Rune Awakening

by Genevra Black

  Edie looked at her hand. “You know me?” It seemed like everyone knew who she was without her even introducing herself.

  “How could she forget?” snapped the golden-eyed man, who had been silent until now. He had pulled himself to his feet, observing their interaction with a glare. “You’re a Holloway.”

  Astrid didn’t take her eyes from Edie as she reached forward, taking one of Edie’s hands in both of hers. The moment their hands touched, an icy pain the likes of which Edie could never have imagined flew up her arm in an instant and stabbed her in the heart.

  Chapter Twelve

  Edie sank to her knees, sputtering as something wormed its way inside her chest cavity. It squeezed her heart, cold as death, then burst from her ribcage with another soul-shaking burst of pain.

  Astrid let go, and Edie was left scrambling. She shoved a hand up her shirt to find the exit wound of whatever had just been torn from her.

  There was nothing. Her skin was covered in goosebumps and cold to the touch, but completely unscathed.

  She felt Cal’s heavy hand on her shoulder as he crouched beside her and pulled her back firmly, steadying her. “Jesus Christ. Kid, what the hell happened?”

  Edie was speechless as he helped her to her feet. She looked at the strange woman with an open mouth.

  “Apologies,” Astrid said, looking almost as surprised as Edie. “It didn’t occur to me that you are still a fledgling.” She turned and looked at the golden-eyed man, nodding to a small range close to where she’d thrown him. “Marius, fetch her some tea? It’s right there on the stove.”

  He snarled. “Go to Hel.”

  So much for the tea, Edie thought, her breath catching as she inhaled. Her insides still felt like brittle ice, as though they might break if her lungs expanded too much.

  Marius. At least she had a name now.

  “If you’re just gonna stand there like an asshole, maybe you should leave,” Cal said, baring his teeth.

  Marius looked to Cal, rolling his shoulders. “So, you’re back. You never stood a chance, did you, again-walker? You ran back the first moment your master needed you?”

  Cal made a hissing sound with his front teeth. “Fuck off.”

  “He’s right, Marius. We’ve done no wrong; there is nothing for you to smite here,” Astrid said tersely, folding her hands in front of her and standing her ground.

  “So run along before someone chops off your other hand, kid.” Cal waved him off as though he were an annoying animal.

  Other hand? Edie’s eyes flew over Marius in confusion. His left hand was there, clutching his injured side; but his pauldrons were asymmetrical, and on his right side, he had a full arm of gleaming steel plate, segmented to resemble a canine’s bristling hackles. At the end of the armor, instead of a gauntlet with fingers, there was only the head of a wolf forged into a perpetual snarl. In the soft light, she could just barely see runes glinting across the surface as he shifted.

  When she looked up at his face, their eyes met. He drew his arm back, hiding it from view before looking back at Astrid.

  “The girl comes with me, Fengrave.”

  “She’s staying here, Marius.”

  From the way Marius’s expression twisted and his shoulders sank, Edie could tell there wasn’t much he could do to defy this woman’s wishes. She’d probably do something worse than throw him into a desk.

  Edie took a big gulp of air and shook Cal off half-heartedly. “I’m not going or staying or anything until someone tells me what’s going on”—another breath, shooting a pointed look at Cal—“and what I’m doing here.”

  Marius gritted his teeth and came forward abruptly, shouldering his way between Cal and Astrid. He looked back when he reached the doorway, giving Edie another once-over. “I won’t be questioned by this witch,” he spat. “I’ll capture her eventually.”

  Cal reached for the small of his back, but Astrid reached out and placed a hand on his arm, stopping him. Their eyes met, and she just shook her head.

  Marius left hastily, slamming the heavy wooden door behind him with enough force to shake the entire shop.

  The three said nothing as the structure shuddered.

  Cal was the one to break the silence. “Fuckin’ douchebag. He knew who I was, but I didn’t recognize him.”

