Arctic Dawn (The Norse Chronicles Book 2) (11 page)

“Fight fire with fire, they say.” A woman’s distant voice carried above the roar of the blaze. “If only they knew how true that was.”

“Who’s there?” I asked. “How are you doing this?”

The woman laughed but did not answer.

I walked and walked, traveling hundreds of dream miles until, finally, the row of flames thinned and shortened. At last, they narrowed to a fine point, a torch, vomiting a conflagration across the whole of my dream world. The torch bearer noted my approach and recoiled as if preparing to run away.

“Wait.” I reached toward her. “Who are you? Why are you doing this?”

She swung the weapon and revealed it was no mere stick coated in pitch. She grasped a sword constructed entirely from flames. The shadowed figure motioned for me to approach. Light flickered off the high places of her face, but darkness kept her features vague, indistinguishable. Despite the fire’s threat, I stepped closer—an unknown impulse controlled me. The swordswoman reared back, holding her weapon high, ready to strike. Fear lurched up my throat and tasted of bile, but I continued my approach, helpless and intent.

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

The swordswoman laughed again. She lunged, and her blade sliced through me.

I woke screaming loudly enough to shred my throat. Before I took in a breath to scream again, my door burst open, filling the doorway with light and the concerned faces of Val, Thorin, and Baldur. Val rushed to my side and turned on my bedside lamp. He studied my face, probably looking for a clue about what had happened.

“What was it?” Val asked, taking my hand in his. “Another dream? What did you see?”

“Fire,” I said stupidly. Part of me had remained in the dream, and the reality of my hotel room was slow to return.

“What fire? Your fire?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Is the hotel on fire?”

“No. Back off and let me think.”

Val scowled but did as I asked, dropping his death grip on my hand. I drew in a deep breath and surveyed my visitors. Baldur stood in the doorway, frowning, deep lines etching his brow. Thorin had stopped at the foot of my bed and wore his usual stoic expression.

“It was a sword of fire, and she said she was fighting fire with fire.”

Everyone spoke at once, their excited questions jumbling into confusion.

I stuck my fingers between my lips and blew a sharp whistle. “Jeez, y’all, it’s like an Abbot and Costello routine in here. Next thing, somebody’s going to ask, ‘Who’s on first?’ I’ll start from the beginning. It won’t make a lick of sense, but I’ll tell you what I saw, and don’t interrupt, or I’ll kick you all out and go back to sleep.”

The three men all managed to look properly chastised, even Thorin. I told them of the dream, beginning to end.

Then I inhaled another deep breath, exhaled, and let my shoulders sag. “Anyone have any ideas?”

Baldur, Val, and Thorin looked at each other, silently deciding who should tell me the bad news. Thorin scraped his fingers through his hair and stepped closer to my bed. “Surtalogi,” he said.

“Gesundheit,” I said, deadpan.

Thorin turned his eyes heavenward as if praying for patience. “Surtalogi is the name for the sword that belonged to Surtr, the fire giant who brought the final destruction on the world at the end of Ragnarok. It was his sword of fire that burned out the world.”

“How did that work, exactly? You all keep saying the world burned, but how did you survive it?”

“Asgard was not the only plane of existence,” Baldur said. “There was Niflheim, where Hela rules the spirits of the dead. It was untouched. And there was Gimle, a heaven of sorts. That’s where most of the surviving Aesir went.”

“You had a heaven to live in, but you gave it up for earth because…?”

Val snorted. “There’s only so many millennia I could bear to be in the presence of the same handful of Aesir. And humans were starting to get interesting.”

A pang of foreboding shivered through me. “So why am I dreaming about the sword now?”

Baldur moved away from the doorway and stepped closer. “No one saw the sword again after Ragnarok,” he said. “But many have searched for it.”

“Maybe Helen found it and is bringing it into play,” Baldur said.

“If she has Surtr’s sword, then the battle is won,” Val said.

“Solina’s dreams are often premonitions of what is to come. She prevented my death at the Aerie.” Thorin deliberately avoided meeting my eyes, probably because that would have been too much like admitting my deceit had benefitted him after all. “
If
her dream was about Surtalogi, then it may be possible for us to find it first.”

“But we probably don’t have much time,” I said. “My foresight tends to be rather…
shortsighted
.”

“It’s first on our list,” Val said, rising to his feet. “We’ll start hunting for it right now.”

“No,” Thorin said. “The wolves come first. Helen won’t dare use the sword until Solina is dead. She’s reenacting the old events in the same order as before. Using the sword at this point goes against the rules.”

Val scoffed. “Helen plays by rules? Since when?”

“She wants a predictable result. She’s a cold, calculating bitch.”

A growl rumbled in Baldur’s throat. “I concur with Thorin’s assessment.”

“You’re a prejudiced old fool,” Val said.

