Valkyrie Rising (7 page)

Courage.

I hadn’t known things like fear or bravery had a smell, much less a taste, until that moment. Something strange was in the air that night. Something that was affecting me, subtly shifting my senses. And it had me terrified. More than anything, I wanted to be back in my bed at my grandmother’s house, where I could bury my face under a pillow and block out the whole world forever.

Kjell sighed next to me. Or maybe he just exhaled. Then, without saying anything, he eased the car back onto the narrow road that skirted the fjord and led back toward Skavøpoll. He kept the headlights off until at least five miles separated us from those men.

We drove in silence, our eyes drifting to the rearview mirrors every few seconds. It wasn’t until we were halfway home that Kjell’s shoulders finally lowered back to their usual height.

“I suppose you’re wondering what happened back there,” Kjell said. His voice was distant, like he was still tangled up in his thoughts. “And to tell you the truth, so am I. There’s a theory. I’m just worried you’ll think I’m crazy.”

“Try me,” I said, looking out the window at the pale moonlight rippling across the fjord. It would take a lot to surprise me after what I’d just seen. But somehow he succeeded.

“If you want to believe the legends and the gossips, well, then, those girls were Valkyries.” He said it fast, the words sprinting out of his mouth.

“What’s that?” I interrupted. That word had hit me, again, with an almost tangible force. It was the question that had been burning my brain since Astrid had put her fingertip to my forehead. “What’s a Valkyrie?”

Kjell’s silence lasted so long that I looked over to make sure he hadn’t fallen asleep behind the wheel.

“You’ll think I’m crazy,” he said. “I know before tonight, I thought everyone else was.”

I glanced at his profile, surprised by how frightened and uncertain he sounded. It was a far cry from the sunny, carefree laughter of just an hour ago.

“Back in the time of the Vikings, soldiers were encouraged to embrace death without fear,” he said. “And according to their religion, according to what is now considered myth, Valkyries were beautiful women who hovered around battlefields, and when brave fighters were killed, they took their souls to Valhalla—a fortress ruled by Odin, god of death and war and knowledge. From a military standpoint, it was a brilliant belief system. The idea of being rewarded by Odin and his Valkyries took away the fear of death, so that people would fight without regard for personal safety. Because if they were brave and reached Valhalla, they were rewarded, but they were also on call in case Odin needed them. They became part of Odin’s army.”

The mention of Odin tied my stomach into a double knot. Kjell and my grandmother had been talking about Odin in hushed voices in the entry hall that very night. It was far too timely to be a coincidence. It wasn’t like my no-nonsense grandmother was a mythology buff.

“You’re joking, right?” I asked. “I mean, about there really being Valkyries?”

The eyes that searched my face in the darkness were tense, as were the hands gripping the steering wheel. He was about as serious as it gets.

“Sure, those girls were … unusual, but that doesn’t mean they’re mythical beings,” I said, even though I knew it couldn’t be yet another coincidence that Astrid had used the word Valkyrie when she’d stormed the bar. I didn’t like how neatly the pieces were fitting into an impossible explanation.

When Kjell didn’t answer right away, I realized that maybe I’d offended him. “So is it a cultural thing—like people here still believe in all this mythology stuff? Because then I guess it’s not such a leap of logic.” As the words slipped out, I realized I’d probably just offended him even more.

Kjell laughed. “This may be a small town, Ellie, but we don’t worship ancient pagan gods, if that’s what you mean.” He paused. “Look, I don’t want to frighten you, but some guys from the area have disappeared. At first, everyone thought it was no big deal. Kids run away, get into drugs, whatever. But lately it’s gotten worse. Boys being taken away. In public, right under everyone’s nose. Like what almost happened to me tonight.” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “When things start happening that can’t be explained, even rational people, who should know better, fall back on old superstitions. They’re scared. And there’s no logical explanation for what’s happening.”

