by Jenna Grey
Finn had already turned towards the stairs.
“I need to see if Liam saw anything else in his reading yesterday. From what you’ve said he was holding back, there was more to tell, and he was too afraid to go there. He has to tell us everything he saw.”
Bert looked very troubled.
“Are you sure that’s wise, my boy? He’s not quite himself at the moment – too unpredictable. If he’s sleeping, you really don’t want to wake him.”
Finn drew in a breath and blew it out again as if he were psyching himself up to wade into a fight.
“It’s okay; I can handle him; you know I can.”
Bert didn’t look anything like as confident about it.
“If you’re sure, but please be careful.”
Finn gave a resolute nod and headed for the stairs.
When he was out of earshot, Polly said.
“Will he really be all right? Liam scares me.” Polly was drunk enough not to guard her words too carefully; she knew she shouldn’t have said it, but she didn’t care that she had.
Bert forced a smile then.
“Oh, he scares me too sometimes, sweetheart. I’m sure Finn will be all right. Liam is far more hot air than sharp teeth. He knows that his brother loves him and has his best interests at heart. You know what brothers can be like sometimes.”
“It must be hard for you, though, for you and Finn.”
Bert didn’t need to answer, because Polly could see the answer written on his face.
“You have no idea, my dear, no idea.”
Finn came down less than ten minutes later, and there was a strange mixture of relief and anxiety on his face.
“All right?” Bert asked.
“Yes. Liam did see more, but he just got overloaded and had to shut down. Your Uncle does have the Hellstone, but there was more – and I don’t know what to make of this. Liam saw us all going into a cave, into a grave. He saw old helmets and weapons there, the bones of a large man, buried in mud.”
Polly wished she could take in what he was saying, but his words floated on a cloud inside her head, making no sense at all.
“Interesting,” Bert said.
Finn opened his mouth to say more, then hesitated, his face tightening into a moue of misery. “Liam saw, felt, Sigurd’s death – that’s why he had to shut down so hard. I can’t even imagine what that must have been like for him, experiencing a death as hideous as that.”
Polly could understand the terrible look of agony on Liam’s face now, why he was in such torment. That explained the dreadful fear she had seen there.
“Yes,” she said. “I saw. I knew he was going through something awful. I just didn’t know what it was. Poor thing. No wonder he reacted so violently.”
“Is he all right?” Bert asked.
“As all right as he ever is,” Finn replied. “Yes, he’s okay. But I doubt we’ll be seeing him for a while.”
Bert seemed relieved, but Polly couldn’t help but wonder whether it was relief that Liam was all right, or that he was going to be out of the way for a couple of days. Polly was still trying to catch up with the conversation, the alcohol slowing her down, making it hard to concentrate.
“Why would we need to go to Sigurd’s tomb if my uncle already has the Hellstone?” Polly asked.
“I have no idea, but we know that Liam is never wrong,” Bert said. “If he says that we have to find Sigurd’s burial site, then we have to find it. There must be a good reason for it. I think that a little holiday sounds like a great idea, anyway. It will be good for Polly to get away from the area for a while. She’s had too much to cope with.” Bert beamed a smile at them. “What say you two then, do you fancy a little adventure?” he asked.
Although Polly wasn’t entirely sure what she was agreeing to, as she was more or less rat-arsed drunk by that time, she nodded her wobbly agreement. Nothing she’d just heard made much sense, but to be fair, not much would have made sense to Polly right at that moment – she was too engrossed in watching the pretty patterns the dying sun was making on the wall as it shed the last rays of the day through the dusty window. Bert’s words floated over her, and she vaguely understood them, but they were just words.
“Finn, why don’t you help Polly up to her room? I think you need a good night’s sleep, young lady – first thing in the morning we’ll make our plans. I can book the train tickets online.”
Finn helped Polly to her feet and guided her to the stairs, almost holding her up. He managed to get her up the narrow stairs, with a bit of a struggle.
