Letting out a long, dramatic sigh, Oliver beckoned for us to follow and started for the trailer. After exchanging a glance, we followed him carefully through the minefield that passed for his front yard. He took us around the side of the house to a large metal shed with a roll up door secured with three different kinds of locks. I gave Vidar a long, hard look as Oliver worked on opening the locks.
I mouthed, Are you sure?
He nodded.
The roll-up door rattled as it opened to reveal what felt like a portal to another world, or at least another garage. Rubber coated the floor in black and white squares that made it look like a huge, spotless chessboard. Stainless steel cabinets and shelves lined one wall. Along the other stood three bikes, one in an organized state of repair with parts lines up along a nearby shelf. The other two lay hidden beneath covers. From the shelves to the floor, the place was immaculate.
A gasp and curse from Vidar made me smile. I had known what lay on the other side of the door and it still shocked me. What lay beneath those covers was anyone’s guess. Oliver went through bikes too fast to ever be sure. He grabbed the gray cover on the closest bike and pulled it free. Folding the cover neatly without looking, he stepped back away from the bike, not out of reverence, but out of something that smelled like fear.
The sleek V-Rod Harley all decked out in black was a shock even to me. On each tank the Norse compass of knotted runes and wolf’s head were painted in silver and white. Despite my distaste for the brand’s tendency to leak oil wherever they sat for any extended period of time, I was impressed. So impressed I found myself walking toward it alongside Vidar. We both reached hands out to stroke it at the same time, our fingers brushing over one another.
From Oliver’s wide eyes and the way he took a step back, you’d think we were touching a fiend from Muspelheimr. “Electronics for electronics. It’s a good enough trade, I guess,” he said.
Though I kept my expression neutral, inside I cringed. Vidar’s truck was worth over twice what this bike was. The look of boyish joy on his face made it clear he didn’t share my reservations.
He walked around it, eyes taking in every inch of it as if it were a woman. I actually found myself getting kind of jealous.
Making humming noises to himself, Oliver wandered deeper into the shop and began rummaging through the cabinets. A few moments later he returned with a set of leather saddlebags, four straps so clean they had to be brand new, and an envelope. “Here, these go with it.”
When Vidar took the saddlebags and straps, Oliver opened the envelope and laid the title on the counter. He pulled a pen from his back pocket and signed it before handing it to Vidar as well. “At least the truck won’t have to sit in my shop until I can sell it.”
Once Vidar got the bags on the bike, he pushed it out into the afternoon sun. Oliver and I trailed along behind him, Oliver to keep distance between himself and the bike, and me to watch Vidar’s fine form as he walked away. Unfortunately, Oliver only let him get a few steps before he dashed in front of him to take the lead and guide us safely back out.
“Where did you even get a bike like this?” I asked.
“Calder got it for me. Wanted me to learn to trust electronics. But there aren’t electronics on Asgard.”
I touched his arm as we stopped beside the truck. “It’ll be a long time before you make it to Asgard.”
Shoulders rolling inward, he shook his head. “That’s what Calder said. But you’re wrong. Ragnarok is coming. That’s why you woke up.”
Oh, no. If I didn’t get him off this roll we’d never get out of here. I shot Vidar a desperate look. He gave me a subtle nod.
“Well, no time to waste. I’d better get you that title,” Vidar said as he opened the passenger door of the truck.
My cousin prattled on about the end of the world while Vidar and I unloaded my bike from the back of the truck. In only moments we had our things loaded onto the two bikes. I was impressed by how little Vidar kept in his truck. His bulky sleeping bag took up a lot more space on his rear seat than my compact one and tent put together, but we made everything fit well enough.
Oliver’s eyes widened as I hugged him goodbye. “It’s not just my cousin hugging me, it’s the uppskera. The uppskera!” He literally trembled with delight as he started on a tangent about me being chosen by Odin.
I held a finger against his lips. “And the uppskera has to get back to her mission. You take care of yourself; stay safe. And sell that truck as fast as you can.”
