Valkyrie

by Raythe Reign

  She got out of the vehicle and stood awkwardly outside it as he approached. She nervously smoothed down the front of her tan uniform. Then realizing she was fussing, she consciously dropped her one arm to the side while her other hand rested on the top of the vehicle’s door. The metal was hot, burning actually, but she didn’t lower her hand. The discomfort focused her.

  “Cameron,” she said and stopped. Any further statement like a general “Fancy meeting you here!” or a suspicious “Were you brought into the station by a deputy?” or the desperate mother “Where have you been? Are you all right?” would all cause fights. So she kept it simple and left it at his name.

  “Mom.” Cameron stopped a few feet away.

  She hated not being able to see his eyes. He had the most expressive eyes and they often telegraphed his mood. Now all she could tell was that he was hungover and had a terrible headache, likely near a migraine, but nothing more. He was too thin from not eating enough. His clothing was clean if not terrible well kept.

  She had never been the type of mother that packed school lunches and hovered over every scraped knee. Her husband had been much better at that and Liam had taken care of the rest. She loved her children fiercely, but from a distance. She had wondered after Liam died whether she had kept her distance because some part of her had always known they would be taken from her and to embrace them too tightly would have made the grief of losing them insurmountable. But right at that moment she wished she knew how to reach out to her son, to ease his suffering, the suffering that had begun when Liam died. She needed to tell him of another death now, a boy’s death, but the words stuck in her throat like a burr.

  “So …” She cleared her throat, but the burr remained.

  Cameron’s hands slid to his waist while his head lowered, but then he glanced back up at her. “Where were you?”

  Her back straightened as she examined and tossed out answers like, “Working” or “Hunkered over a dead boy’s body” or “None of your business, young man”. But all these answers were ridiculous. This was the opening that she needed. She could tell him of the boy and the danger he was in. She settled for, “I was called out to a murder scene.”

  Cameron drew in a sharp breath. “So it’s true.”

  “What’s true?” Immediately, her senses went on high alert and she knew that her voice had been too sharp, but she couldn’t take it back. He did know! Someone had told him! But instead of being relieved that her job would be that much easier, she was angry that someone other than her had broken the news to him. They wouldn’t have been gentle. They might have blurted it out. What if it had been a reporter? God, she did not want to think of that.

  Cameron though didn’t react to the interrogation-tone in her voice saying, “The Desert Killer. It’s back.”

  It …

  That one word had a different host of fears rising up in her. She remembered all too well the stories Cameron had told right after Liam died about how Freddie had been a shell, a husk, and that something evil had filled him, used him like a suit. This thing was what had killed Liam according to Cameron. Something monstrous had taken his older brother’s life. He’d woken up screaming every night for months. He’d cried constantly about Liam, heartbroken and devastated in a way that nothing could fix. He’d even mentioned something about a woman with wings carrying Liam’s soul away.

  There had been a time there when the psychiatrists had been recommending that Cameron be institutionalized. But she had resisted their advice, certain her son would recover given time and Cameron had gotten better. He had stopped talking about monsters inhabiting people’s bodies. He had dried his tears about Liam, or wept in private where she couldn’t see or hear him. And she had been relieved to see him putting what had happened behind him. So relieved. But then she realized he wasn’t the same boy any more. He stopped making art. He stopped trying in school. He withdrew from all his friends. It was like he was behind a panel of bulletproof glass. They could all see him, but no one could reach him.

  And now hearing him say “it” and “it’s back”, she realized that Cameron had never truly stopped believing that a monster had inhabited Freddie’s body and killed Liam. He had just stopped talking about it.

  No, no, no, no!

  Madness ran in both her and her husband’s families. The name Loki was often on the lips of the truly insane on both sides. She had watched her own mother be swept away by mental illness. She couldn’t lose Cameron to it, too.

  “Freddie is dead, Cameron,” she reminded him and herself at the same time.

  “But there’s been a murder, right? A kid? A boy?” Cameron’s black gaze fixed on her. She so wanted to pluck the glasses off his face and see his eyes.