  Astrid pursed her lips and crossed the room, rolling up the sleeves of her linen tunic. She checked the heat of the range’s one coil, then grabbed a small wooden cup with no handle from the cupboard above it. Pouring in some water, she opened a clay jar resting on a sideboard nearby and sprinkled in a pinch of its contents. From Edie’s vantage point, it looked like dirt, but she was sure it was some sort of loose-leaf tea.

  Finally, the strange woman spoke: “You’d recognize his father. The boy became a vivid within the last few years.”

  She crossed the room again and handed the wooden cup to Edie. Their fingers brushed, but this time, Edie only bristled a little—not at all the violent reaction she’d had minutes ago.

  “Thought so,” Cal said, crossing his arms. “Who’s his father?”

  “Eirik Sørensen.”

  Cal was quiet for a few moments before saying, “Oh.”

  Edie was surprised to hear trepidation in his voice. “Is that someone important?” she asked, holding her wooden cup in both hands. She felt cold all over, and the heat helped to stave off the bone ache a bit.

  He looked over. “He’s the leader of the Aurora in this part of the country.”

  “These leaders are called Radiants. He is Radiant of the Rising Divine—Rising Divine meaning the East Coast, the first place in America to see the morning sun.” Astrid touched Cal’s elbow, a gesture Edie was sure would elicit some sort of grumpy response. He didn’t seem at all fazed, though. “Would you like some tea, too?”

  “No, thanks. I try not to digest anything with an alcohol content below four percent.”

  Edie snorted, taking a big sip.

  “Are you sure? It’s grave moss.”

  Edie choked, unfortunately managing to swallow most of the liquid still in her mouth. “Grave moss?”

  “It’s good for you,” Astrid said mildly, shrugging a shoulder and smirking.

  All of this was too weird. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Edie finally asked the question she’d been wanting to ask since she’d set foot in the shop. “I don’t mean to be rude, but … what are you? What was that whole thing about?”

  Astrid looked to Cal and raised a brow.

  He gestured to Edie. “I only told her the basics. Figured it’d be better to have someone who’s actually been on the East Coast give her the run-down.”

  Astrid raised her head a bit and looked at Edie. Something in her eyes glinted, a small blue light that reminded Edie of the one she’d often spotted coming from the back of Cal’s skull when they’d first met—but this was in her irises, not her pupils.

  Before Edie could ask another question, Astrid gestured with an open palm. “Sit.”

  To their left, up against a window that looked out on the adjacent street, was a square, wooden table. A pink linen cloth interwoven with purple and gold threads was thrown over it, and in the center of the table was an incense burner. Edie took a seat, focusing on the incense burner—circular, wooden, ringed with a steel serpent devouring its own tail.

  “That is Jörmundgandr, the World Serpent,” Astrid said as she took a seat across from Edie. Her accent really came out when she said that word. Before Edie could ask what it meant, Astrid continued, “Son of Loki, great enemy of Mighty Thor.”

  “Oh. Yeah … I love Tom Hiddleston,” Edie mumbled, pulling her bag onto her lap.

  Cal snorted behind her, but Astrid didn’t seem as amused. Her eyes glinted. “You are irreverent, like your father before you. That will change, in time.”

  Edie would usually have taken a comparison to her father as a compliment, but in light of recent discoveries, it didn’t seem like such a good thing now. “You knew my dad, too?�
��

  Astrid nodded grimly. “There isn’t an attuned being in this area who doesn’t know who he was. He almost succeeded in reviving the Reach in the years leading up to his death. A controversial figurehead.”

  “’Cause he was a necromancer,” Cal cut in. “The Aurora weren’t too pleased to see a hellerune in charge of a neutral party, and I guess the Gloaming didn’t like that there was another dark magic game in town.”

  “That guy. Marius. He called me a hellerune, too.” Edie looked between them.

  Astrid crossed her legs under the table, her face partially obscured as one of the charcoals in the incense burner popped, sending a puff of smoke up between her and Edie. “Hellerune roughly means sorceress or necromancer, but the meaning runs deeper than that. Hellerunan were the descendants of the original sorcerers of the Circle of Hel. The goddess of the dead chose a small number of her worshipers and gifted them with innate mastery over powerful magics. The ebon magics, Edith. Magics considered unholy by men: blood, plague, shadow, death.

