Arctic Dawn (The Norse Chronicles Book 2) (15 page)

“What about you?” I demanded. “Are you all right?”

“I couldn’t sleep, so I was out in the training barn. The dormitories, though… By the time we broke through the fire, she… she…” Skyla fell into weeping again and couldn’t finish her story.

“She who? Who did this?”

Skyla took a deep, wobbly breath, trying to regain her composure. “Tori. One of the sisters here fought her, tried to stop her, but she got away.”

“How many?” asked Thorin, his tone flat and lifeless. “How many were lost?”

“M-maybe half. We managed to save some of the women. Some are still on the fence. They’ve already been taken to the hospital. Maybe fifteen of us are left, but they’re spooked.”

Thorin gripped the steering wheel tightly enough for his knuckles to go white, and the leather creaked in protest. “Skyla, something’s come up. We can’t come to the Aerie right away. I want you to try to hold the survivors together. Don’t let anyone leave. Solina and I will be there as soon as possible, but it may be a day or two.”

“Wait.” Skyla’s tone changed from pained to confused. “What are you talking about? What’s happened that could be more important than this?”

“Yes, Thorin,” I said. “This is no coincidence. Not after my dream about the fire sword. This might be our chance to track down Surtalogi. We have to go before the trail goes cold.”

“I have other obligations,” he growled.

“What the hell is he talking about, Solina? And what dream are you talking about? What sword?”

“He’s talking about Baldur,” I said. “He’s gone again. The dream is a long story. I’ll tell you about it when I see you.”

“Baldur’s insane.” Skyla had moved past confusion and was steaming toward fury. “He’s put everything in jeopardy with his bullheaded pursuit of a ghost. Let him go. This is more important.”

“I agree,” I said.

“Look, Skyla,” Thorin said. “Do what you can. See what you can find out. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

“The hell with that,” Skyla said. “You listen to me, Aleksander Thorin, I don’t care—”

Thorin cut her off. “End of discussion, Skyla. Solina will call you back to update you soon. Bye-bye, now.” He swiped his thumb over the screen and dropped the phone into the console between us.

I stared at him, mouth agape, not quite believing what had happened.

“Have you lost your mind, too?” I said. “I will
not
risk my life on
another
wild-goose chase for Baldur. We’re done with that. You said so yourself. Baldur released you from your vow. He’s a god. He has to bear the consequences of his actions. He can take care of himself.”

“No, he can’t,” Thorin said. “He’s out of his mind. He has to be protected from himself.”

The mercury of my internal rage thermometer crept higher. By the way he kept a death grip on the steering wheel, I gathered Thorin was feeling something similar. In another minute, one of us would probably explode. I hoped it wouldn’t be me as my flare-ups tended to be messy.

“To what end?” I asked. “What does going after him do for us in the grand scheme of things? It puts everything in danger. You curse me for taking stupid risks, but when the shoe is on the other foot, it’s perfectly justifiable.”

Thorin pounded his fist on the dashboard. “You don’t understand.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned in. “Then explain it to me.”

Thorin turned toward me, and where I expected to see rage, I found panic and desperation. “There are thousands of years between us, Baldur and me. That doesn’t get wiped away with a few words. It has always been my duty, the God of Thunder’s duty, to protect the Allfather. It’s hardwired in us and not something easily overcome.

“When Baldur came out of Helen’s underworld after Ragnarok, he was shattered. He was wasted and mostly out of his mind. He was supposed to be the next Allfather, but he was a raving, mad ghost of what he used to be. He was—” Thorin choked, coughed to clear his throat, and continued. “He was covered in scars and half-healed wounds from the hundreds of times he tried to kill himself. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t do it, that Helen could keep him alive no matter what he did to himself or what tortures she exacted on him. He kept trying anyway.”

I covered my mouth after it fell open. “Oh my God,” I said through my fingers. “I didn’t know.”

“How would you? But maybe now you understand why I have to help him. I have to find him before Helen takes him again. He won’t survive it this time. She’ll keep him alive, but he’ll be dead inside.”

The intensity of Thorin’s feelings ignited the air between us. I wanted to reach out and touch him, reassure him, but I refrained. Touching him might have brought forth a vision, and I didn’t want to invade the sanctity of Thorin’s thoughts or share in the horror of his memories.

