by S. T. Bende
“Everything looks good, Magnus.” Torstein nodded at a figure who looked to be more bear than man. He had a thick, bushy beard, a high, loose man-bun, and arms that were roughly the size of tree trunks.
“Will there be anything else, sir?” Magnus’ voice was far less terrifying than I’d expected. It was almost lyrical. And . . . soothing?
“That will be all.” Torstein nodded. “You can retire for the night.”
Magnus folded his hands together and bowed his head. Torstein copied the pose before crossing to the table at the far end of the conference room. A goblet of ice cubes stood beside pitchers full of colorful liquids. Beside them, a silver service set held what I assumed were coffee and tea—both emitted faint swirls of steam. White display stands hosted pastries and sandwiches, while matching bowls held dried fruits and an array of nuts. Had Magnus prepared all of this in the time it had taken Torstein to pick us up?
Guru life must be good.
“Help yourself to food. Drinks. Caffeine. Wheatgrass. Gods know I need some.” Torstein poured himself a tiny glass of green, swamp-like liquid. No doubt it was blended to optimize maximal health. Blech.
“What exactly happened here?” Raynor poured himself a cup of tea before taking a seat at the conference table.
I snagged a mug of coffee, then slid into place beside him. As I sat, I tucked one leg beneath the other. I was grateful we’d taken the extra minute to change out of our formal clothes. My workout pants were stretchy, and would allow me to kick some serious butt if whatever had gotten Torstein so riled up deigned to return.
“I think it’s better if I show you.” Torstein threw back another shot of the green sludge. Then he picked up a thin, black box, pointed it at the screen against the wall, and dropped into a chair with a heavy sigh. “Watch.”
The screen flickered to life. It showed the surrounding bungalows illuminated by silvery moonlight.
“Is this happening now?” Axel glanced outside.
“It’s not a live feed, no.” Torstein’s eyes slid to the clock on the wall. “This was recorded a little over an hour ago.”
I looked across the table to Torstein. “Can you explain this to us? We’ve never seen a . . . feed.”
“I forget. You’re not familiar with this technology.” Torstein paused. “I have cameras set up all around the compound. It’s for my security, of course. And to ensure the safety of the crystals in my care. Magnus reviews the footage at the end of each night and reports back to me with any anomalies.”
My eyes widened. “Is he a mage too?”
“No,” Torstein said. “Nor is he aware of my . . . proclivities. What he is is discreet. He worked as a bodyguard for several A-list celebrities before deciding he’d prefer a quieter, more spiritual path.”
Janna stared at the screen. “Go on.”
Torstein pushed a button on the black box. The images on the screen altered to show different angles of the bungalows.
“As you can see, we’re looking at a completely ordinary evening in Malibu. Everything is calm, silent, and absolutely normal. Until . . .” He pushed the button again. This time, the images sped up. He waited for several seconds, before freezing the screen. “There it is.”
My breath caught in my chest. Oh, gods.
“There what is?” Brigga asked.
“The smoke.” Axel’s jaw tensed. “It came back?”
“It came back.” Torstein grimaced.
“I don’t see anything.” Raynor squinted.
Torstein stood and walked to the screen. “Do you see this faint, grey substance?” He pointed. “It’s hovering about two feet above the ground.”
“Now I do,” Raynor said. “It looks like mist.”
“It does,” Torstein agreed. “Which may be why Magnus didn’t alert me. At this stage, it appears to be fog creeping in from the ocean. Additional footage reveals that it came from the cliffs, which, to a casual observer, would make it even more fog-like. But to anyone who knows what went down last weekend . . .”
“It’s the stream,” I whispered. “It just changed forms.”
“It adapted,” Torstein confirmed. “The intruder knew we’d be looking for what we saw before—smoke. So this time, he sent in a stream of fog—one so thin, he thought we wouldn’t notice. And unfortunately . . .”
“You didn’t.” Janna’s knuckles were white. “So, what did it do?”
