Valkyrie Rising (37 page)

By the time I reached the second stanza of the poem, Kjell had fallen silent. He was looking at me strangely. Like he had no idea where he was, how he had gotten there, and quite possibly who I was.

By the time I finished completely, he was shaking his head and pressing the heels of both hands to his forehead.

“I feel really weird,” he said, almost tipping over as he tried to stand.

“You’re okay,” I replied, putting one hand on his shoulder and guiding him to his feet.

“What was I doing on the ground like that?” he asked. Then he looked at me, as the memory of what he’d been planning hit him all at once.

“That was very funny, Kjell,” I said, flashing my most innocent smile. “But I’m afraid that joke was lost somewhere in translation. Call it the culture gap or whatever, but in America our pranks aren’t quite so elaborate.”

“Right,” he said slowly, still eyeing me warily. He knew I was lying, but he also had no incentive to correct me. “But you understand, right? That it was just a joke?”

“Of course I do.” I was laughing now, hoping my smile would shoo away some of the awkwardness circling in the wings, waiting to pick our friendship clean. After all, I liked Kjell—just not like that.

“Well, one day I’m sure you’ll have the chance to get back at me,” he said, taking a step away down the driveway. I could tell he was still trying to untangle his thoughts, going back to that very first night in the bar. It was hard to imagine how bewildered he must have been. All the time he’d lost. “Because honestly, Elsa, you’re just a little young for me. And we’re both too young for all that down-on-one-knee business, right?”

“No explanation necessary, Kjell,” I replied. “I can take a joke.”

“Right,” he said. But the eyes that scrutinized my face were skeptical and scrambling for a polite way to extract him from the entire situation.

So I gave him one.

“Look, I need to run an errand for my grandmother. But I think we’re going out tomorrow night—Graham said he was gonna call you to get a game together.”

“Thanks. That sounds great,” Kjell replied. “But I’m going to visit some friends in Oslo. I won’t be back before the school year starts.” I could see in his eyes that he’d just made that decision on the spot, when he’d realized he was absolutely terrified of me. Even if he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. I stood there for a minute, watching Kjell practically running away from me.

“Works like a charm,” I said to my grandmother, waving the page in the air as I walked past.

“That’s a good thing,” she replied without looking up. “Because so does your smile. Keep it somewhere safe. You’ll need it.”

H
ER WORDS WERE
dogging my steps as I walked up the porch stairs and ran straight into Tuck, nearly knocking the glass of orange juice out of his hand. I took a step back, not really sure what to do, since Graham was standing right behind him. In all the chaos of the past few hours, we hadn’t exactly had time to talk about where things stood between the two of us.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi,” he said back.

A long, awkward pause followed. Then Graham walked past, thumping Tucker hard on the back. “Don’t hold back on my account,” he said. “I’m not a complete moron. You’re not as slick as you think—all those double entendres. Scampering around the roof in the middle of the night.”

Tuck stared at Graham, and for the first time in his life, he didn’t have a ready retort.

“Don’t look so scared. Big brother is butting out this time. But if you break her heart, I’ll break your arm. And maybe a leg.” He laughed and shook his head. “Actually, she’ll do it herself.” He was still laughing to himself as he walked away, leaving Tuck and me alone on the porch steps.

It would take a while for Graham and me to figure out exactly what his new, laid-back-brother act would look like. I was just glad we were equally determined to find that middle ground together.

“Guess I’d better go talk to him,” Tuck said, running one hand through his hair as he watched Graham stride away across the yard. “But we need to talk, too. Alone. Tonight? Same place?”

I nodded, not trusting my voice to be steady.

Even Tuck’s playful grin couldn’t ease the dread that had a stranglehold on my heart. Fortunately, Tuck’s irritatingly astute skills of observation finally missed something. Like the way I forced my answering smile.

“C’mon, Tuck,” Graham called. “We’re late. Grab the soccer ball and let’s go.”

