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The one thing Koji never did, in spite of his considerable skill with a katana, was actually join in the fighting. He’d said something about his religion and how taking a life was against his principles, but Mist had never forgotten how ferocious he’d been when he’d faced Dainn during the battle in the gym last winter.

She returned Koji’s smile. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and kissed her—gently, because he knew she wasn’t in any mood for passion. Their sex life had been sporadic over the past couple of months, but Koji didn’t seem particularly upset about it, or bothered by her frequent bouts of preoccupation.

That was what made him such a good companion and lover. He didn’t demand things Mist couldn’t give. And when she’d finally told him the truth about what was really going on, he’d been remarkably quick to accept the fact that the world as he knew it was a false front for the kind of reality most mortals had never dreamed existed.

“Hey, you’re hurt,” he said, gently pulling Mist’s slashed sleeve away from the gash across her arm. “Anything I can do?”

Mist carefully extracted her arm from his grip. “It’ll heal in a few hours,” she said. “You know you don’t need to worry about me.”

A slight frown crossed Koji’s usually affable face. “You can still suffer pain.”

She grabbed the half-forgotten bottle and sagged over the table. “I’m tired, Koji.”

“I know,” he said, taking the chair nearest hers. “I’m not sure if you really want to hear this, but the mayor’s holding a press conference just about”—he glanced at his watch—“now.”

“The groundbreaking for the new monument,” Mist said bitingly, “thanks to Lukas Landvik’s generous financial support for our fair city’s most recent frivolous embellishment.”

“And for the mayor and his supporters,” Koji added. At Mist’s nod, he turned on the small, ancient TV sitting on the kitchen counter.

Ostensibly, the mayor was the focus of the coverage. The cameras were trained on him as he gesticulated and grandstanded about the improvements he had made to the city’s infrastructure; the many employment opportunities offered by various construction projects and the refurbishment of the more public parts of the city; the booming tourist industry; and, of course, the new private hospital, which was being built where it could best cater to the most wealthy and privileged.

What he failed to mention was how he and the Board of Supervisors were encouraging the “relocation” of numerous small businesses in favor of big-box chains offering minimum-wage jobs and poor benefits, or the fact that scores of projects favored by local politicians and business interests—replete with kickbacks and every kind of corruption—had been given priority over essential improvements and programs that actually enhanced the welfare of the citizens.

She was pretty sure the smiling politician on her screen was still ignorant of the tremendous price he’d have to pay for all the “positive” changes in the city, the ones that so successfully lined his pockets. He obviously didn’t realize that the man standing just behind his left shoulder—the charismatic “philanthropist” Lukas Landvik—was the very person who would demand that price.

Again and again, the cameras slid toward Loki in his handmade Italian suit and A. Testoni Norvegese shoes. His midlength red hair was artfully tumbled around his fox-like, handsome face. Green eyes caught the light in a way no ordinary eyes would. Loki smiled, and the reporters, male and female, virtually swooned.

“I’ve seen enough,” Mist said. She was about to switch the TV off when she glimpsed the man directly behind Loki. Her hand froze on the remote.

“Don’t torture yourself, Mist,” Koji said, laying his hand on her shoulder. “He made his choice.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” she snapped, punching the power button. The images went black.

But she couldn’t get the last one out of her mind. Dainn, every bit as handsome as Loki, his long black hair nearly swept back in such a way that it just covered his ears. He wore a suit hardly less expensive than Loki’s—the Slanderer, after all, had to have the best of everything, even for his servants—and he had garnered nearly as much attention as Loki.

But Dainn’s face had been utterly blank. That, in itself, was no surprise. It had taken many weeks of Mist’s working with him closely and intimately before she had begun to realize that his seeming indifference concealed strong emotions he didn’t want anyone to see.

But he wasn’t trying to conceal anything now; he was simply empty, as if everything that had made him what he was had been drained out of him and left him no more than a walking ghost.

“Sit down,” Koji urged, guiding her back to her chair. “You need that beer.”

Mist let him coax her, and worked her way through three beers without feeling so much as a buzz. Koji played with his own bottle but never seemed to drink.

“Listen,” Koji said after a very long silence. “You can’t stop believing in yourself. And I’m not talking about the fact that everyone is relying on you. I mean what’s in here.” He tapped his temple with one forefinger. “You have more strength than you know.”

