by S. T. Bende
I cupped his beard in my hand. “We have to get to class. We’re going to give poor Morgan a heart attack.”
I turned Axel’s face forward.
His brow furrowed as he stared at Morgan speed-walking ahead of us. “Talk about tense . . .”
I shrugged. “Helheim hath no fury like a girl we’ve nearly made late for class. Again.”
“Is it safe to approach?” Janna came up beside me. “Or are you still debating ripping Axel’s head off?”
I smirked at my captain. “How’d you know?”
“Lucky guess.” She mimed a balled fist.
“Axel can live . . . for now.” I let him lace his fingers through mine as we walked toward campus. “But who knows what tomorrow holds?”
“That’s the fun of dating me,” Axel said confidently. “You just never know what surprises are in store.”
Janna shook her head. “Did you and Raynor run into any trouble back at your house?”
“We don’t have curfews, if that’s what you’re asking.” Axel grinned. “Nobody even noticed we were gone.”
“Lucky,” I muttered.
“I’m just going to go ahead,” Morgan yelled over her shoulder. “I’ll see you there!”
Janna sipped at her coffee. “Blech, I don’t know how you drink this stuff.”
Axel’s eyes widened. “I’ll take yours.”
“Suit yourself.” Janna passed him the cup. “I miss tea.”
“They have tea here,” I pointed out.
“Not the kind we have back home. Here, everything’s sweet or flowery or herbal, which seems like a pretty loose interpretation, if you ask me. Since when is a lemon an herb?” Janna sighed. “Oh, well. We’d better catch up to Morgan. No point stressing her more than we already do.”
She jogged the ever-growing distance between us and our housemate. Axel and I took a few more sips of our coffee, then tossed the containers in a bin and picked up our pace. We entered the folklore classroom with a full minute to spare.
“See, Morgan?” Axel reached down the row to pat Morgan’s still-tensed shoulder. “Nothing to worry about.”
“Mm-hmm.” Morgan was too busy lining up her notebook, textbook, and extra pencils to look up.
We really had to stop making her life harder.
“Welcome, students. I see nearly half of you have decided to come to class today. So gold stars to each of you.” A bemused Professor Clark took his place at the front of the classroom. He smiled at us from behind too-big eyeglasses that made his kindly face look a bit like an owl’s. Professor Clark was one of those teachers who truly cared about his students. He often incorporated stories from his own life into his lectures, and as he sipped at the water glass he always kept at his podium, I wondered what personal examples he might bring to today’s lesson on . . . I glanced at the smartboard in the front of the classroom.
Local Legends: Real Life Ghost Stories from the So Cal Region.
“Professor.” A girl in the front row raised her hand. “Nobody from Southern California calls it So Cal.”
“Well, I’m from Minnesota.” Professor Clark smiled. “So I’ve proven your point, Miss Carlson.”
The girl and her seatmates laughed.
“Now, if you’re done critiquing my lecture titles . . .” Professor Clark adjusted his glasses. “Let’s jump in, shall we? My husband and I spent last weekend at a charming hotel in San Diego. A quaint little place—perhaps you’ve heard of it. The Hotel Del Coronado?”
He clicked his remote, and the title behind him slid off the screen. It was replaced by a picture of a grand castle—one with white walls and red roofs, and taking up what looked to be at least four full dragon barns’ worth of land.
“Did the meaning of ‘quaint’ change in the last thousand years?” I whispered to Janna.
She glanced to her right where Morgan frantically took notes.
“I think that was sarcasm,” Janna whispered back.
Ah.
“Now, there are many stories of ghost sightings throughout this region. The Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel is believed to be haunted by a trumpet-playing actor who roams the halls of the ninth floor. And, of course, its most famous resident is rumored to make appearances in the mirror of her old suite.”
“Marilyn Monroe,” offered a boy in the back.
