Dead Radiance

by Ayer, T. G.

  Way to go on the swift change of subject, Biker-Dude. I rolled my eyes, shook my head didn't bother to force the issue. Not yet.

  Leaning forward I peered up at Hugin as he swooped in a circle, high above the car. I caught a glimpse of the raven when he crossed in front of the white-faced moon, bemused at the simple beauty of the bird, backlit by the pale moon.

  But Aidan had a point. Could Hugin keep up with a car? He was no ordinary bird; he belonged to Odin, after all. And he'd made it pretty clear that he wasn't particularly fond of the Lincoln; he couldn’t fly off fast enough. I shrugged. Nothing we could do now. We couldn't walk all the way to Maryland. Surely Hugin would keep up. We had to get to the institute, fast. Every minute wasted was a minute of Aidan's life gone, a minute closer to his last breath.

  "So your dad's the boss now, huh?" I asked, determined to get my answers. "That's how he got his hands on those old reports."

  "Yeah, he suspected your father was doing something odd right from the start."

  I bristled, remembering that I was the thing he'd been suspicious of doing.

  The road straightened, and Aidan gunned the engine. "After the DNA results came back negative, everything should have gone back to normal, but your father's investigations continued and my father became increasingly suspicious, so he looked at the files," he said. He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. "At that time, he couldn't find anything conclusive, but when your father passed away, he left a considerable amount of paperwork at the lab. Incriminating paperwork." A bitter tone laced Aidan's voice. "He'd done blood tests on you when you were born. To investigate the level of nonhuman DNA in your blood at different stages of your life. Only three of them were ever performed."

  "I still don't see the need to go right into the institute," I protested, glaring at him. "What's so all-fired important to risk our lives to go there?" The ticking time bomb that was Aidan's life filled my mind.

  Aidan's hands gripped the steering wheel, tension radiating from him. "There are still vials of your blood stored in the lab freezer. Those vials are evidence of your existence, and I intend to remove them. No way am I leaving them any ammunition to use against you again."

  "Oh," I said quietly.

  He looked at me, his eyes pools of blackness in the night's shadows. When I said nothing and turned to stare at the blacktop racing at us from up ahead, he continued. "My father looked for you for a long time. The problem was you disappeared into the system when your father died, and he didn't have the connections to find out where you were. And when he eventually found out, it was always after the fact. You moved often enough to keep him just one step behind you."

  I nodded. That's why the pendant had taken so long to find me, too.

  Gazing outside, I watched Hugin as he flew above us. Apparently he could keep up just fine. Our very own sentinel. Just his presence up there made me feel safe.

  "I'd always been interested in Norse mythology and my father had arranged for me to go to summer digs around the world," Aidan said. "I've been to the dig site where Brunhilde was unearthed. There's nothing there now. Everything was taken to New York, to the Neilsson Museum of Ancient History. That's our next stop after the institute."

  "Don't tell me you worked for them, too?" I asked dryly.

  "Actually I still work there. Well, until I died anyway." A self-deprecating and sad smile curved on his lips. "It'll take a while to get used to the whole being-dead-but-not-really-dead thing."

  I wasn't sure what to say to that. I guessed it would be a bad time to remind him that the whole walking dead thing also applied to zombies. I bit back a smile, silently admonishing myself for those insensitive thoughts, and gazed out the passenger-side window. The silence felt endless. How do you make someone feel better about being dead?

  A mile marker sign whisked by on my right. Then another. When I couldn't take the silence anymore, I asked, "What were you doing for the museum?"

  He rubbed his eyes, then returned his hand to the steering wheel. "I was transcribing, and translating. That book you found? Many old books were found at the dig site. The book I had was a copy of one written by a Scottish professor of archaeology who'd gotten quite far with his translations. I was trying to do more of them, using scripts taken from the dig site."

  My thoughts flicked to the back seat where my bag sat. Buried inside was the topic of this discussion. And although Ms. Custer had returned it to me, I hadn't given it back to Aidan yet. I needed more time. I still felt connected to the book, perhaps because it held within it a painting of me. A painting done hundreds of years before I'd even been born.

