by T. G. Ayer
The door slammed open and a flurry of activity ushered a woman inside the now silent café. Dressed darkly in a hijab and gown, she entered, surrounded by a group of four surly-looking men. The woman threw an apologetic smile around the room as if embarrassed at the racket her companions made.
My feathers shivered at my back as if an unseen draft had dared to rifle through them, and I tensed as I stared at her. It would've been impossible for me to ignore the woman. She glowed as if she'd swallowed a million light bulbs.
So, I still had the ability to see people glow. All my life it had been almost a curse, this glow that only I had been able to see, a glow that promised death for the one who shone. Not that their death was permanent. No, if I had known what it meant during those awful last days of Joshua's life, or even when I shed my tears for a cancer-beaten Aimee, perhaps I would've felt better about myself, felt as if I mattered. I couldn't change my past. But maybe, if I could help save this einherjar's future, just maybe it would be okay.
Medeia Karim chose a seat two tables away, her olive skin gleaming as if flames of white fire danced on its surface, making her look like very much like an angel. The four men, so buff and surly they just had to be her bodyguards, sat with her, eyes tracking through the room as if searching every face for treachery and every hand for weapons. Her glow was painfully bright, and my stomach clenched. Her end was very, very near.
Mika leaned close. "She seems well protected," my Ulfr partner whispered. Her eyes played the same game as the bodyguards, scanning the room and the hot and silent street outside.
I nodded, and tried not to wince at the brightness while I kept a close eye on our soon-to-be Warrior of Odin. The room settled again into a comfortable hum of meaningless conversation and midday relaxation, and yet a few tourists did throw the new group strange and dirty looks. Was it just a cultural prejudice or something deeper? I recalled Ingrid briefing us; Cairo simmered in the midst of a civil war that had lasted years. I guess I'd been paying attention after all.
Tourists still came, though, as Egypt offered them the beauty and mystery of the pyramids. Sometimes beauty and mystery were more important than absolute safety.
We sipped our coffees and smiled pleasantly, keeping up the happy tourist pretense, talking about nothing much, all the while throwing covert glances at Karim and her posse. The coffee had cooled, but I still forced myself to swallow. No Midgard meal or drink would ever compare to the fare back home in Asgard.
I watched the street over Mika's shoulder, growing more and more anxious as time went by. Mika was similarly aware of every movement in the café around us. Karim sat with her bodyguards, eating and drinking, and checking her watch every so often.
A grim-faced waiter closed in on their table, and I tensed. Then relaxed as he refreshed their coffee and left. I let out a breath and glanced at Mika. We both smiled at the false alarm.
And then a blast ripped through the cafe.
Mika launched to her feet, her chair skidding behind her and tipping over as glass fragments rained down onto her like a million little diamonds. I shot out of my chair, still unsure of what I meant to do. What could I do?
My ears rang, first from the gunshot, then from the screams. I remembered our einherjar and glanced over at her. My heart twisted as bright red blood spread across Medeia's neck and soaked into the fabric of her hijab. No doubt her body was protected by Kevlar, but what protected her head and neck? Her killer was smart. I glanced quickly outside, scanning the street and the building across from the café.
Nothing.
Just silence outside and pandemonium inside.
With her bodyguards crouched around their fallen leader, I had a clear view of Medeia Karim. Amidst the terror and the bustle of frantic movement, I stood very still, staring at the dying woman. Hot tears strained to get out of my tight throat as I watched the light leave her eyes.
At the very last second she turned her head to look at me. Her gaze shifted and focused somewhere over my shoulder. And she smiled. Her face shone, not only with the brightness of her Warrior glow but with an almost tangible happiness.
I trembled as I recognized the expression. As I watched her lids flutter shut and her body slump forward onto the table, I realized that in her last moments she been a witness to something extraordinary, and impossible.
The moment before she died, Medeia Karim had seen my wings.
Chapter 17
I could only think of blood; the entire bike ride back to the little house passed in a blur. Balancing the weight of my wings was the last thing on my mind, especially when that mind overflowed with memories of rich red blood and the emptiness of death.
