Dead Embers (14 page)

Ingrid's face softened, the change almost imperceptible.
"Protect her. We have lost too many Warriors these past weeks, Valkyrie
Brynhildr."

A few minutes and one stone staircase climb later, Mika and
I stepped out into the cool night to find a pair of bicycles leaning against
the wall beside the door.

"You've got to be kidding me!" I blurted,
somewhere between a laugh and a growl. "Bicycles?"

"Is there a problem with the particular method of
transport?" asked Mika.

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah! I've never ridden a bicycle
with a pair of enormous wings on my back before. I'm going to have major issues
with balance." That, plus the fact that the muscles in both my shoulders
and my wings were still sore from flight training.

Mika examined the bike, then smirked. "I can see where
you would have difficulties."

Damned if she wasn't finding my predicament funny. Nice to
discover my new Ulfr partner had a sense of humor. Not so nice to have her
grinning at me as I struggled to figure out how to sit on the bicycle without
falling flat on my face.

"Okay, here goes. And you have to quit laughing, or
I'll have to ask Fen to find me another Ulfr."

Mika giggled. "Not much chance of him agreeing to that,
you know."

"Why ever not?" I swung a leg over the bike,
settling my wings on either side of the frame. After lowering myself carefully
onto the cracked leather seat, I stiffened, deathly afraid that the weight of
all those feathers and bones would tumble me to the ground, wings, wheels and
all. Almost as an unconscious thought, I threw a glamor over my feathery
appendages. We were meant to blend in, not appear and disappear on a whim. With
a foot on a pedal, I teetered on the two wheels, then steadied myself. I
glanced over at Mika, waiting for her answer.

My bicycle's wheels squeaked as we covered a few miles of
dusty ground, and I wondered if Mika would avoid my question. But she sighed,
staring straight ahead as she said, "Fenrir is afraid of your friend
Joshua."

"You're kidding, right?" I laughed. "Fen's
not afraid of anyone. It's Joshua who's scared of
him
."

"Perhaps
afraid
is not the best word." Mika
frowned. "It is about who
I
am."

"Huh? Is there some rule against fraternization between
Warriors and Ulfr?"

Her lips thinned into a cold line, the chill also entering
her eyes. "No. There is no such rule." She stared pointedly at me as
she continued, "The only rule for Fenrir is no fraternization with his
offspring."

My lips formed a silent, "Oh boy."

I forgot to swallow, and although a shiver of surprise
snaked through my body, I said nothing. Then I was tempted to laugh. Poor
Joshua. As fathers went, Fen would no doubt be a protective one.

And Mika was Fen's daughter.

***

At least the whole balancing act on the bicycle took my
concentration off Mika's revelation. Though not for long. I managed to find the
best position, the correct angle in which to lean forward to ensure I didn't
fall on my ass or on my head. The bike shuddered as its wheels struggled along
the dusty street, but I managed to remain upright. And even though I knew that
bikes were pretty sturdy contraptions, the combination of my weight plus that
of my wings worried me. The old bicycle's almost flat tires didn't look up to
the job.

Thankfully, we didn't have that far to go.

A dozen minutes of stressful cycling later, our destination
appeared up ahead. A dozen minutes in which Fen's strange behavior fell into
place. Now I knew the reason Fen made sure Joshua and Mika weren't paired
together. He was just a dad protecting his daughter. A dad way too powerful to
cross. Poor Joshua.

We propped the bikes outside a little coffee shop populated
by tourist types with large voices, large appetites and large wallets.

We entered the bright eatery, just two young girls dressed
in black. I pretended not to notice the two blond guys giving us the once-over;
maybe the black outfitting had been a cool idea, but I just wasn't sure that
the whole black boots and black coat getup would serve to camouflage us. From
the looks of our two admirers, I'd say not.

We chose a table looking out onto the street. Mika sat with
her back to the huge glass window while I lowered myself carefully, glad I'd
found a corner seat to avoid some unsuspecting customer walking into a pair of
invisible wings. Our little march through the center of the souk had certainly
taught me a few lessons.

