Gods and Mortals: Fourteen Free Urban Fantasy & Paranormal Novels Featuring Thor, Loki, Greek Gods, Native American Spirits, Vampires, Werewolves, & More (97 page)

W
e checked
out and set off for the stinking alley, our boots killing the beautiful, fluffy snowflakes littering the sidewalk. Soon the pristine white would be transformed into a wet, black sludge.

Aidan walked silently beside me, while I searched the streets for any sign of Loki.

“Are you okay?” I asked, concerned about his silence.

He grumbled. “Couldn’t Hugin have told us about this magic bridge back in Missouri, and saved us three days of driving? Not to mention several felonies.” His eyes scanned the gray sky for the raven. Hugin circled high above us, out of earshot.

“Maybe we had to prove ourselves first,” I said. “Or maybe the Bridge doesn’t connect to DC.” Aidan shrugged. He stopped a moment, closed his eyes and massaged his temples.

“Aidan!” I touched his shoulder. “Are you okay, really?”

“Yeah, just tired. Not sure what’s up. Maybe it’s coming back to Midgard. Yikes, I can never get used to calling our world Midgard.” Aidan shook his head, black curls bouncing. They’d grown, just brushing his shoulders.

I handed him one of the small leather pouches of Mead that Sigrun had packed. Suddenly I longed to see my friend again. I hadn’t had this experience before, missing a living person so deeply. I’d ached for Joshua’s presence after he’d died. And for Aidan, I’d keened inside, my grief both for my broken and my betrayed heart. But now, I just missed Sigrun as you’d miss a friend and confidante. I held the thought close to me.

Aidan slugged, then returned the pouch. Almost reluctantly. I watched his face. Saw the pleasure there. And I worried. Feared he would get addicted. He’d need the drink more and more over the next few days. I had to preserve our stash and decided to keep a better eye on the Mead from that moment on. The longer we remained here the more we’d need the Mead.

We reached the alley, Hugin leading. It stank. Urine, garbage and heaven knew what else. Hugin flew down and perched on my shoulder, like an ever-present, overbearing conscience. We stood, almost hidden from the street by the incongruously cheerful blue dumpster.

“
Stand together, side by side and be calm
,” he said.

I repeated his words to Aidan, who raised a questioning eyebrow. He also raised one offended nostril, as if asking me if this could seriously be the location of the Bridge. I shrugged and tried clear my thoughts.

“
Think of Greenland and your professor,
” Hugin’s sultry baritone spoke in my ear.

“Er, I don’t really know much about either of them,” I admitted, unsure how I’d get there if I hadn’t met the archaeologist or ever been to Greenland.

“
That is not a problem. Just think of both her name and the place you intend to go to. The Bridge knows what’s in your mind. It will connect you to her. That is why you need to clear your mind of other thoughts or you might end up going somewhere else
.”

Again, I relayed Hugin’s comments to Aidan. At first, I felt slightly ridiculous, standing in a dark, dank, dead-end alley, facing a mold-ridden brick wall beside a foul-smelling dumpster. But once I settled my mind and concentrated, I forgot about our location. My mind focused elsewhere. I felt light-headed.

Pain spliced my ribs, agony spread white-hot fingers into my flesh. Was this right? I gasped, thrown back by the momentum of the pain, disoriented and confused. What had Hugin done to me?

“Bryn? What’s the matter?” Aidan’s voice swam down to me, distorted as if we were conversing underwater. His hands went around me to support me as I began to fall to the ground. His touch sent blinding shafts of pain into my side. I sagged against the dumpster and grunted in agony, but I refused to be a wuss and scream.

“Don’t touch me,” I tried to say, but all that left my mouth was hysterical groaning.

“Shit!” Aidan’s hand came away from my side. Though my eyes were heavy-lidded with pain, I watched him gape at his hand, now coated thickly in ripe, red blood.

