by Eva Chase
“We can,” Freya said. “Most of us did, during Ragnarok, although I can’t say it was much more pleasant for those who simply witnessed the entire thing. But those who died returned to life in the aftermath of the destruction.”
“So even if you die, you come back,” I said.
“Well, we aren’t entirely sure what would happen if any of us were pushed to the brink again. We knew Ragnarok was coming. It was meant to be. What’s to follow has never been clear.” She rubbed her mouth. “Some of us might have vanished already. There are others of Asgard we haven’t spoken to in centuries.”
The next question I was almost afraid to ask, but I had to.
“Are you sure Odin hasn’t been cut down like those other valkyries were? That wherever he is, whatever’s happened to him, he’s still alive?”
That you’re not searching for someone who can no longer be found?
Freya’s jaw tightened a little, but her voice stayed mild. “I would know. If his essence had departed the realms… I would know. As would the others, I expect, maybe even more sharply than I would.”
Okay. That explanation sounded like new-age blathering to me, but it wasn’t as if I didn’t know that the gods had senses beyond what I’d been used to. I could take her word for it.
“So you’re stuck here just waiting for him.” I tried to imagine it—the existence of a god. What my existence would theoretically look like, if I managed not to get myself killed on this mission of theirs. “Does it get… boring, being around this long? What do you even do? I mean, when you don’t have a valkyrie around to put through the paces.”
Freya laughed. Her amusement felt genuine too. “Oh, I’m sure we all have our moments of boredom. But humans provide endless new entertainment and drama, and this is just one of the nine realms. We all have our pet subjects. Baldur follows music; Thor enjoys sports. Norns know what mischief Loki is occupying himself with at any given time. Hod collects all the latest manuscripts on philosophy and scientific inquiry—a strange combination, I’d say, but he doesn’t ask my opinion.”
I kind of wanted to bristle at the idea of people like me being around just for the entertainment of a bunch of gods, but then, maybe it wasn’t that different from watching reality TV? If we did it to ourselves, I couldn’t really get mad at them over it.
“What about you?” I asked.
“Oh…” Her gaze turned distant. “It’s always interesting to see the directions fashion rambles off in and returns to. But mostly my expertise is love. Romantic and motherly. I intervene on occasion, when a misunderstanding seems a little too tragic or when I can help a child come to be.” Her smile came back, a little bittersweet this time. “I just have to be careful not to get too invested. I’m not a meddler on Loki’s scale.”
It didn’t really seem right that the goddess of love should have a husband who apparently wandered off doing who knew what for ages at a time. How lonely must she get? I had enough sense of self-preservation not to ask that out loud, but I couldn’t help prodding a bit. “I guess it’s hard without Odin here.”
“Well, it’s not as if I hadn’t seen what he was like before we forged that connection.” She glanced at me. “Before you think I’m all soft-bellied sap, I should mention my other specialty is war. It was skirmishes and battles that Odin and I first bonded over. Believe me, if I could be the one taking the risks we’re asking you to, leaping into the fray to find him, I’d charge forth without a second’s hesitation. I wish I could.”
As she said it, I saw the steel in her under that dolled-up exterior. She meant that, unquestionably. She didn’t like having to ask me to go in her place.
I’d already had every intention of surviving for my own benefit, but I felt compelled to say, to show her the steel I had too, “I’m not going to get caught like the valkyries before. I’ll figure out what happened to him, and I’ll make it back. You can count on that much.”
“You know, after tonight’s performance, I think perhaps I can.” She stopped again and touched the side of my arm. “Thank you for doing what I can’t. I’m sorry you didn’t have more of a choice in the matter. You seem more settled now. Would you like to get back to the house? If you’re hungry, we may be able to scrounge up a few bits of food Thor hasn’t already devoured.”
“I think I need to sleep more than I need to eat right now.” I had to fight to suppress a yawn.