  Neither had I told him that I'd completed the translations. I didn't want to tell him. Not yet. I felt like I'd negate all his hard work by admitting it took me only a couple of days to translate the whole thing, and correct his translations where he'd gone wrong.

  It all made sense now, where the knowledge had come from.

  Another long silence fell as the miles flew by and the milky moon slipped behind a cloud. "So how did you end up in Craven?" I finally got the nerve to ask.

  "My father. He told me it was high time I proved myself. That I needed to make a decision as to which direction I was going with my studies. He showed me the reports and implied that if I were to be the one who discovered the existence of a real living Valkyrie I would gain international recognition and I would have my pick of Universities."

  He sighed and glanced at me, his eyes apologetic and shadowed by . . . what? Regret? "I'm not proud of that lapse in judgment," he said. "My selfishness came to the fore. But the temptation to be the one to make that discovery . . . well, I took his offer. Then he sent me to Craven. All he wanted was someone who'd be able to fit in, at the foster home, at the school."

  A quiver of anguish edged his voice, as if behind the pain a memory had come loose, fallen into the pool of his mind, causing rippling waves. I stayed silent. As much as I wanted to know more, I was tired and just a bit shell-shocked.

  The ride seemed endless and felt like such a waste of all our precious minutes. I wished we'd had a plane or faster transport. I just wanted this whole escapade over and done with. We'd have to ditch the Lincoln soon, probably steal another one.

  The hours slipped by and soon we'd traveled the whole night. I kept expecting sirens. The one time we heard them, I tensed and watched the rearview mirror until a police car passed us by and skidded onto a side road. By now, Pete would know his car was gone, but the Craven police chief would first want to rule out pranksters. We were already miles away, somewhere in south Illinois.

  ***

  Before morning hit the horizon we slid off the highway into a nameless road, ditched Pete's car behind a dilapidated shed. Would have been so easy to dump it in the middle of a cornfield. Wrong season. Remnants of snow covered dark, furrowed soil, the land bare and waiting for the spring sowing. We borrowed another car from a nearby farmhouse. And got out of town.

  Before we'd left Craven, Ms. Custer had handed me money. Which I refused to take until she explained it was mine. The trust had begun to execute my father's instructions, providing me with a monthly allowance, sent to Ms. Custer at my last known address. She alone knew where I'd gone, and she'd kept every cent in case I returned. Thank you, Ms. Custer!

  At least we were now able to eat. And though we didn't need to stop to rest, common sense and a good dose of paranoia urged us to lie low during the day.

  We spent the first day sleeping like the dead in a decrepit motel I was sure was the set of a bad horror movie. The sign outside proclaiming the hotel name was missing a few important bulbs, so the name was now la Hell Motel instead of Black Shell.

  Threadbare brown-and-gold seventies carpets, intricately gouged furniture and a TV set bolted to the floor decorated the room. The shower stall looked clean, and I used it to get the grime off. The grime of lies and theft, of dishonesty and guilt, which seemed to have seeped into my pores beyond reached of scrubbing and soap.

  Before
I jumped into bed I nudged the curtains open a crack and spotted Hugin on a branch in a tree beside the parking lot. Good. I could cross "apologize to Odin for losing his raven" off my list of worries.

  I dived under the covers, too afraid to inspect them, preferring to think positive. I plunged straight into a dreamless sleep, waking in the late afternoon as Aidan moved around the room trying not to wake me up. So much for stealth.

  "We need food, for now and for the road," he said. "I'll go get something, you get ready."

  I nodded, heading into the shower again, wondering when we'd fallen into the comfortable couple routine.

  We ate an afternoon breakfast of bland chicken salad sandwiches and brown swill masquerading as coffee. Asgard's attempt to keep up with the influx of more modern Warriors by providing coffee had turned out better than what the real world had to offer. Unsatisfied but replete, we took to the road again right after sunset, the darkness hiding what scenery we could have enjoyed, but keeping us relatively safe. After a quick stop at a gas station, we were on the move again, night sky and stars watching our every move.

