Fallen Mortal

by J. A. Culican

  Sandy nodded, a tear slipping down her face. The human part of me knew this was wrong. A life gone too soon and all that. She was young; she still had time to change and straighten her life up. But I needed this reap and I knew this was the trial that would free me and prove my loyalty to Freya. I had to do it.

  It took Sandy five minutes to release her final breath and then, her heart stopped beating. I held her in my arms as she died. It was something I had never done before, and I was glad Valencia was bound and gagged so I didn’t have to deal with it. I watched as her soul lifted like a mirrored holograph from her body. She stood up and looked around, not knowing she was dead yet. She saw Valencia first, and that had to be a shock. A beautiful, white-winged creature with a zippered mouth, frozen in place.

  “It’s you,” she breathed. I hadn’t noticed her looking at me. “Why are you here?”

  There was no sense prolonging it and I wanted to feed from this reap. I looked down at the body I held. “In a soul’s darkest hour, a reaper is sent to collect your soul. You’ve been chosen by the goddess Freya.” I stood with her in my arms. “You’re dead to Midgard. Long live the realm of Folkvangr.”

  I watched through the Great Looking Glass in Freya’s throne room as Maxwell identified the body of his sister. Fittingly, Sandy wept beside me, lamenting her poor choices in life.

  “Do shut up, child,” Freya said, sitting on her throne surrounded by her cats. One great cat yawned with a loud roar and coiled at her feet. “Your lamentations are in vain. The price for your lack of judgement has been rendered.” Her hand swept toward the open terrace. “See the life that has been restored to you by me. Fight for me and you will never again feel the sting of affliction.”

  “But, I’m dead,” Sandy sniffed. She looked into the glass and her lip wobbled. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

  “You put a needle into your vein,” I hissed. “Did you believe this would end well for you?” My chin tipped to the image within the glass. “See the pain you have brought to your brother? Is that love?” I spat. “You selfish little girl. How dare you sniffle and moan over the chaos you have delivered to his world. I have never understood the drug abuser. How you can steal and lie to those who love you and would help you if given the chance?”

  “You are too close, Orianna,” Freya said, her voice deceptively soft. She motioned to the darkness and Hildsvini appeared. “See this soul fitted with armor and have her report to the battlefield at once. I’ll have words with my reaper alone.”

  Chains appeared around Sandy’s feet and neck.

  “Oria,” Sandy begged, tugging at the chain. “Please. Help me…”

  Hildsvini and Sandy evaporated from the throne room.

  I closed my eyes, folding my hands before me. Never had my heart ached as it did now. How careless of me to think this reap had been easy. But I’d not been as close to a case as this. In the past, reaps of drug abusers had been simple. They made the choice of vice and I delivered them to a life of valor. A second chance, per se, and in my opinion, it was more than they deserved.

  “How well did this work for you?” Freya asked. “The price of a soul for your meddling.”

  My hands balled into fists as I looked up at my queen. “You set up an early demise at my expense?”

  Freya’s hand lifted to her mouth where she rubbed her bottom lip. A smile curved on her face. “Oh no. Sandy Alexander was marked for death long ago. You were right to accuse her as a thief, a waste upon the face of Midgard.”

  “But?”

  “But, she was destined for Valhalla, along with her false brother. Your untimely meddling has now delivered them into opposing kingdoms. They will never see each other again.”

  “This is cruel,” I seethed. “Sandy had nothing to do with this.”

  “You are wrong, my insolent subject. She had everything to do with this. The false sister of one marked by Odin is very much my business. Odin was gracious enough to hand her to me so I could teach you this lesson. A lesson I believed you had learned already, with Jasper.”

  I had one hundred retorts, but none of them were acceptable. I was in the presence of the most favored goddess in our pantheon. So, what could I say?

  “I am humbled that you would honor me with your mercy. Long life to the fields of Folkvangr.”

  And I flashed out of there posthaste.