Torstein pressed a button. The screen resumed its slow scroll.
“The stream crept its way over the cliffs, along the grass, and up the pathway until it reached the door to this bungalow.” Torstein’s lips set in a thin line.
“That’s the vault,” Axel said.
“It is. And you’ll see what happens next.”
My attention tunneled onto the image.
The stream snaked around the doorway, circling the frame three times before drawing back, as if in wait. It was so faint, it looked like nothing more than a light mist rising off the morning sea. But it suddenly coiled into a tight ball and struck the door like an attacking cobra, making it clear that this was no ordinary fog.
What the Helheim is this thing?
When the door refused to budge, the stream struck again. And again. And again. After a series of futile jabs, it pulled back. It stretched itself into a thin tube and slunk slowly toward the keyhole. It wormed its way inside, the movement jiggling the door handle as the fog gradually disappeared.
“I thought entry to that building required a retinal scan,” I said. “Why is there a keyhole?”
“It’s non-operational.” Torstein sounded bewildered. “I decommissioned the mechanism. But obviously something as small as a mist . . .”
“What happened once it got inside?” Janna asked. “Do we have images of that, too?”
Torstein tapped the box, and the screen switched views. It showed the interior of the vault bungalow.
“The stream spends about a minute pushing its way through the keyhole. As I said, I altered the mechanism, so there can’t have been much room.” Torstein threw back another shot of green sludge. “Once it clears the door, it spends another minute forming itself into something palpable. Something capable of causing unimaginable damage.”
“Oh, gods.” I could barely hear Janna’s voice over the pounding of my heart. If Torstein was saying what I thought he was . . .
Brigga gasped as the mist took on the outline of a human. A rounded gut and stringy hair formed from the wispy, grey smoke. The image grew denser until a jowly, cloak-clad man stood directly in front of the obelisk.
“Sverrir,” Janna cursed.
For half a minute, the room was swathed in silence. Then every Valkyrian at the table erupted at once.
“What the actual—” Raynor pounded his fist on the table.
“He’s inside the vault?” Brigga squeaked.
“How the Helheim did this happen?” Axel demanded.
“It shouldn’t have,” Torstein said. “I coded the compound to keep Sverrir out. I can only surmise that when he formed himself into that mist, he somehow eliminated his identifying properties. But once he’s inside the entry . . . well, you’ll see.”
Dread coursed through me as my attention settled on the screen. Now fully formed, Sverrir raised his hand to the obelisk—to the rune of Tyr that I’d used to open it on the night of the last attack.
“He was watching us.” My veins hardened to ice.
“He watched. And he learned,” Torstein confirmed. “But at least this piece of protection couldn’t be hacked. His energy didn’t align with the key, which meant he couldn’t open the entry.”
“Then how did he get the crystals.” Raynor looked from Torstein to the screen.
The guru’s brows formed a deep V. “Despite being made of impenetrable stone, and despite being coded to grant entry only to those whose vibrations mirror my own . . .”
My stomach clenched as the man on the screen raised his fists and slammed them into the obelisk. A fierce crack rang
from the screen as the column shattered. Its pieces crumbled onto the floor. Sverrir’s boots crunched on the rubble as he took a step closer. He reached down, wrapped both hands around what was left of the structure, and wrenched it to the side. It was ripped from the ground, exposing the spiral stairway beneath.
Beside me, Axel swore loudly.
“I’m sure you know what happens next.” Torstein increased the speed of the images. I held my breath as Sverrir quickly made his way down the staircase, entered the long, stone hallway, and blasted the door that guarded the crystals. The wooden surface splintered into shards. Sverrir quickly surrounded himself with a bubble so that the shards bounced off of him. They slammed into the stones of the wall before sliding to the ground. He marched undeterred into the vault, claimed the crystals for himself, and raised his hand. A swirling, black hole appeared in front of him. He stepped into it, carrying our entire stock of crystals . . . and any hope we’d had of saving our home.