  “Yes,” she answered. “And there’s more.”

  “More? More dead kids?” Cameron’s body was rigid.

  “No, not yet.” Her hand went to her gun again. Not yet was accurate.

  I have to find this bastard before he strikes again. I have to!

  “What more then?” he asked. He could be direct and sharp, too.

  She opened her mouth to answer, but then closed it again. She swallowed and finally was able to say, “There were words … cut into the child’s body. Your name and Liam’s were there.”

  Cameron went absolutely still. He didn’t even seem to breathe. She nearly reached for him then, but he let out a long breath and gulped in more air.

  “I want to talk to you about – about moving into a safer location than the bar, Cameron,” she began. “And perhaps a weapon –”

  But at that moment, the radio in her cruiser crackled to life and Marcy, the dispatcher was saying, “Mrs. Clausen is requesting someone come to the camping area. She’s had some complaints regarding a bunch of bikers –”

  “Mom!” Cameron suddenly grasped her left shoulder and squeezed. His grip was almost painful and there was this wild light in his eyes. “Mom, can you respond to that call? Can you let me come with you?”

  “What? Why?” Mary asked.

  Cameron smiled. It was a giddy smile. An over the moon smile. She couldn’t understand what about a call about rowdy bikers – or maybe not so rowdy bikers as Mrs. Clausen was known to think anyone under sixty who didn’t drive a Buick was rowdy – could excite him so much.

  “Please, Mom. The Bopper’s in the shop and I – I really think you need to meet these people,” Cameron pleaded.

  Though she was still unclear on why her son wanted this, he clearly did. She jerked her head to the passenger side of the car and said, “Get in. Let’s go see Mrs. Clausen.”

  CHAPTER NINE: BLIND

  Sick. That’s what Cameron felt. Sick with excitement. Sick with fear. Sick because he was hungover and the sun was like a piercing, blinding needle that wanted to stab both his eyes out. Even from behind the darkest sunglasses he had been able to find the day was shockingly bright lending a sense of unreality to the whole of it. Everything was razor-edged in this light. The shadows were terribly thin. Even as the cruiser’s air conditioning gushed over him he could still feel the heat of the sun pounding through the windscreen as if it wanted to set him on fire.

  “Cameron, why do you want to go to Mrs. Clausen’s?” His mother’s voice was cool, calm, almost disinterested, but he knew that she was anything but. She was probing in the way that only she could. She always found out the truth once she got a whiff of there being something to find. Thankfully, she had never wondered about his adoration of his older brother.

  Be careful what you investigate. You might find out something you don’t want to know.

  But his mother had a love affair with the truth. Like the sun she wanted there to be no dark corners. The shadows needed to be nonexistent in her opinion. Which was ironic, because his own life at Fenrir now was all in the shadows, all in darkness, and it was a relief to be bathed in blackness for once.

  So with that all in mind Cameron considered whether he should try and lie when his defenses were all in disarray. The possibi
lity of seeing Liam again had him shaking and wanting to puke. He wished he had brought the leather jacket that Liam had left the night before. It would have given him shelter from the sun and it would have been a physical reminder that what he remembered happening last night had in fact happened. But the jacket was too precious to take out of the apartment. What if he lost it somehow? No, it had remained safely where it was.

  “I met a guy last night at the bar,” he found himself saying and licked his lips afterwards. He was so dry. He should have brought some water. He was also insane to bring up this subject with his mother. But it was out there now.

  “And he’s staying at Mrs. Clausen’s?” Again, her voice was so neutral one would think that she was making casual conversation, but there were no casual conversations with her. At least not between them.

  “I don’t know … I mean I think he is,” he amended at the almost imperceptible turn of her head towards him. “He’s a biker. And not Mrs. Clausen’s sort.”

  His mother’s attention was now too much on the winding ribbon of pale blue asphalt. “Well, not many people are Mrs. Clausen’s sort.”