How many times had Dainn said nearly the same thing? “I can’t tell anymore if my judgment is sound,” she said. “In anything.”

“Doubts are natural. You’ll pull through this.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she said, hoping she sounded sincere. She glanced at her watch. “And now I’ve got to get moving. I have a meeting in an hour, and a few new recruits came in yesterday. I have to give them the usual warnings and pep talk. Then there’s the—”

“It can wait,” Koji said. He stroked her face with the back of his hand. “Let me take care of
you
for a little while.”

Mist closed her eyes and let him pull her to her feet. He was right … an hour wouldn’t make much difference.

*   *   *

Ryan crouched beside Eir, trying very hard not to vomit.

In only a few days’ time, she had become nearly unrecognizable. Her eyes were sunken deep into her skull, and her lips were dry as brittle leaves. It was as if her skin had been stretched over her bones so tightly that he could see right through it.

Before, when he’d been helpless to control his visions, only
he
had suffered. But now, seeing Eir like this, he finally understood Mother Skye’s warnings.

He laid his hand on Eir’s shoulder as gently as if he were touching the disintegrating paper of some ancient, precious book. “Eir?” he whispered. “Can you hear me?”

Her eyelids fluttered, but she didn’t show any sign of waking. Maybe, Ryan thought, she was in a coma.

Maybe there was still a chance to save her.

I’m not ready,
he told himself.
I can’t do this
.

The sound of footsteps outside the door pulled him to his feet. Guilt and shame were like angry dogs, doing their best to chase him into hiding.

He stood his ground, and the intruder entered the infirmary.

Gabi.

4

She stopped as she saw him, brown eyes widening in shock.

“Ry?” she said.

“Gabi,” he said, his voice cracking, “Eir needs help.”

Her gaze fell from his face to the woman on the cot. She crossed the room and bent over Eir, quickly checking the Valkyrie’s pulse.

“Shit,” she breathed. She looked up at Ryan. “How long you been here?”

“Not long.” Ryan swallowed. “I found her like this. Can you help her?”

“I don’t know.” Gabi looked around the room as if she were seeking help from someone Ryan couldn’t see. “Mist is still away. There’s no one else who can—” She broke off. “Get more blankets. They’re over on those shelves.”

Ryan did as she’d told him, grateful to get away if only for a moment. As he gathered the blankets, he watched Gabi kneel beside the cot, speaking softly in English and Spanish, touching Eir’s arm, her forehead, her chest. She reached inside her shirt and pulled out the cross she always wore, enfolding it in her hand
.
After a moment she let the cross fall back inside her shirt, crossed herself, and laid her palms on Eir’s chest just below her collarbones.

Her hands were suffused with a red glow, and some of that glow seemed to trickle down from her fingers to bathe Eir’s chest. But it died as soon as it touched the Valkyrie, like coals doused in ice water.

“No,” Gabi moaned. “Eir! You have to fight!”

Eir’s eyes opened a crack, and her rigid mouth relaxed in a half smile. “Gabi,” she whispered. “It’s all right.”

Gabi set her jaw. “You have to try harder!” she said. “I can—”

“No.” With obvious effort, Eir lifted her hand and laid it on Gabi’s wrist. “You’re burning. If you keep up, you…” She coughed, turning her face into her shoulder. “They need you.”

“
I
need you!” Gabi cried.

Eir patted Gabi’s wrist and turned her head to look at Ryan. “Don’t feel badly, Ryan. I wasn’t afraid then, and I’m not now.”

“What is she talking about?” Gabi demanded, meeting Ryan’s gaze. “Eir, what do you mean?”

“Don’t blame your friend,” Eir said, her smile fading. “It was necessary, even if I—” She gasped, as if she couldn’t catch her breath, and settled again. “It will be difficult, for both of you. But never forget to hold on to each other.”

Tears spilled over Gabi’s cheeks. “I don’t understand,” she said.

“It will come.” She smiled again and relaxed into the mattress.

“No!” Gabi jumped up, her muscles rigid. “You
fight
!”

“I’ve done far too much of that already, child.”

Without another word, Gabi dashed out of the infirmary. Eir closed her eyes and shuddered, gripping the sheets with her fragile fingers.

