by Eva Chase
My enhanced reflexes kept me on my feet, just barely. The side of my arm throbbed just above my elbow where he’d hit me. I dropped into a crouch, holding that arm carefully, ready for him to come at me again.
But Thor’s hands had dropped to his sides. He did come, but it was carefully, his mouth twisted with concern. His voice was ragged.
“Shit. I didn’t mean to— You surprised me, and I couldn’t catch my reaction in time. Are you all right?”
It was weird seeing the man who’d been so joyfully throwing punches at me a moment ago suddenly so subdued and worried. I straightened up, offering my arm for him to inspect. “You didn’t get me that hard. It’ll probably bruise, but I’ll live.”
He touched my arm gingerly, eyeing the red blotch where his block had made contact. “I could ask Baldur to heal it. I shouldn’t have hurt you at all.”
His obvious sense of guilt sent a twinge through me. When had anyone in my life ever been this concerned about how they might have hurt me? And he hadn’t even, not really.
I forced my voice out, keeping it as casual as I could, with a wry smile for good measure. “It’s fine. My fault for taking you by surprise. The bruise will be a reminder that next time I try, I just need to be faster.”
Thor peered into my eyes as if making sure I was serious. His stance relaxed. He threw back his head with a laugh. “You are something, Aria Watson. There aren’t many gods who could have landed a punch at me, you know? I guess I’d better watch myself.”
He met my eyes again with a warm grin and a glint in his gaze as if he really were impressed. Impressed with me. He’d kept a little distance between us, but he was close enough that I could feel the warmth of his whole body. Smell him, tangy and heady like some fine, ancient liquor. What the hell did Norse gods drink? Mead?
Thor’s broad hand was still cupping my elbow, his fingers curled gently against my bare skin. My sense of that touch quivered up my arm and down low in my belly. All at once I found myself wondering whether his skin would taste like he smelled. What it would be like to be touched like that, while he looked at me like that, in all sorts of other places.
The clearing of a throat on the other side of the room broke the moment. I jerked away from Thor and spun around to see Freya standing by the doorway. Her expression was amused.
“Managed to bash her up already, did you?” she said. “We’ve been hearing you thundering around for over an hour. Maybe it’s time for a little break, or we’ll wear our valkyrie right out.” Her gaze focused on me. “What do you say to a little stroll while you catch your breath?”
Ah, yeah, a little breath catching sounded about right. Because no way should I have been entertaining the thoughts I’d just had, not even for a second.
“I’ll finish beating you up later,” I told Thor, and tried to ignore the eager leap of my pulse as his chuckle followed me out the door.
7
Aria
When Freya had said a little stroll, she meant outside the house. The stark sunlight should have washed out someone with a fair complexion like hers, but it just made her hair shine like pale bronze and highlighted the rosy flush in her cheeks. I couldn’t remember a whole lot about her from my childhood reading, but I was going to go out on a limb here and say whatever she was the goddess of, beauty had to be on the list somewhere.
I guessed she hadn’t had a big role to play in summoning me here, seeing as valkyrie-me looked the same all-right-but-hardly-spectacular as the regular me had.
A narrow path where the bare dirt was packed hard cut across the lawn and into a stretch of meadows between scattered trees. Freya’s white sandals skimmed over the ground, making barely a sound compared to the tap of my sneakers. Other than the breeze rustling the trees and lifting the summer heat a bit, that was the only noise around us. I still hadn’t made out any neighboring buildings.
“Where are we, anyway?” I asked, right before an unnerving idea hit me. “Are we still on the… the ‘mortal plane’ or whatever you guys call it?”
A smile curved Freya’s lips. “Yes, this is Midgard,” she said. “We can’t leave, at least not back to Asgard, without Odin. We’re in the Hudson Valley, not too far from New York City. Some of the boys like to soak in the big city atmosphere while we’re here.”
I wasn’t sure what “not too far” meant in godly terms, but I couldn’t be all that far from home then. Once I got away from here, the question would just be how to get to someplace with proper transportation to get me the rest of the way to Philly.
The big brick house was hidden by the trees now. If I made a run for it here, Loki and the others wouldn’t be around to stop me. Of course, I didn’t know what powers Freya might have. And I didn’t even know what direction I’d want to run in.
Just bolting hadn’t worked out so well for me before. I was going to be smarter about my escape next time. Think it through. Be prepared for anything.
Freya glanced over at me. “Is that where you were living? New York?”
I blinked at her. They really didn’t know much about me, did they? “No,” I said. “Philadelphia. I’ve been to the Big Apple a couple times, but… I like Philly better.” More compact. Less snooty, at least if you didn’t go too far out into the suburbs. And familiar as the back of my hand.
Freya hummed to herself. “I’m sure we’ve been through there at least once or twice. At this point, we’ve been through pretty much everywhere.” She laughed briefly. “And you have family there? Friends?”
“Some.” Not any that really mattered other than Petey. Not any I wanted to talk to her about.
“And what exactly did you occupy yourself with out there that made Loki think you were the type to get your hands dirty?”