  Chapter 15

  It had been three mortal weeks since Sandy’s death. I watched over Maxwell through the looking glass, still unable to travel to his realm for fear of Freya’s watch. Her eyes extended beyond the tracker and I feared even a Valkyrie’s tooth wouldn’t keep me invisible. Several times, I noticed a dark creature stalking me, and each time, my senses were filled with the smell of animal and the taste of blood. I knew it was Hildsvini. Freya trusted no other to guard me. Even after the tracker was removed once I’d made enough reaps for our kingdom, I was still being tracked by Freya’s favored beast.

  I lightly touched the glass, willing my sympathy onto Maxwell’s broken heart. He’d been unable to sleep or eat. His desire for the theater waned and the place went unattended. I hated Sandy for causing this mourning. I’d never been one to understand the selfish ambitions of drug abusers. When a soul is given a life, who are they to waste it?

  “What is it you see, sister?”

  I jumped at the intrusion but did not turn to Orum. “Misplaced sympathy.”

  “A brother mourns his sister,” Orum said, coming to stand beside me. He peered into the glass. “A brother who remembers her when she wasn’t as she’d become. A brother who remembers carefree days and sunshine over the beach. Long conversations held in highest regard and loyalty.”

  “Please,” I said acidly. “She lied to him. Stole from him. Put him in danger by associating with wicked souls. Her selfishness ate her from the inside out.”

  “She was not born a drug abuser, Oria,” Orum said lightly. “Nor a liar or thief. Life hardens some. Ones who aren’t rewarded with chance or favor. And they are so very weak.”

  I scoffed. “Who decides this? Our gods? Free will? How can there be such fools among them? We do not become entangled in delights of things that kill us. It’s not that difficult to do the right thing.”

  Orum sighed. “I didn’t come to you to speak of mortals and death.”

  “Are you here to comfort me, then?” I crossed my arms. “Great job, brother dear. I feel loads better.”

  “I’m here to warn you. You must not use the veritas serum on Freya.”

  My eyes rolled. “Genius! Why didn’t I think of that?”

  “When a god is given the serum, they do not forget. It is not as it is with mortals. She’ll remember everything and have you killed.”

  I bit my lip to keep from screaming at him. Clearing my throat, I tried to speak in an acceptable tone. “Where did you find this information?”

  “An elf,” he said, glancing into the glass. “Jord had a ruckus with the elves and sent me to Alfheim. It was there I discovered the truth of it.” He chuckled. “They tricked me into tasting the serum and I spilled my guts. I should be praising Odin for that, however. If we’d gone through with this, we’d all be dead or tossed into the veil.”

  “You went to Alfheim?” I asked incredulously.

  “I did.”

  “For me? For this cause?”

  “Surely you figured me out when I slipped you the Valkyrie's tooth? Don’t play coy with me, Oria. I don’t like…”

  His words were cut short with an oof as I embraced him fiercely. “You believe me. You really do.”

  “Of course, I believe you,” he said and then kissed my head before stepping away. He’d never been one for affection. “You’re my sister and cannot lie to me.” He smiled. “Besides, this mortal is causing uprisings all over the nine worlds despite the mission to keep him hidden. Word is out. Odin is hiding something within the mortal.”

  “He’s not a halfling,” I breathed. I took a step back and touched the glass. Maxwe
ll was leaving his dormitory. He looked to be in a hurry.

  “Perhaps not half god,” Orum agreed.

  “Where is he going?” I asked, my eyes roving the glass. He was near the scene of Sandy’s death. The back alley behind the university gift shop. “It’s half night in the mortal realm. Why would he leave the safety of his home at this hour?”

  “Who is that with him?” Orum asked.

  The image was hazy, hidden. The glass could tell no lies, but when fate intervened, it sometimes became cloudy. Maxwell’s accomplice turned and I saw his face and gasped. “It’s the dealer.” I grabbed Orum’s arm. “He’s the one who sells on the streets.” I looked up at him. “Why would he meet with Sandy’s dealer?”

  A series of thoughts went through my head and landed on one. Without another thought, I flashed into the mortal realm of Midgard, leaving Orum calling after me.

  I followed Maxwell at a slow pace. He was no longer hurried, but resigned. I could feel no turmoil surrounding him and that worried me. In my contemplations, I stumbled. Someone reached from the darkness and caught me before I hit the cemented walkway.