“Are you in pain?” Ryan asked, fussing with the blankets just so he could have something to do with his hands.

“No,” Eir said. “I’m weak. But it doesn’t hurt.” She sighed, her breath rattling. “I don’t know if I succeeded in warning Mist. I was careful, as you suggested … perhaps too careful. But she isn’t stupid, Ryan. She already has doubts. Maybe … that’s enough.”

“I’m sorry I asked you to do this,” Ryan said, barely able to speak. “I only made you worse.”

“Don’t be. I’ve … spent a lot of time listening to the voices of other peoples, other spirits, and I think … I
know
this is not the end of all things.” With an obvious effort, she reached up to touch Ryan’s wet face. “This was meant to be.”

Her arm fell back to the mattress, and her eyes began to glaze over.

“Wait!” Ryan said. “You have to say good-bye to Gabi!”

“
You
tell her,” Eir said, closing her eyes. “Tell her she’s ready.”

And then the life went out of her, a gentle force Ryan could feel like a breeze brushing past his face, free of fear and sadness. When she was gone, he cradled Eir’s hand between his and imagined her flying off to whatever might be waiting for her. A good place, where she could get the peace she deserved.

“
Farvel,
Eir,” he said, kissing her withered cheek. “Good luck.”

He covered the Valkyrie with one of the blankets and rose stiffly. He felt old, even though he was only eighteen. He felt as if he’d lived a hundred lifetimes.

“Eir!”

Gabi rushed into the room, a small suede pouch cupped in one palm. She fell to her knees beside the cot and pulled the pouch open with trembling fingers. She dug out a single hard, black seed and tried to wedge it between Eir’s lips.

The Apples of Idunn, Ryan remembered. The fruit that was supposed to help keep the Aesir virtually immortal.

The cure had come too late.

“Gabi,” he said softly.

“Eat it!” Gabi said, ignoring him. “Chew on it, Eir!”

“She’s gone,” Ryan said, reaching across Eir’s body to touch Gabi’s arm.

She jerked away, staring at the seed still resting on the Valkyrie’s lower lip.

“What did you do to her, Ry?” she whispered, silent tears tracking over her cheeks. “Why did she tell me not to blame you?”

Ryan got up and backed away. “I’m sorry, Gab,” he said. “I didn’t want this.”

She sprang to her feet again, fists clenched. “How long were you with her? Why didn’t you get help?”

Unable to meet her accusing eyes, Ryan looked away. He’d wanted to see Gabi so much, and it was ruined.
He’d
ruined it.

“Will you listen to me, Gab?” he asked. “Because if you won’t, I’ll go.”

“You mean like you did before?” Gabi brushed hard at her face. “When all you did was leave me a fucking note?”

“I’m sorry,” Ryan said. “There was something I needed to do, and I had to do it alone.”

“Do
what
? Where the hell you been?”

“If you’ll let me explain—”

“Shut up! Just shut up!” She returned to Eir’s bedside, sank down, and rested her cheek on Eir’s chest. Her expression relaxed into grief.

“She was good,” Gabi said. “Real good. One of the best people I ever knew.”

“I know,” Ryan said. “She told me to … tell you that you were ready.”

Gabi laughed brokenly. “She’s wrong.”

“I’m just as scared as you are, Gab.” He swallowed. “I need your help.”

For a long time she didn’t say anything, just sat beside Eir, looking at her face and crying silently. After a while she gently took the seed from Eir’s lips and put it back in the pouch.

“No one was supposed to touch the Treasures,” she said in a flat voice. “But Mist told me how to get the Apples if Eir started to—” She swiped at her face again. “You know, they’re supposed to be what keeps the gods alive and young. Mist said there were always consequences if anyone besides the gods tried to use them.”

“I know about consequences,” he said. “I didn’t mean to hurt Eir, but it
is
my fault that she—”

“You better tell me what you did,” Gabi said, something almost like hatred in her eyes, “or I might hurt
you
.”

It was the first time she’d ever threatened him and meant it, and it felt to Ryan as if she’d taken a knife, slashed his chest open and pulled out his heart.

“I
want
to tell you,” he said thickly, “but you have to promise not to tell anyone else. Not even Mist.”