Her expression had turned a little sly. Of course this “stroll” wasn’t just to give me a break in my training. She wanted something from me too. To know just how big a mess the girl they’d picked up almost at random was. My hackles rose, but I kept my voice calm.
“I left home when I was seventeen. Been looking after myself for the last five years. When you’re starting with nothing, you do what you have to. I work for criminals. I’ve bent the law. I’ve stolen when it was either that or starve—or when I saw someone who really didn’t deserve what they had. I’ve hurt people when it was either that or get hurt.”
Because I hadn’t done enough of that when it really would have made a difference. A painful jab ran through my gut.
“A survivor,” Freya said.
I didn’t like her flippant tone. What the hell would a goddess know about needing to survive?
“More than that,” I said. “I was doing pretty well, the last few years. I’ve got an apartment that’s all mine, no roommates needed. Clients I can count on as far as anyone can count on a criminal. It was a life.” I wasn’t going to tell her about Petey.
“But one of these criminals killed you?”
“No,” I muttered, kicking at a stray pebble. My lightning-forged muscles sent it flying straight across the meadow. “Some asshole junkie in a jeep killed me.”
“Ah.” Her brow furrowed. “I may have experienced plenty of the modern age, but I do still find humankind’s motorized vehicles rather disturbing.”
“Well, they’re particularly ‘disturbing’ when they’re bearing down on you at a hundred miles an hour.” I hoped that idiot driver had gotten bashed up bad in the crash. Lost his license. Some sort of karma.
Freya switched gears on me. “Seventeen is rather young to be leaving your home, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I said stiffly. “But I had good reasons.” Reasons I definitely wasn’t getting into with her. Echoes of shouting and funerals and the ghost of unwanted hands traveling over my skin washed over me just with that quick mention. I shoved all those memories way, way back in my mind where they belonged and hopefully would stay for the rest of eternity.
I was going to save Petey from all that—from all the shit I’d been through under Mom’s roof.
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Restlessness rippled through me. I found myself looking into the distance again. Wondering how far in the distance I could find a real road where I might be able to hitch a ride before anyone caught up with me. Yeah, right.
When I yanked my gaze back, Freya was watching me with a tense little smile. A prickle ran down my back. Did she know what I’d been thinking?
Maybe she’d brought me on this walk out here just to test me—to see whether I’d try to run again. To make sure I really was committed now.
But look, here I still was. She couldn’t complain about that. Now maybe she’d cough up a little more information about this bizarre little family of hers. The better I understood where they stood with each other, the easier I’d be able to work my way out of this crazy situation.
“So you’re Odin’s wife,” I said. “And the other gods… are his sons?”
“Other than Loki,” she said with an arch of her eyebrow. “He’s no relation to any of them, as much as he might enjoy playing otherwise. He and Odin swore an oath to each other, a very long time ago. We’ve been stuck with him since then.”
“Blood brothers,” I said, remembering how Loki had put it.
“Yes. Thor and the twins are Odin’s sons, from before our partnering.” She exhaled softly. “Many things have changed in our realm since the days when humankind honored us.”
Hold on. “Baldur and Hod really are twins?” I said. “I thought Loki was making a joke.”
She laughed. “Understandable, but no. Non-identical, clearly, but born together all the same. Day and night. Summer and winter. And yet inseparable, other than…” Her voice trailed off, and she shut her mouth.
“Other than?” I prompted.
“Nothing. I lost my train of thought.” She waved dismissively.
Ah ha. There were things the gods didn’t want to talk about too. But I couldn’t see pressing directly getting me any further.
“They get along, then?” I said. “Hod struck me as a little, um, grouchy.”
Freya’s smile came back. “He is that. But their bond is something else. And as their older brother Thor naturally keeps an eye on both of them, never mind they’ve been grown adults for innumerable years.”
A close-knit family. Loki on the outside, but he was also clearly the sharpest of the bunch, so I couldn’t see him as a weak spot.
Our path had taken us in a wavering circle. The house came back into view up ahead, the old bricks dark against the bright green foliage all around them. If I couldn’t find a weak point among the gods, maybe their home had one. From this angle I could see the front and back porches and windows rambling all up the side I was facing. A couple of those were close enough to jump from… Even the third-floor ones might work if I could use these wings to fly. My back itched at the idea.
I didn’t like the feel of them, but if that was what it took, I’d do it. I just needed to learn how first. I’d find out what the other three gods had to teach me, and then I’d be ready.
“Thank you for the walk,” I said, tucking my hair back behind my ears as we reached the front of the house. “I think it was good to clear my head. Now I guess I’d better get on with this training I’m supposed to do.”
“Thank you for the company,” Freya said smoothly, as if she hadn’t been using it as an excuse to pump me for information and who knew what else.
When we stepped inside, a lilting melody was carrying faintly down the stairs. Like a violin, maybe, but lower. And vaguely familiar.
Freya tipped her chin toward the stairs. “That’ll be Baldur. You could go see him next.”
