“If you can’t figure it out, step outside.”
“Outside?” Leda scoffed.
“Feeling the elements against your skin is the best way to solve the unsolvable.”
“Well, what if you’re on the International Space Station? You can’t exactly go outside there.”
“You never know until you try.”
His voice faded away. Just another reminder that he was gone. That he was fading away. Grief twisted her insides, a kaleidoscope of fragmented memories corroding with each passing moment. She would have crawled back into bed and hid under the covers, except her stomach roared in protest.
She snatched up her crutches and went downstairs for breakfast. Silence greeted her. A note on the fridge in Grams’s flowery scrawl said she and Uncle Arne had gone to deliver a custom order to the mainland and wouldn’t be back until dinner. Fine. She was used to taking care of herself. Except…
The mysterious door. She could at least cross off that one item from her list of questions. This was the perfect opportunity to search for the key that fit the lock. Breakfast could wait. Who knew when she’d get this chance again?
A better question: where would you keep a key you didn’t want anyone to find?
One step at a time. She searched the entire house. Starting with Grams’s room. Careful not to disturb things too much, she opened every drawer, looked behind books, even inside them. She checked closets and cupboards, felt between folded sheets and towels, and even looked through Grams’s jewelry box.
No key. No luck.
She rummaged through the last drawer in the house and came up empty. She’d already been through Arne’s room and found no sign of a key that would fit the lock in the door downstairs.
“They must keep the key with them.”
Annoyed, she cleaned up the mess she’d made, putting everything back how she found it, then went downstairs and stood in front of the door. It looked so plain, innocuous even, painted all white. Even the handle had a couple of coats of paint. But she knew better. Something was behind it. Something big, something important. Why else would Grams and Uncle Arne go to so much trouble to keep it locked up?
Dozens of scenarios played in her head and she dismissed them all—except, maybe there was a secret lab-type room in there. Leda didn’t know what Grams had done for a living before she retired, but it must have been something that paid well. At dinner last night Grams said she had put aside an account for Leda for university living costs.
“One less thing for you to worry about,” she’d said.
But Leda wasn’t interested in university now, not after Dad. At least here in Norway, high school lasted until nineteen. Extra time to figure out how she’d pass the days until she figured out a purpose. It felt like she had stumbled down a rabbit hole, only instead of clocks and rocking chairs and tea cups, she was falling alone in the darkness with no end in sight.
I’m not giving up.
The key had to be here. Maybe she’d missed it in one of the places she’d already looked.
She turned for the stairs again—
But Roar stood in the doorway, blocking her path. And he didn’t look happy.
“Leda,” he said. “What are you doing?”
He seemed to take up all space and light, all conscious reason. Had he experienced the same tunnel vision as her when he walked into a room? Did his skin tingle and bones rattle, like lightning strikes? Did he feel the impossible, unfathomable compulsion to be near her?
His soul-searching gaze never wavered. Stop staring at me. She repeated the words, but she didn’t look away, either. Didn’t move, just stared and breathed and buzzed.
Water droplets clung to the ends of his hair. She followed one drop as it fell to his bare chest and…sweet petunia, his tattoos were everywhere. Seeing them all at once made her dizzy. He said nothing, so she continued studying the markings, twisting around his shoulder and down one side of his abs. Every speck of color slid like a reverse mudslide up his body to the curve running behind his neck. A flock of black dragons moved with his breathing, giving the impression of flight. Tiny shapes fitted together to create a complex pattern covering his shoulder. The dragons flew in an upswept arc, heading straight for an opening in the tattoo, like a door.
When she met him, she could have sworn there had been tiny barbs coming out the sides, but today they were gone. Instead of the arc getting smaller and curling up to his chin, it was pointing backward. Tattoos did not relocate. Tattoos were indelible. Permanent. And even if he had one removed and another put in its place, he’d need time to heal. A few weeks, at least.
She leaned in for a closer look. She needed to know she hadn’t lost her mind. Was his tattoo moving? No way. Trick of the light or something. It had to be. The lights in here were bright. She had to be seeing things.