While part of me was grappling with what he was saying, the rest of me was half expecting the hidden cameraman to pop out any minute.

I must have been quiet way too long, because Kjell sounded defensive when he added, “You know there was something weird about those girls.”

“Even if I accept that those girls were, um, special, they weren’t the only strange thing tonight. Why does Margit hate my grandmother?” I paused, because for some reason the next part made me unfathomably sad. “And me?”

Kjell was quiet again, as if he wasn’t sure where to start. “She doesn’t,” he said. “She’s just looking for someone to blame. Ever since her brother disappeared, she’s been different.”

Hardly a complete answer, as much as I sympathized with what she must be going through. But given the grim frown on Kjell’s face, it was the best I was going to get.

“Okay, then who were those guys in the trucks?” I pressed on. “Lemme guess. Leprechauns?”

“Don’t worry about them,” Kjell said, reaching over and covering my hand with his in a way that should have made my heart flutter but instead just made my stomach churn. “I’ll handle them.”

“What’s to handle?” I asked, sliding my hand out from underneath his and crossing my arms. The universal signal to back off. “Who were they?”

“The holy inquisition,” he muttered, “on a modern-day witch hunt, apparently.”

The word witch carried me back to the bizarre things Margit had said about my grandmother. And about me. And the whispered conversation between Grandmother and Kjell in the entryway. Either it was all tying together or Margit’s paranoia was as contagious as the plague. A symptom of the epidemic sweeping the town. “Is all of this why you were talking about Odin with my grandmother?” I demanded. “Why she told you to be careful?”

“Your grandmother knows everything,” he said. “I just wondered what she thought about the rumors. And what has been happening.”

“And what did she say?”

“She didn’t seem to want to talk about it,” he said softly. “So she just laughed. I was surprised. I’ve never known her to be anything but blunt. I believe you overheard the rest.” He glanced at me from the corner of his eye.

“Then I’ll ask her myself,” I said, my resolve hardening like amber. “I’ll tell her what happened tonight. I can promise she’ll have an opinion when it comes to my safety.”

“No,” he said, suddenly way too loud for his cramped car. “I mean, you’ll get in trouble. We both will. We weren’t supposed to leave Skavøpoll tonight. She laughed about the Odin stuff, but at the same time she said to stay in town. She’ll kill us both if she finds out.”

“Great,” I muttered. “Maybe you should have told me that before you dragged me into that den of lunatics.” I was furious that Kjell had led me into breaking pretty much the only rule Grandmother had ever set for me. But more than anything, I was absolutely steaming that my grandmother had set that rule with someone other than me. Just like how my mother always counted on Graham to enforce my curfew when she worked late. Like I was some sort of simpleton who couldn’t tell time.

“I’m really sorry,” he said. “I thought—I thought it would be okay. The rumors just seemed so ridiculous. And Margit and Sven insisted. Probably because they have this weird plan to fight back.” He got quiet. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he finally said. “And I really, really hope you don’t tell your grandmother. Or at least wait a couple of days until I figure out what’s going on.”

“It’s really my problem, not yours,” I said. “The most she can do is get mad at you. Me, she can ground.”

That comment nearly backfired when I saw the desperate look in his eyes.

“Then you can’t tell her,” he urged. “Because if you’re grounded, I can’t see you tomorrow.”

Suddenly grounding didn’t seem like such a bad option. It would extract me from the awkward situation that was clearly brewing between us. Then I realized it also meant I’d probably miss out on things I might actually want to do once Graham arrived.

“Fine,” I said. “But you should have told me and let me make my own decision.” Mentally, I added that Grandmother should have told me too. I’d never known her to be indirect about anything.

Fortunately, my tone sealed the tomb of our conversation for the rest of the drive. Which was just fine with me. It wasn’t like I’d been getting any useful information out of Kjell anyway. Nothing but myths that should be saved for bedtime stories.

What I wanted was answers.

