Freya's Inferno (Winging It Book 1)

by Sonja Bair

  We glared at each other for a moment and then he broke into a grin. “Your mom wants me to stay at your house until this is over. Keep an eye on you and all. Will you sneak out the bathroom window to get away from me like you did that one time?”

  The tension passed. Alrik was overprotective, and I was the troublemaker. We had played those roles forever. “You were being so unreasonable. And I didn’t crash the car, did I? And how come you were always considered the responsible one? You never told your mom about going to that punk rock concert in Stockholm, did you? And you were, what, fifteen at the time?”

  “The Snorting Maradonas were way worth it.” His smile grew even bigger. “What do you have to do at school yet? Let’s blow this popsicle joint, get a drink somewhere, and brainstorm what’s going on. I’ll even let you write a list in your notebook if you want.”

  ***

  Before we could completely blow the popsicle joint, Officers McCleary and Wagner stopped by my room. I had been expecting them all day, so I wasn’t surprised. I explained that Alrik was an old friend who was visiting from Los Angeles, and they allowed him to stay for the meeting. I took that allowance as a good sign.

  The officers explained that the fire at the Blue Sky church had been started in the evening. Based on their investigation, all sorts of accelerants had been used. It also appeared that there were large amounts of highly combustible material packed throughout the sanctuary. One small, self-contained room had been stuffed with foam and gasoline, which led to a backdraft. Fortunately, the backdraft happened before the firefighters arrived and no one was hurt. Unfortunately, the church building was a total loss.

  One firefighter spotted an Asian woman, about thirty years old, leaving the scene with cans, which may have held gasoline or some other fuel. The description of the woman fit Jia. At this point, they were pursuing her as the perpetrator of the crime. No one had seen her or had any clues about her whereabouts at the current moment, but they had put out a warrant for her arrest and had officers looking. There were no other suspects in the case at the moment, but they were trying to find some teenagers who were using a telescope in an adjacent field who saw the woman as well.

  Today, they had come to ask me my whereabouts last night and if I had any insights. They were doing this only because they were doing a thorough job of investigation. So what they were saying was that I wasn’t a suspect at all and after confirming I was somewhere else, they weren’t going pursue my involvement.

  I was shocked at the forthcoming manner of the officers. It was reassuring to know that they hadn’t connected me or David to the scene, but I thought it was a little unprofessional for them to tell me all those details about the case. About that time, I put two and two together and looked at Alrik. He was pushed back from the table we were sitting around, removing himself from the circle we formed. His arms were crossed and he had propped his chair back on two legs. His body language looked like he was only mildly interested in what was going on. His eyes, however, told a different story. Under half-closed lids, his eyes were locked in on the police officers, tracking their every move. I snapped my attention back to the officers so as not to draw attention to him. Of course, they would never dream of the power Alrik was using on them right now.

  “I was with David Waterstone last night,” I said. “He had two friends visiting, as well. They were interested in my sister’s land and new house she and Drew recently built. We took a quick trip out to the ranch. I can give you contact information for all of them if you want.” I detest lying for many reasons, but one reason was how quickly lies can twist back on themselves and need more and more complicated permutations. For that reason, I kept my lie about where I was short and to the point. Less need to explain and correct in the future, I hoped.

  Officer McCleary took the contact information. While she was writing, I remembered the poster I had seen at the beer garden. “Do you happen to be part of the band, McCleary and the Clearlies?” I asked.

  She continued writing in her notepad but smiled. “No, that would be my brother, Bill. He is lead singer and guitar player. Why?”

  “I saw a poster around town. Back in Chicago, I was part of a few alt-grass bands. I’m always curious about the local music scene.”

  “You should see them sometime; they’re pretty good. Not that I’m biased at all.” She looked up and grinned at me. “What do you play?”

  “Cello.”

  “Very nice. My brother got all the musical talent in the family, but I’ve always thought that the cello was a gorgeous instrument.”

  By that point, she and Officer Wagner had stood up and were preparing to leave. Officer Wagner held out his hand and thanked me for my time. They, once again, promised to keep me informed if anything involving Jia’s weird connection to me came up.

  Almost as soon as the officers left my classroom, my principal walked in. I could tell he had been lurking near the door, possibly even eavesdropping, since he was nearly bursting with questions. For a moment, I allowed myself to wallow in self-pity.

  When I moved to San Luis Obispo, I thought that I was moving away from the supernatural drama. Since my mother was high ranking in the supernatural world, odd problems would often show up on our doorstep in Chicago. She had this wonderful manner of balancing the natural world with the sometimes downright bizarre nature of us others. She could walk the tightrope of managing both worlds with grace. I, on the other hand, felt muddled and clumsy when trying to deal with the tribulations of the balance. But then, usually when I was feeling the most inadequate, my easygoing and good-natured father would start regaling me with stories of the early years of her ambassadorship. Ambassador Alma wasn’t always so smooth.

  I tried to reassure the principal that I had very limited connection with the church fire and that his newest hire wasn’t trouble. As soon as possible, I moved the conversation away from the fire and focused on my classes. And truly, teaching and my interactions with the students had been the best part of the last few days.