Then Tuck was gone, slipping down the porch stairs after Graham.

I should have been happy that everything had worked out the way it had. But my grandmother’s words were echoing through my mind, and as Tuck glanced back at me, his smile was disturbingly sunny. A horrible realization was exploding into my consciousness, sending shock waves that threatened to shatter the rest of me.

Hard as it would be, I knew what I would have to do. I carefully folded the page with the poem into my pocket, keeping it close. Knowing I’d need it far sooner than my grandmother could ever have anticipated.

W
HEN
I
CLIMBED
up onto the roof that night, Tuck was already there. He was on his back with his hands behind his head, staring up at the stars. As I approached, he spread out his left arm, making a spot for me. I stretched out next to him, memorizing the way it felt to put my head on his shoulder and to have his arm wrap slowly around me, pulling me closer, until every inch of my side was pressed so closely against him that there was barely enough room for a molecule of oxygen to slide between us.

I touched my pocket, where the slip of paper was hidden. It was far too dark to read, and I couldn’t afford to get this wrong, so I’d practiced this moment again and again, until I knew each line, each curve of my grandmother’s handwriting, by heart. I closed my eyes, willing myself forward, telling myself for the thousandth time that this was the right thing to do.

Still, I couldn’t help but wonder why the right thing felt so wrong.

“Penny for your thoughts,” he said, rolling onto his side to face me. “Or would you prefer a different kind of barter?” Then his lips found mine, and I was sucked under. My grandmother’s poem slipped away, dragged into the back of my mind by the other waves that were washing over me. We stayed like that for a long time, although all too soon, he was pulling back.

“Maybe that was a bad idea. Personally, my thoughts aren’t fit to be shared right now,” he murmured. “Now talk. You didn’t say a word at dinner. Does it have anything to do with Kjell? I heard he came over this morning and then left town. Guess I’m the jealous type, because I was relieved.” Those unreadable and undeniable gray eyes were an open book, so full of longing and tenderness and a thousand other things I never expected to see there, at least not when they were looking at me.

Kjell had looked the same way that morning, but he’d snapped back to normal when he’d heard my poem. And I knew it would be the same with Tuck.

As much as I wished his feelings were real and could last forever, it would be unfair to trap Tuck, my Tuck, in such a state of servitude. I loved him too much for that.

I took a deep breath, and the first phrase slipped from my tongue. Tuck’s eyes widened at the odd sounds and syllables pouring into the night between us. Even in the deep darkness of the roof, I could see how his face changed as the poem worked its magic. The dawning realization that something was happening, freeing his mind.

Before I knew it, it was over. I closed my eyes, bracing myself for what would come next. I didn’t know what I’d do if he pulled away from me in fear, like Kjell had.

Tuck’s arm disappeared. I felt him shift, rolling onto his side with his face angled away from me. The lump in my throat threatened to explode, and I hoped it would take the rest of me out with it. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, to see his reaction. Would he be horrified or confused—angry even?

Finally, breathing slowly to steady myself, I opened my eyes, prepared for anything. Anything, that is, except his reaction.

Tuck settled onto his back again, next to me, his chest shaking with laughter.

“Ells,” he said, raising his voice above a whisper. “If you want to dump me, you’ll have to do better than that.” His arm wound its way around me again, rolling me over until I was on top of him. I could feel his heartbeat in my own chest, hear the way his breathing changed as his other hand slid through my hair.

“I—I don’t understand,” I said, drawing back even though every nerve in my body was begging me to do the exact opposite. “It didn’t work. You should wake up now.”

“Wake up? And have this be over? If that’s a legitimate possibility, keep me knocked out forever.” He kissed my neck, and it was impossible for me to concentrate on what I needed to do.

“I think I know why this happened—why you feel this way. It was that time in the bar, when Graham was kidnapped. I had to use my influence to break Astrid’s spell. And I accidentally kept you under it all this time. That’s why you feel this way. But it could have happened earlier, at home. You haven’t had that mark on your shoulder for long.”