“Of course, you have to go. I’ll go to Skyla by myself. Like you said, Skoll’s off somewhere licking his wounds. I’ll be safe for a little while. I’ll go to the Aerie and learn what I can about what happened, then I’ll come back to Vegas and—”

“
No
.” Despite my efforts to avoid him, Thorin reached across and grabbed my wrist. I braced myself against the avalanche of images his touch evoked: a scarred and broken Baldur, recently emerged from Helen’s domain as Thorin had seen him so many years before. He was pale and so weak that Thorin had to carry him. Knots and snarls tangled his hair and beard, and he was muttering a litany of senseless words, every one in three being “Nanna,” as Nina was known back then.

I swallowed the sob forming in my throat and jerked away. Thorin scowled and opened his mouth, probably to say something harsh, but he stopped, having noticed my distress. He studied my face. His gaze fell first to his hand and then to mine, and the sternness in his face eased. “You saw it? You saw Baldur, how he was?”

I nodded and bit my lip, afraid to say anything because I was pretty sure the only thing that would come out was a sob.

“So you see? You understand why I have to protect him.”

I nodded again and blinked back tears.

“But I told you I wasn’t going to let you out of my sight again.”

“I can’t leave Skyla.” My voice was low, raspy, broken. “What if this is our chance to track down Surtalogi? We can’t waste this opportunity.”

Thorin turned and stared at the road and ground his teeth together. “Dammit.” He pounded the steering wheel. Three more times he brought down his fist, accentuating his words: “Damn, damn,
dammit
.” I marveled that the steering wheel hadn’t crumpled under his assault.

I reached to pat his shoulder but drew back. No touching him for a while if I could help it. I didn’t need to see any more of his horrible memories. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Chapter Sixteen

T
he moment Thorin and I walked through the door of Baldur’s Bellestrella villa, Val swept me up in a bone-crunching hug. Though it obviously pained him to do so, Thorin agreed to our separation, and he all but ordered Val to go to the Aerie with me. Usually, Val would have balked at Thorin’s officiousness, but Thorin’s edict probably mirrored what Val would have done anyway.

“Don’t you need Val to help you?” I asked.

Val scowled at me, but I ignored him. Having Val at my back, a second pair of eyes watching for treachery among the Valkyries, was probably a good idea. If he could do that without expecting anything from me in return, I would have had fewer reservations about pairing up with him.

Thorin shook his head. “By keeping you safe, Val will be helping us all. I don’t like it, but sending him with you is the lesser of two evils.”

Val huffed. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I’m confident you’ll serve your purpose if you can keep your focus on the job at hand, rather than trying to get in Solina’s pants.”

Val threw back his shoulders and smirked at Thorin. “How does it feel, going to bed every night with nothing but your self-righteousness?”

“Oh, good God almighty,” I said. “You two are worse than a couple of tomcats whenever you get together.”

Val turned his smirk to me. “Meow, baby.”

I threw out a hand, like a cop trying to stop traffic. “Save it, Val. We’ve got to hit the road. I want to get to the Aerie before the trail gets cold. Skyla’s about to flip out.”

“How’s that different from any other day?”

“Call me as soon as you get there.” Thorin pointed, not quite shaking his finger at me. “I want a play-by-play report. You call me and tell me what you had for breakfast if there’s a chance it has a bearing on the fire sword or Helen.”

Thorin pressed his pointer finger against my sternum. “So help me, if you withhold anything or downright lie, no matter your good intentions, I’ll come for you with chains and an armored truck.”

Thorin likely expected a sharp retort from me, and I really wanted to give him one, but for Skyla’s sake, I sucked down my pride and flashed Thorin a toothy smile. “Sure thing, sugar.”

Val snorted. Thorin frowned.

I rolled my eyes and tugged at Val’s arm. “C’mon, tomcat. Let’s hit the road.”

Val hurried to open the door for me, but I backtracked when I remembered another issue requiring resolution before we all went our separate ways.

“I forgot something,” I said. “I’ll meet you out front, okay?”

Val gave me a sour look but did as I asked.

I turned to Thorin, who watched me, brows drawn down, a frown tugging at his mouth. I reached behind my neck and unfastened the chain supporting Mjölnir. “I think you’ll be needing this.”