  After the principal left, seeming satisfied with my innocence, Amy walked in. Great. I should do a public announcement about why I had cops come to my classroom the second day of school and save myself from repeating the story endlessly. On the other hand, I was getting the feeling that Amy was the social hub of teachers around here, so maybe if I told her all about it, she could be my public announcement. So I put some effort into my story, focusing away from me and onto this emotionally scarred and mentally unbalanced woman Jia, who I happened to have a mere passing relationship with. I even finished the conversation by telling her to spread my story around, so people wouldn’t get the wrong idea. She laughed and replied that cops showing up in my classroom would probably increase my standing among the kids. I could only hope.

  After Amy left, I made Alrik wait ten minutes to see if anyone else would show up. I had my story and act down to an art by now. If anyone else wanted to see it, they would have to come now, but Amy appeared to be the last one. With a flourish, I stood up, walked over to my desk, and snapped down my laptop cover. The bell may signal the dismal of students, but the satisfying whoosh then click of the laptop lid was my indicator to the world that I was done being a teacher for the day.

  ***

  Even though Alrik had offered to buy me a drink somewhere, we ended up going back to my house. I hadn’t been home in over twenty-four hours and I wanted the familiarity of my own surroundings. I changed out of my school clothes and took a peek through the tape at the burn. The new pink skin was progressing toward the center of the burn and the crimson spots seemed to be less angry. Thank you, Alva genes.

  Alrik and I sat on the back porch and, true to his prediction, I pulled out my trusty notebook o’ lists. Things never seemed so overwhelming or confusing when put on paper. This list, I titled Jia’s Demented Doings and recorded the following:

  1. Attacking Drew

  2. Sex with nasty itinerant

  3. Drug binge

  4. Stealing money />
  5. Stealing car

  6. Attacking me

  7. Letter at church ground

  8. Burning church

  “I’d say she’s escalating,” I said as I looked down at my notebook.

  “Agreed,” said Alrik.

  “So what is causing her to escalate?”

  “Perhaps she is angry and unbalanced, trying to get attention from negative actions. If that is the case, then...”

  I interrupted. “That would explain a five-year-old trying to get Mom’s attention. I don’t know if that would explain burning down a church.”

  “Perhaps Jia is acting like a five-year-old. We don’t know how she is thinking right now.”

  “But what kind of attention would she want? I offered to help her. She even said she wanted a guide, but then she took off by herself again. And I would think that if she was looking for attention or help, she would have partnered up with someone—Drew, the bum, the meth head, me, anyone—instead of hurting everyone and running away.”

  We sat in silence, both trying to puzzle out the situation. I knew from our bizarre conversation at the ranch that she was alone in her head, which she hadn’t been since she was twelve years old. So was she trying to fill the void? I could understand using sex and perhaps the drugs to feel connections to people. But the Bible and burning the church? Why would she do those things?

  Alrik started talking again. “I think that we should leave the reasoning to her people. We don’t have that much information about the philosophy and actions of their tribe. So I would like to focus on finding her and handing her over to the other Yin and Yang who are coming.”

  Even though Jia was wanted by the police, it was standard practice that when a supernatural gets in trouble, he or she gets handed back to her tribe. We supernaturals like to police our own. And surprisingly, this informal strategy has almost always worked in the past. Justice from your own supernatural people who, for the most part, want to fit in with the world around them is generally harsher than the police force.

  Alrik continued. “What resources does she have? She has a car and some money. Where is she staying?”

  “Are you really going to stick around until she is found?” It was a bit of a non sequitur, but it had been bothering me since he showed up at my school.

  Alrik cocked an eyebrow up and flipped the question back around to me. “Are you trying to get rid of me already?”

  “You are a pain in my rear. And in the past, I’ve always been able to solve my own problems.”

  Strangely, Alrik laughed at me. “Do you know that you are one of the only Alva who would ever say that to me? Most Alvas would be too scared of me, and the rest are too concerned about staying on my good side to insult me.”

  I was puzzled. “Really? Why would most Alvas be scared of you?”

  “You do know what my Flock responsibilities are, right? And you do know what I can do with my particular talents, yes?”

  “Yes, but you arbitrate, not randomly terrorize people.”

  “I have the Flock blessing behind terrorizing when necessary.”

  “Okay, you might be able to terrorize when necessary.” I had heard the stories. “But I have found that I can terrorize you just as much, only not with the same method of operation.” I was insulted that he would think I was intimidated by him. I grew up with Alrik; I knew all his foibles and quirks. He was Alrik, not some scary monster. “And what are you trying to do, anyway? Frighten me?”

  “No, Freya. I’m trying to understand you.”

  “I’m easy to understand. You are the one with the mixed signals. You kiss me out at the ranch and then I don’t hear from you for days. You show up when I get hurt but then are only interested in the case of the missing Jia.”

  Alrik paused before speaking. “Let me tell you a little about my life, Freya, and maybe you can understand me then. Most Alva respect me for my work, and I am good enough to have more than earned that respect. But I am the youngest Arbitrator in Flock history and outrank any of my childhood friends by long stretch. I have my own successful international business which takes me across the globe. Don’t get me wrong, my life is good, but there are few people that care to be part of my inner circle. And there are very few who I let into my inner circle.”

