Memory of Love

by J. J. Keller

  He stepped back and exhaled. She detected the scent of fresh mint.

  “Want to go shower?”

  She licked her lips. “Together?”

  “I wish.” He exhaled again. “I’m not sure you’re ready for that. I do promise you…later. We’ll drive into the city and get dinner. We can visit a funeral home. Maybe you’re a mortician.”

  Baffled, she stared. “A what?”

  “A funeral director. Undertaker. Someone who embalms and buries the dead.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Doesn’t explain my keen sense of survival and skills.” She pointed to the scarecrow.

  He shrugged. “Maybe you teach martial arts in your free time?”

  Martial arts, competition of fighting using combat maneuvers. A regimen of self-defense, physical health, intellectual and spiritual included. By Thor’s hammer, she did know combat strategies. “I’d like to believe I teach other women how to defend themselves, while respecting their mental and spiritual selves.”

  “A noble cause.” Gaze on the scarecrow, he nodded. “Go shower. I’ll contact the sheriff to see if he can arrange a meeting with a funeral director.”

  “Thanks.”

  ****

  Aidan glanced at Skylar while the mortician explained embalming. Mr. Eugene Taker was a dour-faced man, tall and thin with a hint of gray in his hair and face appeared a mirror image of the man laid out on the casket. Instead of finding his calm, even, voice soothing, after a few minutes, he found the frosty enunciations irritating. Taker’s shiny black shoes did not host one smidgen of dust or scuff marks. Black perfectly pleated trousers were complemented by an equally licorice jacket highlighted by a crisp white shirt.

  Recently, Aidan had spent too much time evaluating clothing items. It was time to call Doc to get a couple of beers and man time. Retirement stories would repair the testosterone slip.

  “I don’t usually allow visitors in our embalming room. However, the sheriff explained your memory loss and keen interest in the dearly departed. Let’s go downstairs, and I’ll explicate the process.”

  No, he didn’t want to see how humans treated their dead. In his world, the deceased sailed on a final journey, flaming into the horizon thus becoming part of the earth again. Earth-walkers drained all of the loved one’s fluids, folded them neatly in a lined box, and stared at them for days, until finally lowering the capsule into the bowels of earth…closer to the underworld.

  “That might help.” Skylar glanced at him.

  Anticipation of what was to come wouldn’t allow him to smile in reassurance, so a simple nod and off they went toward a staircase labeled Private.

  “The procedure depends on how recently the person has passed and how soon the bodies come to us. Autopsies are different. The organs are replaced after they’re examined. We take them out and soak them in embalming fluids.” Taker stopped in front of a woman lay out on an examining table.

  Aidan averted his glance from the body, unable to process such an atrocity. The unearthly odors alone made him gag.

  “After eye caps are attached and the mouth has been secured using a mouth former.” Taker pointed to the items as he gave the description. “We begin the embalming by placing tubes, here—”

  Saved by the buzz from his cell phone, Aidan stepped to a corner, dug into his pocket, and glanced at the screen. “Excuse me. I need to take this call.”

  Skylar’s face grew ashen as the mortician pointed to the stomach of the corpse, continuing his monologue as if the person on the table was of no consequence.

  Aidan opened the door, met her stare, and held his cell into the air. “I need to make an emergency call.”

  “I’ll come with you. Thank you, Mr. Taker, for your time and excellent tour.” She gave a tight smile and rushed around the table.

  “Wait, miss, had you been a mortician before? Has your memory returned?”

  Skylar stopped near a sink lined with dark rust colored blood and vials of chemicals. Her attention went from the blood to the body. From her profile, her throat muscles moved up and down. “No. My memory hasn’t returned. I thank you for taking the time to show me what…a mortician does,” she said and swallowed hard. Due to his wolf’s hearing, the noise was probably only heard by him

  “Anytime. If you have need of our services again”—Taker snapped a card from his jacket pocket—“please contact us. We design our services to meet your needs.”

  The steel door slowly shut its cold contents behind him. A finger stroke later, he viewed the message from his intern. We have a case. Pippa’s Rescue Ranch. Want me to handle it?