Thorin lunged, but Baldur shot out an arm and held him back. From my seat in the bed, I watched the three ageless beings spit and snarl at each other like wet cats until I could take it no more. I rolled my eyes, slid under the blankets, and let out a noisy sigh.

Thorin heard it. “Save this for later,” he said. “Let her sleep—she’s been through hell enough for one day. The least we can do is give her a chance to recover.”

Val huffed. “She wouldn’t be in this condition if you hadn’t gotten caught up in Helen’s obvious trap.”

“Enough!” I yelled from underneath the covers. “Walking into that trap got us Skyla back. That alone was worth the risk. So, let this argument go, okay? Let’s all go back to bed or whatever it is you guys do while the rest of us sleep.”

When no one said anything in reply, I peeked over the blankets and glared at them. Thorin responded first. He squared his shoulders, spun on his heel, and strode from the room. Baldur followed, offering an apologetic smile on his way out.

Val turned and gave me a pleading look. “That sword is no joke. If you know where it is, you have to tell us.”

“I don’t know where it is, Val.” I pointed toward the open doorway. “Let me go back to sleep—
please
.”

A twinge of something piteous passed over his face. He nodded and left my room, closing my door behind him. I fell back on the pillows. The woman in my dreams wasn’t Helen Locke, I was sure, but further speculation was impractical and a waste of energy. I curled into a ball and pulled the covers under my chin, and the rest of the night passed, devoid of any more interruptions from the Nordic three stooges.

After all that, maybe I should have had trouble going back to sleep. But I didn’t.

Chapter Twelve

“I
know you can hear me.” Skyla batted my head with a pillow. “Quit playing opossum.”

“Stop it,” I whined.

“You’ve been shifting around for the past twenty minutes. Go on and get up already.”

“Is there a major crisis requiring my immediate attention?” I asked, refusing to open my eyes.

“No.”

“Is anyone dead or dying?”

“Not anymore.”

Skyla might have been making an offhand comment, but it reminded me of her dire situation the night before. I sat up, rubbed my eyes, and focused on her face, which showed more color and energy than it had last I’d seen her.

“You look better,” I said.

Skyla bobbed her head. “I am better. The hocus-pocus Baldur worked on me was powerful stuff.” She poked her shoulder, demonstrating her lack of injury. “Like it never happened.”

“Good. I’m delighted you’re back to full ninja strength. Now let me sleep.”

Skyla muttered something not nice about my character and shifted around on my bed. A whiff of coffee tickled my nose, and I forced an eye open.

“Ah.” She waved a coffee mug before me. “Val said that might do the trick.”

I reached for the cup. “Gimme gimme.”

“Nuh-uh-uuuh,” she sang. “This is mine. You have to get out of bed and get your own. You’ve been asleep for over half a day. Enough beauty rest. I’m tired of keeping the guys company.”

Someone cleared his throat in the doorway. I looked around Skyla to find Val holding two huge mugs.

“One of these is for you, if you’ll come out and get it,” he said.

“Sure thing… if I could get a little privacy first?”

Val ducked out of my room, and Skyla followed him. I shut the door and shuffled through the mess of clothes in my bags. I settled on a pair of leggings that looked relatively clean and a long knit shirt showing only a few wrinkles. Besides a case of major bedhead, I didn’t mind what the dresser mirror reflected. For the first time in days, I looked rested, less pasty and pale, and more like my old self.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Val said when I stepped out of my room.

He swiped a mug from the counter and presented it to me. He was showered and still damp around the edges. His T-shirt clung to his skin, and he smelled like bath soap. Beautiful as always but easy to resist, Val was a Da Vinci sculpture left in the elements to tarnish. Thorin, also looking fresh as a daisy, sat on the living-room sofa, staring intently at his phone.

“Um, thanks.” I took the coffee cup from Val. “Why all the sweet talk?”

Val slipped an arm around my hips and held me in a loose embrace. “I’m just happy to see you alive and well. I take it you had a rather close call.”

“Skyla’s the one who got shot.”

“But Skyla isn’t the one who almost got eaten by Skoll.”

“A little birdie’s been clacking its beak.”

“A big birdie,” Baldur said, coming from the bathroom freshly shaved, his hair damp from a shower. “It was such a miraculous story—I couldn’t hold back from singing your praises.”

I ducked away from Val’s hold and said, “I hope you sang Skyla’s, too. Without her, we would have all been lost.”

“Of course,” Baldur agreed. “But it was your persistence that saved the day. And we still don’t have the entire story. Skyla told me that when she found you, you already had your own escape quite under control.”

“Not under control.” My stomach swirled as I remembered just how close I had come to being a Skoll snack. “Not at all. I didn’t tell you all the worst of it.”