Except…
Nope, it was moving. Definitely moving.
“Your tattoos—”
Roar cleared his throat. “What are you doing?”
Heat burning her cheeks, Leda dropped her hand and her gaze. Lack of sleep and hunger must be playing with her head. “Right,” she said, her voice cracking. “Breakfast.”
“What?”
“I mean, I came downstairs for breakfast.” She shuffled back a couple of steps, but she still felt the warmth flooding from his bare chest.
One of his brows arched a fraction as his lips curled, an easy half smile she had seen several times now. “Nice,” he said.
“What?”
He gestured to her kitten-riding-a-unicorn pajamas.
Smug jerk. She straightened her spine as much as she could. “At least I’m wearing something.” Her eyes traced along his tattoos, down, down, down… Muscles. Really hot, hard-looking muscles.
“It gets warm in your uncle’s shop.” He swallowed loud enough for her to hear as he lifted his right arm, his hand in a fist. “I um, I made you this.” He opened his palm face-up and revealed a miniature carved phoenix, no bigger than her thumb, with intricate detail that rivaled Uncle Arne’s best piece. He stepped closer, all graceful long limbs, and handed the tiny figure to Leda.
“How did you make it so small?”
He lifted one shoulder, his tiny smile shining. Luminous. “Arne is a good teacher.”
“This is the second most amazing thing anyone has ever given me,” she murmured, holding the phoenix up to examine it closer.
He paused a beat. “And what’s the first?”
She looked at him over the bird’s head. “My dad gave me a textbook when I was eight. Introduction to Physics.” She couldn’t stop the swell of tears. “When he got sick, I’d spend hours looking up physics-related jokes I knew he’d love. Just to hear him laugh.” Her voice caught. The I’m-all-right-so-you-can-leave-me-alone cloak she tugged on every morning evaporated, leaving her bare.
Though she saw him move, nothing prepared her for what came next. His knuckles brushed her cheek, a whisper. Her brain screamed to back away, but her body moved into his touch. This doesn’t make sense. He’s a stranger.
Still, she didn’t move. Couldn’t. She craved this, craved him inexplicably. Her eyes drifted shut and her skin hummed against his hand, savoring the moment. It felt like she and Roar were conversing on a cellular level, a place where words and pride and stupidity couldn’t get in the way. Her bottom lip trembled. She squeezed her eyes tighter, trying to keep her emotions in check.
Warmth invaded her senses when he pulled her to his chest with one arm, the other hand still cupping her jaw. Not a good idea! This is crazy! What am I doing? Her body ignored her brain’s continued protests. This guy touched her and all rational thought evaporated in a blink. She became someone else…something else. Focused on his breath, his pulse, his heat. Him; him; him. He held her as though she were something precious. The only thing that mattered in the whole universe.
Her whole life, everyone had told Leda she was weak. And now, without Roar saying a word, he made something new rise up in her. Someth
ing bold. Something strong. Something powerful.
It didn’t make sense. A stranger shouldn’t be able to make her feel that way. But knowing that was one thing. Resisting it was another.
That’s a good word for it. Impossible is better.
After forever, Roar leaned his head back and stared at her mouth. She felt the heat from his gaze on her lips, an invisible caress. He’s going to kiss me. And she wanted him to kiss her. Needed it—even as the voice of reason told her to stop, to back up, to run away.
Roar inched closer. Time stalled. Her skin tingled and heated to magma-hot.
“I should go,” he said, the words coming out in a single syllable.
Those three words broke the spell. She backed away until she bumped into the railing, her head in a tailspin as she watched him leave. What sorcery was this? She’d practically made out with a stranger, in her grandmother’s house, in her pajamas. She wanted him to kiss her. Roar. A guy she’d known for all of five seconds.
She scowled at her reflection in the glass frame on the wall across from her. Had she lost her dang mind?