“One and the same.” Professor Clark smiled. “She’s also said to have been spotted at the Hotel Del. As you know, my husband Kevin is quite the fan. He was hoping we might run into her, so to speak, during our stay. Alas, our visit was specter-free. Though we did get an earful from the staff about the infamous ghost that haunts room three thousand three hundred and twenty-seven. And this made me wonder . . . from the Queen Mary to the Roosevelt to the Hotel Del, it seems Southern California is ripe with ghost stories. So how did it come to be that way? Where did all of this magic originate?”
Professor Clark clicked again. A black-and-white image of a field replaced the opulent hotel.
“Once upon a time, in a land not too far from where Kevin and I spent the weekend, a vast field overlooked an undeveloped area. In what came to be known as Balboa Park, a variety of shrubs, roots, and herbs grew uninhibited. One such shrub grew wilder than the others. Locals called it balboa and believed its bark to have mystical properties. Under the full moon, it was believed to shed its skin and join with the community of elementals—the fairies, air spirits, and water gnomes that made up the tapestry of the otherworld. The bark it left behind was said to contain the magic of all the creatures it met along its journey . . . and it was prized for its ability to cure sickness, produce riches, and even reverse aging.”
My lips formed a small O. Balboa bark. What were the odds?
Morgan raised her hand. “Like an herbal fountain of youth?”
“There’s that word again,” Janna whispered. “Herbal.”
“Just get on board with coffee,” I whispered back.
Brigga leaned over Axel to grasp my hand. “Oh my gods! Balboa bark. Like in Sverrir’s spell.”
I nodded silently.
“Yes, Morgan. It was said to be like a fountain of youth.” Professor Clark nodded at Morgan while I locked eyes with Brigga. Axel stroked his beard, no doubt wondering the same thing as me. Could our teacher lead us to the location of one of the dark mage’s last remaining ingredients?
Axel raised his hand.
“Yes, Mister . . .” Professor Clark tilted his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t recall your name. You’ve not come to my office before.”
“I’m Axel Andersson,” Axel said easily. “Professor, where did you say this bark was located?”
“In Balboa Park, ironically.” The teacher chuckled. “Though I assure you, Mr. Andersson, the balboa bark does not have the magical properties legends prescribe to it. This is, after all, a folklore class.”
“Why do you say ironically?” Brigga asked.
“Because the park wasn’t named for the mystical plant. It was actually named long after the legend of the bark originated. It was named for a European explorer—Vasco Nuñez de Balboa, who first sighted the Pacific Ocean during his expedition in Panama. Write that down—it will be on your exam.”
Morgan scribbled furiously.
“It’s pure coincidence that the legendary tree/shrub/root—the stories aren’t entirely clear, and nobody’s ever actually found the balboa, seeing as it is mere legend—bears the same name. Though, of course, it’s entirely possible that the explorer was chosen as the park’s namesake because of the similarities in nomenclature.”
“That means how names are chosen,” Brigga said slowly to Axel.
“I know what it means.” He rolled his eyes.
“Did you?” I whispered.
“Maybe,” he whispered back.
Snort.
“I guess we know where we’re heading next,” Brigga whispered.
“Unless Sverrir’s already cleared the place out.” I glanced at Janna. “Remember the illy flower?”
<
br /> “Do I ever.” She groaned.
“Shh,” Morgan hissed. “The professor is talking!”
“Right. Sorry.” Janna shot us a look, and we all fell silent. Sure enough, Professor Clark had moved on—this time, the image on the screen was one of a massive, metal boat. The words Queen Mary were inscribed on its side.
I turned the page of my notebook and jotted a few words. Then I slipped the book into Axel’s hand. A minute later, he passed it back.
Good idea, he’d written. Let’s run it by him.
I nodded. Then I closed the notebook and laced my fingers through Axel’s. His thumb ran slow circles over the back of my hand, and I tried to focus on the tingles he sent up my arm instead of the nerves pinging around in my gut. But I couldn’t shake the worry that had built inside of me. We were always one step behind the dark mage. And if Sverrir had already found the allegedly nonexistent balboa bark . . . our crystals and Freia’s dagger might just be the only things preventing him from destroying our world.
Skit.