“You’re very nice,” she burbled, laying her head on his shoulder. “And very cute.”
Finn started giggling.
“You’re very drunk,” he said, finally getting her into her bedroom and dumping her unceremoniously onto the bed. He sat down beside her, and she gave him a silly grin.
“Thank you for everythin’,” she said, making a clumsy attempt at patting his head; her hand slipped down over his face, and she almost tipped forwards to bump foreheads with him. He put his hand to her chin and tilted her face up so that their eyes met.
“My pleasure,” he replied. Before she realised what was happening, he had pressed his lips to hers in a gentle kiss, and she let herself slip into it, putting her arms around his neck. It was more of a drunken attack than a tender embrace. He pulled away and eased her back on the bed. “You need to get some sleep. We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow. Sweet dreams.”
He pulled the cover up over her, placed a kiss on her forehead and within seconds the world had disappeared.
An icy cold blast of wind woke Polly up, and she opened her eyes to darkness. No, not complete darkness; she could see silhouetted shapes, sharp and irregular. She sat up and looked around, expecting to see herself in the tiny single bed, staring at gaudy curtains, but instead, she found herself looking at a glittering field of frozen rock that stretched as far as she could see. Above her were icicles, vicious daggers jutting out from the rocky ceiling. Of course, this was a dream, but it didn’t feel like a dream. She could feel the icy cold shivering over her skin, the hairs of her arms standing on end, her breath coming out on clouds of steamy air.
She scanned the scene around her and could make out shapes in the snow, bodies, covered in ice, all of them frozen in strange twisted forms. Here and there were pieces of armour, old swords, shields, the trappings of soldiers. They came from every age: Roman, Viking, and newer wars. There were guns and crossbows, all lying discarded in the ice. Everywhere there were bodies, lying in the snow, all naked; men, women, even children, all lay half buried in ice. Polly wandered in amongst them, terrified, fascinated. Then, to her horror she realised that they weren’t dead, they were only sleeping. Here and there was movement, a figure turning fitfully as it slumbered, small groans coming from their lips as if they were dreaming endless dreams. She watched closely and saw that even though they appeared to live, their chests were still, no sign of breath entering or leaving their lungs. She moved closer to one of them, a young woman, her face impossibly pale, her skin almost as translucent as the ice. Polly knelt beside her, moving the woman’s frost covered hair away from her face so that she could get a better look at her. She was young, perhaps no older than Polly, and very pretty; her lips were slightly parted, and she looked as if she were simply sleeping. Polly reached out to touch her arm; the flesh was soft and pliable, her finger leaving an imprint as she pressed into the blue-tinged skin.
Then the girl opened her eyes and stared straight at Polly. Polly fell back, terrified, as the girl grabbed her arm and held on with a vice-like grip. She stared at Polly with lifeless eyes, like a shark, with no iris or pupils.
“Help me,” she pleaded.
Polly yanked her arm away, falling back into the snow, skittering away backwards to get away from the terrible sight in front of her.
“I can’t help you. This is just a dream,” she said, pulling herself to her feet and turning to run. Her bare legs sank into the snow, a
nd she felt the brutal coldness of it as she tried to wade through it to put as much space between her and that awful monstrosity as she could.
She looked up, and in the distance was a great palace made of ice. Polly found herself walking towards it, wanting to see what was inside because she knew it was important. Its huge gates and high walls were meant to keep people out, but she would find a way through. She had to find a way through. In front of it was a bridge, crossing what looked like a great river covered in islands of dark ice. She would make for the bridge and find her way across.
And Polly suddenly knew where she was.
This was Helheim.
She looked up, drawn by some movement in the dark river water; ripples moved across the surface, the wake of something gliding beneath it. She watched transfixed, as a shape broke the surface, shedding chunks of ice from its back. It was a gigantic sea serpent, undulating and gliding through the water, circling the island and sending great spills of water and ice over the banks on either side. It turned and fixed her with its stare, its great yellow eyes devouring her.