Brigga leaned back her chair. “It’s over.”
“No, it’s not. He still needs balboa bark. And Freia’s dagger.” I reached over my shoulder, my fingertips brushing against the blade strapped securely to my spine. “He’ll have to kill me to get to it.”
“Nobody’s killing you,” Axel vowed. “Or any of us. We just have to find Sverrir. And take our crystals back.”
“How are we going to do that?” Raynor leaned on his elbows. “I’m assuming if he was traceable, Torstein would have done that already.”
“You assume correctly.” Torstein picked up another glass of the green goo—his fourth since we’d arrived. He swilled the contents around and crossed to the window, staring outside as he spoke. “I’ve been searching this region ever since the night he took the moonstone. Once I got that first read on him, I should have been able to trace him. But he’s cloaked himself so well, it’s almost as if he doesn’t exist.”
“Which leaves us with . . .” I looked at Axel.
“Not a lot of options,” he admitted. “The alignment’s in a week—that’s when I think he’ll try to enact his spell. He has almost everything he needs—give or take a few quanta crystals, but who knows if he needs a full set? Either way, he is way ahead of us in his world-destroying game.”
“Great pep talk, Axel,” Brigga said drily.
“I wasn’t finished.” Axel held up one hand. “As I said, our opponent is at an advantage. But we’ve come from behind before. On plenty of occasions. My team’s been out-arrowed and outnumbered in countless battles. Our dragons have been shot down, mortally wounded, and in one case, turned against us through no fault of our own.”
I bit my tongue. This was no time to rehash his botched rescue attempt. But the memory of that horrible day—and the nightmare that followed—sparked a fresh wave of worries. Things went wrong for us. A lot. Dealing with magical beings and not-so-mythical creatures only increased the danger we faced almost constantly. I’d nearly lost Axel that day. And here we were again, fighting against an adversary whose abilities so vastly outpaced our own, that the likelihood of failure . . . of death . . .
A shudder wracked my spine. I couldn’t go there. The thought of losing Axel was more than I was capable of processing. If anything were to happen to him, how could I ever forgive myself? How could I possibly go on?
“But in every one of those cases—every single one—we persevered.” Axel spoke so earnestly, my heart swelled with admiration. “We triumphed over some extremely adverse situations because we had no other choice. And we’re in that exact boat now. We’re a few arrows short of a quiver—a lot of arrows, if I’m being honest. But giving up is not an option. Valkyris is unique in our era—we’re the only clan in all of the north who believes in equality. In fairness. In doing the greatest good for the greatest number, and drawing out the skills of every worthy citizen, regardless of how they look or what they believe. We’re unusual in our thinking, but we shouldn’t be. If we continue to spread our message, to offer hope, then our way of life will one day become mainstream. But if we don’t give this mission everything we have, there is a very real likelihood our world will be wiped from existence. Valkyris will be gone.” Axel snapped his fingers. “And our way of life along with it. We may not know how we’re going to come out of this, but we sure as Helheim have to try. So we’re going to take five minutes to collect ourselves, have whatever pity party we need so we get it out of our systems, and then we reconvene and figure this skit out. Everybody clear?”
My chest burned as worry gave rise to determination. “Crystal.”
“Good. Now, get your butts outside and take a walk, or eat a sandwich, or chug more of that gross green stuff.” Axel nodded at Torstein. “Do whatever it takes to get your life in order, and meet back here in five minutes. That’s when the real work begins.”
Janna banged her fist on the table. “Here, here.”
“Ingrid.” Axel pushed his chair back. “Come with me. Outside.”
I snatched my sweater from the back of my chair and followed Axel. The brisk night air hit my bare shoulders and I threw my arms through the sweater’s sleeves, tying the ribbon tight around my hips. It was cold—not Norway cold, but Los Angeles-in-winter cold. And the ice still thawing in my veins did little to warm me up.
Though the heat in Axel’s stare wasn’t going to hurt.
