Mist (21 page)

No matter what she did now, Mist knew the kid had probably seen things more disturbing than the sight of her sword turning back into a knife. She whispered the spell and put the weapon away. The young man didn’t make a sound.

“Can you tell me what happened?” she asked.

“I was waiting out here,” he said, “and these things attacked me. I think they wanted me for something, but they didn’t say what.”

“Why do you call them ‘things?’ ”

“Because I know they weren’t . . . I mean, they weren’t just addicts looking for drug money or anything.” He wet his lips. “You fought them. They weren’t really men at all. You
know.
”

And so, obviously, did he, Mist thought. “I’m sorry you had to go through this,” she said.

He brushed a shock of ragged blond hair out of his eyes. “What were they?” he asked.

Mist knew she could stop it right there, give the boy a little money, send him off to urgent care. But over the past twenty-four hours she’d learned not to ignore her instincts. It wasn’t a coincidence that the Jotunar had been here, right in the same place where Loki’s getaway car had been waiting. It couldn’t be just chance that they’d attacked this particular kid.

“I don’t think you’ll believe me,” she said.

He smiled, an expression that was as real as it was unexpected. “I think I will. It’s not like I have anything to lose, right?”

Mist hesitated, wondering how to begin. “What’s your name?” she asked.

“Ryan,” he said. “Ryan Star—” He shivered violently. “Starling.”

“You’re freezing,” Mist said. She shrugged out of her jacket and handed it to him. “Take this.”

“Don’t you need it?”

“I don’t get cold easily,” she said, trying to be as gentle as she could. Not that she’d ever had much to do with kids his age—or any age, for that matter.

“My name is Mist Bjorgsen,” she said. “We should find somewhere to talk where you can sit down.”

“No.” Ryan pulled the jacket around his shoulders. “I want to know what’s happening to me.” His eyes pleaded with her. “I need to know.”

And his life might depend on that knowledge,
Mist thought. “Do you know anything about Norse mythology?” she asked.

Ryan’s gaunt face went blank. “Uh . . . is it like
Lord of the Rings
?”

“Not exactly. The author borrowed from it, though. Elves, dwarves, trolls. Quite a few other things. But it started long before he wrote the book.”

“I didn’t read it,” Ryan said, thoroughly dazed. “I snuck into the movie, when I—” His eyes cleared. “The war,” he said. “The bad guy with the burning eye, and the Orcs. And the elves were on the good side.”

“In Norse mythology, it wasn’t Orcs who worked for the bad guy,” Mist said, carefully watching his face. “It was giants. Jotunar.”

“Oh, God.” The boy dragged his hand across his mouth. “Is
that
what they were?”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t—”

“I believe you,” he said slowly. “Your sword . . . is it magic, like the one in the movie?”

“Not quite the same,” Mist said. “But it’s real.”

“I saw the fire,” Ryan said, dazed again. “It
is
magic.”

Mist wondered how she was going to be able to hide her abilities with the Jotunar going around beating up mortals right in front of her. “Do you believe in magic, Ryan?” she asked.

“Yeah. I think . . . ever since I was a little kid. I just didn’t know I did. I didn’t know what it all meant.” He shivered again. “That mythology stuff . . . it isn’t just fairy tales, is it?”

“No.” She sighed. “I don’t know how to make this any easier for you, Ryan. You said you didn’t know why the giants were after you, right?”

“I didn’t even see them. One second I was alone, and then they were there. They dragged me into the alley. They were too strong for me to fight.”

“They’re too strong for almost any mortal to fight,” Mist said.

“Mortal?”

Too much, too soon. Mist knew she’d have to be a little more careful. “Let’s worry about that later. You must have had something they wanted. You can’t think what that might be?”

“I think . . . I think they wanted
me,
” he said.

“Why, Ryan? Why would they want to kidnap you?”

“I don’t know.” He looked at her again as if he were seeing her for the first time. “I came here because I was looking for something. Some
one
, I mean.”

“Who?”

“I think it must have been you.”

Mist stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“I recognize you now. You were always there, in the middle.”

“In the middle of what?”

“The war.”

10

It took Mist a moment to grasp what he was saying. “What war?” she asked, her hand slipping to the sheath of her knife.

Ryan didn’t seem to notice her tension. “Winter that never ends. Fire and ice. Things rising up.” His voice turned pensive. “I didn’t understand until now. I must have known you would be here.”

“
How
did you know?” Mist asked, her muscles tensing to ward off an attack.

“In the dreams,” he said. “Gabi told me to wait, but I had to find you.” He stared around him at the old buildings and pockmarked street. “It didn’t think it would happen this way.”

Half of what he was saying made no sense. Some of it made all too much. This could have been a trap all along. Jotunar attacking an innocent mortal for no apparent reason. Loki knowing she wouldn’t walk away from someone in trouble.

Was it possible that she was facing Loki himself?

Wouldn’t I know?,
she thought. The Jotunar hadn’t been faking their treatment of the kid.

Still, she kept her distance until the boy began to sway on his feet. She caught his arm, and he flinched as if he expected to be hit. Mist concentrated, hoping she’d recognize the taint of Loki’s influence if she found it.

Nothing. But she did feel a wisp of emotion like a cirrus cloud quickly stretched and dispersed by the wind, an echo of what she had felt when she and Dainn had linked minds to search for Loki. Even the feelings were much the same: fear, shame, anger. Mostly at himself.

