His mouth turned into a small O.
“Then something happened.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “They heard music. The most beautiful music ever.” She gestured upward. “It came from the sky, rising and falling in great, majestic waves. Both of them gasped, remembering the tales their father had told him about the reward Odin bestowed on brave, valiant warriors. They knew who had come for their mother’s soul, and they were happy.”
“Was it an angel?” he whispered.
“Better. A Valkyrie.” She smiled, seeing his shocked expression. “I guess you’d call her a battle angel. She’s a special type of angel for special people. For people who are brave and strong and who love their friends and family above all else.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why couldn’t they see her?”
“Mere humans aren’t allowed to see these angels. It’s part of what makes them special.” She paused, flashing back to her encounter with Erik.
That was a question she still had to resolve.
“But they knew from the music she was there, arriving to take their mother to Valhalla—it was a present from the Valkyrie to them that they could hear the music and know the great honor being bestowed on their mother. According to the rules, they couldn’t see her, but the Valkyrie decided that they should know Odin and Freyja had witnessed their mother’s actions and rewarded her with this great honor.”
“Why?” The tiny forehead furrowed. “Why did the Valkyrie take her?”
“Because their mother had fought bravely and honorably, fighting against horrible odds. She was deemed worthy to ascend to Valhalla and sit among the other mighty warriors.”
“Others?”
“Yes. Lots and lots of men and women are there, from around the world.”
“So she wouldn’t be lonely?”
“Never.” Brenna waited for the next question, seeing the curiosity in his bright blue eyes.
One eyebrow rose. “What happens there?”
She paused, trying to find the right words for his age group. “Valhalla is a magical place where everyone is happy all the time. They eat, laugh, and drink, and enjoy themselves. It is an honor to be chosen to go to Valhalla, and her sons knew that. So while they cried because they lost their mother, they were glad because she was going to be seated in the Great Hall with all the other brave men and women forever and ever and ever.”
“Do they have chocolate cake?” he asked. “And hot chocolate with all the little marshmallows?”
“Yes. The best type. And you can eat as much as you like because they never run out.” She allowed herself a laugh. “And you never gain weight.”
The lines lessened on his forehead. “What happened to the boys?”
“The music went away as their neighbor returned with his sons, having chased off the last of the invaders. They wrapped up their mother’s body and put it in the barn before going back to stay with the neighbor until their father came home. When he arrived, they told him what had happened. He was very upset but happy he still had his sons and hugged them both as tightly as he could.”
She hesitated, studying the tiny face for any sign she’d upset him. Finding none, she continued.
“They told him what they had heard, the wonderful music signaling the Valkyrie taking their mother’s soul skyward, exactly as he had described it. Their father smiled through his tears and told them they had been blessed, that it was a great honor. Even though he was still sad about losing his wife, he was also proud of her. He hung her shield on the wall so they could see it and remember her as the wonderful woman she was.”
He scrunched his nose, assessing her tale. “That’s not really a happy story.”
“Well, it depends on how you look at it. The boys were sad from time to time, but every time they stared into the sky, they imagined their mother sitting among the strongest and bravest warriors. It helped them become strong themselves as they got bigger. They never went off to war but grew to be honest men who did what was right and stood by their friends and family. And every once in a while, she would look down from Valhalla and smile, proud of her sons and of the good men they’d become.”
“That’s a good story.” A smile appeared. “A very good story.”
She returned the smile. “That was my first time doing something like this. I’m glad you liked it.”
“David?” A man made his way out of the crowd and came over to them. “David, I told you not to wander off.” He was about Erik’s age, a tall blond soldier in military fatigues. He reached out for the boy. “I was talking to the Major, turned around, and he was gone. I’m sorry if he was bothering you.”
“No, no problem at all.” Brenna handed him over. “We were sitting and chatting.”
“She told me a story,” David said. “Now I know where Mommy went.”
The man frowned. “Mommy?”
“Yeah.” David pointed at one of the images on the wall. “She’s in Vahayla where she’s laughing and enjoying herself with all the chocolate cake she can eat.”
Brenna followed the tiny pudgy finger to the photograph.
Her breath caught in her throat, choking her into silence.
The woman smiled at the cameraman, her tan uniform marking her as a soldier. She stood in front of a supply truck, her hands behind her back.
The inscription below listed her name, rank, and date of death.
“I was thinking about Mommy and getting all upset. Then she told me about Vayhayla, and I figured out that’s where Mommy is, and she’s all right.” David hugged his father. “She’s with her friends, and she’s happy and eating cake and drinking all the hot chocolate she wants.”
The man’s eyes filled with tears as he returned the hug. “Yes. Yes, she is.” He gave Brenna a half smile before turning and walking away, holding David tight.
Brenna leaned back in the chair, a combination of nausea and dizziness swamping her senses.
“Hey.” Erik came up to her. He sat in the space next to her, putting his hand on her arm. “You’re pale. Are you all right?”
“I…I’m not sure.” She glanced at the plaque. “I just…” She fell silent for a second, wrestling with her words.
He followed her gaze and studied the image as she told him about the young boy.