  “There used to be quite a few of you. Your people thrived more than a millennium ago.” Her expression turned to a weary glare. “But, like many of us, you’ve since been hunted and reduced to a mere handful worldwide.”

  That didn’t sound great. If she was going around being known as a sorcerer of black magic, she wasn’t surprised people didn’t want to be associated with her. Edie was fairly certain this “goddess of death” was just a myth, but her worshipers were apparently seen as evil.

  Edie looked at Cal, and he shrugged. Apparently sensing that his lingering made her uneasy, he crossed the room and started to pick up the splintered debris that had once been Astrid’s desk.

  Astrid watched him with affection in her eyes. But Edie was uneasy about her, too, and she hadn’t forgotten what had happened when she’d first touched her. The bone ache was still there, a chill that wouldn’t leave.

  As if reading her mind, Astrid said, “Drink your tea. It will help.”

  Edie tilted the small wooden cup, watching the grit at the bottom swirl around. “You said it was … grave moss?”

  “It has restorative properties to beings with innate death magic. It will heal that burn I gave you.”

  Edie touched her chest, remembering the feeling. She’d never felt anything like it; she’d been sure something living had actually weaseled inside of her and torn out her heart. She met Astrid’s eyes. “You still haven’t told me what you are.”

  The woman looked away, watching Cal. Finally, her tone sure as a warrior’s march, she said, “I’m a valkyrie.”

  “A valkyrie?” Edie asked. She’d seen paintings of those before, heard about them in stories. “Like an angel?”

  Astrid chuckled. “Not exactly. We are choosers of the slain. In the heat of battle, and afterward, it is up to us to decide who will live and who will die, our hands guided by Fate.”

  “That … seems like the sort of thing that should be up to, I don’t know … a god?”

  Astrid pursed her lips and shook her head. “You think one god should decide every detail of life and death? As attuned to the flows of time as some of them are, they have limited sway over what may happen. In a world where there is one god, fear reigns. And fear stokes hatred and crushes curiosity.”

  Edie wrinkled her nose. Okay, clearly, Astrid was no great lover of Christianity, then. But still, with all the talk of valkyries and Thor, she conjured images of all of those white supremacist groups that used Norse and Celtic symbols to spread their hate. Edie remembered Mercy going through a soul-searching phase in high school and getting into the idea of Norse Paganism. It hadn’t been worth it. Turned out, most of the groups still into that stuff didn’t exactly welcome an outspoken bisexual Latina.

  Edie set her tea down and tightened her fists in her lap. “Right,” was all she said, but Astrid didn’t seem fooled.

  “You have something on your mind?”

  “I’m not really sure how to say it.”

  “I appreciate a direct approach,” the valkyrie said with a nod.

  Edie still felt awkward about it. She waved her hands around, as if she could dispel the tension by shooing it away like smoke, but only succeeded in waving the smoke from the incense into her own nose.

  After a couple unexpected coughs, she managed, “Well, first of all … you talk like the gods are real people. And, I dunno, just … a lot of hate groups use Vikings and stuff to make themselves seem cool and badass. This isn’t … that, right?”

  Astrid blinked, then paused to thank Cal as he passed with an armful of splintered wood. She shook her head. “No. This isn’t that.”

  It didn’t exactly put Edie at ease, but she said, “Okay … good.”

  The valkyrie, though, wasn’t done. She leaned forward, planting both of her hands on the wooden table in front of her. “Let me make myself perfectly clear, Edith. The Norse traveled to many lands, met and accepted many other ancient peoples. Like everywhere in the old world, there was war, there was trade, there was pillaging, there was marriage. My ancestors—our ancestors—looked and acted much different than what those men think. The people you are speaking of are not my brothers; they claim valor and courage where there is only insecurity, poison, and violence against the vulnerable.”

  “Okay.” Edie averted her eyes. Astrid was so intense that Edie felt almost embarrassed for asking the question, like she should have known. It was important, but maybe a simple, No, I’m not a Nazi would have sufficed.

