by Saga Berg
She pried his hands from her face and ran over to the nearest window, hoping for some sign of their location. Their house was one of ten on a street filled with perfectly mowed lawns behind picket fences. Generous flowerbeds with large roses followed the front facade of each house. They could be anywhere.
A black Mercedes Roadster stood parked in their driveway. Svala trotted down the stairs and ended up in a large living room designed with contemporary furniture. Trym followed close behind asking her to slow down. She ignored him and moved past the pink swivel tub chairs and continued through a large colorful kitchen before she ended up in the entrance hall.
Trym stopped in the doorway as she searched the drawers of a brown mid-Century Credenza. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“Looking for the car keys.”
In the corner of the drawer a three-star Mercedes logo glimmered. She grabbed the key ring tight in her hand.
Trym reached out for the key but she held it behind her back.
“You’re fourteen years old. You can’t drive.”
“I don’t care. I’m going.”
She waited him out. His breath uneven, his face tensed. Svala’s lips tightened as she grew more impatient. She would not give him more time to consider it.
Trym caved. “Okay, I’ll drive you. But you do as I tell you.”
The shift had transported them to Fair Haven, a small town in New England, and the drive to Hampton took over six hours. It was three a.m when they pulled up outside their old beach house. The kitchen light was on, the rest of the house pitch dark.
Svala flung the car door open before they came to a full stop and stumbled out in the sand without closing the door. Trym called for her to slow down and, but she ignored him and ran up the stairs where she threw the front door open with force. The glass window inside the door rattled when it slammed against the wall.
The moonlight shed some light into the hallway. In the corner over by the stairs, markings of Freja’s growth cluttered the white door seal with dates and years neatly written over each line. Her doll sat on the bench next to the large mirror where Freja used to parade around in Svala’s heals and pearls.
Svala charged inside, her heart pounded, her hands trembled with fear and anticipation. All their furniture was still there, that had to be a good sign.
“Freja! Honey, Mommy’s here!” Her voice broke. “Freja!”
She stormed through the large hallway and into the combined living room then further into kitchen, where she stopped. Alva, Viggo’s mentor, stood by the window. When she turned, her blonde thick braid slid over her shoulder. Viggo sat on the dark hardwood floor by the kitchen island, his face buried in his hands. When Svala resumed walking past the living room couch he looked up. He was only a teenager now too and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him so young. It was the boy she had once fallen desperately in love with so many years ago. Their eyes met and her tears streamed down her cheeks at the sight of his swollen red eyes. His gaze was completely bereft of hope.
“Where is she?” Her voice pitched.
Trym came up behind her. Viggo closed his eyes and shook his head, unable to fight the tears. Alva turned back to the window but not before her eyes welled up too. Svala walked swiftly up to Viggo and knelt before him.
“Where is she?” She placed a hand on his thigh.
Viggo reached out and pulled her into his arms, burying his face in the nape of her neck, crying even harder against her. His body trembled, and she wrapped her arms tight around him.
“Honey, where is she?” Panic filled her voice.
“She was gone when we arrived,” Alva said calm.
Viggo drew a sharp breath and tightened his grip around her. Svala reached up to caress the hair on the back of his head.
Trym’s Motorcycle boots clunked against the hardwood floor. He stopped as he reached the kitchen area.
“Do you know where she is?” he asked.
Alva’s strained sigh told Svala the information would displease them.
“I talked to them. They said she’s safe.”
Svala closed her eyes and pressed her face against Viggo’s shoulder.
“What does that mean?” Trym raised his voice.
“I asked. They wouldn’t say. They told me to let it go.”
“Let it go?” Trym scoffed.
Viggo eased back and Svala leaned away to study him. His soft face was marked with sorrow but when he glared at Alva his gaze darkened.
Alva’s face softened. She tilted her head to the side. “Viggo, I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you, but we have to follow orders. You know that.”
“I don’t care about their fucking orders.” The muscles in his face twitched.
Svala reached up and touched his cheek. His eyes flickered with insecurity when he looked at her. “We’ll find her. Promise me we’ll find her,” he said.
She stroked his soft teenage cheek. Yesterday, it had been rough with bristles.
“We’ll find her,” she whispered.
“You will do no such thing!” Alva’s voice was firm.
Trym stayed silent. Svala and Viggo shared a look of determination. There was nothing anyone could do or say to change their minds. Nothing would prevent them from trying to find their daughter.
Chapter 12
Present Time
Washington D.C.
Sarah played with the straw in her soda, her eyes shifting sideways. “I think she was his mother.”
The high school cafeteria was noisier than usual. The heavy scent of fried food and gravy lingered in the stale air. Air conditioning could not have been a priority during the recent renovations.
Svala and her friends sat at their usual table in the end of the room by a window facing the school yard. Jen’s boyfriend, Noah, and his friends joined them. The boys discussed last night’s game and the fact that audience attendance had been exceptionally low.
“Who?” Jen followed Sarah’s gaze.