“I didn’t suspect he was thinking about his mother. It was just a story I put together, something I thought had a happy ending. I mean, to us it is a reward to go to Valhalla. I never thought about those left behind.” She couldn’t see David and his father in the crowd milling about. “When Freyja came to me, I was alone. No one was left to mourn for me.”
“You weren’t supposed to worry about them,” Erik said, his voice low and soft. “Not your concern. Your job was to reap souls, not deal with the messy aftermath. The final flights home, the funeral services. The burials.” He looked away from her, and she felt the sadness, the pain in his words.
“You…” She spoke with care, painfully aware of their power. “You visited their graves. April, Scotty—all of them.”
His attention swiveled back to her, their eyes locking. “Yes. After I got out of the hospital, I made the trips to each hometown, each cemetery.” He frowned. “How did you know?”
“I was a week behind you. Tracking you.” She sighed. “I never considered how my leaving you behind would affect you.” She glanced over to where David was excitedly chattering to his father, a happy smile on his face. “How it would affect them.”
He touched her face, bringing her back to look at him.
“It affected you as well. You’re not the same woman you were last year. You’re not even the one who attacked me a few weeks ago.”
Before she could reply, he put his hand atop hers and squeezed. “Let’s get out of here. Jake’s nowhere near wrapping things up, he’s enjoying himself too much.” He cast a glance at the people milling around, studying the various plaques and memorials set on the walls. “We could both use a break.”
…
It fel
t right to take her hand as they strolled along, the cool breeze buffeting their light coats.
“Let’s go that way.” He turned toward the small park, the playground nearby.
“Sure.” She allowed him to lead her along. In a few minutes, they walked through the tall grass, the soft soil giving way under their shoes. It was a welcome change from the hard and unforgiving concrete and wooden floors.
Erik took a deep breath. “I like this. It was getting a little tight in there,” he confessed. “Felt a few sets of eyes on me.”
“Do you think they recognized you from the fighting?”
“No. Or if they did, they didn’t mention it.” He studied the sky, the stars peeking out from between the clouds. A cool breeze whistled around them as they moved away from the building, the noise and music lessening with each step. “These stops are important to Jake, but I’m glad he’s not asking me to stand up and give a speech. I don’t have anything to add.”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand why. You were a proud, strong warrior. You did what you had to do to secure peace.”
“They’re still fighting. I did nothing. Scotty and the others died for nothing.” His throat ached, the bitterness choking him like bile.
Her grip tightened. “Don’t say that.”
She tugged him over to the side of the park where a war memorial stood, the three granite stones set in an arc. It listed everyone from the area who had served and died, reaching back all the way to the First World War.
Brenna gestured at it. “Why do you think people keep setting up these monuments? I see them in every country I’ve visited. People remember, they revere their fighters. Their warriors.”
“I guess so.” He grunted. “Some days are just harder than others.”
“I understand.” She led him to a nearby picnic table. “Let’s relax here. They can come find us when they’re ready to leave.” Brenna glanced behind them. “Lucy was fantastic. I can’t believe she did so well after getting the news about her father.”
He settled beside her, sitting atop the unvarnished dark wood. “What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.”
Her forehead furrowed in confusion.
“It’s a saying we have. Lucy came out of her father’s abuse a stronger, tougher woman who was able to take her experience and carry it forward to helping others overseas.” He looked out over the well-manicured grass. “Other people, men and women, would have faltered, become statistics. Her mother was strong, too, making the decision to leave. Too many women can’t get away from their abusers. She did what she thought was right for Lucy.”
“Helheim,” Brenna whispered. “He deserves no less than to be tortured for eternity for what he’s done.”
“Maybe. But that’s not a call for either of us to make.” He rubbed his palms on his jean-covered knees. “How does Odin decide who goes where?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “It’s not up to the Valkyries to choose. The souls move skyward, as you saw, and then the sacred symbol is etched in the air to allow them to enter Valhalla.”
“Or the other place.”
“Or the other place,” she repeated. “They rise, and the Valkyries draw another glyph, the one for Helheim. I don’t know it, and I’ve never seen it—such things are not for our eyes.”
He nodded, noting her choice of words.
She wasn’t referring to herself as a Valkyrie anymore.
“You spoke about the older Valkyries, the ones who retire. What do they do?”
“They help train others. Some retire to private quarters to paint or read.”
“That must be a hell of a big mansion.” He chuckled.
“Very large.” She studied the shadows. “Supposedly there are rooms that haven’t been opened for centuries, the women inside so broken they choose to hide until they’re needed at Ragnarok.”
“Needed.” Erik rolled the word around in his mouth. “Let’s do some brainstorming about what to do if and when Kara gets to us. You’ve lived with her, trained with her for years. Does she have any weaknesses, anything we can exploit? I know she’s your sister but…”
“She is my sister. Except right now she’s a danger to you and to me.” Brenna pressed her lips into a tight line before continuing. “We…she is a Valkyrie. There is nothing in this world that can kill her. No bullet, no sword, no weapon here on earth. You might slow her down by hitting or pushing her away, as we did in the parking lot. But it’s only a temporary reprieve. She’s immune to all human-made weapons.”