Since he’d discovered the Woede were on Vardø, Roar experienced a slight buzzing under his skin, like a constant annoying itch. What did it mean? None of the Elders had told Roar what the weapon was, or how he was meant to locate it. Elder Esfric, one of his tutors, said Roar would know what he was looking for when he set foot on Earth’s soil. He trained Roar to focus on the beat of his heart. On the sounds that surrounded him.
“You’ll know it when you feel it,” the Elders had said.
How am I supposed to find something if I don’t know where to look, or what the stupid thing even looks like?
Part of him knew it would be like the rest of Aurelite tech—something genetic. But that could be anything. And each time he concentrated on the buzzing until it grew to a steady, pulsing rhythm, he wound up standing outside the gray house where his whole body buzzed straight to his bones. Yesterday, in the kitchen with Leda, the sensation had been so strong he’d almost exploded. It had to be there. Maybe the weapon was hidden somewhere in Leda’s place. Or maybe his strange reaction meant nothing at all. If only the Elders weren’t so secretive about the weapon.
A flash of shadow whipped by Roar’s side. He scanned the horizon in all directions but saw only the fuzz of pre-dawn light above the Barents Sea surrounding this tiny Arctic town. Another dark flash. Almost taunting. Every instinct Roar had screamed at him to run back home. Icy gusts chilled his skin through his clothes. He saw no one. Warning prickled his neck at the same time his Earth phone vibrated in his jacket pocket. A call from Oline. He answered on the third buzz.
“We’ve got a problem.”
The ground tilted under his feet. “What happened?”
She rattled off directions, an address across the island. “Can you meet us there now?”
“Sure.” Roar ended the call and slid the phone back in his pocket.
A few minutes later, he reached a drafty yellow house and froze. Standing on the porch was Oline, holding a gun aimed at Stein. A burst of adrenalin surged through Roar so hard he couldn’t breathe. Where had she gotten a gun? What was she thinking? And what the hell had Stein done?
“Don’t try anything stupid,” she said to Stein as she placed one hand on his shoulder, ensuring wherever he disappeared to, he’d take her with him.
That’s when Roar saw Petrus sitting on the ground, his face screwed up and arms curled around his body. Pain. He was in pain. Roar’s stomach twisted and churned. He ignored the questions leaping in his mind and went to his friend, passing Oline and Stein. He ignored them, too.
He knelt beside Petrus, looking for signs of blood on the ground, on his hands. “What happened?”
Petrus pointed to the yellow house, then crumpled in on himself. Too much pain.
“He’s fine,” Oline said.
Roar didn’t look away from Petrus. “But how do you know that?”
“Just go inside the house, Roar. Nils lives there.”
He turned to Stein. Any mention of the Woede brought out his destructive side. “Why are you guys here?”
The muscles in Stein’s jaw were stone until he spoke. “I came to make sure the half-breed knew the score. She followed me.”
Oline sighed. Her aim didn’t waver. “I knew he might do something stupid.”
And Petrus had gone with them because he felt someone in pain.
Roar scrubbed a hand over his jaw. How messed up did this situation have to become before the humans intervened? “Stein, you knew coming here would be a mistake.” He didn’t ask where Oline got the gun. Didn’t want to know. “Chief Inspector Sørby made us promise to leave Nils alone.”
Stein vibrated with anger, his skin glowing. Shimmering. “I didn’t promise anything.”
Roar aimed daggers at Stein. They were causing a scene. Any second now, someone would look outside, see the four of them on the street—Oline holding a gun at Stein—and call the police. “Nils has never been off this planet. He has no link to what happened on Aurelis, other than the fact that he shares the same genetics as the Woede. That’s all.”
Stein’s brows shot up, and his nostrils flared. “And?”
Oline and Roar shared a look. Roar said, “We’re here to find something and go home. That’s it. If you go after Nils, then you’re no better than the guy who pushed the button.”
They all knew what he meant. From the command center of Equinox, via the massive viewscreen, Roar, Petrus, Stein, and Oline had watched a bright light pulse from the Woede mothership and create a web around the planet, trapping everyone on the surface.