Hugin fluttered around, the speed of his wings amplified by his anxiety.

“What happened?” Aidan shouted. He opened my coat and found the glamor hiding my Valkyrie attire had disappeared. Blood saturated the chainmail, seeping through the fine bronze links, with a perfect red circle at the center of the leaking wound. “You’ve been shot, Bryn.”

He reached for my hems, both chainmail and dress, lifting carefully until he reached the wound. I didn’t care that my thighs were bared, or that my entire midriff was open to view. The pain wiped out every bit of modesty I had left. Aidan inspected the entrance of the wound with tender fingers, then slipped his hand beneath my back, checking for an exit wound. Alarm filled his eyes. His fingers found the ridges of the open wound, coming away moist and red.

He covered me up, then, an expression of poisonous anger on his face. When he peeked around the edge of the dumpster to search for the sniper, he almost received a bullet to his face for his troubles. It plunged into the brick on the wall behind him, sending a silent shower of dust floating to the grime-coated alley floor.

Fear sluiced through my veins so fast my hands and knees shook. My vision had cleared, although it took far too long for my liking. I struggled to sit up higher, knowing we needed to hurry to get out of this place. Funny, but I did prefer to be as far away from snipers as possible, considering my current condition.

“Aidan?”

A stricken look haunted his face—no surprise after having almost met a bullet in the face twice in so many weeks. “Yes, I’m here. What do you need?”

“The Bifrost. It’s our only way out.”

He nodded and looked at Hugin. “Alright, Blackbird. Let’s get out of here.”

I desperately wanted to laugh as Aidan helped me get back on my feet, imagining what Hugin would think of his new nickname. The world spun around me and all I could think of was Mead.

“I think I need some Mead before we use the Bifrost. Who knows how the traveling will affect me.”

Aidan obliged and I soon downed half a bag of Mead. Some part of my consciousness screamed at me not to drink too much. Aidan would need the rest. I tried to think. How many had he used, how many had we brought? My head hurt. Too hard to think.

A few moments later, I felt better, breathed easier. Even the world righted itself a little. I let go of Aidan’s arm, and stood on quivering legs.

“Can we go now?” I asked.

Aidan choked back a laugh. Another bullet ricocheted off the wall. “Yes, ma’am,” he said.

We stayed within the shadows of the dumpster. Aidan wouldn’t dare to risk his life again by checking who had shot at us. We both concentrated hard, thinking of Greenland and the Professor.

Then we stepped forward, knowing they would see us once we moved out of the shadows. Why did the entrance to the Bridge have to be out in the open? Especially when somewhere out there Worthington and his partner were trying to terminate us.

We held our breaths and prayed. Everything slowed down, to the point that I heard the pop of the bullets disengaging from the barrels, the whoosh as they sped through the air, heading straight toward us.

A low hum surrounded us, and I was pulled forward, sucked into a strange vortex of air currents.

I
stumbled
as my feet hit solid ground again. I whirled and turned, panicked when I couldn’t see Aidan. But the thwack of his heels hitting the ground beside me was a comforting sound.

I looked around, absorbing the biting air as it fought its way into my skin, right into my bones. I shook with the cold, despite my armor still maintaining the warm temperature of my body. Aidan shivered beside me. Thank heaven we hadn’t ended up standing in the icy snow or on a lonely glacier out in the white wilderness. No. I thought.
Thank you, Bifrost.

Each trip on the Bifrost was slightly different. My trips with Fen were blink-and-you’re-there, yet this one felt like a ride on a little tornado. Tornado! In that pain-filled moment I recalled my first trip on the Bifrost. From Ms. Custer’s front yard. Had there really been an entrance to the Bridge right on my doorstep all this time?

A violent shiver pulled me out of my thoughts. We stood in the middle of a passage marked with sealed doors at regular intervals. A metal door, set with a large window, guarded the end of the passage. Beyond the door snow swirled, so thick it was impossible to say if it was twilight or high noon.