  The roads were quiet, with only one other car behind us, a dark SUV, headlights low, keeping pace, seemingly heading east like us. A few hours later, our two-car caravan still sped toward Kentucky, the steady headlights behind us drawing closer. Too close.

  A trucker zoomed by, way over the speed limit, advertising the latest technology in whitening toothpaste. Our stolen car rattled, and I gripped the armrest until the truck roared ahead. I checked the mirror and our SUV shadow had dropped back, put some distance between us. So I relaxed.

  ***

  Again, we didn't stop until dusk. The next motel was equally drab, equally depressing, somewhere off the expressway in West Virginia. Aidan stashed the car behind the motel, while I grabbed my bag and headed off to get us a room. As the gum-chewing, pink-haired, bored-out-of-her-mind clerk handed over the keys and mumbled about ice and keeping the noise down, Aidan moved past me and booked a second, adjoining room.

  At first I felt hurt, my teen blood boiling at the insult, but my Valkyrie instinct reined me in. Something was up. A glance from Aidan confirmed my suspicions. He looked worried.

  I left the office quietly and waited. Aidan popped out seconds later, a relaxed smile on his face that would have fooled anyone besides me.

  We walked to the first room and entered in silence, with Hugin making a last minute landing on my shoulder. Puzzled, I watched as Aidan pointed to an inner door that led to the next room. He fiddled with the lock and it clicked open; then he hustled me into the other room, taking our bags with us, leaving the connecting door wide open.

  Grabbing a notepad from the nightstand he scribbled a few lines, then handed it to me.

  We've been followed. Will stay here. Return to other room, act normal, shower, change, etc. Leave bathroom window open, make them think we escaped the back way.

  Icy hot chills ran up and down my spine. How did they find us? I ached to ask Aidan how he knew, but I bit my tongue as he beckoned me to go back to the other room. Hugin stayed behind, perched on the back of a chair. He twitched his head, agitated, as if sensing something was going on. But I couldn’t tell him, and I was pretty sure he couldn’t read Aidan's note, so I just hoped he'd behave.

  We went about our normal routine, showered, then fluffed up the beds and rolled and stuffed a couple of rugs beneath the covers. I turned out the light and Aidan chained the door as well. Then he removed the light bulbs from the nightstand and the overhead lamp, to buy us time. Anyone breaking in would have to wait for their eyes to adjust to the darkness and shadows.

  We ducked back into the other room, locked the inner door and left the lights off. The day was threatening to arrive full force, sunny but with a winter bite. The brighter it got the more dangerous it would be for our stalkers to act.

  "They'll come soon," Aidan whispered. "Be ready." I nodded.

  We didn't have to wait too long. Within ten minutes, a light scratching sound seeped through the door as they picked the lock. I picked Hugin up and set him on my shoulder again. We stood at the door to our second room, waiting for them to enter the first.

  What if there weren't only two of them? What if only one of the thugs went into the room and the other saw us leave? My wings shivered behind me, invisible but still very much there. We'd have to take the risk and hope for the best.

  They entered without speaking, pausing only to crowbar the safety chain. Two sets of footsteps, and a snick as they closed the door quietly behind them. Aidan cracked our room door open, nodded that the coast was clear. Hugin launched off my shoulder and soared over the parking lot. Aidan and I ran after him, dodging between cars and trucks until we reached the last line of parked cars.

  Aidan tugged at door handles until one clicked open. We slid in. Before we closed the door, we heard shouting. They had discovered we'd gone. We watched through the car window as Worthington and his partner ran around the motel, searching the lot behind the building, cursing at each other.

  "Get down," Aidan warned.

  The two goons jumped into their SUV and swung around the back, following a small dirt road.

  "How the hell did they find us?" I whispered, although I no longer needed to.

  Aidan reached under the dashboard to hotwire the small Mazda we'd hidden in. The engine sputtered to life. "Don't know," he said. "Probably had someone watching Ms. Custer's place." Aidan's face was dark with fury and with something else. A certain hollowness. The sight threw reality into my face in one icy splash. He had started weakening. I'd have to keep a closer eye on him.

