“I’m not afraid,” Ryan said, clenching his teeth.
“I know that. But you don’t even know how Loki knew about you or where to find you. Do you want to put Gabi in danger? Loki could use her to get to you. And if he finds out she’s a healer, he’ll make her serve him, too.”
“What if we learn to fight?” Gabi asked suddenly, meeting Mist’s gaze. “Maybe not with magic, but you said Loki and the giants couldn’t use guns here. You could teach us how to use swords and stuff, and then you wouldn’t have to protect us.”
“You wouldn’t stand a chance,” Mist said, “even if I could teach you anything worth knowing in time to make a difference. Until I find my Sisters, I’m going to try to avoid risking mortal lives. The Jotunar aren’t the only concern here. Loki is going to build up some kind of army in Midgard, probably out of people who don’t much care who they work for.”
“But you’re going to do the same thing, right?” Gabi asked.
“The more mortals get involved on both sides, the more people are going to get hurt. Once the authorities start noticing that something strange is going on—and they will, no matter how much we try to hide it—it’s going to become even more dangerous for anyone working with us.”
“But you said you fixed it so the cops couldn’t find anything in the gym,” Ryan said, barely noticing the neon-lit jukebox against the wall flip to another oldie.
“Look,” Mist said, her patience obviously beginning to wear thin, “I was wrong to bring you into this in the first place. If we can keep you safe, we can always call you back once we really need you.”
Which, Ryan thought, she never would. Not if she made them leave now.
“I still have to talk to this lawyer dude, right?” Ryan asked, hoping to buy more time.
“That’s up to you. You said your aunt was wealthy. She might have left you something valuable, like a house. A real home.”
Ryan ducked his head. He’d told Mist some of what he and Gabi had gone through the past year, though he’d kept the ugliest details to himself.
“Yeah, my aunt was rich,” he said, pushing his soda aside so hard that the heavy glass almost fell over. “But she never paid any attention me before. And I don’t trust Tashiro. Gabi told me he would have turned Dainn over to the police.”
“He did what he thought he had to do,” Mist said, though the way she stared out the window told Ryan she agreed with him. “He wanted to protect you and Gabi, too.”
“Okay,” he said. “Then I guess I’ll need to talk to him before we leave. If I get money, I can send it to you, right? To help fight Sauron and the Orcs?”
Mist turned her attention back to him, but she wasn’t smiling. “I have money,” she said.
“When would we have to leave?” Gabi asked, playing with her paper straw cover.
“I think I’ve told you everything you need to know for now,” Mist said, pushing back her chair. “I’ll find somewhere for you to stay until more permanent arrangements can be made.”
“And who’s going to protect us then?” Ryan asked. “Dainn?”
“You know he can’t. You might as well stop worrying about him.” Mist reached inside her back pocket for her wallet and slapped a twenty-dollar bill on the table. Men all around the coffee shop gawked at her as she headed for the door at her usual fast pace, pausing outside to make sure Ryan and Gabi were right behind her. She seemed totally oblivious to the men’s stares and to the “normal” world around her.
She was so cold about everything, Ryan thought with disgust. She pretended she wanted to protect him and Gabi, but she didn’t give a shit what happened to Dainn. He could die for her, and she wouldn’t care.
But when Ryan glanced at Mist’s strong-boned, beautiful face, he realized how stupid he’d been. She wasn’t calm and confident and fearless now. Her eyes were wet, and her lips were pinched as if she was afraid she might start bawling.
She was thinking of Dainn, just the way he was. She wasn’t angry at what Dainn had done. She was scared for him.
Like Ryan. It wasn’t just because of how he felt about Dainn, which was stupid since he knew Dainn could never feel the same way. But he also knew that Dainn was almost as important as Mist in what was going to happen. And Ryan wasn’t afraid of him. Could never be afraid.
Neither could Mist, no matter what he did. But now she and Dainn would never figure out how they felt about each other.
Ryan had something in common with her after all. And knowing that didn’t help at all.
It was after 1:00 p.m. when they got back to the loft. Vali was waiting for them outside the door, a deep crease between his pale eyebrows. Snowflakes were melting in his hair.
“Vali?” Mist said. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Dainn,” he said. “He was still here when I got to the loft around eleven.”
Shock froze Mist’s face. “And you didn’t tell me?”
“He asked me not to.”
She swore. “Where did you find him?” she asked.
“In the office. He wasn’t himself, but he wouldn’t be after he killed three Jotunar with a sword.”
Mist’s lips tightened. “Is that what he told you?”
“Isn’t it true?”
She hesitated for such a short time that Ryan almost didn’t catch it. “Yes,” she said. “Where is he now?”
Vali glanced at the kids. “Maybe you should send them inside.”
“Why?” Ryan asked, moving to stand beside Mist. His “visions” weren’t working now, when he most needed them. And he was scared all over again.
“Go inside,” Mist said to him.
Ryan didn’t move, and neither did Gabi. “We need to know if something’s wrong,” Gabi said. “We’ll find out anyway.”