  “Immortals become careless in the skin of humans when we are distracted.”

  “Geir,” I hissed, shoving his hands from me. “Geirolf,” I corrected the familiarity. “What are you doing here?”

  “My job.”

  “On a reap?” I nearly yelled.

  He shrugged. “Something isn’t right.”

  “Did Odin send you?”

  “No,” he said, glancing toward Maxwell’s fleeing form. “This is unscripted.” His voice lowered. “It’s like he is veiled—hidden.”

  “He’s not a halfling,” I said.

  Geirolf nodded. “That much I’ve figured.” He spurred me to walk. “Unless he has a Valkyrie's tooth.”

  “Impossible.”

  “Or he’s fully immortal and someone is suppressing his powers. If that is the case, then in times of stress, an immortal can subconsciously will to be hidden. The power deep within him will take over without him knowing.”

  “And if he’s up to something he wants no one to know about. Something he feels is shameful or necessary.”

  “Like suicide,” Geirolf said, his voice flat.

  “Exactly like that,” I agreed, my pace increasing. “We can’t let him do this.”

  “If he is immortal, then his death will set off a chain of events even Odin cannot stop.”

  “Do you have a plan to stop him?”

  “No.”

  We neared the dormitory where Maxwell had entered a minute before. I looked about. The time of night would make any activity suspicious, especially considering the plans the human had in mind. If things went badly, we’d have a major cover up on our hands...again.

  “What would you say if I suggested something stupid?” Geirolf asked.

  I turned to him and saw his immortal form.

  “Probably say ‘in for a penny, in for a pound.’” I allowed my form to change. “Wouldn’t be the first time we did something stupid together.”

  “Let’s try not to get killed, all right?” He grabbed my hand and we materialized into Maxwell’s dormitory. We stood in the kitchenette, invisible for now. Maxwell was scrambling around with the drug paraphernalia he’d recently purchased. The guy had no clue what to do with it. That was good, until I saw he had a plan B. I motioned to the pill bottle.

  Geirolf allowed the dew of Valhalla to dissipate. “Wells,” he said in the cautious way one talked to a spooked animal.

  Maxwell pivoted with the toxic vial gripped in his hand. His complexion paled as his eyes roved over the form of Geirolf. His lips trembled. “What do you want from me?”

  I followed suit and made myself visible. “Nothing. We want nothing other than to save your earthly life.”

  “It’s not your time,” Geirolf said, stepping forward with his hand out. “We’re here to help you through this.”

  “My sister is dead,” Maxwell hissed, clamping the vial until his fingers blanched. “You’re too late to help.” With clenched fist, his hands went to his temples. Blood ran from his nostrils.

  I grabbed Geirolf’s arm. “Our presence is too much. He needs room.”

  “I remember you,” Maxwell said through clenched teeth. “Both of you. The day of the accident.” HIs eyes darted between us. “Something’s happened to my memories, but they’re back.” His body slumped against the desk and the vial tumbled from his hand. It rolled to my feet and I kicked it, sending it spinning out of his reach. “What’s happening?”

  Geirolf flashed into mortal form just in time to catch Maxwell before he hit the floor. The intensity of seeing two immortals wrecked Maxwell’s senses. “Help me get him to the bed.”

  My wings scooped him up effortlessly. Geirolf snapped and a cool washcloth appeared. He laid it over Maxwell’s brow. “He’s breathing too fast,” I said. I flashed into mortal form.

  “She’s gone,” Maxwell cried. “Just like that. I didn’t know she was in trouble. I swear it!”

  “Addictions can be hard to detect at times,” I said quietly. I pushed the cover away from his heated body. Geirolf produced a glass of water and held it to Maxwell’s lips. “What happened to Sandy wasn’t your fault.”

  Maxwell turned his head from the glass and the water spilled onto his chin. “Whose fault is it then? Hers or yours?”

  Geirolf and I shared a glance.

  “Death is a part of life,” I said, reaching up and pressing the cloth to his head, trying to soothe him. “Sandy’s addiction was her undoing. It had nothing to do with you.”

