Giants of the Frost (41 page)

"Yes. We all can. I have used it many times to look for you. Then to see you, when you returned to Midgard."

"When I returned to Othinsey," I corrected him. The thrill of possibility bubbled inside me. "Do you not see the difference?"

"The difference?"

I leaned forward and met his gaze. "Vidar, I'm twenty-seven years old. I've been back here on Midgard for nearly three decades. You only sensed me, you could only see me, when I came to Othinsey. Your sixth sense and your seeing-water… they don't work outside this island. It's a stepping-stone, like you said, and your father's magic doesn't work beyond it. If you and I got off Othinsey, I bet he couldn't find us."

I could see this sinking in.

"There are six billion people in Midgard, Vidar. There are vast places you haven't even dreamed about. We could disappear."

"What if you're wrong?" he said. "I share his blood. Perhaps the connection is strong enough to work throughout Midgard."

"But he can only find you in the seeing-water, right? If he doesn't have that—"

"He'd have to come here. He'd have to get off this island, travel in a world where he no longer belongs, find his way through all the continents and all the people…" Vidar's eyes were alight. "I could poison Sjáfjord. The water would take centuries to clear. Enough time for us—"

"The boat goes on Wednesday."

"I'll return to Asgard tonight."

The rain set in shortly after nightfall, cold and insistent as we hurried into the forest away from the eyes at Kirkja. I waited under an umbrella while Vidar packed up his camp and saddled Arvak. All the while my chest ached with fear and yearning. The possibility of our being together was too precious; there was so much at stake.

"Please, please be careful," I said as he tightened Arvak's saddle.

"I will. You too."

I nodded. "I'm afraid of letting you out of my sight."

"I welcome the separation if it means we'll be together a lifetime." I frowned. "Vidar, will you still love me when I'm not young anymore? When I'm a wrinkly old woman?" He touched my face with the back of his hand. "Victoria, I would love you under any circumstances."

"But you'll stay young and strong."

Vidar seemed bewildered. "All the better for taking care of you when you are old and frail."

"There's a romance in growing old together, Vidar," I said, trying to laugh it off but finding a lump in my throat.

He leaned under the umbrella and kissed me, then said, "Let each season come when it comes, Victoria. Do not fret about winter while spring blooms around you."

I smiled. "I'll arrange everything. Be back by Tuesday night. I'll work out a way of getting you on the boat, even if I have to pack you in a crate myself."

He pulled me into an embrace and I dropped the umbrella in the mud. "Victoria," he said, his breath hot in my ear, "if I haven't returned, you must go without me."

"I know," I said reluctantly.

"If I'm not here, it means things have gone wrong, that you're no longer safe."

"I know," I repeated, more firmly. "I know." I stood back and gazed at him. Raindrops clung to his hair and eyebrows. "But you'll be back."

"I love you," he said.

The ground shifted underneath me as a sick fear of loss swirled in my stomach. "And I love you. Go on. Leave fast, return faster."

He held my gaze a few moments longer, then turned and climbed onto Arvak's back. "Come on, Arvak. Quickly now."

Arvak snorted and sped forward. I saw them plowing between the trees, I saw a shiver of amber and violet light, then they disappeared and I was all alone in the rain with a muddy umbrella and a vague presentiment of ill fate ahead of us.

I returned to my cabin and changed into dry clothes, mulling over possible escape routes in my head. Assuming I could smuggle Vidar onto the boat without anyone knowing, what then? When we arrived in Norway, where neither of us spoke the language, how would I get him to England without a passport? I supposed I could learn Norwe gian and try to get by in a strange land, but it would limit my ability to earn us a living. Could Vidar work? Without references, a history, a birth certificate? It looked impossible, but I refused to accept that it was. I did know that I couldn't plan this escape alone, and I paced up and down my hallway seventy-four times before I decided that I would have to ask Gunnar for help. He knew Norway, the language, the systems. He knew about getting cargo on and off the
Jonsok
. He knew about computers and networks and information. And, I was almost certain, I could rely on him not to ask too many questions.

"I thought you were sick," he said, leaning on the open door.

"Maryanne's cooking made me feel better." I smiled. "It's raining out here."