  “Not even Liam!” Cameron’s voice came out high and strange. He had no idea what he was doing mentioning his brother’s name. He and his mother did not talk about Liam. Not anymore. But he wondered if once at Mrs. Clausen’s whether she would see his brother for herself or if she would be blind to it like Darla had been. He was now convinced that there had to be some kind of magic that had hidden Liam’s identity from Darla. If there were people with wings magic had to exist, too. It was that simple. And no matter how drunk Darla had been she wouldn’t have completely forgotten how his brother looked.

  But then again I convinced myself that it was a clone of Liam not the real thing.

  His mother tensed slightly at Liam’s name, but then she gave him a smile. Her eyes were covered with the oversized mirrored sunglasses she often wore so he didn’t know if it was genuine or not. “Liam won her over when he fixed her Buick Skylark, remember? She later told me that he’d scared her before then and that was why she’d been unfriendly.”

  “Scared her?” Cameron shook his head and it immediately ached, his headache sloshing around inside of his skull like the pain had become liquid. “That’s crazy. Liam isn’t — wasn’t — wasn’t scary.”

  He isn’t scary. Not even now that he’s back from the dead.

  “I know,” she said and he gritted his teeth as he realized that she had heard the present tense mistake he had made and it worried her. “But she confessed he was just so big and imposing that she believed he must be frightening.”

  “Oh, well …” Cameron cleared his throat. This was the opening he needed to talk about Liam some more, about “the guy” he had met supposedly. “The guy I met is named Liam, too. Weird coincidence, right?”

  He felt more than saw his mother blink. “Yes, that’s not a popular name I don’t think so anyways.”

  “He even looks like Liam. Sounds like him, too.” Cameron bit his lower lip to stop the words from just flying out of his mouth.

  If I keep talking this way about a “guy” I just met at the bar Mom will start to wonder about my feelings for Liam. There is no dark place she won’t go even if she knows — perhaps, especially, if she knows — that she won’t like the answer.

  “I — I see,” she said, clearly not seeing.

  “My point is that he’s a big guy. Rides a motorcycle. Wears black leather. But he’s nice. Really nice. Just like Liam,” Cameron got out. “But for the same reasons that Mrs. Clausen didn’t like Liam at first are probably the same reactions she’s having to this guy. It explains why she might call the cops on him.”

  His mother was suddenly turning her head and half smiling at him. “Are you saying this so I won’t arrest your friend?”

  He thought of his mother arresting Liam — not recognizing him for who he was — and his stomach clenched. “Maybe. Just saying don’t judge before we get there.”

  “I never do.” There was a pause and she asked, not able to keep the casual tone this time, “This — this Liam … do you like him?”

  Like him? I love him! But that would freak you out. So much of what I’m thinking would freak you out.

  “Y-yeah.” Cameron thought back to how Liam had been even before he had realized it was Cameron he was being kind to. Liam had actually helped him with the bar, cleaning tables, putting up chairs, making sure that no one bothered him. And then he had asked what Cameron needed like he really meant to give him that if he could. And he did. I need him. “He’s … you’ll like him, Mom, if you give him a chance.”

  If you let yourself see who he really is! But then part of Cameron didn’t want her to, because he still hoped what had happened on the couch would happen again and how could it if his mother knew that Liam was back from the dead? Shame burned through him, but he still wanted it. He would judge whether he would let that be known when he saw Liam again.

  If he’s really at Mrs. Clausen’s campground!

  He realized that he had based his determination that Liam would be there on very shaky evidence. Obviously if Liam was undead or an angel or whatever he was, why would he be at the campground? But something in him had tugged him there so strongly that he couldn’t resist it.

  He’ll be there. I know he will.

  “Cameron,” his mother said and stopped. He could feel her mentally weighing her next words. “I really want you to consider moving back in with me until — until we catch the son of a bitch who is killing these kids this time.”

  This time? It’s same person — or thing — as the last time. Not that you would believe me if I told you that.

