A Restored Viking: Sveyn & Hollis: Part Two (The Hansen Series - Sveyn & Hollis Book 2)

by Kris Tualla

  “What’s his purpose?” Stevie pressed. “Does he have a mission?”

  Hollis decided to punt this answer. “I think he came to save me from Everett.”

  Sveyn crossed his arms and wagged his head. He leaned against the opposite wall. “And yet I was as surprised as you at what occurred.”

  Stevie risked a tentative look over her shoulder. “But he’s still here.”

  “Tell her I guard the icon.”

  Hollis flicked a glance at Sveyn. It was a good suggestion. “Maybe I’m wrong to call him a guardian angel. He’s probably attached to the icon, not to me.”

  “Oh.” Stevie looked at Hollis with obvious relief. “Well that would make sense.”

  “It would, wouldn’t it,” Hollis mused. “That’s the logical explanation.” Thank you, Sveyn.

  Stevie heaved a sigh. “I guess we should get to work.”

  “Yep.” Hollis walked past the half-filled display cases. “But first, I’m going to talk to Miranda and see who’s messing with the Blessing.”

  Chapter Eight

  “The icon pieces were moved?” Miranda opened her desk and reached for the other key to the case. She lifted it up, still attached to a four-inch rubber Saguaro cactus by a thin steel cable. “My key’s here, right where I left it.”

  She dropped the key back in the drawer. “Are you sure the pieces were moved?”

  Sveyn leaned down to Miranda. “Yes,” he said in her ear.

  Miranda brushed her hair away from that ear.

  Hollis hesitated, wondering if that was more than a coincidence. “Um, yes. Both Stevie and I agreed they were not where we left them.”

  Miranda’s brow furrowed. “Maybe the case was moved and the pieces slipped. I know the AC crew was working until late last night.”

  That was certainly possible. “Who was with them?”

  “The security guys worked late.” Miranda flashed a wry grin. “With Christmas coming, they were happy about the overtime.”

  “I guess that’s what must have happened.” Hollis was vaguely unsatisfied, but there was no basis for claiming that anything else had occurred. “But can you please tell them to be more careful? It’s not like we can order replacements if something gets damaged.”

  “You’re right about that.” Miranda scribbled a note. “And I certainly will.”

  “Thank you.”

  Miranda looked up from her desk. “What are you bringing on Thursday?”

  Thanksgiving.

  Hollis named the first thing that came to her mind. “Stuffing.”

  Sveyn looked puzzled. “What are you stuffing?”

  Stop talking, Viking. “I don’t know what size of turkey you’re getting, but in my experience there usually isn’t enough room inside for the amount of bread stuffing people want.”

  Sveyn chuckled. “You put bread inside the turkey?”

  “You’re right.” Miranda made a note on a different pad of paper, then pointed the eraser end of her pencil at Hollis. “Remember—not out of a box.”

  “Of course not,” Hollis lied.

  “Because that’s the whole point,” Miranda pressed. “A home cooked dinner with friends.”

  “I make it with sausage,” Hollis dug her hole deeper. What are you doing? “Is that all right?”

  “Absolutely! As long as there aren’t any oysters, I’m fine with that.” Miranda grinned. “I’m so glad you’re coming.”

  Hollis grinned back at her boss and lied once more. “Me, too.”

  Wednesday

  November 25

  “They moved again.” Stevie stared into the brightly lit case holding the Blessing.

  Hollis frowned. Stevie was right. “Someone is playing a trick. They have to be.”

  “It’s not a trick, Hollis.” Sveyn deigned to stand beside the case, though he looked nervous. “The damned things want to be joined to each other.”

  “They’re nothing but wood and steel,” Hollis objected. “They can’t be doing this on their own.”

  “Are you sure?” Stevie turned wide eyes to Hollis. “Did you ask their guardian?”

  Startled by the question, Hollis snapped, “Do you think he’s doing it?”

  Stevie’s hands started to shake visibly and she rolled them into fists. “Could he?”

  “No.” Hollis waved a hand in Sveyn’s direction without thinking about it. “He doesn’t have a physical body. He can’t push things around.”