  He glanced into the room as Skylar took the card and rushed toward the door.

  Aidan held the door open and shouted to Mr. Taker. “Thank you, sir, for your time.” He pointed to the cell phone. “Emergency call.”

  A slight head tilt and Taker touched the hand of the woman on the table. Aidan’s skin crawled. He would never understand some of the humans’ customs. Pulling the door shut, he followed Skylar out the building.

  She hustled to the van, leaving him three lengths back. He hurried to the driver’s side and climbed behind the steering wheel.

  “I’m not, nor have I ever been, associated with a funeral home.” She pressed her palms to her eyes.

  “Okay. Ruled out. Don’t worry, we’ll keep searching.”

  “Why won’t a single memory come forward?” Her voice started and halted.

  “Don’t cry, the memories will come.” He reached toward her, but she’d turned away.

  The window shone like a mirror in the light, exposing tears tracing down her cheeks.

  ****

  Asgard, Odin’s Garden

  Kiara twirled the spear, while her attention remained focused on her best friend’s predicament below on Earth. Her frustration could be relieved, at least for an hour or two, if she broke away and hurled the spiked pole at a target. Here with the weapon in hand she was tempted to charge her superior. Evening rays highlighted the mosaic of an enormous circle on the tile floor. She clamped her teeth and returned her attention to Göndul, leader of all Valkyries under Odin’s charge, who paced the atrium on shiny tall spiked heels, the kind she and her friends weren’t allowed. With each movement, Göndul’s blonde ponytail swept across her muscled back. Kiara glanced to her husband, Harrison, sitting on the ledge near the semicircle of potted plants. He shook his head. Damn, sometimes she wished she couldn’t read his mind.

  She lowered her eyelids, focusing on the swirls in the floor’s design. “Yes. I understand.”

  “And you won’t go to Earth and interfere with Skogul’s assignment.” Göndul tapped her fingers on top of her staff.

  “Reconsider. Skogul was dropped into a nest of thieves and doesn’t know who she is, and her memory isn’t returning as fast as we thought it would.” Kiara glanced at the gleaming jewel at the head of Göndul’s staff that sparkled in the light’s glow. “She should have a friend. A fellow squad leader would help her understand her combat skills.”

  Their exalted commander glanced away. She knew something and wasn’t sharing. Kiara sent Harrison a telepathic message, “What is she hiding?”

  He shrugged. Despite the grin, his blank mind told her nothing. She had to break through the silent barrier. “Convince her to let me go to help Skogul, and we’ll take a night ride on my horse.”

  His smile disappeared and his chiseled cheeks flushed deep red. “Gὅndul—”

  A narrowed stare from Gὅndul was all it took to bring his words to a halt. Kiara’s heart throbbed. Could she have made a mistake by making the request a second time? She took a step into the circle, planting her feet on a red slice of the mosaic.

  Harrison lifted a finger, the signal to stand down. Kiara nodded. He’d formed a plan and as uncomfortable and anxious as the wait would make her, she had to do just that—wait.

  “I’m impressed with your strategy. Erasing Skogul’s memory and dropping her near a possible enemy, to determine his orientati
on, was brilliant. However, she is defenseless if this shifter, Aidan, is from another god’s intimate circle.”

  Gὅndul spread her arms wide. The staff spanned far, nicking Kiara’s jumper. “Which is exactly the reason Skogul wanted this project, to protect us.”

  Kiara hissed. “What if something happened in the transfer and she never regains her memory?”

  Harrison shot to a stand, rushed forward, and gripped her hand. “Excuse us, your excellency. We’re worried for Skogul’s safety with an unrecognizable and clever enemy.”

  Gὅndul’s frown turned into a slight grin, and oddly enough, a sympathetic glimmer appeared in her azure stare. “Do you not have faith in your friend’s ability for a successful mission?”

  “Yes,” Harrison said.

  “Of course, but—”

  Göndul held her staff in front of her and level with her shoulders. “She wants my job.”

  “I’m sure—” Kiara released Harrison’s hand. Uprooting her feet from the floor, she stepped forward.

  Göndul’s hand shot outward, palm out. “I want her to have it. I’ve been invited to join the great council.”

