by J. J. Keller
Moisture formed under her arms and above her lip. Why was her body leaking fluids? Could the visceral response be due to the pits of Hades being just beyond?
What if Malare opened the door? No one knew what happened to her after she disappeared from the battlefield. Kiara had used her as an example. Maybe Odin sent Kiara to join Malare in the underworld? That was the assumption the other Valkyries made—Malare joined the Dark Lord.
Odd music, a strange girl child, perfumed scents, unusual hallway, all added to what?
Perhaps it was all a dream. If she knocked, possibly Skogul would open the door with a huge smile.
Kiara’s hand fisted, as if directed to do so by an unknown force, and rapped three times.
Chapter 6
The solid oak door shook on its hinges with the three loud drums. His mother must have sent a stronger force. By the loud rap, his father or his cousin, Tyson, hovered on the other side.
“Don’t bother me, I’ll be along,” Harrison shouted.
The continued knocking drew him to cover his ears, but it didn’t help. He dropped his arms to his sides and glanced at the cat clock click-clacking its tail back and forth. A small whisker pointed to ten. Wide green eyes blinked every half-hour. The woman’s eyes had been the same color. His gut clutched. Had his mind transposed her image on familiar items such as the clock? No. Despite what the psychiatrist claimed, what he’d experienced had not been a vision. A woman had sat on top of him. Her skin had been soft and her smile real. Had he truly hallucinated, his body wouldn’t have reacted to her sweet pious scent in such a strong way.
Besides, the warped purplish-black feather stood as proof. Granted the squad had been under the cover of trees and any bird could have dropped the plume, so maybe his theory held little weight. In Harrison’s mind, there was no doubt the feather saved his life and it came from Kiara. Was magic possible? He thought mythology was all fairy tales to scare little children to obey their elders and go to bed.
The thump, while quieter, was annoyingly repetitious.
One hour until the Valentine celebration ended and it was obvious he wasn’t going to get away from attending. Had he not taken a nap shortly after his arrival to his parents’ house he could use sleep deprivation as a valid excuse to forego putting in an appearance at this bogus event.
The wound ached, making his head hurt, which made the rat-a-tat-tat on the door less shallow and more intense. Harrison glanced at his bare chest and jeans. Toes wiggling into pile carpet, he strode to answer and give whoever was on the other side a blistering lecture. Sparks shot from the metal knob as his fingers wrapped around the orb. Before a full twist, the door opened and his heart fell as fast as if he repelled from a twelve-story building.
She was real and here in front of him. Or maybe his head wound was making him hallucinate.
“Kiara?”
An extended sigh seeped out as her shoulders raised and lowered. A wide grin transformed her worried face into one of obvious relief.
“Earth. I’ve been dropped to Earth and of all the door choices in this hall, I knocked on yours?” Her tone, while heavy with skepticism, held hope. She glanced to her left, toward the staircase. Chatter, like hens in a clucking group, drew near. Eyes wide, Kiara touched his hand. “May I come inside?”
This can’t be a hallucination. Her skin was soft. She spoke. He’d forgotten how deep and sexy her voice was, like the raspy fire of a muzzle loader. Her words made his backbone tingle. Not the spine-chilling premonition of something dreadful to come, rather a quiver of excitement. She’d returned.
Why?
He grabbed her hand and pulled her inside the room, then stepped out and looked both ways. Harrison shut the door just as the ring of female giggles bounced off the walls. Kiara stood in the center of his bedroom suite, glancing around. She pirouetted like his sister’s wind-up musical jewelry box doll. Christ, what was she doing here? He’d touched her, heard her, seen her—his mind wasn’t playing a trick on him. “You’re Kiara, right?”
Her face lit with a smile. “Yes.”
She had magical abilities. It took him a full month to come to terms with the belief. Of course he had been hit in the head, so she could very well be a stalker. Elite Special Force members had always gotten attention from women.