Mist let him go and weighed her options. If he’d been part of a trap, it surely would have been sprung by now. Still, the safest thing would be to leave him here.. From the looks of him, he’d been in pretty bad shape even before she’d found him—a street kid, most likely, trying to survive in any way he could. At least she could give him a little money for clothes and food.

But if there was a reason the Jotunar had wanted him . . .

“Dreams,” he’d said. Dreams of war and winter and “things rising up.” They almost sounded like visions.

“You were having a seizure back there, weren’t you?” she asked.

He nodded, as if the question made perfect sense after her long silence. “It happens sometimes. When I have the dreams.”

Curse it,
Mist thought. The last thing she wanted to do was take the kid home, a total stranger who could be anybody, anything at all.

She looked him up and down, from ragged sneakers to jeans riddled with holes and a long- sleeved T-shirt that had seen much better days. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten?”

“I don’t know. A couple days, maybe.” He stared at the ground. “Look,” he said. “I know I sound crazy, but I can help.”

“Help with what?” Mist asked cautiously.

“I can—” Without warning he fell onto his back, cracking his head on the pavement as he began to convulse. His eyes rolled back in his head again, and his feet drummed on the ground in a violent, uneven rhythm.

Mist dropped down beside him and turned him on his side. She retrieved her fallen jacket, bunched it up, and touched him just long enough lift his head and lay it on the jacket.

An ambulance,
she thought, reaching for her cell phone.

But she stopped before she could punch in the first digit. Ryan had suddenly gone still, his body still jerking a little but no longer in the throes of the seizure. He grabbed her wrist and hung on as if she were his last hope of salvation. He coughed and rolled his head toward her. There were tears in his eyes.

“Don’t call them,” he whispered. “There’s nothing they can do.”

“Ryan—”

“I have to go with you,” he said. “I think you need me. And Gabi.”

Whoever
she
was. Mist lifted Ryan’s head from the jacket and cradled it in her hand.

“Do you always dream like this, Ryan?” she asked.

“Long as I can remember.”

“Can you get up?”

“Yeah.” He bit his lip and tried to sit. Mist helped him, and when he was ready she supported him and helped him stand. His skin twitched like that of a horse shaking off flies.

“I’m taking you with me,” she said when he was steady on his feet. “You can tell me everything you know. But you’ll have to trust me completely.”

He nodded slowly. “I get it.” He smiled, the corners of his lips trembling. “I won’t freak out, I promise.”

Realizing she might be making a very bad mistake, Mist helped him to Eddy Street. She phoned for a taxi, and in less than fifteen minutes one pulled up to the curb. The cabbie glanced at Mist with interest, staring just a little too long, but she stared back until he found it prudent to look away and do his job.

The cabbie let them off in front of the loft, and she threw the money down on the passenger seat as she walked with Ryan to the front door, ready to catch him if he started to fall.

Dainn was waiting at the door. He glanced at Ryan with a frown. “It seems we are to have another visitor,” he said.

Mist stopped, holding Ryan by the arm. “Another?”

Dainn stepped back to let her in. Ryan sucked in a sharp breath and turned his head to look at Dainn as he and Mist went by.

“What’s going on?” Mist asked as soon as Dainn closed the door.

“Come and see for yourself,” he said, gesturing in the direction of the kitchen.

Mist practically dragged Ryan with her and stopped in the kitchen doorway. A Latina of about sixteen sat at the kitchen table devouring a sandwich, a glass of Sprite beside her place. She looked up as Mist approached, almost bolting from her seat.

“Gabi!” Ryan said.

She shoved her chair back and rushed to Ryan, wrapping her thin brown arms around his waist. He returned her hug and pulled away.

“Estupido!”
she exclaimed. “
Idioto!
I told you to wait until I made sure it was safe!”

“I couldn’t,” Ryan said in a soft, apologetic voice. “I had to find her.” He smiled at Mist over his shoulder. “She saved me.”

Gabi stared at Mist. “
He
said you were coming,” she said, jerking her head toward Dainn, who watched the entire exchange with a perfectly bland expression.

But Mist saw the aftermath of worry written in the lines between his brows and around his mouth, and she suffered a brief moment of guilt knowing she’d caused it.

Very brief.

“This is the one we heard lurking outside the door,” Dainn said. “Gabriella Torres, she calls herself.”

“You let her in without knowing anything about her?”

“I would not have, if I’d thought she had any connection to Loki,” he said, unruffled. “Nevertheless, she was behaving in a clandestine manner. I thought it best to detain her until you returned.”

Mist turned to catch Ryan’s gaze. “Since you seem to know this girl, you can start by telling me why she was spying on my house.”

“Ryan said we had to come,” Gabi said, her arms folded tightly across her chest.

Mist sighed again. This was going to be as difficult an interrogation as anything she’d gone through with Dainn. “Shouldn’t you be in school?” she asked.

Ryan, sitting next to Dainn across the table, swallowed his last bite of sandwich. “We don’t go to school,” he said, gazing at the tabletop.

The girl scraped back her chair. “If you’re going to report us—”

“I’m not.” Mist gestured for Gabi to sit down again. “No one asked you to watch me?”

“Ryan
told
you,” Gabi said, flashing Mist an exasperated glance.

“Gabi said she wanted to check things out before we just showed up,” Ryan said, his head still bowed and his cheeks flushed. “She told me to wait until she thought it was safe. But I saw . . . I felt something I had to follow. I left, and
he
—” Ryan flashed a sideways glance at Dainn. “Well, you know the rest.”