Biting agony forced its way into every conscious brain cell. The pain hadn’t worsened, but it hadn’t lightened either. I hoped the Mead had done some good. My palm went to my ribs, where heat radiated out of my body like flames in an overactive furnace. My hand came away with blood. Not the thick, pulsing surge it had been beside the dumpster, rather a steady dribble that, hopefully, meant I was on the mend.

Wings flapped and fluttered, and Hugin made an appearance, for once not the picture of calm. Black feathers fluttered to the floor as he landed on Aidan’s shoulder. Shocked, Aidan almost dusted him off, but caught his hand at the last minute. He stared at the bird out of the corner of his eye, standing stiff and uncomfortable with his new burden.

“You okay?” I asked the perturbed creature.

“
Yes, although it is not every day I get shot at
,” he answered.

“Yes, I agree. Not a usual occurrence for us either.” I forced the words out as adrenalin vacated my body in one sweeping rush.

I staggered against the wall, sliding slowly to the ground, unable to stop my descent. Aidan crouched beside me, pulling my coat forward to look at the wound. Soon, I found the half-pouch of Mead stuck in my face. I drank, again filled with guilt. As yet, I hadn’t felt a significant change to my condition other than the halting of the bleeding.

I handed the pouch back to Aidan, experiencing a moment of clarity in which his pale skin shone bloodless and blue-veined, in which purple and blue blotches riddled the center of his forehead, forming a neat circular pattern around the bullet hole that had killed him. The slope of his shoulders screamed out the true state of his weakness.

Soon, I was well enough to rise. I felt as if the rest had done more than the Mead, and I was beginning to wonder at its effectiveness. Better keep a closer eye on Aidan, just in case. I teetered on numbed legs, holding on to Aidan until the dizziness vanished.

I figured we’d start at the first door on our right, and I grabbed the handle.

“Be careful. We have no idea if we’re even in the right place. Let’s have a peek first before we go barging into a room full of murderers,” Aidan said. He grinned, knowing he sounded severely paranoid, but he had a point.

I placed my ear against the door, but it was well insulated against the cold and thus against sound too. I opened the door and allowed it to move toward me, leaving it slightly ajar. Voices filtered toward us. Two speakers. A woman and a man. I looked at Aidan.

“Does it sound like her?” I whispered.

He nodded. We slipped into the room and the door closed behind us in a soft whoosh. Hugin took off, leaving Aidan’s shoulder as he walked over to a desk overflowing with papers and photographs and maps. The bird landed on the top of the nearest cabinet.

The two occupants, deep within their conversation, faced a white board filled with notations and plastered with a number of maps. They were discussing ice shelves and separations.

“Professor Wayne?” Aidan spoke.

She turned, eyes reluctant to leave the board, auburn hair flickering in the crude fluorescent light. When her glance came to rest on Aidan, her eyes widened. “Aidan? What are you doing here?”

My eyes narrowed as I turned my own gaze on him. Seems I’d missed the part where Aidan mentioned he and the Professor knew each other personally. Probably met at one of the many digs he’d been on.

“I know we’re interrupting, but I have to speak to you,” Aidan said. “It’s very important.”

The man scowled. “Elisabeth, this ice shelf isn’t going to wait while we babysit a bunch of kids.” The tone of his voice matched the frigid weather, and he stared at us as if teens were freaky, yet-to-be-understood creatures. His forehead was a mass of creases, a stark contrast to the smoothly combed hair sitting on his head like a skullcap. A cold impatience gleamed in his black eyes and I could almost read his mind. How long would it take him to have security throw us out into the snow?

“Never mind, Henri. I can handle this. I’m sure it won’t take long, and please let me know if the ice shelf should move in the next ten minutes, will you?” The Professor smiled, dismissing him smoothly. Henri left the room in a huff, not bothering to look at us as he shoved his way through the door. Unfortunately for him, he couldn’t slam the vacuum lock door.