W
HEN
I
GOT
home, I wasn’t as quiet as I could have been, half hoping Grandmother would hear and come out to say good night. Just to make sure I hadn’t been out partying or getting into trouble, the way my mother would have. Graham and Tucker’s antics had made Mom strict, especially after my father died, even though the worst she’d caught me doing in the middle of the night was smuggling ice cream into my room.

But the house was silent, other than the squeak of my shoes on the polished pine floors. I passed my room and walked all the way to the end of the hallway, until I came to a stop outside grandmother’s closed door. It would be so easy to knock. To tell her everything that had happened. I curled my hand into a fist, ready to do just that. But then I tried to picture what would come next. And couldn’t. I had no idea how to even start. Or what exactly I was expecting her to tell me.

Plus, being awakened in the middle of the night to the news that Kjell and I had disobeyed her and walked right into some sort of freak show in a bar in the next town over hardly seemed like the best way to get her to trust me and open up.

So I backed away from her door and headed toward my room, this time hoping my footsteps wouldn’t disturb her slumber.

Exhausted as I felt, once I crawled into bed, I couldn’t sleep. The events of the night played through my mind in a constant, seamless loop of beautiful bobsled girls and vacant zombie eyes staring at me from Kjell’s brainwashed face.

I’d have the chance to talk to Grandmother in the morning, when we drove to the airport. By then I would think of a way to ask her about what had happened without incriminating myself. And if I couldn’t find any answers, perhaps Graham could. Grown-ups actually listened when he spoke. He could help me find an explanation for what had happened that night that wasn’t based on crazy myths and lore.

But the thought of Graham investigating sent a jolt of adrenaline down my spine. I sat up in bed at the spark of it. Whoever or whatever Astrid was, she was dangerous, and in a way that even Graham wouldn’t be able to handle. I couldn’t tell him what had happened—for his own safety.

I knew it was true, could feel it in the way the violent voice was awake and growling at the possibility of Astrid getting those manicured claws on Graham.

It was the first time in my life I’d ever thought of Graham as anything less than invincible. No matter what was at the root of what had happened that night, I would do whatever it took to keep Graham away from it.

A
t five thirty the next morning, Grandmother was in my room, pulling back the curtains and humming a tune so painfully cheerful, I almost crawled out of bed just to get her to stop. Of course, that was her plan all along

“Breakfast is ready downstairs, Elsa,” she said brightly before disappearing through the doorway. “It won’t stay hot all morning.”

“All morning,” I repeated. “It’s basically still night.” Even the sunshine streaming in through the window was pale and weak with slumber. So I pulled the blanket up over my head, deciding I’d fake sick and stay home. It wasn’t like Graham would get up at dawn to come and greet little old me.

But the moment Graham’s name formed in my mind, the memory of what had happened in the pub in Selje slammed into me like a linebacker. Just like the realization the night before that I had to keep Graham safe. I shuddered again at the image of Astrid’s fingers cupping Graham’s cheek, as they had last night with Kjell.

Suddenly I couldn’t have been any more awake.

How had I put it aside, even for a moment—even in sleep? You’d think those girls could dominate everything, including my dreams. But maybe they had. Because faint, hazy images followed in a line, on the heels of the things I knew were true. The things I remembered. Or thought I remembered. There was no way I’d made up the way the whole bar had gone catatonic at the sight of those girls.

Yet as my thoughts roamed backward, separating the fact from fantasy and the truth from PTSD, I suddenly wasn’t so sure where to find the line. Maybe Kjell’s eyes hadn’t gone milky white. Maybe they’d just glazed over. And it didn’t quite seem possible that no one had cared when the blond girl, Astrid, had broken that man’s nose and left him bleeding on the ground. Things like that just didn’t happen today in civilized society.

“Ten minutes,” Grandmother called up the stairs. “I packed your breakfast. And I’ll pack you up too if you’re not out soon. Something tells me you won’t want to show your face in public wrapped in an old lady’s tracksuit.”