Chapter 4
THE NEXT DAY, AXEL, Janna, and I sat around a small conference table at Torstein’s Spiritual Center for Meditation. We’d gathered in a bungalow in the north compound—one next door to Torstein’s residence, and a few buildings over from one that concealed his underground vault. Raynor and Brigga had stayed behind—they’d be hitting the library to research the possibly mythical balboa while the rest of us worked out our plan of attack. We needed to determine whether Torstein could get a read on the local legendary plant . . . and whether we could take it out of play entirely.
“I talked to Professor Clark after class.” Janna rested her forearms on the pale, oak tabletop of the makeshift conference room. An untouched mug of tea steamed beside her. “The stories say that the balboa is one plant—not an entire grove. So if it’s moveable, we may be able to dig it up and bring it to a safe location. If it’s small enough, we could hide it in the vault.”
“Except that if it does exist, which is still in question, it’s likely to be a protected plant.” Torstein frowned. “Environmental regulations are fairly strict in this region. If there really is only one of this thing, whether they’ve identified it as balboa or otherwise, they’re going to have all kinds of laws against removing it—or even touching it, most likely.”
“Since when have we let the law stop us?” Axel stretched his arms overhead.
“Since we needed to not get arrested, locked up, and taken out of commission. We can’t give Sverrir a clear path to those final ingredients.” Janna shook her head.
“We’re the only people currently alive who know what he’s up to.” I sighed. “Which makes us the only ones with the power to stop him. We have to make sure we do it right.”
Axel ran his palms over his man-bun. “So how exactly do we do that?”
Torstein stared out the window. “I’m not entirely sure,” he admitted.
“Can you get a read on the plant?” I asked. “Pick up on its vibration or something, like you did with the crystals? It’s rumored to be in Balboa Park, but if nobody’s ever found it, well . . . we have no reason to believe it’s actually there.”
“I can try,” Torstein said. “Usually I’d need a sample—something I could feel a pulse from. But if it is real, and if it’s truly enchanted, it will have a different resonance from the other organic matter in the region. I can follow the aberration and possibly locate the plant.”
“Great.” Janna nodded.
“What’s odd is that I’d never heard of it before I met all of you.” Torstein tapped his fingertips against his mug. “So far as I know, it wasn’t in existence during the mage war, which means this Control spell must have come into existence sometime after our crystals were charged.”
“Either that, or it was such a huge secret, nobody in Norway had ever heard of it.” I glanced at Axel. “Were there mages in this part of the world back then? Or now?”
“I’m not sure.” Torstein raised his mug to his lips. He took a slow drink. “We coordinated our efforts during the war, but we limited our conversations to the task at hand. Our safety had always depended on operating mostly in secret.”
“Why?” Janna asked.
“Back then, the world was ruled by kings and queens—most of whom were willing to kill to have a mage in their court. And very few of those monarchs wanted to use our abilities for the greater good. Once we eliminated the threat of a super-charged crystal falling into dark hands, the danger of remaining together was too great.”
“So you split up,” Axel deduced.
“Correct.” Torstein set his mug on the table. “And in all these years, I’ve never encountered a balboa.”
“Well, hopefully we’ll encounter one soon,” I said.
“Encounter . . . and procure.” Axel drummed his fingers on the table. “If Torstein does manage to track it, we have to bring it in. Secure it in the vault, so Sverrir can’t get his hands on—”
“Shh.” Torstein held up one finger. “Do you feel that?”
“Feel what?” Axel glanced at me. I shrugged.
“That . . . push.” Torstein stood. He walked around the table to stare out the window.
“I don’t feel anything,” Janna said uneasily.
“Me neither.” Axel’s eyes shifted to the table by the door. Since Torstein’s compound was protected, we’d checked our weapons when we came in.
An uneasy wave rippled through me. It swirled around my gut before seeping up to my chest. Oh, no. “What is it?”
“I’m . . . not sure.” Torstein opened the window and leaned outside. A crisp, sea breeze swept into the room. The salty tang reminded me of home, the smell of the Pacific nearly identical to that of the North Sea. But this was no time for reminiscing. Torstein’s shoulders pulled back, and the vein across his jaw bulged. He was on high alert.