The seat creaked, the crisscrossed fiber cords in the seat
of the chair stretching to the danger point; I feared that the old wooden chair
wouldn't hold up under my weight. Propping my elbows onto the table seemed to
ease the strain, and my stress, a little.

By now, I was so used to the weight of the wings that I
automatically did everything to accommodate them. Walking, sitting, even
sleeping had ceased being uncomfortable, and I was pretty glad for it. I'd
grown to love my wings. Grown to love the very idea of what it meant to be a
Valkyrie.

We ordered coffees, shelling out strangely large paper
money, provided within Ingrid's bag of surprises. I scanned the bag's contents:
money, a cell phone and a satellite phone for emergencies.

And two handguns.

Mika leaned forward, and I tilted the bag so she could get a
glimpse of the gleaming dark metal. When she raised a cool eyebrow, I just
shrugged. "Guns?" I asked, wondering at Ingrid's intentions.
"Hardly our weapon of choice." We were well kitted out weapon-wise;
beneath our coats, inside boots and strapped to thighs we'd hidden our
requisite swords and a handful of small knives.

"Perhaps we will need them." Mika sipped at her
coffee.

I lowered the bag out of sight. "Even if we needed
them, I hardly see the sense considering we've had zero weapons training."

"You mean
you
have had zero weapons
training." Mika smirked.

I paused, startled. "You mean Fen's been training you
guys? With guns? How come
we
haven't had weapons training, then?"

For just a moment, Mika appeared shocked, the color draining
from her face—such a short moment that I was sure I'd imagined it—but she
recovered swiftly enough, deflecting my questions. "I am not sure who has
received the training and who has not. I would think that all Midgardians would
already be adept at using Midgard weapons."

She tightened her jaw, tension coming off her in waves, and
sipped at her coffee, avoiding my eyes. "This coffee you Midgardians
drink, it is pleasant enough," she finally said. I frowned at the Ulfr's
abrupt change of topic, but said no more. Maybe Fen was still meaning to train
us with Midgard weapons. Or maybe Mika didn't know as much as she thought.

"How long do think we'll have to wait here?" I
played my part at keeping the subject changed.

Mika shrugged. "Hopefully not too long. The coffee has
good flavor, but I much prefer Mead." Her tone still remained cool and
conversational.

"Sorry." I laughed softly. "I'm pretty sure
they don't serve Mead in Cairo. Or anywhere in Midgard for that matter."

I managed to thaw her icy reserve, and we made small talk, which
somehow grew into a discussion on Egyptian mythology. Mika surprised me with
her wealth of knowledge. I listened intently. My introduction to Asgard and Hel
and even Muspell had made one thing clear. For all I knew, Ra and Isis and even
Zeus and Hera were as real as I was.

"Where did you learn about Egyptian mythology?" I
asked, thoroughly curious now.

"Books." Her eyes twinkled.

"Books?"

"Yes, information is written on pages, then the pages
are bound together—"

"Ha ha, very funny." I smiled. Despite our
differences of opinion on the spice merchant, I found I quite liked Mika.

Odd that Sigrun had never mentioned Fen's child to me. But
knowing Sigrun, she wouldn't have thought it necessary to tell me.

So who would be the one to break the news to Joshua that the
love of his life was Fenrir's daughter? Poor guy. As boys went he was majorly
hot, but for some reason he'd never been able to hold down a long-term
relationship. Guess Craven hadn't had enough nice girls anyway. That led me to
wonder if Mika was as taken with my poor friend as he was with her. I opened my
mouth to ask her just that, but I never got the words out.

The door slammed open and a flurry of activity ushered a
woman inside the now silent café. Dressed darkly in a hijab and gown, she entered,
surrounded by a group of four surly-looking men. The woman threw an apologetic
smile around the room as if embarrassed at the racket her companions made.

My feathers shivered at my back as if an unseen draft had
dared to rifle through them, and I tensed as I stared at her. It would've been
impossible for me to ignore the woman. She glowed as if she'd swallowed a
million light bulbs.