“Walk with me, Shieldmaiden.” The assassin held out his hand.
I laced my fingers through his and let him lead us along the stone path. As we walked, knots tightened inside my stomach. Our chieftess had tasked us with preventing the fall of our clan, our culture, our world. And despite our best efforts, we were completely and totally failing her. And if we failed each other—if anything were to happen to Axel . . .
Don’t. Go. There.
When we reached the end of the path, Axel squeezed my hand. “Coin for your thoughts.” I blinked. Only a fifty-foot patch of grass stood between us and the edge of the cliff.
“You gave a solid pep talk back there,” I said halfheartedly.
“But . . .”
“But . . .” I dug into the grass with the toe of my boot. “Things don’t look good.”
“No. They don’t.” Axel agreed. He tugged my body toward his, and slipped his arms around my waist. “We lost today’s battle. But we haven’t lost the war. Not yet.”
I nestled my cheek against his chest, taking refuge from the wind. “Maybe. But we are seriously behind.”
“We are,” Axel said. “And truth is, I have no idea how we’re getting out of this one. It’ll take a miracle for us to pull this off. But we have to play the long game.”
“Ja. Well, let’s hope the game lasts long enough for us to win.”
“We’ll win.” Axel rested his chin on the top of my head. “We always do.”
We stood in silence for a full minute. The whistle of the wind and the roar of the waves kept time with my thundering heart. I closed my eyes and breathed in Axel’s comforting scent. We were a long way from home, facing insurmountable odds, and a seemingly undefeatable foe. But we had each other, and we had hope.
It would have to be enough.
Axel’s thumbs drew lazy circles on the small of my back. “This weather reminds me of the day my dad taught me to sail.”
I stilled. Axel rarely spoke of his parents. And he hadn’t talked about them at all since we’d discovered they were still alive—albeit marooned on an island somewhere off the coast of Norway.
“Oh?” I said lightly, nestling closer to his chest.
“I was about seven years old, and Dad got me up early—when the sea was at its calmest. The sun hadn’t yet come up, and this icy wind was whipping through Valkyris as we walked toward the docks. But, just like Dad promised, the eastern cove was protected. By the time we hit the water, the wind was gone.” Axel chuckled, the deep sound resonating against my cheek. “I was so scared—I’d heard horror stories about boats capsizing, and in my mind, one wrong move could kill us both. But my father reminded me
that we were in the calmest part of the water, and that we were both excellent swimmers. He had so much patience. I nearly tipped the boat half a dozen times before I managed to sail us up the length of the island.” Axel’s lips turned up. “He was a good teacher. And a wonderful father. I absolutely adored him.”
I tilted my chin up to study him. Axel stared out at the ocean; his eyes locked on something far away. Axel’s parents had been gone for most of his life. After their alleged death, Valkyris’ chieftains had brought him into their family. And while he’d had a good life with the Halvarssons, it couldn’t have been easy to suffer such an enormous loss at such a young age. But it wasn’t Axel’s style to dwell on what could have been. As he looked to the sea, his face hardened with resolve. No doubt he was working out a plan to capture Sverrir, to save Valkyris . . . to find a way home so he could track down his parents.
Gods, Axel was fierce. He’d faced so much in his lifetime—he’d fought to survive, he’d fought for Valkyris, he’d fought for me. But even when the odds had seemed impossible, he’d never lost sight of who he was, or of what truly mattered. He was the absolute epitome of strength.
It was time for me to be, too.
As terrified as I was to lose Axel—and half of my heart along with him—there was no way I could ever walk away. Being with him in the here and now was worth any amount of pain I might ultimately suffer. His strength, valor, and kindness were more than enough to get me through whatever horrors stood between us and our happily ever after. And if that future never came to pass, well . . .
At least I’d have lived my life with no regrets.
“I can’t wait to meet your father,” I said quietly.
Axel’s gaze shifted to me. “Hmm?”
“I can’t wait to meet him. When all of this is behind us. And your mom, too.”