Valkyrie Rising (26 page)

The massive SUV slowed to a crawl as it entered the outskirts of town.

I rolled down my window and could taste the bitter, metallic edge of fear in the air, mingled with the scent of pine needles in the forest. The streets were deserted except for one solitary mountain goat that had seized this opportunity to raid the recycling bin in front of the hardware store.

Every shop and restaurant was closed, and corrugated metal gates shielded the doors, as if Skavøpoll was bracing for a siege. Regular closing hours weren’t for two hours; the lockdown had everything to do with the recent rash of disappearances.

In the center of town, the Range Rover accelerated. The trawlers and fishing sheds were a frenzy of muted colors outside my window. It was a good thing the streets were deserted, because there’d be no stopping for pedestrians at that speed.

The mountain road on the far side of town was lined with manicured grass and a low wooden fence along one side that kept livestock out of the street. But as we passed the last storefront, something strange started to happen—the world as it should have been disappeared and was replaced with a glimpse of an older forest. Dirt and shrubs materialized underneath our tires, replacing the pavement. But only for an instant before we were back on the road as I knew it.

The car window was like a television switching back and forth between two channels, these two different vistas. Another world and another road slipped into view, parallel to the path we were traveling. And Astrid’s tires were planted squarely on the hidden one. We glimpsed her Range Rover in flashes as it disappeared. There was a tangible distance between the two worlds; wherever Astrid was going, I knew we couldn’t follow. I could feel her slipping away

“She’s still in view,” Tuck said, sliding his hand over mine. “We can still catch her.”

I’d assumed I was alone in this hallucination, so Tuck’s words surprised me. And gave me courage—like he always did.

The pavement narrowed into what could barely be considered one full lane. I wanted to close my eyes and crawl under the seat—one wrong move would send us hurtling down into a ravine. We were hemmed in by a solid wall of rock on one side and a hundred-foot drop down the mountain on the other. The road twisted uphill so tightly, we couldn’t see more than five feet of road in front of us, but we could see the free fall down the cliff to the left that awaited us if Tuck made even the smallest mistake.

Up ahead, just beyond a sharp curve, I could sense something moving toward us at a breakneck pace. The warning was still forming on my lips when a wall of water tumbled down from the side of the mountain and slammed into the side of the car. We stopped moving, wrapped in the arms of a waterfall. The onslaught was relentless, battering the car and knocking it sideways, inch by inch. Closer and closer to the edge of the road.

“Go,” I shouted. “Get us out of here.”

But Tuck was already doing everything he could, pumping the gas pedal, trying to rouse the car back to life. The engine stalled, flooded with water. Metal groaned as the car shifted toward the edge. It was another inch we couldn’t afford to lose.

“We’re trapped,” I said, pushing as hard as I could against my door. It was our only exit. Even if Tuck managed to open his door, there was nothing but empty space below. We were teetering over the drop-off.

The force of the water pushed against my door, pinning it shut, but I kicked and shoved and slowly made enough room to squeeze myself through the opening. Once I had half my body outside, I pressed off from the side of the car with all of my strength, bending the door backward until the hinges snapped and it was stuck that way. I stood for a moment, stunned by my own strength.

Jaws of life, eat your heart out.

Water poured through the open door, flooding the inside. The added weight made the car tip precariously on its side, rocking toward the ravine.

Tuck was struggling to pull himself out, so I anchored myself against the side of the car with one hand and grabbed his shoulder with the other, towing him against the current. Then we dragged ourselves along, using the side of the car like a rope. We’d barely cleared the spray when the car flipped onto its side and slid slowly over the edge. It fell so silently, cushioned and carried away on the envelope of water, that I almost didn’t believe my eyes. I ran to the edge and watched as my grandmother’s fuel-efficient European sedan fell through the air, so graceful it was almost floating. Until it toppled three pine trees at the bottom of the ravine and sent a shattering crash echoing against the surrounding cliffs.