We headed back to the house in a weird sort of companionable silence. Weird because I couldn’t remember the last time I’d just walked in silence with someone and not felt like I needed to be totally on guard.
Freya wasn’t all that bad, really. I was pretty sure I wasn’t ever going to need to stab her, in any case.
A flicker of movement beyond the house’s roof caught my gaze. A dark flutter against the equally dark treetops. I narrowed my eyes, calling on my valkyrie senses. The details of branches and leaves sharpened to reveal a shape swooping from one perch to another. A hawk.
Another dropped down out of the night sky to join it. I frowned. Hawks were daytime birds, weren’t they? What were two of them doing suddenly hanging out around the gods’ house in the middle of the night? And the energy I sensed in them had a deliberateness to it that sent an uneasy prickling down my back. It set off a deeper tremor in my gut, something hotly insistent. An instinct I didn’t know how to read.
“What?” Freya asked, taking in my expression.
“There are two hawks in that tree,” I said, nodding to it. “Something about them doesn’t feel right. Like they’re watching the house.” And like they should mean something to me. I just didn’t know what.
Freya’s expression hardened. In that moment, she looked every inch the war goddess. “You’ve been tested enough today,” she said. “When you get inside, tell Loki I could use a hand. Then go enjoy that bed of yours. You’ve earned it.”
“What are you going to do about them?” I asked.
The corner of her lips curled upward. “I can be very charming when I want to be. And once they’re charmed down here, I’m sure our trickster can determine what tricks they’re up to. If it’s anything all that exciting, you’ll hear about it in the morning.”
14
Thor
I was on my third slice of breakfast ham when Loki sauntered into the kitchen. Somehow, even when he was doing something as innocent as pouring himself a cup of coffee, he always managed to look as if he were up to no good. I supposed I should just be glad that in recent memory he’d always been scheming on our side.
“Did you glean anything else from that hawk?” I asked.
“Nothing more than confirming what I’d already seen,” Loki said. “It had a tang of rot on it, even though the bird itself was lively enough, and a shiver of unfriendly magic. Neither of which I like, but neither of which is all that catastrophic at this point.”
“No creatures like that ever came around here before.”
“No,” Loki said. “I do have to wonder if that little battle last night caught someone’s attention.”
I looked up from my ham. “Like who?”
He gave me a narrowly amused look. “If I knew that, I’d already be knocking on their door, not discussing it with you.”
“But you think they might be after Ari.”
“Or interested in her, at least. She did surprise even us, after all.”
Her blast of lightning. The last three valkyries hadn’t displayed that talent. I’d had no idea I could pass on my affinity for the stuff that literally, but clearly I had. And with a similar lack of control. She’d used it on instinct, the same way the battle rage came over me.
Baldur drifted into the kitchen with a gentle nod to both of us on his way to the fridge to retrieve a hard-boiled egg. I nodded in return and refocused on Loki. “And you haven’t had any thoughts on how that could have happened?”
Loki spread his hands. “No more than you. Perhaps you always passed on a spark, and none of the others ever had enough spirit for it to
really take light. She does have rather a lot of fire.”
“Yes,” Baldur said in his light voice, joining me at the table. “She’s been quite impressive.”
“She has,” I agreed. If I hadn’t been so worried about Ari’s fate last night, I might have enjoyed being awed by how quickly she’d gotten comfortable with her new strength and speed. I’d have taken her as a fighting partner any day. Holding her own against not one but three wargs…
A little of yesterday’s anger tickled up with that memory.
“Your theory seems to have been right,” Baldur added, smiling at Loki. “Perhaps character isn’t half so important as determination and adaptability.”
“I think Ari has plenty of character too,” I said. “And I’ll give Loki more credit when he proves he’s not going to kill her before she gets a chance to do what we’ve been training her for.”
Loki waved off my complaint as he took a gulp of his coffee. He always drank it fast and scalding hot. “Stop your fretting. She was fine. And if she hadn’t been, the five of us were right there. I’d like to think at least one of us would have been quick enough to intervene if she’d looked as though she needed it.”