President Kennedy said it best, “The green beret is a symbol of excellence, a badge of courage, a mark of distinction in the fight for freedom.” Despite having the beret associated with the Army, repeating this little phrase had gotten all of his squad members laid at one time or another. Reality struck Harrison. Kiara may be attracted to the uniform—his heart skipped a beat—instead of him, the man. Could it be she was a stalker and his mind created her as a savior?
With a heavy heart, he asked the question most troubling on his mind. “Why are you here?”
She faced him and her unadorned fingers unclasped her cloak. “Where are we?”
Why hadn’t she answered his question? Was it because she had come to kill him—finish the job? Would he become a ghost solider for a mythological god or tied to a bed like in Misery or whatever the current rage was for stalkers?
Maybe he didn’t want to know. “My parents’ house, near Indianapolis. Indiana.”
Her slight nod and arched eyebrow didn’t convince him she understood. He stared at her for a few seconds. “United States of America.” Could he hold her or would the connection pull him further into an unreal universe?
She stared at his wall of tribute, a commemorative erected by his mother. His wishes hadn’t been honored; she raised the memorial anyway. The explanation from his mother as to why the plaques were in his room was All of the frames match. The latest one: a Purple Heart.
“Twenty-second century?” Her lake-green eyes met and held his gaze.
“Yes.” Puzzled, Harrison stepped to her. “Why do you ask?”
“Loki joke. Blasted trickster. This can’t be good.” She flung her shawl onto his bed and centered herself under the ceiling fan over his sitting area. “I’m hot. Days. Not months or years. Yet time occurs different on Earth than on Asgard. What is the time difference equation?” Shaking pale hands scrubbed her face, not one strand of hair left its tight nest at the nape of her beautiful long neck. “Does he really want me to go through this?”
She wasn’t making any sense, but from her ramblings his heart plummeted. “Who—”
Chapter 7
The bedroom door flew open, hitting the wall of plaques, jingling them like a bell announcing a victory. “Harrison Valentine, it’s your day, and your public waits.”
Short dark-brown hair, almost the color of Göndul’s mahogany horse, had been tucked into a knot on the girl’s head. On each earlobe was a dazzling jewel, their facets glimmering in the dim light. The petite woman, wearing a long black dress with gray onyx trim, was a smaller version of Harrison, very striking.
“Who are you? Is that real silver? Are those diamond pins holding your hair? Why does your hair flicker and flash? Where did you come from? Where are your clothes?” Her attention jerked to Harrison. “Is she your date? Is this the reason you’re incredibly late?”
Harrison frowned and swiped a hand through his hair, which was much longer than when Kiara had met him. As the blond strands parted, a scar was revealed. Gross, long, and pink, it separated a path along the left side of his head. Heart pounding as fast as Bright’s hoofs on a dirt path, she cringed. Why hadn’t the wound disappeared? The Phoenix feather should have eliminated the injury, leaving Harrison as if he’d never been shot. She had to be careful—if the magic hadn’t worked, he might remember more than her name. Perhaps that was the reason Odin conveniently placed her near Harrison? A shiver of relief passed through her at the thought of what could have been behind the door.
“Heather, Kiara.” He extended his hand to the other girl then turned to her. “Kiara, my baby sister Heather.”
Heather rushed forward and instead of bowing as Kiara expected, she touched the camisole.
A moan came from Heather. “Not silver, too soft. I love the bling.”
“It’s platinum, I think.” Kiara felt around for the side tie. She had to get rid of Heather and try to dig into Harrison’s mind. Maybe some of her powers cleaved to her like fallout from a volcanic eruption. She stepped out of the garment and shoved it toward the tiny replica. “Here, it’s yours.”
“Rare and heavy. It’s too valuable. I can’t accept this.” Despite the words, a hiss came from Heather as she took the garment and rubbed the silver threads. Harrison stumbled forward, Kiara’s cloak in hand. Were humans allowed to show their unclothed bodies?
“I’ve never seen a six-pack on a woman before. Your body is absolutely perfect.” Heather’s small black bag had bells inside. She reached inside and withdrew a rectangle. After a glance at the box, she nodded to Harrison. “It’s time to go. Mother’s coming.”