“Freja.” Sarah leaned in over the table, looking very serious. “I think Freja was Viggo’s mother.”
Noah and the other guys groaned and rolled their eyes. Svala sighed and poked around in her mashed potatoes. She wished people would stop speculating. It was already all over Social Media after the show last night. There were even polls floating around on Facebook: vote A for sister, B for mother and C for ex-lover.
“No way.” Megan shook her head. “If it had been his mother, or his sister, he would have said so. It’s so obviously an ex-lover. Why else would he hide it?”
Jayden eased closer to Svala and dropped his voice. “Please, tell me you’re not obsessed with that idiot too.”
She forced a smile and shook her head, not sure why she still cared what Jayden thought of her. She shouldn’t even be hanging out with him. Three months before Viggo made his first public appearance she and Jayden had engaged in some innocent flirting. For some reason he reminded her of Viggo with the same strong features, similar dark hair and blue eyes. He even laughed the same way.
The whole thing had been harmless until the two of them ended up making out at a party. She’d been drinking, and lost her judgment. When his lips landed on hers, she’d closed her eyes and imagined it was Viggo. When Jayden tried pushing his hand into her jeans, she’d pulled away, embarrassed and filled with remorse. She’d never gone that far with any other guy except Viggo. The teenage hormones and sexual frustration had taken over. She’d been avoiding him ever since but her lack of attention only fueled his interest in her.
Her friends continued speculating about Freja and Svala blocked out their conversation, focusing on the background noise in the messy cafeteria. Every time she closed her eyes the image of her daughter’s terrified gaze returned and she relived the pain of that day. The public display did not help.
Sarah argued her case while Megan and Jen stood united. Sarah could be so stupid sometimes. She didn’t understand when they wound her up. Svala pushed away he
r hard plastic tray, the plate half full. A group of girls took a seat by the end of their long table. Their chairs scraped loud against the floor when they pulled them out at the same time.
Jayden observed her. She pretended she didn’t notice him. When her cell phone buzzed in her pocket, she saw the perfect excuse to ignore him. She hauled up the phone. An unknown number sent a text.
I’m so sorry, I didn’t know they would bring that up.
She stared at the display, her breath caught in her throat. The loud commotion in the cafeteria faded to the background along with her friends’ voices. It was like she’d stepped into a vacuum. She didn’t know how long she sat there, staring at the phone before Sarah insisted on her attention.
“Svala?”
She looked up, disoriented. Her friends studied her, eyebrows raised.
“What?” She managed gasping, out of breath.
“What do you think?” Sarah asked.
“About what?”
“About Freja. Who do you think she is?”
“I don’t know....” She locked her phone and pushed it into her pocket. “I need to make a phone call. I’ll meet you outside before class, okay?”
Svala walked outside. Her hands trembled when she unlocked the phone and pushed to call the number showing on the display. As she walked over the lawn and continued into the parking lot she surveyed her surroundings to secure no one was around. It took five rings before Viggo answered.
“You shouldn’t be calling.” Was the first thing he said.
A door closed behind him with a muffled thud.
”Viggo?” she whispered. Her voice barely held.
”Yes?”
The softness of his voice made her cry. She faced away from the school building, scared someone would see her and come out to check on her.
”Don’t cry, honey,” Viggo whispered. ”You know I can’t stand to see you cry.”
”You can’t see me,” she whispered.
”You know what I mean.”
Svala wiped the tears from her face and walked further out on the parking lot. She stopped behind a row of cars parked at the end of the lot. Her head was spinning, her legs grew weak.
“God, I miss you so much,” he whispered.
She leaned against a lamppost and tried to slow her breath along with her heart beat. Relief mixed with an uncontrollable need to be with him, her heart swelled like it was about to explode.
“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I knew you would be watching that interview. I never considered they’d bring her up,” Viggo said.
She nodded into the phone even though he couldn’t see. The relief of knowing he was still hers lifted a huge weight of her chest.
”Viggo, what’s going on? Why didn’t you acknowledge me in New York? What are you up to?”
He fell silent. Svala surveyed the parking lot, afraid someone would come out and overhear her.
”I was protecting you.” He kept his voice low.
”From who?”
He didn’t answer.
”From the Döckálfar?” she asked.
”I can’t tell you.”
”Viggo, what’s going on?” She lowered her voice and her heartbeat raced inside her chest.
”I can’t tell you.” He repeated.
”You have to.”
”I don’t want to risk your safety. Just trust me.”
She paused, not one bit secure about what was going on.
”Why can’t you trust me instead?” she asked.
”I do.”
She waited for him to continue.
“Listen, honey, even if I wanted to, I can’t tell you everything. Not only because I’m not allowed to, but because we’re not sure what’s going on yet. We suspect something’s not right.”
Her hand tightened around the phone, her entire body turned rigid. “We?”
He paused. “Alva and I.”