On the other side was the wolf, a gigantic black wolf as large as a building; it prowled along the bank, snarling at the serpent, snapping at it when it came close to the surface. It too looked up and stared straight at her. Polly backed away in terror, trying to find somewhere to hide, but all around her shapes were moving in the darkness, shadows that weren’t shadows. In the mist were black forms, forms that undulated and shifted like smoke, moving towards her. She wanted to wake up, desperately wanted to wake because she knew they were coming for her. Closer and closer they came until they were almost on her, and as the darkness engulfed her, she woke up.
CHAPTER SIX
Polly moaned and tried to sit up; the sunlight pouring in through the window was so bright that it almost blinded her. She’d never had a hangover before, and she vowed she would never, ever, have one again. She staggered out of bed and managed to navigate her way across to the tiny bathroom, where she more or less brushed her teeth, without daring to look in the mirror. When she finally did pluck up the courage she wished she hadn’t. She looked as if she were auditioning for a part in the Walking Dead; her hair was a wild bush around her head, and she had holdalls under her eyes. She dragged a brush through her hair, had a lick of a wash and went downstairs to the kitchen to see if she could find the makings of a cup of tea; her mouth felt as if a herd of trolls had trampled through it.
She suddenly remembered the dream and shivered. That had been one of the worst nightmares she’d ever had because it seemed so real. Could that really have been a vision of Helheim? It was worse than she could ever imagined. Those poor people dreaming endless dreams, lost in their torment. It was worse than Hell. She pushed it from her mind.
Finn was standing at the sink washing up – or at least making a pretence of it, dragging a sponge around a plate and then dumping it, still dripping and foaming onto the drainer. He was staring vacantly out of the window, not even looking at what he was doing. Polly sidled up and stood next to him, forcing a smile, even though it made her cheek muscles ache. He turned and stared at her.
It wasn’t Finn. The realisation was instantaneous, Polly knew, just knew that this was Liam.
Liam gave her a chilly smile.
“Finn told me that you’d moved in. I’m glad you took my advice,” he said, but although his words were pleasant, his voice was clipped, irritated, belying his words. “You’ll be safe here.”
Polly’s first impulse was to make some excuse and go back to her room. She didn’t want to speak to Liam, not right now; she had a blinding headache, her throat hurt like hell, and she just wanted to go back to bed and stay there. She wasn’t up to any high drama at the moment. She picked up a dishcloth and began to wipe down the edge of the draining board, just so that she didn’t have to look up at him.
“I didn’t have much choice really,” she replied. “Winchard tried to get just a little too friendly with me,” she mumbled.
As soon as the words had left her lips, she wanted to take them back. Liam’s expression changed from bland indifference to something that made Polly very afraid. His jaw muscles had tightened, his lips closing down to a thin, taut line.
“Really,” he said, “perhaps I should pay Mr Winchard a visit and teach him some manners.”
“I already did,” Polly said quickly. “He’s seriously wishing he’d kept his hands to himself.”
Liam studied her face, obviously looking for a lie.
His gaze travelled down to her neck, and he gently brushed the hair aside to reveal the livid bruise on her throat. He reached out, his slender fingers tracing over the fading contusion, his eyes following their path. Polly gave an involuntary shiver, and she knew he’d seen it.
“It looks as if he tried to get very friendly,” he said. “He hurt you.”
“Not enough to make an issue of it,” she replied. “I’m okay, really.”
He gave a barely there nod and carried on with the washing up. Polly wasn’t sure if she should mention what Liam had seen in her Tarot reading – it was obviously a very sensitive topic, but just ignoring it seemed like cowardice. She decided to plunge in and hope for the best.
“Finn told me what you said about my uncle, that he has the Hellstone and we have to go and find Sigurd’s burial site. That is right, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I...I should have told you all of it yesterday, I’m sorry, but you have no idea what it’s like when the darkness begins to close in. I had to just shut down and block it out. It will be all right, though, you’ll find what you’re looking for.”