Without taking his eyes from mine, Thorin held out his hand. I pooled the necklace into his palm, and he closed his fist around the warm gold. He stepped closer and put his free hand to my jaw. His fingertips rested like a breath on the pulse point in my neck. Surprise and uncertainty rooted my feet to the floor.

“Solina.” Thorin could undo me so easily, saying my name like that—like a prayer. He was possibly nothing more than a manipulator like his cousin, except he had a subtlety Val lacked.

No, I don’t believe that. He’s not devious. Just driven and resolute.

“Please,” Thorin said.

Hearing him implore me, his tone soft and needful rather than demanding and harsh—I might have given him my soul when he talked to me that way. Instead, I steeled myself against his allure.

“What is it?” I asked. “What do you want?”

“Above all else, you must keep yourself alive.”

“I know.” I lost my patience and threw my hands out at my sides. “Your life is so important to you, but is it possible for you to realize mine is at least as important to me? Unlike you, I get a finite number of years. I’m not anxious to give them up any earlier than I have to. So stop reminding me how important it is that I stay alive. I know. I know it like I know the sky is blue.”

Thorin’s lips quirked up in a half smile. “So, you’re still trying to convince me it isn’t always about me?”

“I don’t know why I bother. It’s an impossible task.”

“Mostly, yes. You’re right. But sometimes…” His voice drifted away, and his ghost of a smile went with it. The brown in his eyes deepened to black.

I met his gaze, though it took a great deal of self-confidence to do so. “Sometimes what?”

“Sometimes, there’s something…
else
.”

The air between us filled with potential, the kind of energy waiting for one spark to set it loose. I couldn’t do it, though. I wouldn’t be the one to strike the flint.

Thorin drew a deep breath, and his hand fell away. “One last thing before you leave.” He raised a hand, and Mjölnir dangled from his fingers, swaying on its gold chain. He undid the clasp, slipped the pendant from the necklace, and stuffed the hammer into his pocket. “Wear the chain. When the hammer is separated from its lanyard, they can be used to track each other. As long as you are wearing this and as long as I have Mjölnir, I will be able to find you, no matter where you go.”

I let him put the necklace around my neck, substantially lighter without the golden nugget of Thor’s Hammer weighing it down. Thorin let me go without another word. My heart thudded as I trudged through the hotel.

Mani used to listen to my problems, giving advice when I asked or lending a sympathetic ear when I needed that more. Having a guy’s perspective had kept me out of more than one bad relationship. Actually, it kept me out of pretty much any relationship. Maybe that explained my problem. Enduring emotional conflict with Thorin—and Val—on my own totally sucked.

“You smell like him,” Val grumbled when I climbed into the Yukon’s passenger seat.

I turned to face him. “I accept I clean up pretty good sometimes. I’ve come into some nifty special powers. But, really, it’s not every day an otherwise ordinary, small-town girl has two immortal men chomping at her heels. What is it? If it’s my deodorant, I can switch brands.”

“So you admit he’s trying to seduce you. That pretentious, two-faced—”

“Stuff it, Val. Neither of you are paradigms of virtue.”

“At least I don’t put on a show, trying to make you think I am.”

“He’s
not
trying to seduce me.”
Thank God for small favors.
And
big ones.

Val cut his blue eyes to me with a beleaguered expression before turning his attention back to the road. “We had this discussion before, Solina. You need your ego stroked or something?”

“Just the opposite. I need a reality check.”

“Your loyalty, courage, dedication to something you believe in… it’s a rare thing.”

“It’s not so rare,” I said and scoffed. “And you knock Thorin for it all the time.”

“Because it’s misplaced. His attachment to Baldur is going to wind up getting everyone in trouble.”

“I agree, but I also see Thorin’s point. Everyone needs a friend when they’re standing on the edge of the abyss.”

“Hmm,” Val said in an evasive way. “But back to your original question. I’m more than happy to tell you all the reasons I find you irresistible.”

“No. Forget I brought it up.”

“You need someone in your life to remind you of these things so you never have to doubt.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “I might get an overinflated sense of myself.”

“Having healthy self-esteem is a good thing.” Val grinned, and a mischievous sparkle lit in his eyes. “Besides, your ego will never be bigger than mine.”