I summarized what had happened after Val and I separated at the warehouses. I told them about finding Skyla and about Nate splitting us up. Then told them about the improbable and incredible existence of Helen’s stone warriors and my nearly fatal hide-and-go-seek game through the containers housing them. As they listened, my audience’s faces showed varying expressions of amazement, disbelief, and anger.

Val had the decency to stare at his toes when I looked his way at the end of my story. If the decision had been left up to him, we would have run away, and the others would be badly suffering… or worse.

“What is she planning to do with an army of rock robots?” asked Skyla.

Baldur, Val, and Thorin looked at each other and shook their heads.

“We can only make assumptions,” Baldur said. “But we don’t know her plans for sure. We can guess, however, that those stone soldiers aren’t merely robots as you say. Most likely, they are vessels for her undead hordes.”

“Undead hordes?” Skyla asked. When Baldur opened his mouth to answer, she held up a hand. “No. Don’t tell me. We’ve got gods, wolves, and swords, and that’s all I can deal with right now.”

“Baldur,” I said, “you said Helen’s reenacting events in the same order as before. Where do the golems come in?”

“At the end.” He smiled sadly. “After Hati and Skoll swallowed the sun and the moon, there was a great war between good and evil—Aesir versus the agents of Chaos. Helen brought her undead army to fight on her behalf.”

“This was when Odin and Thor were killed, right?” I asked.

Baldur swallowed and nodded.

“So the agents of Chaos won.”

“That time. They won that time because it was how it was meant to be. This time…” Baldur shook his head and looked away.

“If it’s true that she’s doing things the same way as in the past, then that is her weakness. The thing we have to exploit.”

“In what way?” Skyla asked. She sat on a bar stool, her legs tucked up underneath her, wearing a man’s undershirt and large blue-striped boxers.
Baldur’s?
A white bandage covered her gunshot wound, and its location suggested the bullet had done more than graze her.

“Maybe we can predict what she’s going to do next and stop it,” I said. “We were really, really lucky last night. Stupid lucky. Helen underestimated us.” When Thorin flinched, I remembered the tranquilizers they used on him and the poisonous mistletoe for Baldur. “Well, she underestimated Skyla and me, anyway. Next time, she’ll be more careful, more prepared.”

“There won’t be a next time,” Thorin said. “We’re done chasing shadows. I agree with Solina.”

Wait, am I hearing things?
Thorin just admitted to a room full of people that he agreed with me?
I swallowed another sip of coffee—caffeine withdrawal might have been making me hallucinate.

Thorin stood and crossed the room to stand at Baldur’s side. “I’m sorry, but Nina is the least of our worries. Helen uses her to distract us, but we have to let her go for now. We have to reprioritize, and first on the list is removing the threat of Skoll. With the certainty of Solina’s life restored, we can focus on other goals.”

Baldur looked stricken by Thorin’s pronouncement. He dropped his shoulders but bobbed his head. “You’re right. I’m afraid I’ve been compromised as an effective leader. I default to your judgment in these matters from now on.”

“Wait a minute.” Val waved his hand as if clearing the room of a disagreeable odor. “It doesn’t work like that. Baldur, you were tasked by Odin, the Oracle, and by fate itself to take the role of the new Allfather. That’s not something you can give away on a whim.”

“I’m not giving it away,” Baldur said. “I’m delegating. Throughout this ordeal, Magni has remained objective and detached from his emotions, an important skill for a leader in war, and make no mistake, Vali Odinson, this
is
war.”

“Detached from his emotions?” Val said. “If that were true, then we would have never come on this wild-goose chase in the first place. Thorin is loyal to you to a fault. Why should your authority default to him? Are you saying I’m compromised? That I cannot do what needs to be done?”

“You know I am Odin’s grandson by his firstborn,” Thorin said, “if you want to compare family lineage. And yes, Val, you have proven repeatedly how you frequently think with your”—Thorin’s eyes swiped over Val’s figure—“libido. You are capricious, and your loyalty is questionable.”

“Just because I’m not a blind follower doesn’t mean I can’t—”

“Boys!” I said, playing referee again. “Can we do this King of the Jungle fight later? Let’s work on devising a cohesive plan. Let’s end this thing while I’m still young enough to have a normal life.”

“A normal life?” Skyla said. “You think you can go back to some mundane existence after all this?”

“White picket fences, two-point-five kids, and the American dream?” Val asked and took my hand. He rubbed a thumb over my knuckles and squeezed.

I shrugged one shoulder. “Sure, why not?”

“Your attachment to your humanity is a liability,” Thorin said. His eyes narrowed at my hand clasped in Val’s.

I pulled away and scowled at Val while Thorin continued.

“Helen will use it against you. As Baldur said, this is war, and there is no room for sentimentality.” Thorin raised his chin, peered down his nose at me, and held himself rigid like a military commander. All the softness he’d shown me the night before receded.