Had he been thinking that the whole time we’d been watching? I probably would have jumped in if I’d seen one of the monsters about to land a fatal blow, but I’d have done it expecting Loki to chide me afterward for ruining the test.
I scowled at myself. I’d accepted what I’d thought were his rules too quickly, hadn’t I? He might have a faster wit, but he wasn’t any more in charge around here than the rest of us were.
If Hod had been here, he’d have some dark comment at the ready to match my mood. But the god of night usually slept not long after dawn. We wouldn’t see him for at least a couple hours.
“I still say it was a dirty trick.”
Loki grinned. “And I’d say there’s no such thing as a clean one. Do you think our enemies are going to play fair? If they had, those pure-of-heart girls we summoned would have fared much better.”
He was right. That didn’t mean I had to like it. “Oh, shut up,” I muttered.
“You all should shut up,” Freya declared, sweeping into the room. The scent of honeysuckles trailed after her like it always did when she’d been exercising her powers. Charming that wretched hawk down—some task for a love goddess.
“And why exactly is that?” Loki asked, cocking his head.
“Still having the same stupid argument.” Freya gestured toward the hall. “If you’re so worried about the girl, why don’t you pay a little more attention to what she’s going through now instead of what she’s already been through and come out the other side of. The lot of you didn’t have the faintest idea how unsettled she was after she survived last night, did you?”
I blinked. “Of course she was a little shaken. But once Baldur looked after her wounds…”
“She seemed to prefer time to process on her own,” Baldur said. “I gave her that space.”
“Because that’s all she’s used to, not because that’s what’s good for her!” Freya sighed and shook her head. “It’s amazing you men manage to get anything done, I swear. Three days ago she was a regular human being, and the next thing she knows she’s fighting deadly monsters she wouldn’t have thought belonged anywhere other than myths. I had a talk with her last night, but I think she’s still struggling. She’s already up, you know. She’s been sitting on the roof for the last hour just watching the sky.”
Oh. I’d assumed I hadn’t seen Ari because she was still sleeping. Even Loki looked mildly chagrined, though I wasn’t convinced he’d completely missed everything Freya had mentioned. Maybe he simply hadn’t thought it worth bothering with. Who knew with the Mischief Maker?
If anyone here knew how to deal with the aftermath of a battle, it was me. I pushed back my chair. “I’ll go see what she needs.”
Freya crossed her arms. “Just keep in mind she probably needs a subtle touch, Thunderer.”
“I can be subtle,” I retorted. But the truth was, subtlety wasn’t exactly my strong point. I paused in the hall, considering my possible tactics. Then I hustled up the stairs to retrieve something from my room before I headed out the door.
It was another fine summer day—finer than the last few, really. The humidity had died down, leaving a heat that was more crisp than suffocating. Birds were chirping and fluttering between the trees. All except the one the hawks had been perched in last night, I couldn’t help noticing. That didn’t bode well.
I circled the house, tapping my thigh with a solid thunk of the object I was carrying. It grounded me, reminded me of my strengths. I might not be a smooth talker like Loki or filled with gentle light like Baldur, but I’d spent enough time around our valkyrie to have a decent idea where to start if she needed steadying.
Ari was where Freya had said she’d be, perched by the edge of the roof outside the third-floor dormer. Her blond waves were swept back from her face, and she had her head tipped back to soak up the sun. It was hard to judge her expression at that distance.
“Hey, Ari!” I hollered. “You look like you could use something to do.”
Her gaze darted down. A grin flashed across her face when she saw me. “What did you have in mind?” she shouted back.
I shrugged. “Come down, and I’ll show you.”
She stood up, and her wings unfurled from her back with a rush of rustling feathers, no hesitation now. As casual as could be, she stepped off the end of the roof. Her wings caught the air just enough to turn what should have been a fall into a swift glide. She landed in front of me with a thump of her feet and an arch of her eyebrows.