Mist swung around to stare at Gabi the way she always did when she was furious and trying to hide it. “If you swear to me,” she said, glancing at Ryan, “if you swear you won’t try anything, no matter what you hear, you can stay.”
This is bad, Ryan thought. “What do you want us to swear on?” he asked.
“In the old days, we used a sword hilt. But you can swear by whatever’s most important to you. Whatever you’d never betray.”
Ryan knew what that was for him, but he couldn’t say it out loud. “Okay,” he said, looking away.
Mist seemed to accept his answer. “Gabi?” she asked.
The girl jerked her head in a sharp nod. “Mi abuela,” she said.
“I accept your oaths.”
Ryan released his breath, and Gabi kicked at the sidewalk with the toe of one borrowed shoe. After that, neither Mist nor Vali seemed to notice they were there.
“What exactly did he tell you?” she asked the big man, watching Vali’s face very carefully.
“He was in bad shape when I found him,” Vali said. “He—”
“You said he told you he killed three Jotunar with a sword.”
“That’s right. Looked like they got in some good licks, too. Like I said, he wasn’t exactly himself, but he was healing. Once he was walking around again, I told him he should take some time to deal with what happened. He said he had to get away from the loft to do that. When he said it, I figured he was going to take a long walk or something, but—”
“When did he leave?” she asked, her voice clipped and urgent.
“About an hour ago.”
“Curse it, Vali!”
Odin’s son stared down at his feet. “He could be taking a walk or riding around the city. But—”
“But he’s not,” Mist said, resting her hand on the hilt of her knife.
“We can’t be sure—”
“I know him,” Mist said. “It’s exactly what he would do.”
“Do what?” Ryan asked. “What are you talking about?”
Mist glanced at him blankly, her thoughts obviously so troubled that she had none left to spare for anything or anyone else.
“I’m going after him,” she said.
“You ca
n’t,” Vali said, his eyes widening in distress. “I knew I had to tell you, but you don’t even know if you can find Loki.”
“If Dainn can find him, I can.”
“They were . . . I mean, they knew each other before. He might have a way of finding Loki you don’t. And if you get between them—”
“Dainn can’t think rationally now, no matter how he behaved with you. You didn’t see what he did in the gym. He fought the way he did because he wasn’t himself.” She lowered her voice, and Ryan could see how much she was trying to keep calm. “If I don’t find Dainn, the rage will consume him, and Loki will use that against him. He has no reason to spare Dainn, and every reason to kill him.”
“Are you sure?” Vali asked, even more softly. “Isn’t it possible they’re still . . .”
They stared at each other. Something Ryan didn’t understand passed between them, but in the end Mist rejected whatever Vali was trying to suggest.
“I could ask the same of your brother,” Mist said, cold as the winter wind. “And I don’t think you suspect that, or you wouldn’t be here.”
“Yeah,” Vali said, dropping his gaze again. “But you still can’t go, Mist. Whatever happened at Asbrew, you aren’t ready to face him. Not alone.”
“I won’t be alone. Not if I can—” She broke off, and her gaze swept over Ryan and Vali as if she had just remembered they were there. “I’m holding you to your oaths. You’re to do what Vali tells you and not try to interfere.”
Ryan shivered. “Is Loki really going to kill him?”
Mist didn’t answer. “Take the kids away from here,” she told Vali. “Do whatever you can to keep them hidden.”
“How are you going to get around?” Vali asked. “I took a taxi, and your car’s still in the shop.”
“I’ll borrow a vehicle. I don’t think any mortal who really understands what’s at stake would object.”
“I’d like to see you try to explain that when you bring it back,” Vali said, half joking. His strained smile didn’t last a second longer than it took for Mist to meet his eyes. “Listen. As soon as you left Asbrew yesterday, Vidarr called a few people he knows and got them to start looking for Loki. Just legwork, checking out large cash and credit card purchases at luxury stores and car dealerships, going through real estate records. The kind of stuff you want me to look at to find the other Valkyrie, but easier, since Loki’s probably still here in the city.”
Mist raised her head like a dog smelling steak scraps in a restaurant Dumpster. “Does he know where Loki is?”
“I don’t know. But Mist—” He reached toward her and dropped his hand a second later. “When you talk to him, be careful. He’s pissed as Hel.”
“He’ll talk to me, and I don’t plan to be careful.”
“Okay.” Vali’s throat bobbed. “Just one more thing. What if you don’t come back?”
She gripped her knife until her knuckles turned white. “I will, and I’ll bring Dainn and Gungnir with me.”
Without another word, she strode into the loft. Ryan hung back with Gabi.
“Vali,” he said, “what if I can find help find Dainn with my dreams? Do you think she’d let us stay then?”
“You heard what Mist said,” Gabi said, her dark eyes angry and worried at the same time. “You can’t really control them, and you’ll just get more seizures if you try to make them come.”
“Right now we have to get out of here,” Vali said. “If you have any stuff you want to bring, go get it.”
Ryan knew there was no point in more arguing. He couldn’t help Mist and Dainn now. But whether he was at the loft or somewhere else, he wasn’t going to give up.
“Come on, Gabi,” he said. “Maybe they don’t think they need us yet, but they will. And we’re going to be ready.”
