Valkyrie Rising (21 page)

A floorboard had been pried up at one corner. A thin metal rod was wedged underneath, propping up the wooden slat just enough that I could see beneath it.

“Tuck, c’mere,” I said as I tugged at the board, dislodging it the rest of the way. The nails made a stripping sound, like Velcro, as they were wrenched from the subfloor. Before Tuck had a chance to reach me, I’d already pushed the board aside to reveal a hidden compartment below.

Inside was a sword. It was ancient looking, with crude carvings along the blade and handle. They were difficult to make out underneath a layer of dust as thick as frosting, but at first glance, it almost looked like the engravings told a story—with scenes and characters arranged in panes like a stained-glass window.

I lifted it out of the concealed compartment, and a scrap of paper followed, fluttering to the ground at my feet, faceup. Grandmother’s handwriting was scrawled messily across the page in a rush. Judging by the torn edge, she’d ripped it hastily off the corner of a larger page.

YOU MUST BEAT ONE OF US BEFORE YOU CAN JOIN US.
VICTORY LIGHTS THE ROAD TO VALHALLA.

“She left this note here for me,” I said. “Left the board wedged up like this so I’d find it.”

“A sword?” Tuck said. “And a cryptic note. Well, now I’m not worried at all. We’ll have Graham back in no time.” I shot him a nasty look, and he muttered, “Sorry, but maybe she could have been more direct.”

“She was,” I said. The scribbled words just confirmed that things had changed in the last hour. Even if she’d originally told me to wait here, she’d left another, more important message since. “She wants me to fight Astrid. Beat one of them. It says it right here,” I said. Even though we still didn’t know where she’d gone, I was sure she’d left this here for me to discover. Her coat and glasses were discarded messily on a chair. She’d left in too much of a rush to be any clearer.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Tuck said. “Astrid just pulverized you. Your grandmother wouldn’t put you in that kind of danger—with some antique to defend yourself with.”

“She wouldn’t have left that note here if she didn’t think I could do it,” I said. But I didn’t tell him the rest of what occurred to me as I stared at the blade. Maybe she didn’t have a choice. When faced with the danger Graham and the other boys were in, maybe Grandmother thought it was worth risking my life for a chance to stop it.

And I agreed.

A moment passed in silence. I knew Tuck was waiting for me to figure out what we should do next, and I was stalling, not wanting to tell him that I really had no idea. I thought about the way I felt in Astrid’s presence, the unity. I was a part of something that was larger than myself, a network of shared energy and camaraderie that flowed between the Valkyries. I wondered how my grandmother had hidden from the others for so long, if that was truly what she’d been doing. Because even as I stood there, most likely miles upon miles away from Astrid and the others, I could feel the space they’d occupied in town a mere hour ago. Traces of Astrid’s presence lingered, dissipating into the night but still present enough that I could reach out with my mind. And suddenly it seized me, like a super-sized wave at the beach, knocking me off my feet and sucking me under into the darkness.

“Ellie? Are you okay?”

I tried to tell Tuck to back away. I had no clue what was happening to me. But my tongue was frozen in place, every muscle in my body held rigid, waiting, as a thought that wasn’t mine wormed its way into my brain. Unlike the voice that couldn’t decide if I should crack Astrid’s skull or join her, this was completely external. Alien.

Tuck grabbed my arm, and I wondered distantly if I was fainting. The world went black as an image settled in my mind’s eye, painted by whatever force was raging through me. I saw a boat, a massive navy destroyer. It smelled like bravery, like victory, an aroma that was suddenly as irresistible to me as Tuck’s lingering scent of grass and sunshine. The boat was anchored in a harbor, and I strained to see more, to understand. It was all too familiar—the town built up around the narrow port.

“Ellie?”

I must have looked pretty strange, because Tuck was in a flat panic, squeezing my arm so hard, it might have hurt a normal girl. Slowly I snapped back to myself enough to say, “I’m okay. I think I know where Astrid will go next.”

Tuck raised one eyebrow.