She was even more confused now than she was before. Viggo had a tendency to get emotionally involved to the point where he had trouble seeing things for what they were. “What do you mean? What’s not right?”
He took his time before he responded. “Haven’t you noticed things have been off the last century?”
“Off? What do you mean off?” she asked.
“The rhythm. Our lives. Even the missions have been different. Things haven’t made sense.”
“Well, things change. We know that better than anyone,” she said.
He sighed in frustration. “No, it’s something else. First the war, then losing her, waiting for each other for so many years and then starting over too quickly. Alrik disappearing. The Döckálfar are up to something. They have to be behind it. I have to find out what’s going on. I have to fix it.”
He never told her what happened during the war, all those years apart. She had no idea where he’d been. All she knew was that the Döckálfar were behind it, and he’d never been able to let it go. Her heart stopped. The thought that entered her mind seemed unimaginable.
Her voice trembled. “What are you saying? Have you involved yourself with them somehow?”
He silenced.
“Are you out of your mind?” She raised her voice. “What are you thinking?”
”Shh,” he reminded her.
”Viggo, you’re scaring me,” she whispered. ”Please, stop this. It’s not worth it. We already lost her, we lost Alrik. I don’t want to lose you too.”
”I’m being careful.”
She snapped. “What? Making movies? Being all over the Internet for the world to see you? You’re all everybody is talking about. Did you really have to go and become a movie star in order to find out the truth?”
“It wasn’t my first choice, believe me. I needed the access.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Is this your assignment? Becoming a movie star?”
Since no one told them about the nature of their assignments they usually didn’t understand what it was about until it was over; sometimes not even then. Sometimes they never knew what they had accomplished. But Viggo had to have clearance from The High Council to go into the public light like this.
“Not really.”
“What do you mean not really?”
“I can’t say.”
“Why?”
He squirmed. “I can’t tell you.”
“What do you mean? You don’t trust me enough to tell me?”
“No,” he objected as if it was ridiculous to suggest such a thing. “It’s not that, it’s...”
She waited.
“It’s because of a lot of things. Trym for one.”
Her brows shot up, her posture straightening. “What? Trym? What about Trym?”
“We don’t know if we can trust him.”
“Bullshit!” She remembered to keep her voice down but spoke through clenched teeth. “It’s Trym. Of course you can trust him. What are you saying? That he’s with them?”
Viggo sighed out loud. “Not him, but someone he loves.”
She shook her head. “Trym would never betray us. He had the chance once to go over to their side and he didn’t take it. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I hope I’m wrong. I do, but until I know, it would be wise if you didn’t mention this to him.”
She didn’t answer.
”Can you promise me that?” he prompted.
”I promise I won’t tell him,” she said. ”But I’m not happy about it.”
The wind blew straight into the phone, and she moved to shield herself. Viggo didn’t say a word.
“You still there?” she asked.
“I’m here.”
“About Freja, you should say something about it. Tell them she was your mother, or your sister. I don’t want to listen to people speculating about it.”
“I know. I just...” He sighed. “I was so upset about the whole thing, I didn’t want to give them anything.”
She nodded. That was how he dealt with anger. He could
be so stubborn.
“I told you, you shouldn’t have gotten that tattoo,” she said.
“I know.”
“It was a stupid decision....”
“I know. That doesn’t help much now, does it?”
She didn’t mean to place guilt and hated when they fought, but she had a point. No one supported that decision -- least of all Trym and Alva.
“So, have you found anything yet?” she asked.
He lowered his voice. “Not yet.”
She took pause, not sure she should ask. “Vig, I....” Her heart pounded.
“What, honey?” his voice softened
“Are you and Amanda...”
Viggo waited for her to finish but she couldn’t.
“I love you,” he whispered.
She nodded and fought back the tears. “So you’re not...”
“I love you,” he repeated.
She took a deep breath. The tears won.
“Listen honey, I have to go. It’s not safe.” Viggo spoke softly. “I’ll try and contact you when I can.”
When the call ended, she stared at the phone for five long minutes before returning to the main building.
Chapter 13
Present Time
Washington D.C
After her phone call with Viggo, Svala’s couldn’t focus. She paid no attention during class and spent the remaining hours of school obsessing over the nature of Viggo’s relationship with Amanda Jones. Up until the interview last night, she’d disregarded the relationship as a rumor. After the interview, she still convinced herself it was a PR stunt. But as he didn’t deny it, she didn’t know what to believe.
She came home from school and hurried past the kitchen where Trym was loading groceries into the fridge. She picked up her pace and headed for the stairs, pretending she didn’t see him follow her into the living room.
“Svala!” Trym called out.
His footsteps closed in behind her.
“Can we talk?”
She stopped but didn’t turn. “About what?”
His silence crept in under her skin. She waited for a moment, then grabbed the rail and took one step up the stairs. “I have homework.”
“Have you talked to Viggo?”
She stopped again and clasped the rail hard.
“No.” She lied, afraid to turn and show her face.
“Do you promise?”