  Stevie looked back into the case. “Should you move them back?”

  Sveyn’s gaze cut to Hollis’s. “Yes. And put something between them.”

  She sighed. “I suppose.”

  Retrieving her key, she punched in the code, waited for the beep, and unlocked the case.

  “What are you doing, Ms. McKenna?” Mr. Benton strode toward her and Stevie. “Is everything all right?”

  Crapity crapsalot.

  This was not going to go well.

  “The halves of the icon keep moving,” Stevie blurted.

  Hollis’s shoulder dropped.

  Oh, Stevie.

  “What?” The museum’s director stopped in front of Hollis. “By themselves?”

  Hollis squared her shoulders and spoke with confidence. “Of course not, sir. We believe some workmen have been careless and bumped or moved the case.”

  “Hmph.” Benton looked disappointed with her explanation.

  Hollis opened the top of the case and moved the halves until they were about a foot apart. Then she placed the engraved placard, which told their story, in between them.

  “How’s that?” she asked Sveyn without looking at him.

  “Better,” he answered.

  “That looks a little awkward, if you want my opinion,” Benton stated.

  Hollis pressed her lips together and waited. She wouldn’t move the placard unless Benton ordered her to.

  “We can rearrange it on Sunday before the tea,” Stevie offered. “And in the meantime, we’ll see if they move again.”

  Hollis closed the case before Benton could say anything else. “If they are moved again, I’ll want you to look at the security tapes, sir.”

  Benton shook his head. “The cameras aren’t working in here yet.”

  Hollis looked at the director, surprised. “Why not?”

  “Some wiring issue.” He appeared unconcerned. “But we still have time before the opening gala next Tuesday. And the wing’s not open to the public until Wednesday.”

  Hollis bit her lips between her teeth and stuffed the key into the front pocket of her jeans. She looked around the space, trying to think of something to say.

  She came up with, “We’ll be ready. The interns have been very helpful.”

  “Good.”

  Stevie’s expression brightened. “Are you coming to the Jane Austin Tea on Sunday, sir?”

  Benton considered the petite blonde. Hollis could practically see the wheels turning in his head. “I hadn’t planned on it. But I might come after all.”

  “We’ll all be in costume,” Stevie effused. “Even Hollis.”

  “Will she?” Benton turned his attention back to Hollis, his eyes narrowed in thought. “In that case, I’ll be sure to attend. What time does it begin?”

  “Three o’clock.” Stevie looked as pleased as a cat who outsmarted a dog. “It’s going to be amazing.”

  “Yes. Absolutely.” A clearly distracted Benton turned on his heel and left the wing without another word.

  Hollis sighed and looked around the space. “I’m going to run to the grocery store before all the food’s gone. I have to make stuffing for Miranda’s dinner tomorrow.”

  “Not from a box,” Stevie chastised.

  “Why does everybody keep saying that?” Hollis groused. “It’s better than homemade.”

  “Miranda will know.” Stevie shrugged. “I don’t know how she does, but she does.”

  *****

  Hollis wore her Bluetooth earpiece in the grocery store so she could talk to Sve
yn. She had explained the concept of stuffing to him in the car on the way over, so now that he understood what she was making, he didn’t have any comments about the items she tossed in her basket except to ask, “Isn’t that a box?”

  Hollis grabbed a second one. “I’m using these as a starting point.”

  “Stevie says Miranda will know,” he warned. “Do you wish to risk the wrath of your superior?”

  Hollis flipped the box over. “The ingredients are bread crumbs, spices, and dehydrated onions and celery. It’s more efficient to buy those things this way.”

  She tossed the box into her cart. “But I’m adding fresh celery, fresh onion, extra croutons, and sausage. So that counts.”

  “What is dehydrated?”

  “Another word for dried out.”

  “And croutons?”

  “Seasoned cubes of bread that have been toasted—until they are dry.”

  Sveyn nodded. “So the stuffing is dry?”

