Mist couldn’t believe that Loki would allow the beast to roam unattended around these halls under any circumstances. He barely let Dainn out of his sight.
“Come with me,” she said, taking his hand. “We’ll find—”
He was gone again before she could finish speaking. She looked down the hall, but no one was coming. She sensed no threat.
Why hadn’t Danny spoken directly of the beast before? Why had he been so vague, his speech so disconnected?
Of one thing Mist was certain: something was very wrong, and Danny had come to her for help. If he was still anywhere in this building, she’d track him down and get answers … without alerting Loki. Or Dainn.
* * *
The locks had been tampered with.
Dainn paused in front of the door to the private hall, his body still shaking with helpless anger. He had seen Regin and Skuld acting as playthings for Loki’s mortal allies—dolls without volition or awareness—and there had been nothing he could do. Loki had made very clear that the consequences of any interference would fall, not on him, but on the Valkyrie.
And so, once he had put in an appearance as Loki had demanded for some unfathomable purpose of his own, Dainn had walked away. No one had stopped him. And now he discovered that magic had been worked on the hall door, magic with the distinct flavor of Freya’s aristocratic elven escort.
Dainn laid his palm against the door. It shuddered, and the dead bolts and knob broke apart and fell to the carpet.
Whoever had broken the locks must have known that their intrusion would be discovered. Someone who might have witnessed Loki’s private “party.”
But Loki would have sensed the presence of enemies, and he’d shown no sign—
The door creaked on its hinges and swung open. Dainn jumped back, his body acting before his mind could prepare.
Danny stood on the other side of the door, wearing rumpled pajamas and an anxious expression.
“Papa?” he said.
Dainn looked beyond him into the hall. There was no one else there.
“Danny,” he said, dropping into a crouch, “how did you get here?”
“I’m afraid, Papa,” Danny said. “The lady wants to hurt me.”
The lady. “Danny,” Dainn said, reaching out. “How did you—”
His hand swept through empty air. Danny had spun around and was running away, pelting down the public hall in an awkward lope.
Dainn broke into a run, but within seconds Danny had disappeared, and Dainn could feel no sense of him. His heart raced, fueled by adrenaline and terror for his son.
She will kill him.
Dainn closed his eyes, struggling to block the other voice, the thing halfway between elf and monster. It was still weak, and it reached for Dainn with claws hardly more fearsome than a kitten’s.
A kitten that fed on fear.
“No,” Dainn said, his blood surging hot in his veins.
You have no choice.
“There is always a choice.”
The claws lengthened and curved into scythes, and the voice grew stronger.
He will die.
A deep growl started up in Dainn’s throat. His vision altered and his senses sharpened to painful clarity. He could already feel the beast’s growing power swelling in his muscles, pounding in his chest … the terrible, familiar sense of losing himself to the creature that wanted nothing but blood and violence and death.
Our enemy’s death, it said.
Freya’s death. But as much as he despised her, he was almost certain that she had not yet destroyed Mist. The Lady was Loki’s enemy, holding him in check until …
Will you contemplate the future while the boy falls?
Dainn pushed his forehead against the wall and raked gouges in the paint with his fingers. The beast knew his weaknesses. It knew what he would kill and die for. And when it faced the goddess who would destroy his son, it would not hesitate to act. It would give no thought to the consequences beyond what must be done.
And Dainn saw the trick.
You tried to kill Danny on the steppes, he said to the beast. You said, “Take him, and we will be one.” You demanded a sacrifice.
The beast fell silent, withdrawing out of the reach of Dainn’s rational mind as if it debated with itself.
I will not harm the child, it said at last.
I cannot trust you.
A terrible sound echoed inside Dainn’s skull, a cry of terror that drove Dainn to his knees.
Danny.
The beast laughed again, its teeth flashing in its long, broad muzzle. And then it was gone.
Dainn scrambled to his feet, drawn by the cry echoing in his head. His senses were blurred and his muscles had lost all their strength, as if the beast’s withdrawal had stolen everything that might have helped him save his son.