  At least they were on the same page in that respect, if nothing else.

  Astrid relaxed a little bit. “I apologize. Valkyir have been around for longer than you can imagine, Edith. I’m relatively young compared to many of my sisters, but I’ve seen what men like that are capable of.”

  Edie hadn’t considered that. If valkyir picked who lived and died in battle, Astrid must have been around for modern wars, too. Was it possible she’d been around for the World Wars? That thought made Edie shudder.

  Edie changed the subject back, looking into her tea and swirling it around. “You said I was thinking about it wrong, the picking who goes and who stays.”

  Astrid nodded. “You don’t think it’s fair that I should get to choose. I understand. But no, it is not the work of the gods; they can intervene here and there, but they cannot change Fate. Not even them.”

  She talked about “the gods” so matter-of-factly, like it was a given that all-powerful beings ruled over the universe and watched everyone’s every move. Edie had never been religious, but she guessed that everyone wanted to believe in something bigger than them—frankly, at this point, the vampires and valkyir were bigger shocks to her system than anything about a god.

  “If the, uh, gods don’t control Fate, then who does?”

  “The Norns,” Astrid answered simply. She traced the spiral pattern of the table cloth before her, following the lines of gold thread. “The Mother Norns spin the tapestries of the gods and their heroes, and their lesser spirits deal with others. I am a daughter of the Mother Valkyrie. My sisters and I are expected to keep the balance, to bring about what has been foreseen. No matter how unpleasant.”

  Sounds like a shitty job, Edie thought. “How exactly do you become a valkyrie?”

  Astrid looked up at the rear door as Cal returned from dumping the remainder of the desk debris out back. She sighed at him. “It’s a shame. I loved that desk.”

  “You shouldn’t have launched a dude into it, then,” Cal said, rubbing his dusty hands on the thighs of his pants. He looked at Edie. “Feeling better?”

  She shrugged. “I guess.” Her questions could be answered later, if she didn’t wake up from this nightmare first.

  “Good.” He looked to Astrid, raising a brow. “’Cause you got that look in your eyes like you got some big, world-changing news.”

  The valkyrie pursed her lips and stood, moving to the adjacent fireplace; oddly, as soon as she was an appreciable distance away, the air around Edie got quite
a bit warmer. Astrid crossed her arms and looked down at the smoldering logs, silent. The fire rendered her wavy blond hair glowing golden at the edges, the hard plains of her face casting stark shadows. Even in her jeans, Astrid looked like some kind of ancient war queen.

  Finally, she spoke: “Things have … changed since Richard Holloway. Before, life was simpler, as it always had been. The tides of war would rise and ebb, of course; there were moments of chaos or strife. But the Aurora and the Gloaming were largely at a stalemate. Perhaps the trouble began when your father tried to revive the Reach in a meaningful way. His penalty for trying, after all, was death.”

  Edie looked at her knees.

  “But since he died, there has been a shift. Without the protection of the Reach, beings with no other choice have been forced to submit to the Gloaming. And this past year, the Gloaming Lord of this province, Fahraad, was murdered, probably by the Aurora. Instead of lending aid or electing a new Lord, the Gloaming hierarchy retreated like tortoises into their shells. No response to Auroran raids or purges on civilians … they just sit in their fortresses, hiding and rotting.”

  “If they think the Aurora’re gonna give up, they haven’t been paying attention the last god-fuckin’-knows-how-many years,” Cal mumbled, reaching in his back pocket for a cigarette. He held one between his lips but didn’t light it.

  Astrid uncrossed her arms and spread her hands, still looking at the fire. “I have no idea what their play is! Sitting still and quiet is not like them at all. Ten years ago, they’d have taken their revenge before Fahraad’s corpse was cold, but no one has even bothered to take his place. I fear they’re waiting for something. And whatever that is, there is no doubt it will be more destructive than anything they’ve done in a thousand years.”

  She turned and focused on Edie with those arctic eyes.

  “The fact that your powers emerged now can be no coincidence. I believe it’s already been decreed that your fate be bound up with the fate of the Gloaming and whatever is to come.”