  “It’s supposed to absorb the fat that melts inside the turkey as it bakes.” Hollis headed toward the meat counter. “But because my stuffing won’t ever see the inside of the bird, I’ll have to add fats and liquids.”

  Sveyn shook his head. “I never understood this when I was with the soldier. I only saw the bowls of unrecognizable food on the tables.”

  Hollis looked up at the Viking. “You never asked about it?”

  “He was a soldier. He never cooked anything.” He grinned at her. “And men do not speak about these things.”

  “True, and what would be the point?” You can’t taste anything anyway.

  Hollis selected a two-pound package of fresh pork sausage, set it in her cart, and pushed it toward the wine aisle. “It’s polite in this case to bring the hostess a bottle of wine for the meal.”

  Sveyn nodded. “I saw that you only have two bottles left in your condo.”

  Hollis’s cheeks warmed. “Wine is good for you. Especially red wine.”

  “But you drink quite a lot of white wine.” The statement was actually a question, judging by Sveyn’s expression,

  “It’s hot in Phoenix. Iced whites are very refreshing.” Hollis turned down the aisle lined from bottom to top with a seemingly endless array of choices. “But now it’s winter, so…”

  Sveyn wandered down the aisle, his hands clasped behind him. “How will you decide which ones to purchase?”

  “In this case, by the label,” she admitted. “No one could know how all of these taste, so since it’s a gift, I’ll pick a cute label.”

  Hollis put several bottles of chardonnay and red zinfandel in her cart as she searched the shelves for a label that stood out.

  “What’s this?” Hollis bent down and lifted a bottle with a California red blend. “I Love You wine?” She smiled at Sveyn. “Now that’s adorable!”

  “Do you love Miranda?” he asked.

  “Yes, but probably not like they mean it.” She set the bottle in her cart. “I wonder if it comes in white.”

  Hollis scanned the bottles for a matching label. “Here—a moscato that’s called Thank You.”

  “That seems appropriate, does it not?” the Viking asked.

  “Yes. I’ll get two so I can keep one.” Hollis set the bottles in her cart.

  “Here’s another.” Sveyn squatted and pointed at the shelf. “It’s a chardonnay called Congrats. What does that mean?”

  “It’s short for congratulations.” Hollis turned the bottle over and read the label. “Golden Glass Wines. Such fun!”

  She put the bottle in her cart. “Are there any more?”

  “I don’t see any.”

  “All right. Then let’s get going.” She turned the cart around and hurried toward the long lines at checkout. Everyone was cooking or baking for the holiday and most seemed to be shopping today. “I have to finish up at the museum before I go home and make my not-from-a-box stuffing.”

  Sveyn snorted a chuckle.

  *****

  Hollis’s eyes watered as she chopped the onion and it stung her sinuses. The celery was already sizzling in the pan in a bath of butter and olive oil. The sausage was browning in a separate pan.

  Sveyn stood in the middle of her small kitchen, his six-and-a-half foot frame completely in her way, whether it had substance or not.

  “Excuse me?” she said as she stepped around him to dump half of the onion into the pan with the celery. “Could you stand somewhere else?”

  “No.”

  Hollis looked up at the apparition. “No?”

  He shook his head. “I cannot smell this from over there.”

  She almost dropped her little cutting board. “What do you smell?”

  He leaned toward the steaming pan. “Onion. I smell onion. I remember this.”

  “I don’t understand, Sveyn.” Hollis set the cutting board on the counter. “How can you smell anything if you don’t breathe?”

  He straightened and looked down at her. “You act as if I know everything about my condition. When I was impaled by the broadsword and this happened to me, I understood nothing. I did not know what had happened to me or how this all transpired.”

  “I know that, but—”

  “But nothing, Hollis. All along, I have discovered as I go. As I manifest from, from…” He paused, his brow twitching. “Time to time, and from man to man.”

  Hollis knew all of this, but it felt inconsistent as he began to regain some of his—self. “Only now you manifested to a woman and everything is altered.”

  “Yes.” He shook his head. “I do not believe you understand how much.”