“Sorry, Aidan, Henri believes he’s on a tight deadline.” Her smile was affectionate and I understood in that moment that she had no idea Aidan had been killed.

Aidan shrugged. I moved to stand beside him, and the Professor’s eyes widened. From the shock in her eyes and the flush on her cheeks, it was supremely clear that she recognized me. But who did she recognize? Dr. Halbrook’s progeny or the Valkyrie they’d unearthed?

“Who’s your friend, Aidan?” she asked, cautiously, as if one breath in my direction would cause me to disappear in a puff of snow.

“Professor Wayne, this is Bryn Halbrook.”

She blinked and frowned. “But, I just spoke to you on the phone a couple of hours ago. I haven’t even called the charter yet.” She walked back and forth, not quite wringing her hands, but it was close enough. Surely, this was the part where a normal human being would faint or cry or throw a hysterical fit at the unreality of it all. She approached Aidan and asked, “How the hell did you get here this fast?”

Aidan shrugged his shoulders again, pursed his lips and said, with an Oscar-winning air of nonchalance, “We used the Bifrost.”

“You used what?” Her eyes narrowed.

“The Bifrost, the Rainbow of the Gods. The bridge between worlds,” I answered.

She opened her mouth. Closed it. Then she looked from him to me and her eyes narrowed. “Is this some kind of prank?”

“No. No, I’m really sorry. Aidan’s not telling you everything.” I gave Aidan a nasty look. We didn’t have time to waste with dodging reality. “I know what my father did. With the DNA from the dig site.”

Her mouth formed a silent “O” and she sat down slowly. It was a risk to mention it, but how many people knew about what my father had done? If Aidan’s father had found out, how did I know who else knew?

Her next words just confirmed my fears. “You know about that?” She whispered the question in a voice so small it bordered on a squeak.

I nodded.

“Who told you?”

“You won’t believe me even if I told you.” My response was dry.

“Young lady, I don’t have time to mess around. If you expect my help, you need to be straight with me.” Suitably chastised, I nodded.

I took a step back, opened my coat and allowed the glamor to fall away.

Professor Wayne rose to her feet. Her face was strained as she whispered a name.

“Brunhilde!”

“
D
ear Lord
, is this real?” She looked at Aidan and promptly sat back in her chair, so shocked her legs folded, unable to hold her weight. My wings glimmered and fluttered at my back.

But not before she saw the blood.

“What happened to you?” She rose, surprising me with the speed with which she reached me.

“It’s okay. We were shot at when we used the Bifrost to get here.” I waved her off.

“You need a doctor. I can get a medic to see to you, patch you up.”

I shook my head, desperate to change the topic. “I’m fine, it’s healing. The bullet went right through and the bleeding stopped ages ago.”

I’d tried to make her feel better but it seemed I’d done the opposite by revealing my apparent mortality. I dropped the glamor back, more adept and comfortable with the skill now. I pulled my coat closed.

But the professor was no longer looking at me. She stared, shocked, at Aidan instead. She’d seen Aidan in his battle gear when I dropped the glamor.

I sympathized with the Professor. Although she’d spent her lifetime chasing after artifacts, it would be hard to find an archaeologist who truly expects a mythology to be real. Everyone knows myths are called myths because of the very nature of the stories. Farfetched, sketchy, too magical for the modern techno-kid to accept.

“Professor? You okay?” Aidan went closer to her, and she flinched, staring at his chest.

“What are you wearing?” she asked, her hands and voice shaking.

“He is
einherjar
. It’s his armor,” I answered. Aidan looked helplessly at me. Things had gotten pretty out of hand in the past few minutes.

The Professor took a deep breath, gripping her hands together in a twisted fist, taking a few staggered breaths. “Both of you, sit.” She was one cool, professional woman and I decided I could learn a lot from her. “Coffee? Chocolate?”