"Come in," he said. "I've got the heater on. It's cold tonight."

"It's always cold. We're in the middle of the bloody Norwegian Sea," I said, hanging my raincoat on the back of a kitchen chair. "Could we have a cup of tea?"

"Certainly, my lady. Make yourself comfortable."

I sat on the sofa, warmed my toes in front of the bar heater. On the scarred coffee table he had a stack of books and drawings. I picked one up to examine it. A Viking warrior. "How come this chap doesn't have horns on his helmet?" I called.

"Vikings didn't have horns on their helmets. It's a common misconception." Cups and spoons clinked.

"You can move those papers if they're in your way. Put them on my desk." I picked up the books and carried them to the bookshelf, then gathered the papers and found I held in my hand the photocopy Gunnar had read to me once, about the day Odin had come to the island. I scanned it, but it was in Norwegian.

Gunnar put a cup of tea in front of me. "Find something interesting?" he said.

"Please read this to me again," I said, thrusting the photocopy into his hand.

"Why?"

"Just interested." I sat on the sofa and cradled my cup of tea. Now that I had access to some of Halldisa's memories, I wondered if Isleif's writings would stir something in me. "That bit about the last day… the weather."

Gunnar sat opposite me and, as he read, fragments of memory fluttered light and dark in my mind's eye.

"The late morning grows hot. The children paddle naked in the water. I have never experienced such a heat, even in the middle of summer. The fires of hell itself could not be warmer."
The little girls calling to each other, playing a game. Me, trapped inside, wondering when Asbjörn
would grow tired of this game and let me free to find Vidar. Frustration upon frustration. Sticky
heat clinging to me, poaching my eyes.

"At dusk, the heat drained suddenly and sharply, and across the whole island stole a great frost. The trees are white, the lake has frozen over and the ground is covered in crystals."
The creak of heat transforming to ice. My skin cold, my innards yet to catch up. Superstitious
murmurings from my mother. I venture a glance outside. Ice everywhere. The first glimmer of
fear. Asbjörn slams the door on my fingers. "Stay inside, whore." A distant howl, the wind
spinning off the sea.

"It is now dark and there are fearsome sounds in the forest. A cruel wind gathers force and we all huddle inside by the fire in fear of what may happen next."

In the church, Isleif is pale with fear. Hakon screams about letting the blood of one of the cows to
appease Odin. Asbjörn clutches his three little daughters to him and prays until his eyes are
glassy. Something bangs on the door. Dogs howl, the wind shudders over the roof. "Send the
whore outside, that's what they want!" Asbjörn shrieks. Isleif wrenches my arm, throws me out
into the storm. At once, the wind drops to an eerie, expectant stillness. I draw a breath. A dark,
hulking figure moves in the distance. I see the glint of steel…

"Vicky? What's wrong?"

Gunnar was leaning across the coffee table, trying to get my attention.

"Nothing's wrong," I managed.

"You zoned out."

"It's very evocative, isn't it," I said, feigning a casualness I didn't feel. "The description." Gunnar settled back in his armchair and slurped his tea. "You didn't think so last time I read it to you."

"I've changed my mind." It was suddenly achingly clear that everyone else here at the station was in danger. Vidar and I had to get off the island before Odin sensed us. "Gunnar, I need your help." He looked at me over the top of his cup and his eyebrows twitched. "You sound really serious."

"I am. I have to leave the island."

"Ah." An expression of sadness lit his eyes and then passed. "Too much of Magnus?"

"Yes, I suppose. And other things. Too complicated to explain."

"Not me, though? I haven't scared you off by asking you to run away with me to New Zealand?" I smiled and shook my head. "Not you. You're a good reason to stay."

"Have you told Magnus yet?"

"Not yet. If I wanted to get something large off the island—secretly—how could I do it?"

"Smuggling, Vicky? Do I get a cut of your profits for helping? Is it drugs or diamonds?" I shrugged. "I can't tell you any more than I already have. Sorry." He sipped his tea and cast his eyes toward the ceiling. "Let me think… how large?"

"About as large as a man."

"And how heavy?"

"About as heavy as a man."

Gunnar met my gaze. "I see."

"Please don't ask any questions."

