by J. J. Keller
“Open,” a woman bellowed. Her voice rang loud and clear, even through the door crafted from lead. Did she shout so a guard could open the door? Yet, another shaky hurdle to overcome. The guard would be easy enough to vanquish. However, Sable, the super-powered woman who had appeared in Aidan’s bedroom, would be difficult to eliminate since Skogul’s powers hadn’t fully returned.
A large part of her craved to meet the she-devil on the battlefield. If only she had a javelin or sword in her hand. Memory of her past could only take her so far.
“Don’t tell her I was here,” the girl whispered, then vaporized into the alcove. She wasn’t a captor. Was she a prisoner as well, chained to a wall in the recess?
Skogul shuffled forward, trying to see if an exit point existed in the depths of the shadowed zone.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Sable’s blistering voice ripped into her.
She turned toward the devil encased in black fur. “I’m looking for a weapon to bash in your head.”
Sable peered into the dark, then flipped on the overhead lights. “Clever little viper.”
Who? The teen or her? Too bad the woman was so pretty. Dark hair, shining bits of coal for eyes, and slender hands. Beauty didn’t have to be nice. Evil existed in all forms. Her glamour didn’t matter. The woman would suffer.
“Come a little closer, and I’ll take you down.”
The beautiful beast, laughed. “Can’t manage the walk?”
Hobbling chains would not be effective in subduing her.
“Release the binds. I won’t go anywhere.” Skogul gave a broad smile and stretched an arm, preparing for the attack.
The tall, lanky guard standing in the doorway chuckled. Sable shot him a sour frown, and he pivoted on his toes like Michael Jackson.
“Ah, you humans are always thinking.” Sable leaned against the doorframe and crossed her feet. Her leather boots rose above her knees to her thighs, and her gray leggings matched her charcoal sweater. A shame, really, how her soul was as dark as her clothing.
Human? She thinks I’m human. What is going on here?
“Okay, Black Widow, let’s cut to the chase.” Skogul waved her hand. “Why am I here?”
Sable strutted forward, while theatrically lifting an arm into the air.
Skogul tried to dive, but stumbled, falling against the cold hard wall.
Instantly, Sable was in front of her. “Why are you here?” The predator caressed the side of her face. A strange odor came from the rough digits. “You’re the draw. The sacrificial lamb to bring him here.”
Odin? She used every ounce of willpower not to pull away from her fluttering fingers, scenting the air with smoked ham odor. “For your god?”
“In a way.” She backed away, sniffing the air like a dog on a summer’s day.
Skogul slid to the side, trying to hold the bitch’s attention. If the woman stuck her nose in the alcove, would she see the teen artist? Instinct told her the youngster would be in jeopardy if Sable found her lounging in the “lamb’s” cell.
“Give me a phone, and I’ll call whomever you want to come.” She slid closer to the guard, noting an antique surveillance camera in the corner. “I can’t guarantee the person will, but maybe. If money is what you want, my cousin Basil has a bank full.”
Sable pivoted and rushed to the door. “Won’t be necessary. The one I want is on his way.”
The door slammed shut. The bolt thundered into place. Shuffling in the hallway indicated the guard resumed his position.
Aware of the surveillance system, Skogul pressed against the cold hard concrete. Rough edges grazed her skin as she slid to the floor. “Göndul.”
****
Asgard, Heimdallr’s World Viewing Room
“Skogul is exceptional. She’s made her way into the hive and will determine how they operate.” Kiara tapped her finger to her lips, wondering why Harrison and Göndul were so quiet. “Shifters are an interesting species, don’t you think?” Soon her friend would safely return.
All three pairs of hands, resting on the shelf surrounding the viewing screen, lifted. Harrison shoved his fingers into his dungaree pockets. Göndul reached for her wand. Kiara tucked her hands under her armpits. It was as if the cold came through the sphere and made her as chilled as Skogul. Repeating her wish would make it come true, right?
A worry line appeared on Harrison’s forehead. “I don’t trust the lot of them.”
Kiara slowly turned to face her superior. She had to ask and swallowed a lump to clear her throat. “You’ll, of course, give Skogul her powers so she can defend herself.”