Eyes growing big, he nodded like a bobblehead. The moment I moved my finger he began to ramble again. Before he could build up any steam I turned away and walked back toward the bikes.
My attention gravitated toward Vidar as he threw a leg over the Harley and sat down. That one little movement threatened to crumble the carefully built walls around my desire. Seeing him straddling the bike was too much. His biceps and triceps flexed ever so slightly as he wrapped his hands around the handlebars. In only a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, he wasn’t exactly properly equipped to ride—well not a motorcycle at least. But he still looked damn fine. I had to turn away as he fired it up.
The thing was so loud we were going to have to get him a Bluetooth ready helmet just so we could talk while riding. Laughter so delighted it seemed boyish despite its deep baritone sounded within all that motor noise. It made me look back at him against my better judgment. The smile on his face combined with the happiness oozing from his energy made it impossible to draw my next breath. How I was going to keep up my resistance to him all the way to Oregon, I had no idea. I had a feeling I was in for the toughest—and most stimulating—five hours of my life.
Chapter Thirteen
Vidar
Riding the bike made me feel like a superhero—even if it was loud as Helheimr. It was worth it. With the wind blowing through my clothes and the yellow lines zipping by so fast they were reduced to a blur even to my eyes, it felt like I was flying. I’d forgotten how much fun riding a motorcycle could be. Four long years had passed since I’d been on one. The reason for that rode alongside me looking like the ghost of a ninja in her gray riding gear, white helmet, and white jacket, gripping that pearly white BMW between her thighs. What I wouldn’t do to be that bike…
We had grown up riding motorcycles together. When I turned sixteen I bought a pair of Hondas from a wrecking yard and we’d fixed them up. Aside from martial arts, it was the one non-geeky thing I’d been into as a kid. But I’d always had to refer to a manual. Not Ayra. She was a natural when it came to the workings of a motorcycle. Back then she’d looked hot enough to melt titanium in her short jean shorts bent over a bike with a wrench. Now, leaning on the tank, hand gripping the open throttle tight, she made me want to explode.
No matter how fast we rode, the stench of that birdhouse at the end of Oliver’s driveway stuck with me. It must have gotten into my nose. An hour later I still smelled it. Before us the tree-lined road rose up to a hilltop where the sun seemed to be hanging in wait. As we crested the hill the light hit me full on and rendered my sunglasses useless. I felt like that superhero with eyesight that cut everything it crossed like a laser, only in reverse. The squeal of brakes and rubber yanked my attention over to Ayra.
Something huge and feathered cut right in front of her. And I mean huge—far too large to be any bird I had ever heard of. Then there was the problem of the human body attached to the wings. My head couldn’t wrap around what I was seeing, probably because it was too busy bringing the Harley to a screaming halt. Ayra wove her bike around the winged person, not once, but twice, as it dove toward her again. She whipped around in a tight circle and came back toward me.
The winged person—a man with brown and black hair that matched his multi-colored wings—dove for her again. Ayra swerved onto the grassy shoulder of the road. She knelt on her seat and yanked the front break so hard the bike did a reverse wheelie and launched her into the air. Claws extended, she collided with the winged man and bore him to th
e ground. Her helmet clattered to the concrete near my feet. Feathers and blood flew through the air.
I jumped from my bike and ran toward the chaos. Before I could get there, the winged man broke free and took to the air with two beats of his massive wings. He made it less than twenty feet off the ground when another winged person collided with him. Their screeching made me want to bury my head in the ground. Enduring the pain, I ran to Ayra’s side. She stood, chest heaving, fangs bared, growling up at the two winged creatures. They started to fall—straight for us. I scooped Ayra up and dashed out of the way.
Feathers poofed up from the impact of the two hitting the ground. The newcomer knelt on the chest of the one who had attacked Ayra, talon-adorned hands around his throat. This one was a female. Long golden-brown braids hung down around a sharply featured face that was lovely in a fierce way. Golden-brown wings that had to span at least fifteen feet attached at her shoulder blades twitched and moved. Many of the feathers were over two feet long.
Ayra literally vibrated with tension. I kept my arms wrapped around her waist, not wanting her to leap into the fray again. Not yet.