"We have six-foot crates in the storage shed. They came with the struts for the satellite dish. If you were leaving, you could say you needed one to pack all your belongings. You'd put your diamonds in the crate, and you and I would carry it on to the
Jonsok
claiming it's fragile and you don't trust the deckhands."

Six feet. Might be a bit cramped, but I was sure he could endure it for ten hours. Gunnar continued: "I'll pack up all your things after you're gone and send them to you by mail over the following weeks, so as not to attract suspicion. Tell me, do we need breathing holes for these diamonds?"

"We might," I said guardedly.

"Then we'll have to drill those in before we pack them."

"Can we do it this weekend?" I said. "I want to be out of here on Wednesday." Gunnar shook his head. "Sorry, Vicky, no matter how well prepared you are, you're not going anywhere on Wednesday."

"What do you mean?"

"Magnus is scared that Maryanne will leave because of the haunted forest. He's canceled the
Jonsok
for this week."

An electric shock to my heart. "He's
what
?"

"He has canceled our supply boat so he can be certain of Maryanne's continued sexual favors. That's just one of the good reasons you can give for your resignation."

"How are we supposed to eat?"

"He's crafty. He ordered a double supply as soon as Maryanne started getting ghost-shy. Blamed it on an administrative error and canceled the next delivery to rebalance the budget." I let all this sink in, trying to calm myself. Just because the
Jonsok
wasn't coming didn't mean that Odin was necessarily going to discover Vidar and me. We'd probably be perfectly safe for another week. But if Odin did sense us, if he felt that prickle that Vidar had spoken of…

Then we were trapped there, miles from anywhere. At his mercy on an island in a freezing sea. At the fund-raising table tennis match on the weekend, I sat in a corner of the rec hall nursing a plastic cup of rum, glowering at Magnus. He glanced once or twice out of the corner of his eye, but continued chatting with Frida and Carsten, his arm around Maryanne's waist. He was pretending he couldn't see me. That idiot was going to ruin everything, thinking with the tiny brain in his tiny perns. I had been knocked out of the match in round one, trounced by a frighteningly overcompetitive Frida, who had been trounced in turn by a frighteningly overcompetitive Josef. Now it was just Josef and Alex left, lovers in life, bitter rivals on the table-tennis court. Since my disqualification, I had been drinking steadily. The rain hammered on the tin roof of the rec hall, drowning out Gunnar's U2 album. The more I drank, the more anxious and irritated I grew.

"Match point!" called Gordon, who was umpiring. "Come on, Alex, you can beat him."

"I need another drink," I said to nobody, and tottered to the galley, where Carsten had hidden the alcohol in a vain attempt to slow me down. I was sloshing some rum into my plastic cup when I heard somebody enter the room behind me.

"Victoria," Magnus said.

I turned and felt my hands automatically ball up. "What?" I asked.

"You've been glaring at me all afternoon. You insist you aren't jealous of my relationship with Maryanne and yet—"

"I'm not jealous," I shouted, and felt the world shift a little to the left. I steadied myself on the bench and advised myself not to act like a drunken fool.

"Then what's all this about?"

"I'm angry at you for being a small-minded control freak."

Magnus blinked at me in shock. Though why he should be shocked was beyond me. Surely I couldn't be the first person to point out this indisputable fact.

"I will let that pass, Victoria, as I can see you've drunk too much—"

"Why did you cancel the
Jonsok
?"

"An administrative error occurred which extended our budget. I merely addressed that error. I'm the station commander, the buck stops with me."

"Are you really thinking about bucks, Magnus? Or fucks?"

"I'm warning you—"

"Warning me? You think I'm afraid of
you
! I've got plenty of other things to be afraid of."

"This is your final warning. I can dismiss you for insubordination."

"Go ahead and dismiss me, then."

A silence ensued while Magnus fought with the redness in his face and I wondered why I hadn't heeded my own advice about being a drunken fool.

"Victoria, we'll discuss this on Monday morning, both sober, in a work setting." He turned to go. I felt like I would burst.

"Please, Magnus," I said. "Make the
Jonsok
come on Wednesday. I have to get off this island." He stopped, turned to face me. "Victoria? You're not succumbing to the same superstitions as Maryanne, are you?"