“Anything.” We answered in unison, both not caring very much what we drank as long as it was warm.

She rang for coffee and steepled her fingers, looking over at us, eyes still wrinkled with worry. And waiting. “Right,” she said. “Start from the beginning.”

Aidan cleared his throat and began to tell his tale, from his mission to find Halbrook’s mutant child to discovering me alive and well in Craven.

“Bryn wasn’t an animal to be terminated,” he said, the skin on his face tight.

The heat pump sputtered weakly, reminding me of the cold blanket of air that hugged me tightly.

“Terminated? What do you mean?”

“My father wanted me to infiltrate the foster home and determine the extent of Bryn’s mutation, and to recommend termination if it was true she was part Valkyrie. He believed it was a threat to humanity if she was allowed to live.” Aidan paused and threw a warm glance in my direction. “I didn’t agree with him. I admit I went to Craven under his instruction, but I’d only paid half an ear. For me it was an opportunity to get away from him. To be able to study the book without his constant interference.”

“What book?”

I fished in my satchel and handed her the leather-bound volume. She nodded. “Ah yes. I understood that your father had procured a copy of this volume.”

“I was also worried for Bryn’s safety,” Aidan said. “Something strange was happening to her.” He paused, and only continued when she raised a questioning brow. “Bryn can tell you.”

I cleared my throat. “I was about five years old when I began to see people who glowed. A strange golden aura around them. I spent most of my childhood seeing a psychiatrist who made it his life’s work to rid me of my psychosis. When I moved to Craven, I discovered that the glow really meant the person was going to die. Aidan was there when one of my little foster brothers died. I was helpless, distraught. But after Aidan left, something weird happened.” I didn’t miss the look of remonstration she threw him. “I was taken to...a strange place.”

“You were abducted?” Twin spots of pink appeared on her cheeks as she leaned forward, outraged.

“Not exactly.” I hesitated, unsure of what she’d say, whether she’d think I belonged in a loony bin. “I was in Asgard. I received my wings in the Hall of Odin, during the Rite of the Valkyrie.”

The Professor blanched. But she remained silent. The conversation paused as a man entered, bringing with him three cups of steaming hot coffee. I sipped mine gratefully, eager to relieve the tightness in my throat. I waited for him to leave before I spoke again.

“When the time came for my first Retrieval I went back to Craven. My foster mom told me Aidan had called and said he was coming to see her. He had something really important to tell her. She was very worried, as he hadn’t arrived. After speaking with my foster mother, I was taken to perform my Retrieval and it—”

The Professor interrupted. “Sorry, what is Retrieval?”

“It’s when the Valkyries bring home their chosen Warrior.”

Her nod was tight and she said nothing. I had to hand it to her. She was taking it pretty well since her initial shock. I liked her.

“My Retrieval, the Warrior I was meant to take back to Valhalla, had been murdered and left beside a stream in Craven. He’d been shot in the forehead at pointblank range and would have been lying there for a week at least.” I swallowed hard, fighting memories of icy water running over my foot, of Aidan’s weightless body and the putrid odor from his long-dead flesh. “It was Aidan.”

“What?” She looked at Aidan and then back at me. “Okay. This is getting a bit much, Bryn. Do you really expect me to believe that Aidan is dead when he’s standing in front of me, breathing and alive?”

“I showed you what we look like in true form. Surely you understand. An
einherjar
can only become a Warrior of Odin in death. It was a horrible shock for me, too. I’m sorry you had to find this out so suddenly. But we need your help. We need more information on Brisingamen. It would help if you could tell us anything about any pieces of jewelry taken from the collection of artifacts uncovered in the burial.” I sipped the coffee again, my throat dry from a frigid mix of cold, revelation and memories.

“How do you know about Brisingamen?” the Professor asked, the air of skepticism slowly receding.

“From its owner. The goddess Freya wants us to find it for her. If we fail, we pay with our lives.”