“Not yet—”
“Why not?” She jerked her arms from their warm nests. “She doesn’t have a means to get out of the cell, and we certainly don’t know enough to determine if she could defend herself by her layman’s skill set alone.”
The warmth of Harrison’s hand, wrapped around hers, spread toward her elbow. “Calm down, Kiara. Hear what Göndul has in mind.”
She imagined the bristles on Göndul’s skin laying down. Their leader nodded to Harrison. If nothing else, she’d gained respect for Harrison. What else had changed since Skogul went to Indiana?
“Skogul has her memory and skills. She needs her human cloak until Aidan arrives. Then she’ll have all of her abilities returned.” Göndul glanced at the bird’s eye view of the world. “She needs to fool them for a little longer.”
Kiara followed her lead and peered into the monitor. Skogul held her head between her bloodied hands. Her friend, with her puny human powers, must have tried to pry the chain free.
Harrison propped his elbows on the shelf again. The pink scar on his forehead, where a bullet should have ended his life, stood out. Worry in his eyes told her he didn’t like leaving Skogul unprotected any more than Kiara.
“Perhaps I should get a unit together to assist her when the time comes,” he said.
“I welcome the opportunity to discuss what you have in mind.” Göndul touched the display. The image on the screen changed to Aidan disembarking from an airplane.
“This is like a TV reality show, shifting from scene to scene. Look”—he pointed to the air terminal—“Aidan is only carrying a backpack, but he is slow moving through the airport.”
On the screen, posters lined the walls of the hallway promoting Air Canada. Kiara read the largest sign aloud. “Welcome to Ontario, Canada. Why would a pack of wolves live near such a busy city? Niagara Falls especially.”
Harrison chuckled. “Niagara Falls is known as being a city for honeymooners?”
Kiara glanced at her husband. “The wolves could easily migrate between USA and Canada. But for what reason?”
“Göndul, what do you know about the Canadian border?” He spread his fingers on the plasma front to make the screen widen.
Kiara smiled at him understanding his love of technology, even the supernatural sort. “That’s better. I can see his expression now.”
Aidan squinted. The sunlight shimmered on the snow-capped sidewalk. He flagged a taxi and climbed into the back seat.
“Not much. We’ve never considered Earthlings a threat, but I’ll have Heimdallr check.” Göndul glanced to Harrison. “In the meantime, get a squad together.” She held up her hand. “Before you ask, Kiara, you stay here. You’re to keep us informed of major changes.”
Harrison and Göndul left the viewing room. Kiara glanced at the hallway. Heimdallr wasn’t to be found. Her heart double-timed. Skogul probably felt abandoned, alone in unknown territory. Would she be forever chained to the underworld?
Kiara flipped the image to her friend sitting in a dark cold cell. She checked to make sure no others were around the viewing room and then called Tweet. The raven flapped through an open window and perched on her shoulder. Without her protective covering, the bird’s claws dug into her skin. Kiara scribbled a message on a tiny slip of paper, attached the note to the band, and secured it on Tweet’s leg.
“Off you go. Find Sko
gul and quickly return. I’m not certain where you’re going, but if it’s the underworld, return immediately.” She rubbed the side of Tweet’s head. “Although you’re the very best messenger among the flock, I’m sure a missive from a god would turn to ashes.”
Tweet preened.
“I’m not permitted to go to Skogul, but you can. Careful, I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Kiara glanced into the viewer again.
She punched a button, opening a venue to Skogul’s current location. She widened the portal, and Tweet flew through.
****
Skogul leaned against the cell wall, beneath the only window in the chamber. Hot from shuffling around the perimeter and attempting to break her binding, she sought fresh air. Heat encompassed her entire being. Mortals had much to bear. At the sound of pecking on the glass, she pivoted. Slight daylight broke through the icy exterior and on the other side...
“A raven.”
From the appearance of a narrow blue band around its leg, Skogul assumed Kiara sent the messenger. Relief flooded her. The rectangular window had thick, black, iron bars on the inside and out. Skogul stood a crow’s length beneath the frame. If only she could get the tiny strip of blue, she’d know the game plan. Tweet twisted her head. One of her black eyes peered through a small patch of ice-free glass.