“Nothing?” He shook his head. “There’s got to be something.”
She frowned.
After a few minutes, she turned and looked at him, eyes widening. “Her lance.” Her fingers twitched in his. “It allows her to reap souls and send them to the Halls. An otherworldly weapon, not of this realm.” She held her free hand out in front of her. “If we could take it, we might be able to disable Kara.”
“It won’t be enough to injure her,” he said. “She’ll keep fighting. You know she will—to the death.”
She pressed her lips into a tight line. “She’s my sister.”
He didn’t know what to say to that so settled for silence.
They sat in the cool night air. Erik was comfortable with the quiet, not feeling pressured to fill every minute with generic questions or comments.
It was odd. He couldn’t remember the last time he could sit and be still like this.
It was…refreshing.
A car horn sounded from the nearby parking lot, breaking the calm.
He cleared his throat. “I guess we should get back.”
Brenna nodded.
He took her hand again. “I think you did the right thing—telling the boy that story. It might help them both deal with the grief a bit better.”
She let out a sigh. “I hope so.” Brenna wrinkled her nose. “I’m not proficient at lying.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.” He grinned.
Chapter Twenty-One
Two days later, they found themselves stuck in early morning traffic, the van surrounded on all sides by packed cars filled with smiling passengers. Erik sat in the back with Brenna, frowning as he studied the slow-moving cars.
“Is there an accident up ahead?” she asked him.
“Nothing online,” Mark announced as he scrolled through his cell phone. “Shows increased traffic in our area, but no accidents listed.”
Lucy pressed her face to the window, studying the slow-moving vehicles. “They’re not all coming to the show tonight, I’m sure of that.”
“Ah hah!” Mark pointed at the Ferris Wheel in the distance, the large wheel poking up over the treetops. He held up his phone, displaying the flashy ad. “County Fair.”
Jake scowled. “Damn it. Should have realized that when we made the booking. Campground said something about expecting a crowd—good thing we called ahead and got the reservation.” He glanced around. “Want to stop on in, see what the fuss is about? We’re ahead of schedule—the presentation’s not until tomorrow, and we have plenty of time to reach the campground.” He tapped the GPS mounted on the van’s dashboard.
Lucy laughed. “Do you even have to ask?” She looked at the others. “I’d love to win one of those big floppy dogs, the type you get for winning one of those midway games.”
“He’d have to ride on the roof,” Mark said. He grinned. “But there’s no harm in trying.”
Brenna lowered her voice as she turned to Erik. “Floppy dog?”
He couldn’t help chuckling. “I’ll explain on the way.”
The fairground was packed, with people of all ages wandering up and down the aisles.
“Fried…what?” Brenna pointed at a stall. The group had broken up right after Jake found a parking spot, much like they had in Las Vegas. But this time, Erik had taken her hand, pulling her away from the others.
There hadn’t been any questions or complaints. Mark had handed over his phone, noting he’d be hanging out with Lucy.<
br />
“Since neither of you have one,” he noted as Erik made an effort to refuse. “Be easier for Jake to round us up. Lucy’s number’s programmed in already.” He showed Erik the screens, flipping through the options.
Erik paused before shrugging and tucking it into the pocket of his leather jacket. He hadn’t thought about buying another cell phone during their trip, but Mark had a point—the fairgrounds was large enough that trying to find the others without some help would be almost impossible.
“Good idea. I’ll call you when we’re ready to go,” Jake said as he headed off with Helen in the direction of the midway. Mark and Lucy peeled off toward the livestock display, leaving Erik and Brenna standing in the parking lot.
She’d slipped her hand into his and grinned, waving at the bright neon signs flashing in the afternoon sunlight. They hadn’t gone far before she’d seen the flashy multicolored sign advertising what appeared to be a delicacy she hadn’t heard of before.
“Fried cookie dough.” He led her to the booth. “You’ll love it.”
She did, licking her fingers clean with an enthusiasm that shot straight to his groin, forcing Erik to think about icy-cold showers and glaciers to keep from publicly embarrassing himself.
Appetite sated for the time being, they wandered the grounds. Their path intersected once with Lucy, busy dragging Mark through the games.
“She doesn’t believe me when I say they’re all rigged.” Mark shook his head woefully.
“A big floppy dog.” Lucy pointed at a nearby booth.
“Right.” He shook his head and followed, making both Brenna and Erik laugh.
Brenna wandered over to one of the stalls and studied the cluster of adults tossing darts at balloons pinned to the wall. The balloons bounced from side to side, evading their demise.
One man grunted and put more money down on the counter, his eager little girl clapping her hands in encouragement.
Brenna frowned before taking Erik’s hand again. “These games of skill seem very difficult,” she noted as they moved along, leaving their happy comrades behind. “I don’t see many people winning.”
“Of course not. Just like the casinos in Vegas. Odds are against you. But you have fun trying, and that’s a good thing.” He gestured to the far side of the lane. “Check out the old-school photo booth.”
Her Alpha Viking Page 16