  ***

  We didn't go far. Just a couple of motels down the road, where we slept the day away, alternating shifts, constantly checking the window.

  Back on the road, we took turns driving while Hugin kept pace high above us. The institute, which had seemed too far away when we left Craven, drifted closer and closer by the mile. By the time we reached the city, we were on to our third stolen car and our third day.

  And Aidan had begun to show signs of fatigue. We stopped outside Rockville and I got Aidan to down a bit of Mead. The golden liquid rejuvenated him quickly enough, and though my mouth watered for a taste, the fear that we might run out of the precious liquid stopped me from drinking any.

  We ditched the Mazda near a junkyard and walked through a deserted part of the town. A short while later we grabbed a bus into the central city, leaving the stolen car far behind.

  So far we'd obeyed Fenrir's instructions not to remove any of our armor, but I just couldn't bear the thought of wearing my helmet wherever I went. I kept it with me, tucked safely within my bag. Fenrir had claimed the glamor that disguised us was foolproof, but he wasn't with us on this mission. Better safe than sorry. So we made a short detour, stopping to buy ankle-length coats, and boots to cover our leather-strapped feet. Our swords still hung from our hips, invisible beneath the glamor and our coats, ready to draw at the tiniest hint of trouble.

  We needed a few more things. A quick visit to the convenience store and we left with the necessities: flashlights, gloves, flash drives, disposable cameras. Aidan bought a small cooler and fresh ice. Must be for the blood samples we were to retrieve.

  Then we hid out at another motel, resting while the day passed. We'd have no chance in hell of escaping notice if we barged into the facility in broad daylight.

  Chapter 34

  Later that night, we hopped on a bus, got off a mile from the institute, and walked into the parking lot under cover of the darkness, breathing hard against the freezing December air.

  Three stories of imposing red brick loomed ahead, its walls eerily lit by small spotlights hidden within the surrounding plant beds. Wings fluttered as Hugin flew down toward us. He'd followed the bus on an air current high overhead.

  He landed on my shoulder and I shook him off. "Better for you to stay outside. In case we want to make a quick getaway. You're a bit heavy on a girl's shoulder, you know." He fo
und a perch on a nearby sill, cocked his head and gave me a glassy-eyed blink.

  We snuck around back, blood thundering in my ears as Aidan swiped his card. Images flew through my mind: alarms sounding, police swooping in, spotlights and helicopters. But nothing happened. Just the annoyed buzzing of a suicidal bug as it repeatedly flew into the dinner plate-sized light in the flowerbed nearest to us.

  The little light in the security panel went from red to green and the door swished open. A darkened stairwell greeted us; emergency signs threw weak light onto the concrete stairs. I followed Aidan up to the third floor, and held my breath again as we left the stairwell and crept along a dark passage. The carpet absorbed the sound of our progress, but the various security cameras strategically placed along the way would be recording our progress for posterity. Or for Aidan's father.

  We kept our heads down. I hoped our glamor was good enough to fool the cameras in case our entry was discovered and someone tried to identify the intruders. I trailed Aidan through a warren of passages until he paused at a set of double doors and swiped the card to release them.

  Inside, the room was dark. We left it that way, using our flashlights to get around.

  Aidan knew exactly where to go. He booted up the nearest workstation, keying in a password. While he waited, he went to a set of fridges at the back of the room, punched in another code and stared into the frigid interior, scanning row after row of labeled tubes of blood samples. At last he withdrew four tubes, shut the fridge and deposited them into the little cooler bag we'd bought.

  "What are you going to do with them?"

  "Get them out of here."

  "I'd like to have them destroyed or thrown into the garbage," I said; the idea of my blood samples hanging around just creeped me out.

  He nodded, but still sat the bag with the glass vials carefully on the floor. Why would he be so careful with it? The way he held the bag you'd think it contained some kind of lethal airborne virus or something. I snorted in silence as he returned to the computer. I leaned against a counter filled with vials and strange machines. With our flashlights switched off, darkness still shrouded most of the room, just the glare from the monitor and dials of various machines providing minimal light.