“Move and I will end you,” the female warned the male she knelt on.
Ayra growled, but thankfully didn’t struggle. “Get off him and I’ll end him now,” she said.
The female looked at us. Her eyes were the pure blue of a completely cloudless sky. The look in those eyes was apologetic. Those golden wings arched around the male like a raptor hiding its prey from other predators. “I am sorry, uppskera, but I can’t do that. He has to face a power even higher than yours for this.”
I had half-expected her to sound otherworldly, ethereal, but she just sounded like a woman.
“You know what I am,” Ayra said.
The winged female turned her head just enough to look at Ayra and I out of the corner of her eye. “Of course, but I think you know what I am as well. I apologize for this one’s conduct.”
The male bucked beneath her, his massive wings flexed enough to raise him a good foot off the ground. She thrust a hand into his chest and pushed him back down.
“Don’t apologize for me, Halley. If you had the sense Odin gave a raven you’d help me kill her,” the male snapped.
Halley slapped the male across the face. “Blasphemous idiot. She’s an agent of Odin.”
He pushed himself up onto his elbows and hissed into her face. “Like Hel. She is varúlfur, they’re born of Fenrir and by their very nature they can’t be agents of Odin. The things she did, my birds saw. They showed me. She has to die.”
She gripped his neck and squeezed. “You’ve been using the birds to watch her? You bastard. They aren’t your pawns.” Her wings fluttered with what might have been anger. “Retract,” she commanded. Her talons dug into his flesh. Tiny lines of blood started to run down his neck. “Now.”
At first his hands gripped hers, pulling at them, but in moments they fell away. He gasped until he couldn’t gasp anymore. Being bigger than her, it surprised me that he couldn’t overpower her. His wings drew in, flowing much like our forms did when we shifted, then they abruptly disappeared. He went limp and hit the ground with a thud. Halley rolled him over, tweaked his arm up at an awkward angle, and looked over at us.
“I don’t suppose you guys have a rope?” she asked.
“I can do one better than that,” I said.
I dashed back to my Harley and grabbed the handcuffs out of my saddlebags. Ayra’s brows only raised a bit while the winged woman’s eyes widened considerably. Donning an innocent look, I shrugged. “My dad and brothers are lögreglu.” Her shocked expression didn’t change by the time I reached her. “Cops,” I clarified.
The hint of a smile pulled at her lips. “I got that. I understand a bit of Icelandic. It’s just…” A full smile bloomed as she shook her head.
She took my handcuffs and slapped them on properly with ease, despite the fact they were hinged instead of chain cuffs. Most civilians struggled with the hinged cuffs since they weren’t very common outside of law enforcement. “You’re pretty handy with a pair of cuffs,” I said, instantly regretting the words because of how dirty they sounded.
I let a sideways glance slide in Ayra’s direction. Was her face red with a touch of jealousy or was it just from fighting?
“That might have come across wrong,” I said.
Halley waved a hand as she hauled the now very human looking man to his feet. She flapped her great wings once, then folded them in. As they drew in they disappeared. The process looked similar to shifting.
“Don’t sweat it. And I’m a firefighter pilot, so I’ve done my fair share of handcuffing. We should move this off the road,” she said.
Because being a winged woman who could make her wings disappear wasn’t cool enough by itself.
Ayra appeared at our sides, silent as a ghost and twice as haunting.
“And you’re also a valkyrie, aren’t you?” she asked.
That exact question had been burning the back of my tongue, but I hadn’t been able to build up the nerve to ask. Valkyries were the stuff of bedtime stories, creatures you always hoped were real, but never imagined you’d ever really meet.
We walked off the road, Halley dragging the man with impressive ease. Firefighters had to be able to pull their own weight—literally. And I had a feeling this one could do that and much more. The fact that something as amazing as a valkyrie could have a day job blew my mind.
“I am. We both are,” she said, motioning to her captive.