What the hell was wrong with me? I was a Valkyrie. In some ways, I myself was a harbinger of death. So why should the death of a soon-to-be einherjar affect me so much that given half a chance I'd be bawling my eyes out? She had to die to fulfill her purpose in Odin's service.
Besides, I'd known she would soon die. Maybe I hadn't expected it to happen while I sat a few feet away from her, but I'd been forewarned. And yet the horror remained. The horror of bright red blood as it bloomed on her neck in her final moments.
As far as I could see, Mika remained unaffected by the whole horrible episode. Unfazed, she recapped the events for the rest of the team, a recap that was really a bullet-by-bullet replay. I had to remind myself that she was a centuries-old shape shifter with decades of killing under her belt. Mika was used to blood and death. Besides, she didn't have the same picture of Karim burned into her retinas. Or the memory of Karim's tiny smile in the moment of her death.
What would Karim have been thinking? Would she have convinced herself that she'd only imagined my wings? Would she have thought she'd seen an angel? I paused for a minute, unsure if a Valkyrie would make sense within the rebel leader's faith. I recalled my own astonishment and disbelief the first time I'd seen Sigrun's wings.
I'd witnessed so much in the last few months, things that surprised and amazed me, over and over again. If the gods of old Norse legend were living breathing beings, then who knew which other cultures had a mythology that wasn't just a figment of their imaginations?
Fen strode into the room, back from staking out the hospital with Joshua, so deep in thought that he didn't see me perched carefully on a short wooden stool that was so not Valkyrie-proof. I rose, and the wood creaked, relieved of my Valkyrie weight. I gave the fragile stool a disgusted look. Might as well stand.
With a quick step I caught up with Fen before he barged right past me. "How was Karim able to see through my glamor?" I asked.
My random question seemed to pique his curiosity, enough for him to come to a dead stop—although he did still scowl and tap an impatient finger on one muscle-bound arm. "What do you mean?"
"She saw my wings. In the split second before she died, she saw my wings." I shook my head and swallowed, the memory of her expression still clear in my mind.
"Ah." Fen didn't bother to ask me how I knew. He simply took my word for it, and nodded. "This happens sometimes. It depends on the person and upon the clarity of her thoughts and beliefs. Her soul. Her true essence."
So, it seemed that Medeia Karim had been more than just a rebel with a cause. Her life had been fraught with pain and strife, and yet she'd found her essence in the crazy hell of fighting for freedom, endangering her life for her fellow man.
I focused on his now motionless finger and said, "I think I understand. She had a pure heart and mind. That's how she saw my wings." A thought struck me then, and I glanced up at Fen. "Do you think she was always able to see through the glamor?"
"It is hard to tell, but I would say that even had she been capable, she would have had too much to think about to spend time honing that particular skill."
A sharp voice interrupted our conversation. "Fenrir, could I have a word, please?" Beside us, Ingrid's pale face promised more bad news. Great.
Fen walked off with the blonde Valkyrie, both of their faces dark and worried.
Though I was tempted to follow and find out what the hell was going on, I stopped in my tracks. My gut was screaming bad news.
Could things possibly get any worse?
***
We bided our time, wolfing down sugar-encrusted tortilla-type breads and washing them down with hot mint tea. An hour later, we'd just finished freshening up when we were summoned again.
The Asgard team headed out to join Ingrid's operatives in the hot, dry streets of Cairo. Thankfully, this time we had the privilege of four wheels and an engine to get where we were going, as opposed to two wheels and a prayer.
I battled the knives of heat that stabbed my lungs as I stood in the blazing Cairo sun, watching and waiting. The street and sidewalk overflowed with people, heedless of the midday heat. Chanting, singing and wailing filled the air as the coffin passed us by.
The sun, high in the clear sky, gleamed on the white fabric covering the coffin; the bright blue stripe that bordered its edges spoke of strength and purity to me. The casket floated by, borne on the shoulders of eight men whose faces twisted with their own personal grief. I choked on a mixture of dust and unshed tears. What the hell was wrong with me? Why should the death of this woman, this stranger, touch me so deeply as to draw tears?