Skogul pounded her fist against a corner of the pane. The glass didn’t budge, but her knuckles grew bloodied with each punch. Tweet flew away. Her stomach muscles clutched. She leaned her sweaty brow against the brick and flattened her palms on the rough surface. So many what-ifs ran through her mind she wanted to fall to the floor and weep. Surely, the note explained why her powers hadn’t returned, or if they ever would.
She choked back a sob. The tinny copper scent of blood tainted her cell. If only she had access to water and possibly a place to empty her bladder.
“If the bird is caught, they will kill it.” The teen had returned.
Skogul awkwardly twisted around. “She is a brilliant bird. If she can’t find a safe way in she’ll return to her cage.”
The girl stood, at the most five foot six, but compared to Skogul’s greater height, she could have cradled the petite urchin in her arms. In opposition to the white hair, her soft pink face brightened, highlighting her wide-set, grayish blue eyes. Her delicate nose stood above a bow-tipped mouth, also a glossy blush pink. She’d replaced the white frills with a pair of blue jeans and a thick cream sweater. Two leather straps went under her arms. So, she wasn’t a prisoner after all.
Play the game. Find a weakness.
“How do you know Aidan?” the tiny person asked.
“Why do you ask?”
She tilted her head in such a way it appeared as if she used her hearing to evaluate. Apparently coming to a conclusion, she smiled. The family resemblance made Skogul yearn for Aidan. Was she the sister Aidan had referred too?
“I’m Hayden Hall, Aidan’s sister.”
“Hayden, German meaning heathen and old English meaning valley with hay. Usually a male’s name.” Odin, it felt good to have her memory. Now if her other powers were restored, she’d be her old self.
Hayden’s eyebrows lifted. “Yet, I’m a female.” She nodded as if that was that. “How do you know my brother?”
“He saved my life, and we became close.” She dared not mention love. The sentiment alone would provide a weakness. Aidan, her Achilles’ heel, she’d give up her being so he could survive.
“You love him.”
“I-I…” Skogul dragged the word out, unsure how to respond to such an important question.
“No reason to deny it, I heard them talking and now, seeing your face, I understand why they thought a simple human could draw my brother back to the Guardian Bridge.” Hayden slipped one of the straps from her arm and pulled around a backpack, with an artist pad peeking from the corner. She removed a sliver of thread. The shiny ebony glowed in the light peeking through the window. “If you are willing, I’ll release you from the restraints, and you can take me to him in America.”
Chapter Fourteen
Aidan cleared customs and made his way to the exit. He intended to swoop in, rescue Skogul and Hayden and disappear. Reluctant to relocate, he’d resume his life in Indiana, but amplify the security. No, instead of returning to Indiana, they’d start fresh, get lost in the constant traffic of people in the east.
Snow dusted the airport windows. Wet sidewalks and snow piles decorated with salt and sand framed the sides of the street. He inhaled the sharp, cold, moist air coming through the electric doors. Part of him missed this country, home, and friends. He shook off the melancholy, needing to get his strength of mind focused on the unpleasant tasks he would perform to break into the cast of the guardians.
He flagged a cab. A stout dark-haired driver jumped from a parked vehicle. “Where to?”
“A few miles northwest of Niagara.” Prohibited from telling the exact location, Aidan would have the man drop him a couple of miles from the area.
The cabbie held the rear door, partially open, but started to close it. “I don’t go that far.”
Aidan gave a low growl. He’d forgotten how many actual miles, northwest of Niagara, to get to the bridge. “How far do you go?”
“To the Falls, I can drop you off on Baker Street.” The guy opened the door wider.
“Fine.” Aidan climbed onto the backseat.
En route to the falls, he considered an approach to the castle and how to get past the guards. An outsider, a renegade, a big red dot would be plastered straight on his heart. He rubbed his forehead. He couldn’t hurt one of his own, even in self-defense. The only way into the fortress was through the secret entrance, leading directly into his mother’s quarters.