Heavy silence hung in the air around them. Just like when the four of them stood on Equinox and watched it happen.
An hour passed. Or maybe it was a minute.
Roar swallowed, the sound cutting into the strain. “Oline’s right. We should go inside and see what’s going on.”
Everything popped and cracked in Stein’s body at once. “Now you’re talking. ‘I don’t wanna die without any scars.’”
Oline smoothed a hand over her wind-blown hair. “Don’t be an idiot, Stein. I’m sure Roar didn’t mean let’s go interrogate him like a bunch of villains in a Hollywood action movie. We need him to trust us, and we need to trust him.”
Roar walked up the steps and knocked on the door. Three sharp raps.
A woman answered the door, her white nightgown soaked in cloudy, purplish blood. Woede blood. Her pale blue eyes aimed at nothing in particular, past Roar and the others. She held a knife in her right hand, the blade raining violet drops at her feet, the snick, snick, snick sound churning in time with hot bile at the back of Roar’s throat.
Behind him, Petrus let out a breathy moan and retched, silent heaves followed by the splatter of vomit. His face paled and it seemed like he would never stop throwing up. Then Petrus slapped a hand to his chest, as if he couldn’t breathe. Roar could only watch his friend, couldn’t do anything to help but stand there, his heart pounded a thunderstorm against his ribs.
“It didn’t work,” the woman said in Norwegian. Roar faced her, and the light in her eyes dimmed.
“What didn’t work?” Oline asked, her voice soft, light as feathers.
The knife slipped through the woman’s blood-soaked fingers and clattered on the floor. She slid a hand over shredded silk covering her belly. “It never does.”
All the pieces clicked into place. The knife, the blood, the holes in her nightgown, and no visible wounds. She’d done this to herself—tried to take her own life, but somehow failed. From the words she spoke, it seemed this wasn’t her first try.
Roar shook his head and growled. How was he supposed to save his people from the enemy if he couldn’t even save them from themselves?
Chapter Four
Daylight faded to a pale glow for the night as Stein and Oline took Mrs. Tvedt upstairs to get cleaned up; a special kind of torture Oline had decided on as punishment, and Roar agreed. He would h
ave gone instead of Stein, but someone had to look after Petrus, and he didn’t trust Stein to stick around and help. Roar forced Petrus onto the couch and dropped beside him. Together they surveyed the hall. What a mess. Kind of like his mission.
Roar turned to his friend. “This isn’t working.”
Petrus moved his hands. “That much is obvious.”
“You know what I mean. I can’t do what I’m supposed to.”
“The Elders never gave you any specifics?”
“No, there wasn’t time.” Or was there? Training day after day for years, and it had never come up in his lessons.
“Don’t you think that’s a little odd? I mean, we were both stuck in seclusion with the Elders for years and they never told you what the weapon looks like?”
“Well, I asked once—” Roar began.
Petrus dismissed him with a sour frown. “Let me guess. They changed the subject and made you feel like you did something wrong.”
“Yeah.”
“Remember the time you asked me why I can’t speak?”
An unsettling chill climbed Roar’s spine. “No. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course you don’t. But the sick, cold sensation spreading into your brain right now is all that’s left of the conversation, courtesy of a mind alteration device the Elders used on you.”
“Mind alteration? On Aurelis? Petrus, what the hell is wrong with you?”
“Where should I begin?”
The front door opened and Nils stepped inside the house. He took one look at the blood and the blade and he blew into the house, a hurricane of fear gusting in his wake. A dropped soda and crushed eggs ran a slimy, bubbling river through violet puddles in the front hall.
Nils grabbed the knife and glared at Roar. “What did you do?”
“We came over to see you,” Oline said from the stairs, hands tucked under her arms, her voice gentle. She quickly and tactfully explained what had happened.
Tension in Nils’s shoulders melted away. He dropped the knife and sat on the bottom step, his chest concave, shoulders trembling under an enormous weight. “She does this every year. I totally forgot today was the day.”
All the Stars Left Behind Page 3