I knew she would soon be revived to serve the All-Father and fight the enemies of Asgard. And yet I still felt bereft.
Fen and Joshua positioned themselves across the street, cut off from me by the seething crowd that flowed behind the coffin. We were visible, with only our wings and weapons hidden from human eyes. Our attire helped disguise us. Forced to fit in, the team donned rebel uniforms and joined the mourners, keeping close to the coffin.
A shout up ahead, loud enough to hear over the din of the procession, caught my attention. I pushed my way toward the sound, one frustrating step at a time, struggling between bodies pungent in the searing Egyptian sun. National army officers lined the streets, scowling at the mourners as they passed. The government couldn't stop such a large contingent of followers, not without a bloodbath. But the threat of violent opposition was enough; the army displayed troops who stood watching, hands on their guns and hard eyes inspecting every face, ready for any unrest.
As the crowd mourned for their leader, I craved a moment to dwell on my own grief.
Throughout the Cairo trip, the job had occupied all my time, leaving too few moments to think about Aidan. Just as well. What good would it do me anyway? What good would it do me to miss him, miss his crooked smile, or long for his arms around me? I suppressed a sigh, breathing away the remnants of a sob that would never be.
I concentrated on the procession, fighting back tears when the mourners lowered the coffin at the entrance of a ceremonial hall. A rising cry filled the street, a muted echo of sadness, both eerie and painful to listen to as women and men lamented the loss of their warrior.
The casket followed a solemn imam inside a small hall, where they would perform the funerary rites. Ingrid had said they wouldn't take too long to send Karim's body to the graveyard for the final burial.
Fen nodded at me over the heads of the crowd, and I followed him as he and Joshua retreated. We'd seen nobody suspicious. The Asgard team rode back to the house in silence. I guess none of us had anything significant to say, not after being steeped in grief and heat for so many hours.
Ingrid's team remained with the funeral procession to keep a close watch on the body. Whoever had cursed all our other einherjar with the dreaded black substance had to get to the bodies somehow. So far, there had been no hint of anything untoward. Perhaps this Warrior was safe. Perhaps.
For now, all we could do was wait.
***
A full moon hung low in the black sky. We approached the cemetery, bordered by desert and not much else. A low iron fence ran around the site, more a demarcation than a barrier to protect its contents or keep people out. We pushed the gate open, and it squeaked loudly, announcing our entry to all and sundry.
But nobody came running to ask us who we were and what we wanted. The large lot was empty and silent. Raised burial sites dotted the plot like little sarcophagi. Here and there, bright spots of green broke the monotony of white.
A long, thin building stretched along one side of the plot, its roof divided into three beautiful domes. Moonlight tinted the half-dozen dark windows that dotted the shallow porch, which would offer much needed shade to daytime visitors. We slinked past the doorway, and I cast a wary glance at the shadowed windows. And though I half-expected the grounds-keeper or a guard to come running, nothing happened.
Fen led the way, deeper into the cemetery. He always knew where he was meant to go. Wish I had that wolf's nose of his. Not to mention the special brand of night-vision he had going for him.
At last he halted, beckoning us to a burial tomb draped in green fabric, the bright color diluted in the pale moonlight. I slipped the sheet off the lid of the tomb and folded it carefully over my arm, treating it with infinite respect. We desecrated this tomb out of necessity, to retrieve Odin's chosen Warrior. That did not mean we had the right to disrespect Karim's traditions.
Fen and Joshua each held an end of the heavy stone lid, and though I knew I could help I stood aside and watched, keeping the silent Warrior Olaf company. Thankfully, he was as aloof as his boss Ingrid, which suited me. I wasn't in the mood for small talk.
Stone ground and grumbled against stone as they pushed the lid aside, a little at a time. They laid it carefully on the ground beside the sarcophagus, bearing the weight as if it were as light as a feather. In reality, the stone slab would've taken five to six normal men to push it into place. Clearly I wasn't the only one blessed with super-strength, then.