I will find him, without your help, he told the beast. I will find him, and I will stop her.
* * *
The goddess woke up while Ryan was watching from the doorway. He slid out of sight, hoping she hadn’t seen him, and held his breath.
“Mist?” Freya said, her voice more querulous than enticing. The sheets fell away from her chest, revealing full breasts covered by a thin nightgown that left little to the imagination. Though she’d been lying in the bed for two whole days, her black hair still looked freshly washed, and there wasn’t a single crease on her face.
Ryan was extremely grateful that he was immune to her supposed charms. The fact that he couldn’t be distracted by her appearance should have made it easier for him to figure out why he’d been stupid enough to come here, as if he could actually carry through with his plan.
Maybe it would backfire on him again, because misusing his abilities would make things even worse. Who decides? he asked himself. Who decides if it’s okay, if it’s worth it to make one sacrifice to keep thousands of people from suffering?
“Sometimes you will only see what is coming just as it is about to happen,” Mother Skye had said. “Sometimes you will make mistakes. It is a hard truth, Ryan, that no one can protect you.”
Like he couldn’t seem to protect the people he cared about the most.
“Mist!” Freya called again, gracefully swinging her bare legs over the bed. She swayed a little, bracing herself on the mattress. Bryn walked in, stopped in surprise, and bowed. Ryan held his breath.
“Where is my daughter?” Freya demanded. “What has happened to me?”
“You’ve been very ill, Lady,” Bryn said, pouring Freya a glass of water from the pitcher on the bedside table. “Please lie down.”
Freya knocked Bryn’s hand away when she offered the glass, causing water to slop all over the floor and the Valkyrie’s sleeve. “What time is it? How long have I been here?”
“Two days, Lady,” Bryn said, setting the half-empty glass back on the table.
“Two days?” Freya tried to rise, caught at Bryn’s arm, and sank back to the bed.
“Do you remember what happened?” Bryn asked.
Freya rubbed her temples. “The squabble among the mortals. I—” She broke off, shaking her head slowly. “Tell me how I came to be here.”
Ryan listened as Bryn explained what everyone in the camp already knew. The Valkyrie was diplomatic, but there was no getting around it: Freya had lost consciousness right in the middle of using her magic, and Mist had shut down a potential riot all on her own.
For about five minutes after Bryn finished, Freya didn’t look particularly beautiful. Her face was red, her eyes were hard chips of blue flint, and Ryan was almost certain that she was going to do something like blast out the window of the bedroom.
But that wasn’t the way she did things. Usually.
“And you say she is at the reception in my place?” Freya said.
Even the usually unflappable Bryn looked nervous. “Loki invited you to talk to him, and we couldn’t let him think you were—”
“And how could you possibly believe that she could play my pa
rt?” Freya interrupted.
“Mist was able to create a perfect image of your elven form to disguise her body and features,” Bryn said.
“She surely gave herself away the first time she opened her mouth.”
“If anything had gone wrong, Konur would have let us know.”
“Would he ever admit to any flaw in her?”
“His loyalty is still to you, Lady. Whatever she does, Mist will never be your equal.”
Ryan was startled by Bryn’s criticism. She and Mist were good friends, and Bryn had been the first ally to show up after Mist had met Dainn and learned that Ragnarok had never happened. Somehow, strong as she was, she’d fallen under Freya’s spell.
Ryan spun around at the sound of heavy footsteps clomping down the hall. Rick was heading toward him, head down as if in thought. Ryan carefully closed the bedroom door and looked around quickly, wondering if he could get into the bathroom or the old computer room if he moved fast enough.
“Ryan?” Rick came to a sudden stop, an almost comical look of shock on his bearded face. “Where did you come from?”
Pressing against the wall near the bedroom door, Ryan tried to smile. “Uh … I just returned to camp.”
Rick grinned, grabbed Ryan in a bear hug, and ruffled his hair. “You look okay, kid.” He stepped back, and his mouth turned down. “The way you just disappeared, everyone was worried sick. Especially Gabi. That wasn’t cool.”