“It’s hard to explain,” I whispered. “But when I’m near them, there’s this energy that flows between us, connecting us. And I have to fight it, because otherwise it might convince me to join them.” I laughed nervously but stopped when I saw how Tuck’s frown deepened. I wasn’t sure if he was afraid
for
me or
of
me.

“That sounded worse than it is,” I fibbed. “The important thing is, I think I just picked up a signal or something that Astrid is sending to the others. Of where to go next.”

Tuck’s eyebrows drew together. My explanation hadn’t reassured him at all.

“Where?”

“Bergen,” I replied. I’d recognized the wharf and the hills beyond, with the strange glass tram that tows tourists to the top to take in the view. “There’s a military destroyer anchored there. Full of exactly the type of soldiers we … I mean, Astrid … would want.”

“Bergen,” Tuck repeated. “That’s where the airport is, right? That’s far. We can’t afford to make a mistake like that. How do you know that’s where they’ll go?”

“They won’t be able to resist. I can feel it too. The water’s chummed; now we just wait for the sharks.”

“Can you pick a different analogy?” he asked, shivering. “I mean, technically, I’m chum.”

“Not old enough,” I said, surprised by how firmly I could feel the difference, even though Tuck was every bit as brave. These bursts of insight, this understanding of the rules of my new being, were embedded somewhere deep in my brain. Waiting for me to stumble across them, one by one. “Eighteen is the age of knowledge. The age a Valkyrie attains her true power. You’re not old enough to be useful yet.”

Tuck stared at me for a long moment before cracking a playful grin. “Glad we settled that,” he said. “Because after being rescued and outsmarted by you all night, my self-esteem was getting tired. You know, hanging on for dear life.”

“I didn’t say you’re not useful to me.”

“Useful?” he repeated. His smile broadened when I started to stammer an explanation. Because useful didn’t even begin to describe how I felt about Tuck.

“Relax, Ells. I’m kidding. Have you forgotten I hang out with Graham? Suppose it doesn’t matter which Overholt outshines me.”

“Stop it,” I said, rolling my eyes because I knew he wouldn’t stop until he’d gotten a reaction. “We’ll go to Bergen, then. We find Astrid. Unless you have a better plan.”

“Plan? That’s not a plan, that’s just looking for trouble,” he replied. When I just stared at him blankly, he added, “What exactly are we gonna do when and if we find her?”

“I need to fight her.”

“You can’t be serious.” His hand slid up my arm. “You’re not gonna fight that lunatic. We’ll find another way.” He touched the side of my forehead, where a few flakes of blood were clinging to my hair. The reminder was clear. Astrid had crushed me like a bug without even breaking a sweat. I’d have to be insane to take her on again. “I have news for you, Ms. Ellie,” he added. “You’ll have to get through me first.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him exactly how easy that would be. I knew, thanks to the voice in my head that seemed to be constantly tabulating people’s physical weaknesses and exactly how to exploit them. “Bullying me might work for Graham, but this isn’t up to you,” I told him. “We’re going after her.”

“No.”

Ordinarily, the raw anger on his face might have made me think twice, but there was no backing down now. So I matched his glare, flame for flame. It would take more than one stubborn boy to hold me back.

We stood like that for what felt like a year, locked in a silent battle of wills that each of us was determined to win.

Until finally I did.

“Fine,” Tuck muttered. “We’ll go after her, but no fighting. And I mean it. At the first sign of trouble, I’ll drag you out of there. No matter how tough you think you are now, you wouldn’t hurt me.”

Of course he was right, but I wasn’t going to admit it.

“We find Astrid and follow her,” he said. “And hope she leads us to Graham.”

O
nce we hit the freeway, it was almost a hundred miles to Bergen. Tuck drove, making impressive time along the winding, unfamiliar mountain roads.