“Kiara needs a dress. Can you help her while I get changed?”
Changed into what? Why? Unable to read their thoughts, her body heated. She needed a second to adjust to the time zone, to Earth, to seeing Harrison again, her gorgeous brave Silent Warrior, and not having any powers at all. Her breath caught. No powers. “Where are you going?” Kiara screeched.
Although she couldn’t read Harrison’s thoughts or determine his next action, Odin help her, a clue hovered at the edge of her mind. What Odin wanted from her was within her grasp and it related to Harrison. She had to keep him close.
“To the party downstairs,” Heather said. “February fourteenth is a day the parents always throw a bash. An important day for them—met, love, marriage. Forever. Most of the time Harrison misses it because he’s overseas. But this time they are celebrating Harrison surviving near-death.” Shift clutched in hand, Heather flew to the door. “What color? Might be a little short. Oh, but your shoes are slippers, so that’s good. How tall are you? Extremely tall. Doesn’t matter, I’ll be back in a flash.”
Kiara deflected the green lamb’s wool Harrison tried to wrap around her. “I can’t put that on, I’m hot. Does she always talk fast like that?”
“Yes. In case my mother raids the place, do you mind covering your, ah, nakedness?” Applying a tug on the bottom drawer, in a wall of drawers, he snatched a thin cotton garment from inside.
Kiara sniffed the material. None of his scent teased her senses. She wanted the mix of his body smell mingled with ocean and sunflowers. Would he notice if she rubbed the cloth on his skin first? “I’m not sure it’ll fit. My shoulders are a little large because of javelin practice. Could you put the garment on, so I can get a visual?”
He narrowed his eyes as if doubting her.
“I would be embarrassed if I put the tunic on and your parent came in seeing your blouse too small on me. I am rather tall. Head and shoulders above your sister.”
He shoved it closer as if her explanation was ridiculous.
She crossed her arms.
“Shirt. Men call it a shirt.” One arm inserted into the white shirt, slim blue lines creased then smoothed as it went across his back. Her nails bit into her palms, as she resisted reaching and touching his bronze, trained body. He must have gotten some sun in the past month. Her fingers inched toward his broad shoulders. She withdrew when he whirled around, shedding the garment as he did. Heaves returned and her stomach became heavy as if weighted down by curdled milk. Her heart, continuing the fast beat from moments before when Odin banished her, acted as the churn stirring up the mix of emotions. Throat dry, she focused on Harrison’s arms. Thick, well-defined muscles. Touch the warm human sinew, Kiara, her mind urged.
He coughed.
She glanced into his eyes and saw…something she didn’t recognize. His pupils were large; the black glimmered, pulsed, growing large then smaller. Nostrils flared like before, on the battlefield. His fingers clutched the collar of the shirt, merging the blue stripes. The funny feeling near her woman parts multiplied.
“Happy namesake day?” Kiara whispered and extended her hands, palms up.
The words shocked him out of the intense stare. A chortle left his mouth. He shoved the shirt into an open palm and rushed into another room. Kiara, inhaling his fragrance, placed the soft material over her head and through the sleeves. Stock still, she glanced at the bright lights on the machine to her left. A little apple glowed on the bottom at the center.
Black words stood out on the background. She recognized a couple, Valkyrie and Odin. The image of Göndul riding her horse in the sky was a gorgeous exact image. Was Kiara illustrated inside the apple box?
She inhaled. Harrison had to know who and what type of supernatural being she was.
Chapter 8
Kiara glanced at the chamber door. The sound of running water assured her Harrison was occupied. Could she take the box into her hands, shake it to find out more information about Valhalla? What could humans possibly know? Loki! Could they have a traitor in Asgard who was sharing information with Earth-walkers?
“Hello, coming in.” Heather flung Harrison’s bedroom entrance open. Carrying several garments in her arms, she shut the door with the spike on her shoe. “Need to hurry. I heard Mother is coming up the stairs. Which one do you want?”