Baldur. The dreamy bright god who’d knocked me unconscious with his touch—but in about as peaceful a way as anyone could ask for. I wasn’t sure what to make of Loki yet, and Hod definitely didn’t like me. I might as well find out what was going on behind those slightly dazed if gorgeous eyes, and what he’d contributed to my valkyrie-ness.
The song petered out as I reached the top of the stairs. Whatever piece it had been, the one he started playing next was even more familiar: the swelling notes of “Amazing Grace.” I’d taken singing classes for a little while when I was a kid during one of Mom’s rare generous phases. I’d sung that piece for my first and only recital.
The lyrics tickled at the base of my throat as I came up on the closed door the music was seeping through. As I eased it open, I couldn’t help letting my voice slip out softly in time with the instrument.
“Through many dangers, toils and snare, we have already come. T’was grace that brought us safe thus far, and grace will lead us home.”
Hell yes, I could use some of that kind of grace right now.
8
Baldur
The bow moved over the strings as smoothly as if it had a mind of its own—as if it were playing the music of its own accord, and my hand was simply coasting along with it. The low rich notes of the viola filled the room. I wasn’t even paying attention to what song I moved to next, just letting instinct carry me. Losing myself in that world made of warmth and music. The only world where everything always felt perfectly at peace.
A voice wove through the melody. Raw but sweet, wavering on a note here or there but mostly hitting just the right cadence. My eyes popped open.
The young woman who was our new valkyrie had just slipped into the room. She froze, her mouth snapping shut, when my gaze met hers. I eased the bow to a stop.
“You have a good voice. It seems your parents named you well.”
Aria’s mouth twitched. She looked as though she wasn’t sure whether she should smile. “My voice isn’t half as good as you play,” she said. “Is it normal for Norse gods to learn Christian hymns?”
“Is that what that song was? I have to admit I don’t always take note of the source. I hear music I like, and I store it away up here.” I tapped my head lightly.
“You must have quite a collection now.”
After all the time of my existence, she meant. A quiver ran through my thoughts. I looked away, breathing in, settling into the warm glow the song had left behind that matched the sunlight streaming through the window of the music room. There was nothing distressing here. And the past wasn’t worth thinking about, now that it was past.
When I turned back to Aria, she was watching me warily. “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said. “I thought maybe you could start your part of the whole valkyrie training thing.”
“Of course,” I said. Good that she was willing; good that she was eager. I smiled. “You want to understand what you are now as much as possible. I’ll help in every way I can.”
I stood up and set the viola in its place against the wall amid our collection of instruments. I’d dabbled in a variety over the eras, but the viola was one I kept coming back to. Nothing else could quite match the depth and purity of its sound. I trailed my fingers over the smooth wood affectionately.
“What exactly is it that you’re going to teach me?” Aria said. “I’m still not totally sure how you all fit in.”
I nodded. Some confusion was understandable, but I should do what I could to soothe it. My gaze slid back to her. “It will take time to absorb everything. I’m sorry your arrival was so difficult for you. We’ve tried to welcome our valkyries as gently as possible, but it’s such a complicated situation. If there had been a way, I’d have wanted your permission first.”
She did smile back then, a little wryly. “Well, it’s done now, right? And I can’t say I’d rather I was back to being dead. So I guess it worked out okay.”
She was different from the other ones. I hadn’t been sure of Loki’s reasoning when he’d made his case for a new strategy, but I could see the benefit of it in her now. The others—they’d agreed to help out of the goodness of their hearts, which they’d had plenty of. It’d been goodness they’d turned to when their fears or uncertainties had crept up. But goodness was soft and hazy.
The determination in Aria was something flexible but so much stronger, like the robust
tension of a good bow. She wanted to learn because it was a challenge she looked forward to defeating, not just because she felt obligated to follow some vague idea of rightness. She was going to enjoy coming into her powers, not simply accept them as a duty.
That kind of light could sustain you so much longer, through so much more.
She’d bounced back quickly from the frantic girl she’d been this morning. It soothed me, seeing that.
“What do you know about valkyries?” I asked her.
“Other than what you guys have told me so far—that they’ve got something to do with Odin, and you’ve got to use someone dead to make one?” She shrugged. “Not much. They’re warriors, right? That’s why I needed some of Thor’s strength in the mix?”
“In a way,” I said. “But a valkyrie’s position is something more sacred than that. In the old times, you and your sisters would have watched over the battles on Midgard and decided which side emerged victorious. Chosen which of the fallen deserved to ascend to Odin’s great hall, Valhalla. Justice and mercy.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Sounds like a big responsibility.”
There really wasn’t much that fazed this one, was there? I felt myself relax even more into the conversation. I was giving her something she wanted. There was no discomfort here.
“Yes,” I said. “Although you wouldn’t have shouldered it alone. There would have been dozens of you, observing and considering.”
“But now you’re stuck with just me. After the trouble the ones before me apparently had, you didn’t think a squadron might be a good idea?”
“Ah,” I said, with a wave of my hand as if I could brush both of us past that point. “It takes a lot of energy for us to summon even one valkyrie. We do the best we can. Now, I can show you—”