  “I don’t believe you. My mother and father are always eager to see you and you to see them. My Aunt Birgit thinks the world of you.”

  “That’s your family, Freya. Your family is the exception to the rule. You are an exception, too. Not many people in Europe dare be rude to me.”

  “Is that why you hang around me? Because I can be rude to you a lot more if that’s what floats your boat.”

  Again, Alrik laughed. “No, I hang around you because you make me laugh. You also make me want to throttle you with your stubbornness sometimes.” He held up a hand to thwart my protests. “Yes, yes, before you interrupt, you can take care of yourself. I admire that about you. My role as Arbitrator dictates that I intervene in this interspecies conflict, but as a friend, I want to help you, Freya.”

  There was silence for a second and then I punched him in the arm. Not hard, but not lightly either.

  “Ow! What was that for?”

  “For not fitting into a nice, neat box.”

  Alrik moved his chair closer to mine and leaned in until I could feel the heat from his body. He put his arm around my chair and pressed lightly against me. He whispered into my ear, “I can kiss you again if that helps you figure out what box to put me in.”

  There was a moment when I thought about it. I had had several boyfriends, some serious, but no Alva. And none of my relationships had ever reached the stage where I could let them in on the secret of the Alva. Alrik knew the whole me; he knew both the Alva and the side that wanted to blend in seamlessly with the rest of the world. I could be all sides of myself with him. I knew, though, that if I got romantically involved with Alrik, it would mean so much more than my previous boyfriends. Relationships between Alva were taken very seriously, since breakups could injure the whole Flock. I didn’t think I was ready for that level of commitment. I took a deep breath, pushed away from Alrik, and punched him on the arm again. This time, I hit with a little more force.

  I said, “I don’t know what that was for, but you deserved it anyway.”

  My cell phone saved both of us from his response. It was Philip. I promised that I would take care of the bandaging tonight, but he insisted that he take a look tomorrow before school. It was a short call, but by the time I was done, Alrik had his leather coat on with keys in hand. He was going to do some checking around to see if he could track down where Jia was staying. Before he left, he held my head between his two hands and dropped a chaste kiss on top of my head. “Please don’t kick me out too soon, Freya. I like being with you.”

  ***

  “You were right, Dad, the fuel/oxygen mixture was off. They did some finagling with the carburetor at the shop and it’s running a lot smoother,” I said, propping my feet up on the ottoman in the living room. The ottoman still looked decent, which meant it no longer matched the ragged green tweed rocking chair I had inherited.

  I could hear my father smiling through the other end of the phone. He always felt he was a good dad when he could give me successful car advice. “Ja. Make sure they didn’t tune it too far the other way. It’s a tricky balance.”

  “It seems fine. It’s a little rough on the start up, but that’s what you get from an old car,” I said.

  “Have you checked the oil recently?” Dad asked.

  A grin spread over my face. “Yes, Dad. But it hardly burns any oil.” I felt like I was sixteen years old anytime we had this conversation. And we had this conversation every other phone call. My father was the only one in my family to appreciate the Eagle, or at least the only one to appreciate my interest in older cars. He was also the only one in my family sure to be up past ten o’clock at night, and with San Luis being two hours behind Chicago, I talked to him frequently at ni
ght.

  We had already discussed the church fire at length earlier in the conversation and I knew he felt frustrated at not being able to be there and protect his youngest daughter. Therefore, I let him boss me around about the car as a way of making him feel better. He went through the checklist of reminders and I assured him of my car care. Tires were properly inflated, oil recently changed, belts were in good working order, engine was not overheating even when we went over the grade. He gave a small, partially satisfied grunt. I could tell he was feeling better based on his next non-question.

  “I heard you have a visitor right now. How is Alrik?” he asked.

  I switched to Swedish almost unknowingly. Growing up, we were forced to speak Swedish when we were at home. I detested it as a kid, but now it was second-nature and part of my family identity. “Good. He’s out patrolling the perimeter right now. He’s actually been fairly nice to me recently.”

  “He’s a good kid. Takes himself too seriously, but a good kid.”

  “He’s been strangely nice recently. It’s throwing me off.”

  “Yes? How so?”

  “As Arbitrator, he needs to be here. And he is doing his job very well. But there’s something more.” I pushed against the ottoman and set the rocking chair in motion. “He’s bending a little and being kind. He never used to flex in his position unless it made sense for the Alva Flock as a whole or himself. We’ve compromised several times since he’s gotten here.”

  “And you are complaining?” Dad asked.

  “No. Confused.” I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “I think he may be interested in me. But I’m not sure why.”

  I heard a snort on the other end of the line. “You are confused why he is interested in you?”

  “Yes,” I said a tad too defensively. “I’m not his type. As you said, he takes himself so seriously. I would flop over in exhaustion if I took myself seriously. I have distanced myself from the USN, but he is still actively involved. I don’t throw myself at his feet like some of the other girls who think he’s so dreamy. I’m mean to him sometimes. Actually, a lot of the time.” I ticked off the reasons on my fingers before I realized my dad couldn’t see me.