Heather dangled a sky-blue evening dress with tiny threads looped on each side. Next came a blood red one with a hard casing on the bodice and no straps. Finally a beige garment with tiny gold threads; much like Heather’s gown, it had one long arm and no sleeve on the other side.
“Ah, by the gleam in your eyes, we have a winner. Here, slide it on. I have a new pair of bejeweled panties that will go perfect under the dress.” The sound of bees buzzing rang through the room; slick and noisy the other dresses landed on the bed and the droning whisper ended. Kiara slipped Harrison’s warm shirt from her body. Heather held the gown for Kiara to step into.
She did and turned to see her backside in the mirror. How to bridge the gap between the sides? All of her garments had clasps or junctions at the waist. The water shut off in the adjoining room. Harrison had taken clothing, so she had a few minutes. Perhaps she could dress, chase Heather away, and look at the glowing box.
“Here, I’ll zip.” Heather thrust the undergarment into Kiara’s hand. “How do I clean the silver?”
“I don’t know, because I always had a servant do it. I guess soap and cold water.” Kiara put the panties on, shimming to get them in position. “These are quite comfortable. What are they made from?”
“Cotton and spandex.” She gave a pat, pat, pat to Kiara’s shoulder and Kiara turned around. “Wow, perfect. With the low or no heels, the dress goes to the floor. Great!”
“Yes, it is lovely. Thank you, for providing them.” A twirl and the material stretched, moving when she moved.
Heather glanced around the room. “Where is your luggage? Did you pack make-up? We could freshen your face.”
Kiara stood still. She didn’t have a clue as to what she was referring. Could luggage be the same as satchel? Make-up? “I, ah, came straight from the travel port and—”
“They lost your bags. Happens all the time. Tell me what blend you use and I’ll see if I have something.” Heather pointed to her cheek. “Blush.” Then to her eyelid. “Brown?”
Heather had blue tint on her eyelids. Must be acceptable to wear paint in this century. Kiara needed to fit in, to pretend to be one of them. By acting as a human could she return to Asgard? “I’m not currently wearing those things, so whatever will be perfect.”
“Wow. No wonder Harrison’s fallen for you.” Heather strode to the exit. “I’ll get a little transparent finish to cover the shininess.”
Fallen for you? As in dropped to the floor? Harrison didn’t take a spill. They spent only minutes together and Kiara didn’t have powers or her spear. How could Heather make that assumption?
The door to the other room opened as the entrance closed and Harrison walked out, tying a black thick rope at his neck. His hair had a wet substance making it stick up and over, adequately covering h
is injury. The faint dark stubble on his face was gone and an aroma like rain came from him. He stood within inches of her throbbing nipples. Kiara’s new garments went from lightweight to heavy; she wanted to shed them and mount the man who made her heart sing like a song bird. “You look striking, like a raven with a streak of white.”
“Thanks, I think. You look nice. Could you help me fix this necktie?” His fingers tangled in the slick shiny cord.
“I can remove it and the rest of your clothes if you’re willing.” A few fumbles and she latched onto the closure of her dress. “Mine as well.”
The nose flares were back and so were his crazy eyes.
“Can’t. Don’t tempt me, Kiara” he whispered.
“Here you go,” Heather said from beside them.
When had she reentered? Another woman was with her, older with high hair and pearls. Had Kiara been so lost in her Einherjar she’d ignored her surroundings? A Valkyrie never forgot to be aware of possible danger.
“Harrison, aren’t you going to introduce your friend to Mother?”
Like a whip Harrison snapped around, placing feet between them instead of inches. Kiara’s womb stopped clutching and her rhythm caught its regular beat. A strong physical and emotional connection existed between them. Had she been mesmerized? She’d find that silken bond and sever it. Maybe then she could return to Valhalla.
Harrison pointed to her. “Mother, this is Kiara. Kiara, my mother, Sofia Lombard.”
The short older Lombard extended a dainty hand with cream-tinted fingernails. Diamonds, enhancing two of her fingers, glittered as dazzling as Skogul’s camisole. Her narrow face held sharp intelligent blue eyes. “Kiara what?”