So, I still had the ability to see people glow. All my life
it had been almost a curse, this glow that only I had been able to see, a glow
that promised death for the one who shone. Not that their death was permanent.
No, if I had known what it meant during those awful last days of Joshua's life,
or even when I shed my tears for a cancer-beaten Aimee, perhaps I would've felt
better about myself, felt as if I mattered. I couldn't change my past. But
maybe, if I could help save this
einherjar's
future, just maybe it would
be okay.

Medeia Karim chose a seat two tables away, her olive skin
gleaming as if flames of white fire danced on its surface, making her look like
very much like an angel. The four men, so buff and surly they just had to be
her bodyguards, sat with her, eyes tracking through the room as if searching
every face for treachery and every hand for weapons. Her glow was painfully
bright, and my stomach clenched. Her end was very, very near.

Mika leaned close. "She seems well protected," my
Ulfr partner whispered. Her eyes played the same game as the bodyguards,
scanning the room and the hot and silent street outside.

I nodded, and tried not to wince at the brightness while I
kept a close eye on our soon-to-be Warrior of Odin. The room settled again into
a comfortable hum of meaningless conversation and midday relaxation, and yet a
few tourists did throw the new group strange and dirty looks. Was it just a
cultural prejudice or something deeper? I recalled Ingrid briefing us; Cairo
simmered in the midst of a civil war that had lasted years. I guess I'd been
paying attention after all.

Tourists still came, though, as Egypt offered them the
beauty and mystery of the pyramids. Sometimes beauty and mystery were more
important than absolute safety.

We sipped our coffees and smiled pleasantly, keeping up the
happy tourist pretense, talking about nothing much, all the while throwing
covert glances at Karim and her posse. The coffee had cooled, but I still
forced myself to swallow. No Midgard meal or drink would ever compare to the
fare back home in Asgard.

I watched the street over Mika's shoulder, growing more and
more anxious as time went by. Mika was similarly aware of every movement in the
café around us. Karim sat with her bodyguards, eating and drinking, and
checking her watch every so often.

A grim-faced waiter closed in on their table, and I tensed.
Then relaxed as he refreshed their coffee and left. I let out a breath and
glanced at Mika. We both smiled at the false alarm.

And then a blast ripped through the cafe.

Mika launched to her feet, her chair skidding behind her and
tipping over as glass fragments rained down onto her like a million little
diamonds. I shot out of my chair, still unsure of what I meant to do. What
could I do?

My ears rang, first from the gunshot, then from the screams.
I remembered our
einherjar
and glanced over at her. My heart twisted as
bright red blood spread across Medeia's neck and soaked into the fabric of her
hijab. No doubt her body was protected by Kevlar, but what protected her head
and neck? Her killer was smart. I glanced quickly outside, scanning the street
and the building across from the café.

Nothing.

Just silence outside and pandemonium inside.

With her bodyguards crouched around their fallen leader, I
had a clear view of Medeia Karim. Amidst the terror and the bustle of frantic
movement, I stood very still, staring at the dying woman. Hot tears strained to
get out of my tight throat as I watched the light leave her eyes.

At the very last second she turned her head to look at me.
Her gaze shifted and focused somewhere over my shoulder. And she smiled. Her
face shone, not only with the brightness of her Warrior glow but with an almost
tangible happiness.

I trembled as I recognized the expression. As I watched her
lids flutter shut and her body slump forward onto the table, I realized that in
her last moments she been a witness to something extraordinary, and impossible.

The moment before she died, Medeia Karim had seen my wings.

I could only think of blood; the entire bike ride back to
the little house passed in a blur. Balancing the weight of my wings was the
last thing on my mind, especially when that mind overflowed with memories of
rich red blood and the emptiness of death.

What the hell was wrong with me? I was a Valkyrie. In some
ways, I myself was a harbinger of death. So why should the death of a
soon-to-be
einherjar
affect me so much that given half a chance I'd be
bawling my eyes out? She had to die to fulfill her purpose in Odin's service.

Besides, I'd known she would soon die. Maybe I hadn't
expected it to happen while I sat a few feet away from her, but I'd been
forewarned. And yet the horror remained. The horror of bright red blood as it
bloomed on her neck in her final moments.