Grrr. He’d have to wrangle and conquer the alpha without killing. Had she taken Skogul?
Arriving in Niagara Falls, he paid the silent driver and glanced around the quaint town. How could he find a cabbie willing to take him into a restricted area? A car rental wasn’t a viable idea because he didn’t want to leave a paper trail. Cash only.
He walked to the end of the street, where the tourists didn’t venture. A bar sign hung cockeyed, a loose screw partially in the hole. The Gray Gull. The seedy looking establishment would be the perfect place to find a less than reputable person willing to do just about anything for cash. The door creaked abnormally loud. He crossed the entry and took a seat at the counter.
“Whatcha need?” Tats depicting naval and gang markings decorated the bartender’s burly arms. Wrapped around his forehead was a red maple leaf flag completely revealed on a bandana. His gaze slid over Aidan, giving him the feeling of a full body search. He drew his overcoat tighter, hiding the quality fabric of his shirt.
“Whatever’s on tap.”
The barkeep slammed a mug of beer on the counter. The froth slid over the edge, quickly liquefying on the surprisingly clean surface.
“I need to hire a cab.”
Barkeep extraordinaire nodded to the spackled walls. “We’re not the Moose and Squirrel.”
“I didn’t think you were. I just need a ride to take me beyond Grimsby.”
The navy tat scrunched as he slid a hand under the bandana and scratched. “To the winery? No need, we got a fine stock of Casablancas here.”
“Nope, not a fan of the grape.” Aidan took a sip of the beer.
“Metal work? Furnaces?”
In the mirror behind the display of liquor a burly guy, curly hair, five-foot-five at the most, scurried across the floorboards, taking a place at the end of the bar.
What was up with the questions? “You could say that. I’m going to work on a bridge. Who could drive me?”
A flash of fear ignited in the barkeep’s eyes. He slowly lowered his arm. His bicep tightened. He turned his attention to the brute at the end of the bar. “Ferd.”
Ferd slithered around and perched on the stool next to Aidan. “Eh?”
“I need to go to a bridge near Grimsby.”
After an agreed upon amount and half of the payment, Aidan secured the transport. The cab, surprisingly new, was parked behind the bar.
Unlike the last cab driver, Ferd wouldn’t shut up, and he stunk like beef and cabbage. The miles passed as slowly as a waiting line at the DMV.
“Here you go, buddy. A couple of miles until you reach the suspension bridge. I ain’t gonna go any further.” Cabbage guy leaned over the seat. “The place you’re want’n to go, it’s haunted. There’s an ordinance declaring the passage closed. Posted signs vanish, eh. No one’s allowed to cross.” He shoved his arm into the air arched the hand and smashed his palm against the seat. “Too many deaths.”
“Yeah. Thanks for the warning.” Aidan handed over the wad of cash and exited the car. Boulders and bushes, thick groups of pine and bare branched oak trees reached out to him welcoming him home. Vines covered the road, once cleared and well marked. Mist rose from the hard ground. The mix of fresh autumn scents infiltrated his nostrils, tingling his senses with memories.
Stones shot from beneath the tires of the cab. He waited until the taillights were far away, red buttons. He shifted and ran the short distance to his end of the bridge. Currently his half-brother, Frasier, pranced back and forth, white fur glimmering in the moonlight. Aidan stood behind a fir tree, from which his brother’s name had been derived. The guard would change in approximately five minutes. He hoped the next wolf didn’t know him.
Across the bridge, he’d locate Hayden and together they’d sneak around the cold gray building to find Skogul. The three would exit before his mother discovered his presence. Not that he feared the queen, the alpha, but her anger rose like a dreadful beast. Words, once stated, couldn’t be taken back. The best thing would be for him to delay a confrontation with the leader of the pack.
Both, shrewd and cunning, his mother would use whatever means to get her way. She’d have him remain at the bridge and lead the pack. He glanced at Frasier, attentive in securing the bridge and ever vigilant. After Skogul and Hayden were safe, he’d return and confront his mother. Perhaps he’d suggest she’d mate his brother and any shifter of his choosing. The couple could become the new alphas.