18
The wind off the bay was so cold that even Dainn, with his ability to withstand Midgardian weather in all its forms, felt it cut through his thin shirt. He sat on a bench near the end of Hyde Street Pier, seagulls circling and crying above him. The snow had gradually grown heavier, melting on the pavement but beginning to gather on the deck of the old sailing ship docked at the side of the pier, deserted and waiting for spring and the flood of tourists who would arrive with better weather.
If spring ever came.
At the moment the Maritime National Historical Park was empty of visitors, and Dainn was free to do what he must without the risk of being seen.
He scrubbed the moisture from his face and stared out at the water. The seeking spell he planned to create was not of the usual kind; he was too drained and weak to hunt Loki down. He would let Laufeyson come to him.
The Slanderer had been frightened before, but Dainn didn’t believe for a moment that Loki would surrender to such a shameful emotion again. Quite the contrary; he would have been anticipating just such a meeting ever since he had learned that Dainn was Freya’s agent in Midgard.
But did he know how badly his attack on the loft had gone awry? He had clearly decided that Freya was not as great a threat as he had believed when he’d faced Mist in Asbrew, but Dainn had never sensed the presence of any spell to indicate that Laufeyson was observing the assault. Even with the proper vector to carry out the observation, such a spell was fraught with danger for its composer. And there were no Jotunar survivors to report what had happened.
Given their failure to return with their prize, Loki might have realized things hadn’t played out exactly as he’d intended. But if he thought his attack had succeeded, he would assume this meeting was in response to it. Either way, he would be prepared to deal with his most intimate enemy.
In every way but one.
Dainn closed his eyes and felt the bay surging beneath the pier. Alfar were not of the sea, and their magical connection to it was minimal. But the ocean was still of the natural world, and so Dainn hoped to coax a little of its restless energy into his service—drawing not upon its vast stores of life and unfathomable potency, but that small part of it that appeared to men, spent but not completely stripped of its power.
Salt spray spattered against the piles as Dainn raised his hands and sang of his need and the grave threat to Midgard and its inhabitants. A wave surged over the end of the pier, slapping him in freezing water.
An appeal to the fate of mortals did not interest even the muted force he summoned. It had never cared for the things of the land, and it had cause to hate the creatures who ruled it. Dainn accepted the rebuke and altered his melody, singing of Njordr, god of the sea and Freya’s own father. He sang of his service to Freya and the restoration of the Aesir and spirits of the sea.
Foam swirled up and danced in the air, slowly circling Dainn’s head. He opened his hands and let the foam settle in his palms. He wove it between his fingers, shaping the Rune- staves that spelled out Loki’s name.
The staves became distorted, resisting his control. He soothed them with another song and they leaped out of his hands like dolphins, hurtling skyward, disappearing among the snowflakes.
Dainn toppled from the bench. For a time he was aware of nothing but a distorted view of the bay, the waves agitated by more than the wind.
“You okay?”
A young woman bundled in a heavy coat leaned toward him from a safe distance, clutching an oversized handbag against her side. Her dark eyes were concerned but uneasy, and Dainn was aware that he must look more than a little mad.
“I saw you fall,” she said, backing away as he worked his hands underneath his chest and raised his head from the pavement. “Do you need an ambulance?”
Dainn made no attempt to move any further. He didn’t want to frighten a mortal who had been compassionate enough to help, and he wasn’t sure he could do so in any case.
“I am not injured,” he said, “but I thank you for your concern.”
She peered at him a while longer, evidently confused by the contrast between his current position, his clothing, and his voice. He was grateful that he had taken the t
ime to tie back his hair in a way that still covered his ears.
“If you’re sure you’re okay . . .” the woman said.
“Yes.” He winced at a sharp pain in his shoulder. “Thank you.”
The young woman accepted the dismissal and quickly retreated. Dainn lay on his stomach, gathering his strength to rise. If even one of the Jotunar was to come after him now with the intent to kill, he would be helpless to defend himself.
But he didn’t think Loki wanted him hurt. Not by anyone but himself.
Dainn pulled himself up by clinging to the bench, his breath forming white plumes that streaked away on the wind. His shoulder ached in the joint where he had fallen. He took a few steps toward Hyde Street and the deserted Visitor Center, paused to catch his balance against the wooden railing, and continued along the pier until he reached Jefferson Street. He took the next bus to the Ferry Building, barely earning a glance from fellow passengers who had undoubtedly seen almost every kind of peculiar, bizarre, and deviant human being that could exist in a major city.
Something more like a wheeze than laughter caught in Dainn’s throat. The sight of a Jotunn in his true form might shake them out of their complacency. He hoped by then it would not be too late.
The motorcycle Mist “borrowed” was an unprepossessing model of the kind urban motorists purchased to make themselves feel just a little more daring and rebellious when they left their Fiestas, Elantras, and Infiniti crossovers at the curb. It had been years since she’d ridden one, but now it felt as natural as galloping over the battlefields with her Sisters, determining which gallant warriors would live or die.
In so many ways, nothing had changed.
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