Tuck was standing in the middle of the road, wringing out his sweatshirt. Like that would make any difference when the rest of his clothes were every bit as sopped. “You don’t give a guy much of a shot at dignity,” he said as he stretched the neck of his T-shirt to reveal a row of hand-shaped bruises.

“Sorry,” I said. “I guess I didn’t realize my own strength. You know—adrenaline.”

“Adrenaline? Don’t sell yourself short. Believe me, Ells, my ego is not at all threatened.” He shot me one of his private smiles. “Remember what I said about danger, all those years ago—back on the fishing boat?”

Even though my clothes were soaked through and freezing, I felt warm at that particular memory.

“What you did back there? Hot.” He shook his hair like a wet dog. “And since you’ve got such superhuman strength, how about a piggyback to Skavøpoll? It’s gotta be ten miles. And something tells me there won’t be a car along here for a while.”

He was right. We were stranded on a rickety old road that looked like even the mountain goats had forsaken it.

“Can you do that?” Tuck pointed at the waterfall, since once he got started he simply couldn’t stop. “Because a waterfall could do wonders for our neighborhood. Maybe when we get home you can make landscaping history.”

“That wasn’t Astrid. That was older magic,” I said, amazed that Tuck truly could make light of anything—including a near-death experience.

My thoughts were still stuck on the way the second road seemed to hover just out of reach. It was leading someplace else, and I would wager the rush of water was one of many surprises that lay in wait if we tried to follow Astrid again. “She led us into a trap. I think this is the way to Valhalla.”

Tuck’s whole posture changed at that, all traces of playfulness evaporating on contact. “Let’s go, then.” There was urgency in his voice as he turned back in the direction we’d been heading. “This is what we’ve been hoping for.” He glanced back at me, eyebrows furrowing in frustration when I shook my head and didn’t budge.

“It’s not that simple,” I said. “I know the pathway is here, I just don’t know how to find it. We could spend forever searching for it. Astrid’s not going to appear again on this roadside with an engraved invitation—we need to go back to town to have any chance of finding her. Plus I don’t think it’s safe to loiter around here. I doubt the waterfall was the end of it.” My limbs were still jittery; while adrenaline would readily explain it, I couldn’t dismiss the possibility that there were other dangers in store for trespassers.

“You want to just leave?” Tuck demanded. “When we’re so close to finding Graham?”

“We’re not,” I said softly. “Finding the road is one more thing I can’t do unless I’m a full Valkyrie. Which means …”

I have to fight one of them. I finished the thought silently.

I looked up, and Tuck was watching me. Waiting for the words that had frozen on my lips. “Nothing,” I said, shaking my head. “It just means we’re back to square one.”

Tuck’s eyes hardened. He knew the second half of what I’d been about to say. Because there was only one way to follow Astrid up this road to wherever they were keeping Graham. Everything was steering me toward the same ultimate conclusion. I had to fight a Valkyrie and win.
Victory lights the road to Valhalla
, my grandmother had written.
You must beat one of us before you can join us
.

And I had every intention of doing just that.

“We should start walking,” I said, forcing my tone to stay light. “And by that I mean both of us. No piggybacks for all-state athletes.”

“I don’t like it,” he said. “There’s got to be another way.”

“Sorry, Tuck,” I said. “I’m afraid you’ll just have to walk.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he told me, shooting a not-so-friendly look from the corner of his eye.

We lapsed into silence as we trudged down the winding road, back toward town. Oddly enough, even though we didn’t say a word out loud, it felt as if the argument raged on between us. Each of us had to decide on our own how much we were and were not willing to sacrifice to save Graham and the others. And as I realized that, all I could think about was how this time, when it was clear I was planning to fight Astrid, Tuck hadn’t said he’d stand in my way.