Inside the stone box lay the coffin itself. I waited as the two men removed the lid and placed it on the concrete slab. Medeia Karim's body lay wrapped in a white sheet.
Olaf leaned forward to pull away the white fabric covering her face. Would she be as beautiful in death as she was yesterday when I'd seen her in the cafe? I peered closer, curious to see if her body still retained the beatific glow of yesterday.
Then my heart clenched as I noticed dark, shadowy blotches dotting the white fabric. "Wait—" I cried, trying to warn them.
Too late. Olaf's fingers brushed against the dark spots.
The Warrior winced and shied away from the body, falling to his knees. He held his hand up, inspecting it with a desperate horror that turned his face as pale as the moon itself. I knelt beside him to inspect the wound—and gasped. His skin simmered as if acid had fallen onto his fingers and palm. Olaf jerked back, unable to support his kneeling frame any further. His head lolled, and he slumped over. The slight glow on his skin receded a little at a time until he no longer glowed like the other Warriors.
Fen knelt beside me, shooting me a glance; fear and worry clouded the darkness of his eyes. So now we knew for sure. This inky black gloop was definitely a poison. And worse yet, it looked dangerous to the living Warriors as well.
"It is much worse than we thought." Fen's whisper sounded rough and raw. "We must hurry back. His reaction . . ." Fen trailed off, then got to his feet. Shadows hid his eyes, but I knew he felt the same way I did; horrified and helpless.
Fen and Joshua pushed the lid back onto the coffin, and the scrape of stone on stone filled the silent graveyard.
We left the cemetery under the white eye of the moon, Joshua helping Fen to support the unconscious Olaf between them as we hurried back to the base, taking extra care to keep away from the Warrior's horrific wounds.
We left Karim behind, alone in her silent dark crypt. I swallowed hard, one memory clear in my mind. I'd wanted to see her glow, the beautiful beacon of the einherjar.
But there had been no glow.
And Medeia Karim was dead forever.
Chapter 18
Ingrid's face went white with horror as Fen and Joshua shuffled in, struggling with the dead weight of the unconscious Olaf.
"Valkyrie Ingrid, your Warrior n
eeds care." Ingrid dropped the sheaf of papers she'd been reading and rushed toward Fen. A heavy silence blanketed the room as they all waited for the Ulfr general to continue. "He has come into contact with the black substance and he is gravely ill."
Ingrid's shoulders sagged, and a surge of pity for the Valkyrie flowed through me. She must have felt as if everything was falling apart around her. With bleak eyes she gestured to two of her Warriors, who relieved Fen and Joshua of their burden.
"Be very careful, Warrior," Fen growled as he passed Olaf over. "Do not touch his hand with your bare skin. We do not know if it is contagious. It is possible the substance is deadly even to a living Warrior."
All eyes focused on Olaf, whose head lolled forward while the rest of him remained still and scarily silent. Ingrid gave quick instructions for Olaf's care, beckoned a nearby Valkyrie to accompany her and followed the Warriors and their burden toward the back rooms of the house.
A strange hush hung over the base, as everyone worried about Olaf and the black substance and the Warriors we kept losing.
Fen's voice pulled us out of our fear-filled thrall. "We need to ready the teams and step up our Retrievals." His voice echoed around the silent room, strained and hollow. "I will have to return to Asgard to confer with the All-Father. This is beyond my own knowledge and experience."
He opened his mouth to continue, when the sound of feet stamping down the stone staircase filtered into the basement. Fen's face darkened. A different tension filled the air, a different fear than losing Olaf.
Had we been followed? Had the hideout been discovered by the army? Nothing that could happen could possibly have surprised me. Not after the week we'd been having. I tensed, muscles straining, not even daring to take a breath.
Around the room, Warriors, Ulfr and Valkyries moved hands to hilts and weapons, ready for anything. Many of the Valkyries and Ulfr faded into nothingness. I followed suit, leaving only the Warriors unglamored.