, still in shock.
The Blessing still lay where it fell.
“This is the second time my life has been put in danger by that damned thing,” Hollis grumbled. “I wish we never found it.”
“Something must be done about it.” Sveyn looked at Miranda. “We have to destroy it.”
“We can’t do that—it belongs to the museum,” Miranda objected.
“He’s right, Miranda.” Hollis lifted her eyes to her boss’s. “As long as it’s here, and under double locks, people will believe the legend and go to extreme lengths to get hold of it.”
Miranda’s gaze slid to where the icon lay. “I suppose we could take it off display.”
“That’s not good enough,” Sveyn stated. “If people know it is here, they will come for it.”
Hollis climbed to her feet and walked toward the Blessing. She bent over and picked it up, wondering if the thing really was dead.
She felt nothing. She saw nothing. The icon was cold in her hand.
Thank God for that.
Hollis walked back to the pair still sitting on the floor. “Now is our chance, Miranda. We can say that the icon was destroyed in the scuffle.”
Miranda looked like a woman caught between a hard place and an even harder director. “I’m not sure.”
“Benton loves a good media opportunity,” Hollis reminded her. “Let’s write up something dramatic and present it to him.”
Miranda chewed her lips.
Sveyn leaned forward to catch the curator’s attention. “I am speaking the truth. We must tell the world that this icon was damaged beyond repair.”
He looked at Hollis. “And then we burn it.”
“I concur.” Hollis handed the Blessing to Sveyn. “And I think it really is dead.”
The Viking turned the steel-and-wood blessing over in his large hands. “I agree. The evilness has fled, along with its power.”
“Hold on.” Miranda put her hands up. “Are you saying that it did have power at one point?”
“Yes,” Hollis and Sveyn answered in tandem.
“But the Exor-Clergy guys got the demons out,” Hollis continued. There wasn’t a better explanation than that.
She looked at her watch. “We can get this on the ten o’clock news if we hurry.”
Miranda stood. “I have to call Benton first.”
“Okay.” Hollis watched Sveyn regain his feet. “We’ll go to my office and start writing the script.”
*****
“Police were called to the Arizona History and Cultural Center this evening when an alleged thief held a museum employee and security guard at gun-point, demanding to take possession of one of the items on display.
“The item in question, the Blessing of the Gods, is said to make its owner immortal. The Blessing’s myth has garnered nationwide attention and as a result the icon has been kept in a bulletproof case with a double lock.”
Hollis looked up from her computer screen. “After the newscaster reads that, they’ll cut to me.”
She pretended to hold a microphone. “When the security guard was able to take possession of the gun, the perpetrator threw the icon across the room. Unfortunately, the Blessing, which is carbon dated at several thousand years old, was irreparably damaged in the process and can no longer be on display.”
Hollis looked up at Sveyn. “Good?”
He nodded. “Good.”
“Then we go back to the newscaster,” Hollis turned back to her computer. “The would-be thief was injured in the confrontation and escorted to the hospital by police, where he will be placed under arrest on several charges related to the incident.”
Miranda walked into Hollis’s office. “I heard the last part.”
“What do you think?”
Miranda expression was somber. “You can change ‘injured’ to ‘mortally wounded.’ Keith died enroute to the hospital.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
“Another life ruined.” Sveyn looked intently at Hollis. What he had to say to her needed to be said privately. “We must go home now.”
“Hold on—we said the icon was irreparably damaged,” Miranda pointed out. “Right now, it looks fine. I can’t show that to Benton.”
Sveyn nodded. “Set it aflame.”
“How will we explain that?” Hollis asked.
“We will not. We will say the wood crumbled away from the steel and turned black.” Sveyn looked at the sprinklers in the ceiling. “We will do this in the parking lot.”
Before they could do so, Miranda took a video of Hollis talking about the icon’s damage. Then she emailed the script and the video to Benton’s favorite news station and followed up with a phone call.
“Well, they’re happy,” Miranda said when the call was finished. “They’ll show it tomorrow if they can’t get it on tonight.”
Sveyn nodded. “Good.”
That accomplished, the still-reluctant women followed Sveyn to the employee lot, which was empty but for Hollis and Miranda’s cars.
“Are you sure about this, Sveyn?” Hollis asked.
He looked down at her. “Do you have a better suggestion?”
“No,” she admitted.
“Let’s just get it over with.” Miranda set down her bucket of water. “I want to get home and see what they put on the news.”
Sveyn laid the icon on the blacktop and Hollis struck the match.
The ancient wood burned hot and fast.
Miranda poured water over the flames when enough of the wood was consumed. “That should do it.”
Sveyn used his foot to knock the wood from the steel. Hollis wrapped the pieces in a towel and handed it to Miranda.
“Good luck with this.”
Miranda accepted the bundle with a sigh. “Right.”
Sveyn turned to Hollis. “Shall we go?”
*****
“We are getting married this weekend in Las Vegas,” Sveyn declared once they were back in Hollis’s condo. “After what happened tonight, I will not brook any delays.”
A thrill of anticipation snaked through Hollis’s gut. She was one-hundred-percent on board with that suggestion; in many ways and for many reasons.
“We have to make reservations now, then.” She reached for her laptop. “Vegas gets busy on weekends.”
Sveyn pushed the laptop closed. “I will do this.”<
br />
“But you—”
He rested his hand on the laptop. “I will do this.”
“—have never been to—”
“Hollis.” Sveyn leaned close. “I. Will. Do. This.”
Hollis sat back in her chair, skeptical. “All by yourself?”
Sveyn’s lips quirked. “I will ask for help, but not from you. I want to give you a good wedding, even in the American Gretna Green.”
She folded her arms. “So what am I supposed to do?”
“Tell me who you want to be at the wedding.”
“Stevie and Miranda.” Hollis shrugged. “They are the only real friends I have here.”
Sveyn nodded. “I will invite them.”
Hollis lifted one disbelieving brow. “Is that it?”
Sveyn held out his hand. She laid her palm against his. He pulled her to stand and led her in a slow twirl. Then he leaned down and murmured in her ear.
“You will need a dress.”
Thursday
February 18
Stevie followed Hollis into the wedding dress consignment shop. “This is so exciting. I hope we can find you one that fits.”
Hollis smiled politely, her eyes already moving over the racks. Was she insane to agree to a formal wedding with just seventy-two hours’ notice?
Probably.
“Yeah. We sure don’t have any time for alterations.” Hollis stepped up to the customer service desk. “I made an appointment this morning. Hollis McKenna.”
The middle-aged woman smiled up at her. “Yes, I’m the one you spoke with.” She said something into the speaker hanging from her earpiece. “Maddy will be right with you.”
“Whoever said shopping for wedding dresses was loads of fun just wanted everyone else to be as miserable as she was,” Hollis grumbled.
“Oh, stop.” Stevie made a face and tugged at a gown hanging on the closest rack. “Do you like this one?”
Hollis shook her head. “It doesn’t hit me.”
Hollis always thought she wanted a ball-gown-style dress with a dropped waist that highlighted her curves. But now she found herself drawn to simpler lines.
“I know it’s winter, but I think I want strapless.”