“Here I am. Show away.”
I’d agreed that she’d been impressive last night, but that was nothing compared to seeing her standing here, so sure in her new body and abilities. The sunlight played over her hair and brought a fiery glint into her gray eyes, and a sensation that was more than just awe twinged below my gut. Part of me—the part most aware of how long it’d been since I’d last gotten laid—started picturing what it’d be like to feel that body under mine.
I reined that part in. I’d come out here to reassure her—in my own way—not to put a move on her. Not that I suspected Ari would welcome those sorts of advances anyway. Nothing would kill the trust I thought I’d earned faster than treating her like a conquest rather than the fellow warrior she was.
Her expression was cocky as ever, but I thought I saw a shadow of the uncertainty Freya had hinted at pass through her eyes before I answered. She might be a warrior, but this was still a strange new world for her. One with dangers she’d never imagined. Both out there and possibly within herself.
What always made me feel better in the face of unknown dangers was showing myself how easily I could crush them, at least the outside ones.
“I thought you might enjoy a little target practice, of a sort,” I said, and hefted the weapon I’d been carrying at my side. “How would you like to give Mjolnir a try?”
Ari’s eyes widened as she took in the broad gleaming shape. “Your hammer. Isn’t it enchanted or something? Can I even use it?”
“There’s no magic on it that says who can or can’t do what with it,” I said. “But it is magic. Always hits its mark. Always comes right back to you. Very satisfying to play with.”
That eager gleam came back into her eyes. Oh, yes, I’d picked the right offering. “Okay,” she said. “You first. I want to see what I have to beat.”
I guffawed and rolled my shoulder. “Let’s see. The end of that low branch there on the elm.” I pointed, flipped the hammer by its short handle—showing off, maybe a little—and hurled it.
Mjolnir streaked through the air and smashed into the end of the branch with a burst of splintered wood and shredded leaves. The breeze warbled around the hammer as it flew back to smack into my waiting palm. A wash of satisfaction passed through me.
“I try not to destroy anything too large,” I said. “Or
Freya gets a little testy about the landscaping.”
Ari laughed. “I bet. Give me a try.”
I passed the hammer to her with only a little twinge as it left my grasp. It was true that anyone could use Mjolnir, but it felt almost like a part of me. I didn’t lend it easily.
Ari’s much smaller hand closer around the handle. The muscles in her arm flexed as she tested its weight. She scanned the yard and nodded to an old fence post that had long since lost the rest of the fence. “That’s coming down.”
She wound back and threw, gritting her teeth at the effort. Mjolnir spun, shining, and bashed the post into a shower of woodchips. Ari clapped her hands with a cry of triumph and remembered to reach out for the hammer’s return at the last second. Its momentum tugged her toward me, but she just laughed again.
“All right, that is kind of fun. You want another turn?”
“Why not?”
She handed the hammer to me, and I took aim at an abandoned squirrel nest near the top of an oak. Mjolnir sent down a rain of dry leaves and twigs.
I offered the hammer back to Ari. She set her sights on a rock about as high as my knee and twice the width of my leg, protruding from the grass in the meadow beyond the trees.
“Let’s see just how accurate this thing is,” she said, and whipped it forward.
Mjolnir flashed, and the rock exploded with a cracking loud enough to scatter the nearby birds. Ari gave a breathless cheer as the hammer soared back to her hands. She looked down at it as if examining the grooves in the well-worn metal. That shadow crossed her expression again.
“It seems almost wrong to enjoy destroying something that much,” she said.
A knot formed in my gut. So she’d already gotten there. It’d taken a long time before I’d ever been able to put that vague discomfort into words.
“It was only a rock,” I said. “And it’s practice for going up against the things that would destroy us if we let them.”
“True.” She raised her head. “I guess you’ve fought a lot of battles with this.”