“I know,” Ryan said, looking down at his boots. “I just had to get away, to figure stuff out. And I was causing everyone too much trouble.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Rick said gruffly. “You know Mist wanted you and Gabi to go because things were getting too dangerous.”
“Yeah,” Ryan said, pretty sure that Rick didn’t know the half of it. He tried to listen through the door without being too obvious about it, hoping that Freya and Bryn weren’t paying any attention to what was going on outside the room. “I … I’ve got everything under control now. I don’t have those seizures anymore. I was just coming to look for Mist.”
“You mean you haven’t seen her yet? How long have you been back?”
“I wanted to … you know, kind of look things over first, make sure it was okay,” Ryan said. “Or at least okay to talk to Mist about being here.”
Rick grunted. “What about Gabi?”
“I’ve talked to her,” Ryan admitted. “I made her promise not to tell anyone else I was back until I was ready.”
“You know Eir’s dead?”
“Yeah.”
“She was good people. Helped a lot of us.” He glanced at the door. “Mist ain’t in there. She’s out doing stuff for the Lady. Freya’s resting because she—” He narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t come back because you saw something happen, did you?”
“You mean like a vision?” Ryan said, hoping his voice was steady. “No. I mean, I just wanted to see if I could help, now that I’m not getting sick anymore. And I missed everyone.”
“Well, you should keep a low profile until you can talk to Mist. Where are you staying?”
“I’ve been hiding out with Gabi.”
“Okay. Mist’ll probably be pretty busy when she gets back, so I’ll get word to you when she’s—”
The door opened, and Bryn stepped out.
“I heard voices,” she said. She stared at Ryan. “Ryan?”
“Surprise,” Rick said dryly. “Look, he don’t want to let anyone know he’s here until he talks to Mist, okay?”
Bryn blinked. “Freya’s awake,” she said to Rick.
“That’s great!” Rick said, rubbing his beefy hands together. “Do you think it would be okay if I … just looked in on her?”
If the situation hadn’t been so serious, Ryan would have rolled his eyes.
“I don’t think that would be a good idea just now,” Bryn said, lowering her voice. “The important thing is that she’s recovering.”
“And Mist is still all right?”
“We haven’t heard from Konur. Whatever happens, she’ll be back by dawn.”
Ryan bit down hard on his lower lip. He couldn’t wait to decide until Mist came back. If he was going to risk acting on what he’d “seen,” it would have to be now.
Bryn looked at him again as if she’d only just noticed him there. Ryan braced himself for the same set of questions all over again.
But she surprised him. “I know you probably have a lot to say to Mist,” she said. “But you haven’t met the Lady, have you?”
She grabbed his arm and opened the door. Freya was in bed again, propped up on what looked like a dozen pillows. Her half-lidded eyes opened when she saw Ryan, and she sat up a little straighter, her black hair falling into naturally flattering lines around her neck.
There was something in her stare that scared Ryan half out of his wits. It was like she already knew. That she could see what he was.
Maybe Mist had told her about him while he was gone. Gabi hadn’t mentioned it, but it didn’t matter now. Bryn had made the choice for him.
“And who is this handsome young gentleman?” Freya asked in a husky voice.
“Gabriella’s friend, Ryan,” Bryn said before he could answer. “Our resident seer. Or he was, before he ran away. He has just returned.”
“Oh?” Freya sat forward, and Ryan felt the push of something in his mind. Something that might have worked if he’d been someone else.
“He came to Mist when he saw something about the war in his dreams,” Bryn said. “He understands what’s happening.”
“I see,” Freya said, rubbing her lower lip with a flawless fingernail. “How fascinating.” She smiled at Ryan. “Do you know who I am?”
“Yeah. Yes. Lady Freya. I knew about you before you got here, but I…” He licked his lips and stared, pretending to be overwhelmed by her beauty.
“Odd that Mist never mentioned you.”