“Torstein?” I said quietly. “What’s going on?”
“There’s something here . . .” Long, blond hair fell over one shoulder as he turned his head to peer around the bungalow. “I can’t see it but . . . oh, gods.”
“What?” Axel’s chair clattered to the floor. He jumped to his feet and raced toward the weapons table.
“An intruder.” Torstein’s hands sparked. A shimmering, blue orb fired up between them.
Axel swore. He tossed me my sword before picking up his own. I snatched the blade from the air, then ran to retrieve my shield.
“Location?” Janna barked.
“Mountain side of the bungalow compound.” Torstein closed his eyes. “It’s a malignant presence of unknown origin.”
“What does it want?” I opened the front door. Janna and Axel thundered outside.
“I have no idea.” Torstein met my gaze with a wide-eyed stare. “But we’re about to find out.”
“Ingrid,” Axel yelled from. “You’d better get out here.”
I nodded at Torstein before running through the doorway. His footsteps pounded behind me as I made my way along the cobblestone path winding between one-story buildings. I didn’t stop until I’d found Axel and Janna. They’d both dropped to a fighting stance. Their weapons were pointed at a thick, black stream.
Torstein growled quietly.
“What the Helheim is that thing?” Axel called over his shoulder.
I raised my shield and fell in beside him. “Nothing good, that’s for sure.”
“I thought this place was protected.” Janna lifted her shield.
“It is,” Torstein said. “This is unprecedented.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Why is everything with us ‘unprecedented?’”
“Because we’re tough, Shieldmaiden.” Axel didn’t look away from the stream. “Wouldn’t want life to get boring, now would we?”
Gods, no. That would be awful.
“Look out!” Janna shouted.
The stream darted forward. It struck like a snake, its black smoke soaring across the path in a swift jab. Axel leapt in front of it. His grunt w
as punctuated by the woosh of his slashing sword. The darkness promptly dissipated. It evaporated into the ether as if it had never even existed.
I don’t trust it.
Axel didn’t retreat. “Did I get it?”
Torstein moved alongside Axel. He transferred his blue orb to one hand. With the other, he reached out to touch the spot where the smoke had been. Black light sparked from his fingertips. He quickly withdrew his hand. “It’s still there.”
Skit. “So what do we do?”
“I think we—augh!” Axel’s torso lurched to one side as if he’d been pushed. Whatever this thing was, it was strong.
And we couldn’t even see it coming.
Axel stumbled a second time, then quickly regained his footing before driving his sword into the invisible intruder. Black sparks shot through the air. The smoke-snake swiftly reformed. It wrapped itself around Axel, picked him up, and flung him onto the grass. While the assassin scrambled to his feet, Janna and I moved forward. We kept our shields at the ready while we jabbed our swords at our attacker. What appeared as little more than ashy air packed a surprisingly strong punch. Each jab was returned with a fierce wrench, pulling me off-balance and nearly forcing my arm out of its socket. I struck again, this time eliciting a shower of sparks. They sprayed off the metal of my blade in a blazing hot waterfall. Was this smoke somehow filing our swords? Could it actually destroy our weapons?
“Fall back!” Janna ordered. “Torstein, this isn’t working.”
“I see that.” The mage lowered his head. He brought his hands together, charging his orb before throwing it into the stream. The darkness recoiled, pulling back like a wounded snake. But seconds later it was on the move. It pushed Torstein and threw him to the ground next to Axel.
“Janna!” I shouted.
“On it.” My captain was already running. The two of us raced after the smoke, following its serpentine movements along the cobblestones and toward the cliff. As it rounded the corner, I launched myself into the air. With my shield in front of my chest, I drew my arm back and angled my sword down. I’d set myself up to land on top of our assailant—and hopefully, to drive my Valkyrian blade through whatever vital organs it possessed. It might have been able to protect itself on the outside, but hopefully here, in its center, it would—