“Interesting theory.” He was laughing at me again.

I felt flushed and flustered. I couldn’t figure out what was happening—how I’d failed. It had been hard enough the first time. The second would probably kill me. But I started reciting the poem again, this time looking him straight in the eye, willing the magic to find its mark.

But I was only a few words in when Tuck pressed his index finger against my lips. “Stop, Ells, stop.” His laughter faded. “Are you honestly worried that all this”—his arms around me tensed—“hasn’t been real?”

Tuck flashed a sweet, disarming smile, and again I found myself wondering whether I really, truly had to give him up. “Actually, I’m disappointed. Aren’t I worth keeping at any cost?”

The challenge in his eyes told me he didn’t expect an answer. “I’m a hopeless case,” he added, burying his face in my neck and murmuring the rest against my skin. “And it’s got nothing to do with your wily Valkyrie ways. Because I’ve been this way for ages.”

His smile was exquisite when he wanted it to be.

It took me a shamefully long time to process all of what he’d said. It seemed like too much all at once—that after spending all day worrying, I’d been so far off the mark. That everything that had happened and still was happening with Tuck was real. And that for the last two minutes, Tucker Halloway had been methodically unfastening the tiny pearl buttons on my cardigan.

“Finally,” he muttered as he slid it off my shoulders.

I had only a thin T-shirt underneath, and the night air was cool against my skin. I shivered as he pulled me closer, pressing his lips against mine and ending the conversation once and for all.

But I wasn’t cold for long—Tuck had more than a few very effective ways of keeping us both warm.

S
AYING GOOD-BYE TO
my grandmother was always hard. But the ocean that would separate us seemed bigger than ever now. We’d grown so close that trip, in ways I was still just beginning to understand. For years I’d worried about her living alone. As other people’s grandparents started to decline, I’d imagine Grandmother falling and breaking her hip, like so many grandmothers seemed prone to do. And there’d be no one there to bring her flowers in the hospital or take care of her. But at the end of this trip, as I looked at my grandmother, I knew that it would take more than a fall to bring her down. It would take more than an army.

Now that I knew the truth about her, the truth about us both, I couldn’t believe how blind I’d been to the way people stared at my grandmother as she passed, awestruck by her height and the aura of power and confidence that surrounded her.

We said our farewells at the airport security entrance, and as Graham set his bag on the conveyer belt and watched it disappear into the X-ray machine, Grandmother caught my wrist.

“Don’t forget, don’t be complacent. Keep your skills sharp and do those drills I taught you.” She smoothed my hair back, out of my eyes. “I’ll come for Christmas, and more often now, so you’ll be ready for whatever life, or Astrid, chooses to throw at you.”

“You don’t think Astrid will just forget about me—leave me alone?”

“Of course she won’t, sweetling, not now that she’s seen your mettle. She liked you far too much for that. Tuck won’t be the only one vying for your affection—or your loyalty.”

The thought sent a cold chill down my spine, but at the same time, I knew that I’d be able to handle anything Astrid, Loki, or the world could throw at me. After all, I was Hilda Overholt’s granddaughter, and just like her, I was made of pure fire.

O
UR MOTHER WAS
there for us when we walked through customs, exhausted, jet lagged, and so thirsty that I swore my tongue was wearing a tiny felt jacket. While I couldn’t wait to see him, I was relieved that Tuck hadn’t come to the airport. I’d told him on the phone a few days ago that I’d meet him that night—after I’d had a chance to clean up. Somehow, Tucker Halloway was far scarier at home, on his turf.

It was surreal to be in our modern, oh-so-American home after the antique plumbing of our grandmother’s old house in Skavøpoll. As I started carrying my bags upstairs, on the verge of collapse, my mother called after me, “Ellie, there is a package for you. I put it in your room.”