I rolled my Harley off the road, remembering it only because I nearly ran right into it. I couldn’t stop staring at Halley’s back, wondering where her wings had gone, how they worked. The handcuffed man mumbled to himself about blasphemous heathens and Ragnarok. He sounded as crazy as his wide eyes made him look. Those eyes fixed on Ayra. A protective urge swelled up in me. I stepped in between them. His hatred burned with real heat.
“She has to die. She will bring about Ragnarok. You have to kill her,” he said.
Growling, I bared my four fangs at him. “Not only do I think she’s undefeatable, but anyone who tries to get to her will have to go through me. And they won’t make it.”
Face scrunching up in frustration, the man shook his head. “Ragnarok, you idiot. The end of this world!”
Ayra got in his face. “I would never kill Thor. I’m loyal to Odin. Just because we’re descended from Fenrir doesn’t mean my kind are evil or all beholden to Loki.”
The man flinched and tried to draw back against Halley. “I didn’t say you would do it. I said you’d cause it,” he responded in a harsh whisper.
With a grunt, Halley jerked him back and turned him away from us. “I’m sorry. He’s one of those extremist zealots, completely crazy. And he’s going to pay for attacking you and revealing our kind to those of this world.” She said the last to him, all but hissing it into his ear.
The man sneered at her. “If you think he’ll side with you, you’re a bigger idiot than I thought. He banished their kind here to protect his son, who is our lord, our prince! Or did you forget?”
A loud smack sounded as she backhanded him. “Shut up! The only other thing worse than letting one of this world see us, is telling them about us.”
The man shrugged, seemingly oblivious that the slap had been hard enough to leave a raised red print on his cheek. “Won’t matter if we kill them. You care too much about this world and the creatures in it, them especially.”
“You don’t care enough!”
I watched in awe, taking in their sharp features, slender forms, and swift mannerisms. “Holy shit, valkyries are real,” I whispered.
Ayra rolled her bike over next to where I stood. “I know. Crazy, right?” she whispered to me.
The awe in her voice, her wide eyes, it took away the haunted look that had clung to her since I’d been back.
I leaned close to her. “And you kicked one’s ass.”
A smile lit her face up like the clouds
in a lightning storm. Gods, she was beautiful. “Not quite. We were interrupted.”
“But you would have.”
Her smile grew. I wasn’t just humoring her to see that smile. She would have kicked his ass. I could tell by the way the fight had been going and by what I knew of her skills. It didn’t surprise me. She had been amazing before she became the uppskera. Now she was as otherworldly as these valkyrie.
Halley’s head turned from side to side, her gaze scanning the tree-lined road. A moment later her wings materialized out of her back. “If you’ll excuse me for a minute, I’ve got to turn this guy over to the authorities. There’s a meadow to the northeast of here. Meet me there, we need to talk.”
“Of course,” Ayra answered before I could even open my mouth.
Halley nodded to Ayra and unfurled her huge wings. Two loud snaps like a tarp whipping in the wind sounded and the valkyrie took to the air. Golden-brown wings blocked out the sun for a moment and then they were just gone like a spaceship engaging warp drive. Nothing I had ever seen could compare to it; not the waterfalls of Iceland, not the full moon rituals of varúlfur, not even meeting a real vampire.
…
Finding the clearing wasn’t the problem; getting the Harley there was. I had to all but carry it most of the way. The thing got heavy, even for me. We stopped beneath a huge pine tree that had to be a hundred years old from the size of its trunk. The shade it offered from the summer heat was just as welcome as the trunk to lean on.
“Valkyries are real,” Ayra said again.
Between the two of us we’d used that phrase in one form or another at least five times now. It still made me smile. “Crazy, isn’t it? I thought they were just bedtime stories,” I said.
Practically hopping a circle around the tree, she gestured with her hands. “I know, me too. Did you see the way they fought in the air? That was spectacular!”
I hated to ruin her carefree moment of innocent amazement, but I had to. Glancing about, I took hold of her hand and started to lead her deeper back into the trees. Red tinged her cheeks. While I wanted to think it was because I held her hand, it was more likely that it was from her excitement. Pale brows furrowing together, she looked back at the motorcycles.
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