When we reached the outskirts of the city, it was past two in the morning. Downtown Bergen was built around a square harbor, flanked by old clapboard row houses that tipped slightly to the right, in unison, like a group of old, drunken men propping one another up for the long walk home. Although they were once family homes, they’d long since been converted into tourist shops and expensive restaurants. The sidewalks along the front, skirting the harbor, were lined with café tables and benches, giving it an open Parisian feel. The Bergen castle, a medieval fortress on the hill overlooking the town, was a dark shadow against the glow of the approaching sunrise on the horizon.

Even though it was later than late, the bars along the harbor were in full swing when we turned onto the waterfront drive. Each café had an enclosure of tables in front, with people sitting outside, drinking and smoking. It was so alive and vibrant after the solitude of Skavøpoll that, for a moment, I let myself forget why we were really there. I was caught up in the excitement of being in a city again.

Tuck drove slowly through the narrow cobblestone streets until he found a parking spot across from a church—just a few blocks from the center of the action. He’d always had ridiculous parking karma. That counted for a lot in LA.

As I closed my eyes, silently praying I hadn’t led us dangerously astray, I suddenly knew Astrid was close. I could feel her signature vibration, along with the jittery anticipation I was beginning to recognize when danger drew near. Accompanied by the knowledge that I was ready and able to do something about it.

We hadn’t made it more than a few blocks when Tuck grabbed my arm. “You remember our deal, right?” he asked. “We aren’t fighting Astrid, we’re following her. You’ve got your determined face on. And I know how you get.”

“How do I get?” I demanded, sidestepping his question. Tuck was way too perceptive, given the direction my thoughts had been heading.

“Determined,” he said. “Which is usually a little bit hot. But not tonight. Just—just cool those engines, okay? I don’t want anything to happen to you.” His fingers looped through mine.

The way my stomach flopped right then should have been from Tuck. In any ordinary world, it would have been. But instead it was the jolt of Astrid’s presence slamming into my consciousness. An image flashed through my mind. A street sign. A name. It was a signal, coordinating whatever mission she was about to initiate. I squeezed Tuck’s hand and tugged him into a run. We were catapulted into a dizzying race through the tangled streets of the town. Even though I barely knew my way around Bergen, something was pulling me forward, around one corner, up through an alley, then down another side street.

We ran until I knew Astrid was so close, I should be able to see her.

A shrill screech pierced the night, followed by the rumble of the loudest engine I’d ever heard outside of an airplane. Something big was moving toward us—fast. A massive Range Rover rounded the corner an instant later, followed by the shriek of rubber tires skidding across slick pavement.

It roared down the street, brushing a row of parked cars and setting off a symphony of car alarms. It didn’t even slow to acknowledge the damage it had done.

I’d recognized the SUV in half a heartbeat. I knew I’d see it in my nightmares for years to come. Graham had disappeared into its backseat. Maybe it wasn’t too late to stop Astrid from taking him to Valhalla that night.

Tuck grabbed my arm and pulled me down the street in pursuit. In my shock, I’d frozen and was standing stock-still on the sidewalk, staring after the disappearing taillights.

“C’mon,” Tuck urged. “Some warrior you’re shaping up to be. Do I need to carry you?” He gave my arm one more tug—just enough to shift me into gear. I took off after him, running down the sidewalk and dodging the stragglers wandering home from the clubs. We rounded the corner as the Range Rover skidded to a stop in front of a crowded bar, leaving a trail of shredded rubber. It parked right under a sign that showed a car with a line through it. Woe to any tow truck that dared to enforce the law that night.

The passenger door opened and a booted foot emerged, followed by a long, slender leg. My heart pounded in my ears as I watched Astrid descend, her eyes never leaving the door of the bar. She had the bored, apathetic look of a supermodel forced to endure yet another catwalk. This time, she’d traded in her Ugg catsuit for jeans and a tissue-thin tank top with a long, red scarf looped once around her neck. The ends floated through the air behind her like plumes of poisonous smoke.

Only her boots hadn’t been exchanged for more modern counterparts—she wore the same uncured leather knee-highs trimmed with white fur and crisscrossed up the front with thick laces. The kind of boots you wore in case you needed to stomp on someone’s face, and from the way the night was going, that face would most likely be mine.