  “Why would I be safer at home?” Cameron asked, not putting up all the arguments he usually would with her. He realized then that she was frightened for him because a killer was out there, but he wasn’t scared. He wasn’t a kid any longer. He was an adult.

  But Liam was an adult, too. He was bigger and stronger than me. If it is the same creature, and not a copycat like my mom undoubtedly believes, then wouldn’t it come after me again? Wouldn’t I be in its crosshair as the one that got away? That had a cold chill running through him. Now he had yet another reason to hope that Liam was back.

  “Because you’ll be safer at home,” she said and her lips pressed together. He realized she was doing that to stop them from trembling. His mother was not an emotional person. She kept a very tight lid on all she felt leading some to believe that she didn’t have emotions at all, but he knew that wasn’t true. She felt things so deeply that she protected her heart, keeping people at an arm’s length at the closest, so that when something bad happened she could manage her reactions to it. Considering that she had lost Kurt and Liam he didn’t really blame her.

  “But is that true? You won’t be there, Mom,” he pointed out. “You will be tracking this guy down. At the bar there are always a ton of people around. And Sigurd cut his trip short so he’ll be in his place out back.” He caught his mother’s jaw tightening at Sigurd’s name. The two of them were like oil and water. “So you see I’m far safer living at the bar then sleeping at home driving to and from the bar on the desert highway.”

  She was silent for two beats, clearly thinking about what he had said and agreeing with it. So he wasn’t surprised when she changed tack and asked, “What about a gun? I know you’ve said no to one in the past, but, Cameron, I really think you need protection. This copycat cute your and Liam’s name into the little boy’s skin.”

  Cameron swallowed the bile that rose up at that. He thought of how dead Reggie had been though after Liam was done with him. Liam had killed him. Dead. Dead. Dead. But that hadn’t stopped the thing from oozing out of Reggie’s corpse and killing Liam a second later. A gun would only kill the creature’s host. Maybe that person was weak or even evil and deserved killing, but killing them wouldn’t mean he was safe. In a way it made the creature more powerful. For in those few seconds it was able to exist in this
world without a host it was seemingly unable to be hurt and could kill. At least that was what Cameron had come to believe. Whether it was true or not he had never thought to find out. But if it was truly back and coming after him he might just discover if his hypotheses were true.

  “Same arguments, Mom. I’ll just get in more trouble with a gun than without one,” he said, which obviously wasn’t the whole truth at all, but it summed it up.

  Her lips flattened again and he felt another argument coming on, but then the turn off for the campground was upon them and they both fell silent.

  The Sunrise Camp and Go! owned by Mrs. Clausen wasn’t all that impressive. There were a bunch of mesquite trees that gave some pathetic shade to a few worn picnic tables. A listless family was sitting at one of them passing potato salad in large tubs and wrestling with flimsy paper plates. There were hookups for the RV crowd and half those were taken. There was also a relatively fancy bathroom with showers and a small attached shop where Mrs. Clausen took in the daily fees from all the people who stayed in the camping area. She also sold snacks, pop, ice and water at exorbitant fees.

  If you forgot your marshmallow roasting forks she could sell them to you for $10 a pop. Don’t have enough charcoal? She had a bag for over $20. People might grumble, but who was going to go into town for these things when they could get them right there and be back to the campfire in moments? But it was yet another reason that Mrs. Clausen didn’t like people very much. People aren’t very nice when they’re being held over a barrel.

  Cameron’s gaze scanned the campground as his mother pulled the cruiser into a parking spot beside the shop. He had to force himself not to open the car door before the cruiser came to a stop. His mother was already suspicious of him. He had to act as normal as possible though that felt quite beyond him at the moment.

  As soon as Cameron stepped out in the desert heat it was like entering a blast furnace. Sweat immediately began to pour from his temples, but the dry, greedy air was already sipping it up before it reached midway down his cheeks. But he ignored the heat and his mother’s words to him as he looked for a familiar large blond figure among the campers. Liam was so big that he couldn’t hide in a crowd. Not that there was a crowd at the camping area.