Ryan managed a brief bow. “Uh … like Bryn said, Lady Freya, I left. I did.… I can see the future sometimes, but it isn’t always useful, or accurate. I wasn’t really helping, so—”
“What did you see about the war?” Freya asked. The push on Ryan’s mind grew stronger, but he could tell that the goddess knew her magic was failing with him. Her smile looked a little strained.
“It’s hard to explain,” he said. “Sometimes all I’d see was bright light. Or that danger was coming. Then I stopped seeing things at all. And I got seizures, so Mist wanted me away from anything that could trigger them.”
“But you have returned,” Freya said, cocking her head.
“Like I told Rick and Bryn, I don’t get sick anymore. And I am…” He hesitated, wanting it to be just right. “I am seeing things again. I just don’t know if they mean anything. That’s why I came to talk to Mist before I told anyone el—”
“My daughter is very busy,” Freya said. “Come, sit by me and tell me what you’ve seen.”
“I … I think I should wait until Mist is back, shouldn’t I?”
The Lady very nearly scowled. “I am the sole representative of the Aesir. Mist may lead the mortal forces in battle, but there is no hope of victory without me.”
Ryan bobbed his head again. “I understand. I mean, I knew that.”
“Did you have a vision of me, child?”
Ryan couldn’t believe it was so easy. And he knew just what she’d want to hear. “After I first came here, I saw a … golden lady, leading an army of elves. She was using magic to destroy hundreds of Jotunar. Loki was trying to fight, but he—” Ryan frowned. “That’s all. I didn’t tell Mist about it then, because so much else was going wrong.”
“Was it me you saw?”
“Well, she had golden hair. She looked like Mist, but now that I’m here, I know it was you, even with the black hair.”
“Where was Mist in your vision?”
“I didn’t see her. It was like she wasn’t there.”
Freya sighed, but to Ryan the sound seemed less like disappointment tha
n satisfaction. “You saw no end to the battle?”
“I’m sorry. That’s the way it works. In pieces.”
She seemed to relax, her eyes growing heavy-lidded again, and Ryan knew she was hooked.
That was why he still had hope.
“This is a puzzle,” she said. “I should very much like to have all the pieces. Is this all that brought you to speak to Mist this night?”
Ryan pretended to hesitate, and then took a seat at the very end of the bed, as far from Freya as possible.
“I saw…” he began. He swallowed and started again. “Gabi told me that you have Odin’s horse, Sleipnir. One of the Treasures.”
“What of him?”
“I, uh, saw someone try to take him.”
“What do you mean?” Bryn asked, moving swiftly to stand beside him.
“It’s not completely clear,” Ryan said. “I saw fighting, and there was something big and dark there, killing people. And elves. Enemies were stealing the horse.”
“Do you mean Loki?” Bryn asked. She grasped Ryan’s shoulder. “Was he there?”
“I didn’t see him,” Ryan said. “But there were Jotunar.”
“When?”
“I’m not sure,” Ryan said, wincing at the pressure of Bryn’s fingers. “Soon, maybe even tonight.”
“If this vision is true,” Freya said. “Bryn, do you trust the boy?”
“It would be a good idea to check on it,” Bryn said, releasing Ryan’s shoulder. “It isn’t happening now, or the guards would have called. But we’ve been wondering why Loki hasn’t tried to do this before. If he knows you’ve been out of commission…”
“But did he know before he sent me the invitation?” Freya murmured. She addressed Ryan again. “What was this ‘big and dark’ thing you mentioned?”
That was the part Ryan hated thinking about. He’d seen Dainn’s physical beast during the fight with Jormungandr, when Dainn had saved him—seen it not with his eyes, but with his inner sight.
It had wanted to kill him.
“I don’t know,” he lied. “But it was powerful. And none of the elves or humans could stop it.”
Freya laughed softly. “We know what it is. Mist will be most distressed if the elf has finally succumbed.”
To Loki, Ryan thought. Not just going over to the bad guys for reasons no one understood, but actually helping them fight the good guys.
Battlestorm Page 18