  “Congratulations. You’ll excel in the role.” Harrison grasped her hand and gave it a congratulatory shake.

  Göndul relaxed her shoulders. A brilliant smile spread across her usual dour face.

  “I need to sit.” Kiara looked around for a chair, bench, anything to rest on before she collapsed.

  He wrapped an arm around her, and they unsteadily walked into Odin’s meeting room, reserved for the highest of the court. She plopped onto a black velvet cushioned bench, and he knelt in front of her.

  She tucked her head between her knees and took deep gasps of air.

  Göndul’s lavender gown floated around her. “What’s wrong with her?”

  Kiara kept her thoughts blank. No one could know. Thankfully, Harrison also shielded his thoughts. If Göndul knew the truth, she’d take her off the squad and deny her access to Skogul.

  “Kiara”—he touched her shoulder—“is distressed about her best friend, but also happy about your promotion.”

  She exhaled, lifted her head, and glanced into Göndul’s bright blue eyes. “Right. I want to go to her. Please let me.”

  “Absolutely not. The shifter could be Hades’ spawn.” She grimaced. “Have you forgotten the seer’s forecast?”

  Harrison stood. “Perhaps in a few days, if Skogul doesn’t remember any portion of her prior life or if she obtains adequate intel about the shifter, you’ll allow one of us to go to Earth?”

  “Aidan’s...Skogul’s in lov…” Kiara swallowed, regretting almost giving her friend’s feelings of love for the shifter away to their leader. She couldn’t. Göndul would pull Skogul back to Asgard in a heartbeat, and her friend would never forgive the intrusion.

  “You’re not to worry. Skogul is a strong Valkyrie warrior, and she’ll not fail in her mission.” Gὅndul touched the top of her hand, briefly, a feather light stroke. “Give her time. She’s far more skilled than you’d imagine, and this challenge will demonstrate her leadership abilities.”

  Chapter Six

  Skylar touched the narrow glass tubes perfectly aligned on the steel coated countertop. Metal shelves had clear crystal doors with similar vials. Aidan’s animal hospital lab reflected his neatness and organizational skills. Impeccable. Mirrored on the shining surface was his handsome face. She wanted to observe and decipher each and every inch of him. “What are you doing?”

  “Chemical analysis of this liquid.” He held up a rectangular piece of glass with a glittering blob smashed in the center.

  “Looks like my skin lotion.” She held her fingers near a blue fire.

  “Be careful, that Bunsen burner has a bite.” He held out his arm. On the inside of his wrist was a dark red blotch, shaped like a pine tree.

  She withdrew her hand as fast as the skitter bug Aidan wanted to name her after. “Oh.”

  His gaze smoothed over her, lingered, making heat boil in private places. Those beautiful gray eyes offered pleasure, the promise of his touch, and she licked her lips. Maybe she should get to know him intimately. Who knew? Maybe he held the key to unlocking her past.

  “Yes, it does. But it’s not.” He glanced away, wrote some graphics on a piece of paper, and slipped a new wedge of crystal under the spyglass. “Play with the flashlight, you seem to like it.”

  She picked up the bendy light and stuffed it in her pocket. Hoping he might give her the dreamy stomach-crunching look again, she twirled. “Look. I wore the padded shirt you picked out. Do you like it?”

  “Yep.” His eyes pressed to the black, round tops of the device. He seemed extraordinarily focused on the task.

  “It’s dinner time, I’m hungry and—”

  His damn cell phone rang. He let it buzz three times before he pulled himself away from the equipment.

  “Dr. Hall.” Ear to the phone, he grabbed the slide. Substance stuck between the glass pieces. He slipped it into a small wooden box. The writing on the outside was hieroglyphics to her. “Yes. Where are they?”

  Worry peppered his voice as he put the box beside a fridge. He opened the door and placed the container inside. She didn’t know much about the use of a refrigerator, but she was confident the ancient wood should not be put in a cool damp space. The air would break down the wood and the silver band on the top and sides would rust.

  “Got it.” He rushed to the opposite side of the room. “Don’t worry, Myka, I’m on my way.” Thumb to the phone, he pivoted.