I
t took two hours for us to walk all the way back to my grandmother’s house. Hours we couldn’t afford. The afternoon had turned into evening when we finally made it to the base of her long, sloped driveway. The kitchen door was slightly ajar—as if someone were home, waiting for us. But that was just wishful thinking. We must have left it that way when we’d raced out the door less than twenty-four hours ago. We’d had bigger things on our mind last night than burglary.

Inside, it was unnaturally quiet, particularly with the lights blazing overhead and the mug of now-cold tea my grandmother had abandoned on the coffee table. I walked over to her chair and sat down, wishing there was some way the walls that had housed her for so many years could impart her wisdom, because we were running out of ideas—and out of time. Now that I knew what I had to do, I craved her advice more than ever. I couldn’t believe just two days ago I’d been avoiding her and had refused to listen when she’d tried to give me advice I’d now kill to hear.

And I had no idea what was happening to Graham or to Grandmother—where they were and whether they were safe. Or even alive. I couldn’t think of any reason they would hurt Graham, but Grandmother was another story. It was pretty clear she and Astrid weren’t exactly on good terms.

While Tuck was in the kitchen, foraging for food, I seized my chance to slip upstairs and into Grandmother’s room. I already knew what Tuck thought of my plan, so I moved stealthily across the floor, wincing each time a floorboard creaked. My stomach churned as I sidestepped the pool of half-dried blood that had probably permanently stained the light pine floors. Grandmother would have to sand it out when … if … she came home.

The sword was still where we’d left it, resting in its hiding place. I slid it out and turned it over in my hands, wondering if I’d know how to use it to challenge Astrid. Or if I was about to do something completely stupid.

There was a not-so-polite cough from the door.

I turned, keeping the sword behind my back.

“What are you doing?” Tucker asked, his eyes drifting toward the pried-up floorboard.

“Nothing,” I said. “Just looking around. Seeing if there’s anything I missed. You know. Clues.”

“You don’t really think you’re fooling me, do you?” Tuck leaned sideways to peek behind my back, where the sword was not so hidden.

“No,” I murmured. “I just wanted to test it out.” I set it down on Grandmother’s feather duvet.

“Did you know you always bite your lower lip when you’re lying?”

Sometimes I really did hate Tucker Halloway.

“Listen.” He sighed. “About this whole full Valkyrie thing. I’ve thought about it, and I can’t let you do this.”

I looked away, trying to keep my face neutral, so he couldn’t read it.

“Why?” I demanded, for the first time actually letting my temper sneak around my guard. “You don’t think I can win.”

“Course I do,” he said. “I’m just not willing to take the risk.”

“Well, I am.”

“If Graham were here, he’d agree with me. Two against one.”

“I’m assuming you know I like being bullied by you even less than I like being bullied by Graham.”

“And I’m assuming you know losing you scares me more than anything.” The words seemed to surprise him as they tripped out of his mouth. “Just promise me you won’t try to fight Astrid.”

“Then why did you spend this morning trying to teach me how to fight?”

“I taught you long-range weapons,” he said, his voice sharper than I’d ever heard it. “Which that is not.” He waved a hand in the direction of the sword. “It’s not worth it. Not even for Graham.”

The words settled uncomfortably between us.

“I’ll find another way. Promise you won’t try to fight Astrid,” Tuck said softly. “You can’t distract me away from this.”

He stared at me, so serious and unsmiling it made me squirm. It was like he’d suddenly turned into an entirely different boy. One who didn’t smirk or tease. One who was honest and earnest and put all his emotions out there for the world to see.

I had no idea how to deal with this new Tuck. Or how to avoid making a promise I was pretty sure I wouldn’t keep.

Fortunately, I never had the chance.

Tuck’s eyes narrowed, focusing on something behind me. “What the hell?” Then he dived forward, throwing aside the curtains and sliding the window open. His head and shoulders craned over the sill, looking at something below. “Oh, no, you don’t!” he shouted. He straightened and took off running down the hallway and thundering down the stairs. I followed.