“I do understand. I have the same thing, or used to, anyway. When I was a little girl, I used to have terrible dreams, and I’d see things and hear things that weren’t there. Well, they probably were there, but I didn’t want to see or hear them. I was always afraid to tell my parents in case they thought I was mad, but Nana understood. She showed me how to block it out. I know you felt Sigurd’s death – that must have been more terrible than I can imagine. You’re incredibly brave.” She put her hand to his arm, a gentle squeeze.
“I’ve had more pleasant experiences,” he said, with a wry smile.
He turned and stared hard into her eyes, trapping her there with the intensity of his gaze; she found that as hard as she tried to look away, she couldn’t. He hesitated, just staring into her eyes for long seconds, his lips moving slightly in a silent litany, as if he were testing words in his head before he spoke them. He finally said:
“I’m going to tell you something now, and you must believe it. If you never believe anything else in your life, believe this. Whatever happens in the future, no matter how bad it seems, you are going to live through it and come out the other side in one piece. There will come a time when you don’t believe it, when you will be quite certain that you’re not going to make it. Trust me; you will be the last one standing.”
Polly just blinked at him, not quite taking in what he was saying.
“That doesn’t sound too good,” she finally said.
“It won’t be; it’s going to be terrible, but you’ll be fine, I swear. Just have faith in the people that care about you.” He gave her the saddest of smiles.
She gave a little nod and managed a smile back, even though her mouth still resisted.
“Thank you; that does make me feel a lot better, truly. I won’t keep you; I can see you’re busy. I thought Finn would be here,” she said, trying to think of an excuse to leave.
Liam raised an eyebrow. His whole demeanour changed almost instantly; any warmth that had been there suddenly gone. It was such a sudden switch that Polly couldn’t understand what she could possibly have said to cause this dramatic volte-face.
“Sorry to disappoint you,” he said, almost spitting the words at her. “I’m sure he can’t wait to get back – he’s been practically humping your leg since you arrived yesterday.”
Polly just stood there gawping at him with her mouth open, totally stu
nned by Liam’s sudden animosity.
“I don’t know what you think is going on between us, but you’ve got it all—”
Liam raised a warning hand to silence her.
“No, please don’t. I know that you two are getting close – that’s fine by me. I hope you have a lovely time up in York.” His words came out like bullets. Polly felt her hackles rising; she really wasn’t in the mood for this.
“It’s not exactly going to be a pleasant trip – we’re going to be up to our neck in mud, looking for Viking bones by the sound of it,” she snapped. “Hardly ‘a lovely time’.”
“Just stop! Don’t you think I know my own brother? It’s okay, go for it – you both want it. It’s about time he got his dick wet. I won’t stand in your way.”
Polly was stunned into silence for a moment. She just gawped at him, dumbfounded.
“Where’s this coming from? Why are you acting like this?” she asked.
He gave a rather disturbing laugh.
“You really have no idea, do you? I almost feel sorry for you,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s sad.”
She had no idea what that was supposed to mean.
“Look, I don’t know how I feel about Finn – if he’s said anything, it’s news to me,” she said, anger simmering under the surface now. “I’m here because I needed somewhere to stay; I needed to get away from my uncle, and none of us knows what’s going to happen in the future. Well, you might, I suppose, but we’re not all bloody oracles!”
He went quiet for a moment, just staring down at the popping bubbles in the washing up bowl, his gaze unfocused.
“I saw it in your cards – the Lovers, remember?” he said quietly.
“Yes, I do remember. Liam, I don’t know what to say. All I know is that I’m scared and confused, and I have no idea what’s going to happen, with Finn, you, or anyone else. I’m just trying to stay sane.”
He nodded his acceptance and gave the tiniest of smiles.
“I don’t blame you for any of this. I hope you have a lovely time in York, I really do.”