  Concern rushed across his eyes. In an instant her hopes for more, of anything, tonight were crushed. She’d plan a course of attack to regain his focus.

  “I’ve a call. A calf is caught in the birth canal. Want to come?” He tossed items into a black bag.

  The images in her head made her want to say hell no, but time alone with Aidan, the first in several days, would be worth the blood and gore forever planted in her memory. “Sure. Let’s go.”

  “Great. Sorry, I need to rush. Take this.” He handed her the bag. “And I’ll get a few things from the house.”

  Instruments clinked and clanked. She took the heavy and bulky pouch into her hand. “Okay. Meet you in the van.”

  He nodded. “Do you want anything from the kitchen?”

  She thought of the shelves filled with casserole dishes from the neighbors. Not in a million years. “No, I’m good.”

  His eyebrows drew together. “Thought you were hungry.”

  “I was, but I’ve lost my appetite.”

  She stashed the satchel in the backseat and turned to open the passenger side. A rustling drifted to her. “Aidan?”

  No response. She glanced toward the house. Pitch black, except for the light in the kitchen, which illuminated his silhouette bent over a table. Titan, Aidan’s rescue horse, neighed from the corral.

  Harsh breaths joined the chime of the rustling leaves. Focused on the dark shadows she looked for a creature, listened for something, trying to separate breathing from the wind. Damn, she had to start carrying a weapon, if for no other reason than to feel safe. She circled the brush, hoping to cut the intruder off at the pass. Adrenaline powered her to run, ducking low hanging branches and stepping lightly. She stopped in the path. She glanced through the brittle foliage toward Aidan’s truck, getting a clear visual of where she’d stood moments ago. Turning, she surveyed the area looking for clues as to where the intruder fled.

  Crouched, she flipped on the small flashlight and examined the footprints. Size eleven shoe imprint. She stood and evaluated the broken brush limbs. Six foot. Spicy cinnamon aroma. The knowledge of clue gathering excited her. Indeed, she’d been a detective, police, or CIA prior to memory loss. That thought alone gave her a brief moment of comfort.

  “Skylar.” Aidan’s shout reached her.

  The doors of the van clanged open. Her instincts told her to follow the trail left by the dimwitted peepers, until Aidan called her again.
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  “Okay, I’m here.” Reluctantly, she turned away from the clues and strode over to the van on the driveway.

  “What were you doing?” He held the door open.

  “I thought I heard something.” She settled onto the front seat, feeling confident she could snap the belt in place. The men, still at large, might be watching them. She glanced out the van window. She wouldn’t allow anyone to hurt Aidan.

  “Understandable. Evening is closing in. You’ll probably be skittish at night for several more months.”

  Afraid? No, not her. Time became her barrier. She wanted to share her suspicions, but if she told him of an intruder, he’d either look in the woods or consider her a basket case…a woman without memory. He needed to go save a cow.

  “I put a couple of casseroles in the rear. Myka said her mother is in Bloomington taking care of a sick aunt. Her father went hunting and hasn’t returned.”

  “Hunting?”

  “Yeah. They don’t have much, and he hunts in my woods for deer and rabbit. Six kids require a lot of food. Pure is a small community where people help each other. A couple of months ago the flu gripped our little metropolis, and if it wasn’t for Myka’s parents providing hearty soup, a lot of older people wouldn’t have fared so well. Neighbors care and support each other. It’s a nice place.”

  There was something in his voice…hurt and anger. Something about family tweaked a defense nerve. “Do you think I’ve a family, a supportive community?”

  He grinned. “Of course. Don’t worry, love, your memory will return.”

  Love. She smiled. He was a serial optimist.

  “Where did you live before you moved here?” She’d overheard him talking to the postman about address changes and how long they last, so he must not have lived here very long.

  “South.”

  Short answer. Why not give her a city. Not that she’d know where it was located, but he usually gave too much information and not a one-word answer. “Do you have any relatives, like brothers and sisters? Are they living in the south?”

  His jaw tightened, and his fingers clutched the steering wheel. “I have one sister, Hayden. She’s a teen and lives at school.”