Baldur was entrusting his authority to Thorin, who had Mjölnir to back it up. Where did I fit into that hierarchy?

I met Thorin’s cold stare with my own bold gaze. I turned up my coffee cup, drained it dry, and set the mug on the counter without even a clink to give away my irritation. “It’s business as usual, isn’t it? You, Thorin, overbearing tightwad.” I ignored the choking noise Val made. “Me, Miss Mundy, messy obligation. Just don’t forget I’m not as helpless as I used to be, and you made me a promise.”

Thorin nodded. “Skoll’s head on a silver platter. I haven’t forgotten.”

“Good.” I went to the kitchenette for a coffee refill, turning my back on Val and Thorin before I said or did something regrettable.

Skyla came scooting after me as the low rumble of male conversation filled the room. “He didn’t mean it as harsh as it sounded.”

“He’s right, though,” I said. “As much as I hate admitting it. My humanity
is
a liability, as well as my sentimentality. Regardless of our differences, I do have a great deal of sentimentality for my parents. Helen could easily use that against me. I’ve got to do something more proactive to protect them. I just don’t know what.”

Skyla tapped a finger against her bottom lip and furrowed her brow. “Maybe you could tell them the truth, or…” She inhaled a sudden sharp breath, and her face brightened. “Baldur.”

“What about him?”

“This network of his—why can’t he use it to watch out for your parents? They have unlimited resources, Solina. Ask Baldur to put guards on your parents or something like that.”

“You think that would work? You think he would go for it?”

Skyla raised a shoulder and dropped it. “All you can do is ask.”

Taking her advice, I pulled Baldur aside and pleaded my case—my parents’ case, to be precise.

Baldur flushed and dropped his gaze. He worried his thumbnail as if picking a rough cuticle. “It shames me that you had to ask. I should have thought to do such a thing myself.” He raised his blue eyes and peered at me through cinnamon lashes. “Forgive me, Solina. And of course. I’ll make the call now and have someone stationed at your parents’ house within the hour.”

“Discreetly, though, okay?”

He nodded. “Of course. The less attention we attract, mortal or supernatural, the better.”

I reached around his massive shoulders and squeezed him in a tight hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Baldur chuckled and patted my back. “You don’t have to thank me. As I said, I should have thought of this myself. Thorin would say it’s a smart tactical move that benefits us all.”

I harrumphed and pulled away. “Thorin says a lot of things. Doesn’t mean he’s always right. But in this case, I won’t argue.”

Baldur brushed his knuckles over my chin, a fatherly rebuff. “Thorin has always been a singular sort. We haven’t been required to access our humanity in a long time, and it’s like shrugging on a dusty, stiff old cloak. But the longer we wear it, the more comfortable and natural it feels. Perhaps Thorin’s humanity needs a little more time to break in, but it will. Just be patient with him.”

“Hmm. If you say so.”

Baldur’s grin widened, and he winked. “Trust me.”

Later in the evening, Skyla came into my room, plopped on the bed beside me, and tugged at a few strands of my hair, separating it into thirds as if she meant to braid it. I had hidden away from the guys, pretending to watch a pay-per-view movie when, really, I was spending that time replaying the contrasting scenes of the gentle man from last night against the harsh but familiar Thorin who had basically told me again how my life meant nothing beyond the guarantee of his own survival. He had gotten into my head—maybe into my heart a little, too—and I hadn’t quite figured out how to get him out.

“What is it?” I turned my attention to Skyla.

Skyla reached the end of the thin plait she had woven into my hair and started another row. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“’Bout what?”

“The Valkyries. They would be an amazing weapon to have on our side. We know Helen has infiltrated at least some of them. I want to find out how far the corruption goes.”

“And then what?”

Skyla grinned and sliced a hand through the air. “Then I’m going to cut it out. Get them back on our side—loyal and dedicated.”

I sat up and folded my legs beneath me. “How are you going to do that?”

“I’m going back to the Aerie.”

I grabbed her arm. “You can’t leave me. I just got you back.”

“I have to, girlfriend.” Skyla pried my death grip from her arm. “I can’t let Helen corrupt our best allies.”

“You can’t leave me alone with them.”

Skyla gave me a knowing look. “You mean you don’t want me to leave you alone with
him
, with Thorin.”

“Him too.”

Skyla took my hands and held them in hers. Her big, earnest eyes were pleading with me. “This is my purpose, Solina. Save the Valkyries from the poison within. It’s my part to play in this. Once they’re whole again, the Valkyries can assume their rightful place at the side of the Aesir. Helen will never be able to defeat you.”

“Why does it have to be your responsibility?”

“Because even though I don’t have the proof, I know I’m one of them. It’s me who has to do this. An outsider. An objective third party.”

“And why should they believe you?”