  “How can you say that?” he cried. “She was my sister and I didn’t even know she had a drug addiction. I could’ve helped her. She came to me when she needed stuff and I didn’t see it. I didn’t see the signs. What kind of brother am I? I should’ve seen that she was in trouble.”

  How could we answer such questions? We were in the business of harvesting souls without question. We’d seen this over and over. People made choices that led them down certain paths that had no other exit but death.

  “What matters now is how you go on,” Geirolf said. “You can’t bring her back. It was her decisions that led her to an early demise. It’s no one’s fault but her own.”

  “But you can bring her back,” Maxwell said, partially sitting up. The cloth tumbled from his brow. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” His hopeful tone stung. We were here to see that the worlds didn’t blow up, not to give false hope to a grieving mortal. “You’re in my life for this. This is it. I just know it.”

  He was babbling now. I looked at Geirolf who merely shrugged. We were out of our element, having stepped into a guardian-like mode where we had no business.

  “Sleep,” I commanded, touching Maxwell’s temple. His body became limp and crashed back onto the bed. I looked at Geirolf. “What do we do now?”

  “Veritas,” he said, his hand rotating, and a vial appeared. “Just a drop will do. In this weakened mortal state of slumber, we can find out what he seeks in the peace of death.”

  “What a piece of work you are,” I said, my brow quirking. “And I thought I was a mastermind.” I touched the pink glass vial. Truth potions were tricky and hard to come by. He must have paid a handsome price for this one. “Was Maxwell the root cause of this potion or was it for someone else?”

  Geirolf appeared uncomfortable. His hands shook as he uncorked the potion. I watched him tip it over Maxwell’s open mouth. “I obtained it for a friend.”

  As far as feelings went, I was in top form and should have felt no sudden emotions. The final reap of Sandy would keep me strong for weeks. But when I realized that he’d procured the potion for me, my stomach flipped. As if I were a teenage girl receiving vain flattery.

  I said nothing.

  “Takes but a moment,” Geirolf said, attempting to make his voice even and unaffected by my silence. He glanced at me before speaking to Maxwell. “You feel no pain or emotion now. Spea
k your truth without hindrance of sorrow.”

  Maxwell sat up slowly, a dopey half-grin playing on his face. My eyes skipped to see Geirolf intently watching me.

  “Cap the vial. There should be enough left in case we need it.” My words jumbled together before I lost the nerve to speak.

  Geirolf smirked but did as I said.

  A puff of blue smoke left Maxwell’s mouth. As it billowed upwards, it formed the shape of a lotus flower before vaporizing.

  “It’s a divine oxymoron,” Geirolf whispered as he tucked the vial into his robe. He glanced at me, trepidation in his expression. “The lotus flower is a symbol of peace.”

  “The serum is activating something within him,” I murmured. I pushed away from the bed. “He’s an immortal.”

  “Possibly,” Geirolf said, standing next me. He touched my hand and bled into me. I felt the dew of Vahalla and Folkvangr combine, making us stronger. “The last seen lotus was many moons past. Fenrir…”

  “Jord told me,” I breathed, feeling my powers surge. I pulled away from him, breaking our contact. Our powers combined were too strong to contain. I looked up at him. “Were you there when it happened?”

  Geirolf nodded. “I was a child. My father said it was an ominous sign of things to come. A divine oxymoron given as a warning. The chains that bind Fenrir aren’t eternal.”

  “I want to see my sister,” Maxwell said, his voice hollow from the potion. His back was straight as a nail as his hands fell into his lap. His eyes searched ours, pleading. “Can you show me the way?”

  “Why do you seek your sister in the afterlife?” Geirolf asked.

  “I want what every beloved seeks. Answers.” Maxwell’s head tilted. “She was the key to my humanity.” Geirolf stepped away again and I was compelled to do so as well. “We are not as we seem.”

  “What are you?” I asked, afraid of the answer. What had we unlocked?

  A bright light exploded into the room from outside. The sound of Valkyrie screams rendered the quiet night. Geirolf grabbed me, pushing me behind him.