  “Stevie can sense you. The cameras caught your essence. And you can smell some aromas if they’re exceptionally strong.” Hollis leaned back against the counter. “What does this all mean?”

  Sveyn looked as flummoxed as she felt. “Damned if I know, Hollis. Damned if I know.”

  Chapter Nine

  Friday

  November 27

  Hollis walked into her office, dressed for a day of manual labor. She wanted to personally oversee the set-up for the tea in the Glass Pavilion, an area of the modern museum building that was the closest to anything remotely Regency. She didn’t want to come to work tomorrow if that could be helped, and setting up today left that possibility open.

  Yesterday was more fun than she expected it to be. When she rang Miranda’s doorbell, she reminded Sveyn that, “I’m wearing the earpiece, but please be careful about what you say to me.”

  “Yes, madam,” Sveyn teased. “I shall be on my best behavior.” And thankfully, he was.

  Miranda made a big deal over the wine, declaring it was way too cute to drink. But when Hollis assured her there was plenty more available, she uncorked the bottle and they enjoyed the unexpectedly crisp and delicious moscato together. The partially box-originated stuffing apparently flew under Miranda’s radar—and if it didn’t, her boss said nothing.

  Sveyn was fascinated by the football games the men in attendance were watching. As he caught the gist of the play, he chose whichever side Hollis said she favored and cheered along with them.

  Hollis smiled at the sight of the tall, leather-linen-and-fur clad figure getting excited over the contests. At one point, he brushed his hair back. And it actually moved. Something was going on with the not-dead, not-alive Viking, but whatever that might be was way beyond the scope of her experiences.

  Maybe the ghost hunters will know.

  For the first time, she found a reason not to dread their appearances.

  “We’re setting up for a hundred guests,” Hollis told the interns. “So ten tables with ten chairs each.”

  “And how many at the head table?” Tom, her favorite intern, asked.

  Hollis ticked them off on her fingers. “Benton, Miranda, Stevie, and me, I guess.”

  “Will Stevie not sit with George?” Sveyn asked.

  Good question.

  “Stevie might want to sit with George,” Hollis told Tom. “But it’s better to have a
chair we don’t need, than scramble for one if we do.”

  “Gotcha.” He ambled off.

  Miranda appeared at one end of the space. “Do you need help?”

  “No, I think we have it covered.” Hollis flashed a quick smile. “My only concerns are that everything matches Stevie’s instructions and turns out the way she expects.”

  “I wonder how she’s getting along with George’s family.” Miranda’s expression was wistful as she approached. “Those two are so smitten.”

  Hollis stifled a sigh. Stevie connected with George after her own connection with the lawyer didn’t spark and the rest was rapidly becoming history.

  “They are really cute together,” she admitted. “I’m happy for both of them.”

  “You’re a good person, Hollis.” Miranda patted Hollis’s shoulder. “One day your knight in shining armor will appear.”

  Hollis’s gaze shifted to Sveyn, and she burst into completely unexpected tears. Those tears quickly descended in the dreaded ugly cry, complete with loud, gulping sobs.

  My knight did appear.

  But that was all he was: an apparition.

  “Oh, sweetie!” Miranda pushed Hollis down onto one of the chairs. A tissue was pressed into her hand. “Please don’t cry.”

  “I—I don’t know wh—why I am,” Hollis stammered as she tried to staunch her flooding eyes. “I guess my emotions are—are raw right n—now.”

  Miranda rubbed Hollis back. “I know why. It’s that Everett Sage business isn’t it?”

  Hollis sniffed and wiped her nose, but didn’t reply.

  Sveyn kneeled beside her, his face drawn. His deep voice rumbled impossibly in her chest. “I am so sorry, Hollis.”

  “Shut up,” she growled.

  “I won’t shut up, Hollis,” Miranda said softly. “You can’t blame yourself. We all thought he was charming.”

  Oops.

  Do not answer the Viking.

  “He terrified me,” Hollis managed then blew her nose. Wiping her tears was a still futile effort. “I’ve never been so scared.”

  “I can understand that. Believe me.” Miranda continued her soothing touch. “But he isn’t the norm, by any means.”