“Too bad you can’t just pop us through space like Baldur,” I said when Val and I arrived at the outskirts of Mendocino, “teleport or apparate or whatever you want to call it.”

“It’s always been that way,” Val said. “Not sure why. Maybe it’s one way Baldur can limit us and exert some of his own superiority. If I try to, uh,
transport
you, we would mostly stand around with a lot of popping and ringing in your ears. If I had one of the ancient weapons, Gungir or Surtalogi, they might amp up my battery enough to make a jump with someone in tow, but it doesn’t matter since both items are missing.”

“Gungir isn’t missing,” I said.

Val snorted. “Seeing Odin’s spear in your dream is not the same as knowing who actually possesses it. I think if someone did have it, they wouldn’t keep it a secret for long.”

Thorin had, of course, decided to keep his possession of Mjölnir quiet, but how long would that last if he continued to use it as he had in the desert? Mjölnir’s gold chain suddenly hung a little heavier around my neck. Val sensed the downturn in my mood, and we spoke no more about ancient weapons.

Hours later, when we turned onto the long driveway leading up to the Aerie, I caught the acrid scent of a spent fire. We passed a couple of sheriff’s cars leaving the scene, covered in grime and smoke residue.

“This is going to be ugly,” Val said as we bumped along the gravel path.

“I’ve tried to prepare myself for the worst.” And I did, but my theorizing and imagination wasn’t enough.

The early-morning sun lent enough light to expose the tormented old home, charred and still smoking in spots.

Skyla came running the moment we turned into the parking lot next to the house’s dormitory wing. “Thank the gods you’re here.” She flung her arms around me. She smelled of smoke, and soot had settled on her like a sticky shadow. “It’s been so awful.”

I hugged her back, trying to give some of the comfort she so obviously needed. “I can see that.”

Val stood behind us, arms crossed over his chest, and surveyed the destruction. His face wore a neutral expression, but it looked more like a mask covering something not so amiable beneath. Fiery destruction, smoke and flames… Maybe it all reminded him of Ragnarok and the home he’d lost so many years before. How long did memories like that stay with beings like him?
If I was immortal, a million years wouldn’t soften the ache of losing Mani.

“What can we do to help?” I asked.

“I don’t even know where to start,” Skyla said. “One fire truck is still dousing the dormitory wing. Most of it will have to be demolished. We’ve got to go through and see what can be saved, what can be cleaned, what has to be trashed.”

“What about the kitchen?”

Skyla gave me a funny look. “I guess it’s fine. Most of the main house escaped the worst of the fire. There’s no power, though.”

“If the equipment is gas, then we should be okay.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m a Southern girl. That means I deal with tragedy and grief by stuffing it full of food.”

In less than an hour, I had turned out pans of hot biscuits and honey-nut muffins. I sent Val into town for extra ingredients, and he came back, packing enough groceries to feed an army. My return to the kitchen, to my routine and my comfort zone, settled my haywire emotions. Seeing the Valkyries finding consolation in my food, when they hadn’t found it anywhere else, reminded me why I liked baking in the first place. Maybe some of the Valkyries were Helen’s agents, but surely most of them weren’t. Right then, they were merely a bunch of women suffering a horrible tragedy, and I knew something about how they felt. The food was my gesture, my attempt, to bring them comfort. And I thought the emergency responders might appreciate having a decent meal, too.

After breakfast, I cleaned the kitchen and started on pans of peanut-butter cookies, oatmeal bread for sandwiches, and sweet-potato biscuits waiting to be stuffed with ham and spicy mustard. Skyla and Val occasionally came in to check on me, but mostly they stayed occupied with cleaning and moving furniture. Keeping busy turned out to be a crucial coping mechanism for everyone.

Near sundown, Skyla joined me in the kitchen to talk while I prepared for dinner. Sweat and soot matted her hair, and dirt smudged her face. Her shoulders sagged. “I don’t think Tori went to Helen after she burned the Aerie,” she said, prefaced by nothing.

Crouched before the oven door, I turned and peered over my shoulder at Skyla. A shadow moved in the doorway, and Val stepped into the room. He was also dirty and disheveled, but he bore it gracefully. He took a seat across from Skyla and turned his chair to watch me. Clad in elbow-length mitts, I reached into the oven, towed out a huge, hot pan of lasagna, and plopped it onto the counter.