I looked up at the cloudy sky, feeling numb and achy. No one would even care if I ever returned to the correct time. Sophie would be waiting for Alaric. Aila and the rest of Mikael’s people would be waiting for him. For me, there was only Estus, waiting to kill me. I glanced over at Alaric. I was pretty sure he cared what happened to me. The child inside me probably cared too. It was more than I’d had a month before, and would have to be enough for me now.
I glanced up at Mikael’s back with renewed determination. If the Viking wanted to play, the least I could do was give him one hell of a game.
20
“Slow down,” James pleaded.
“We can’t let them get any farther away,” Sophie snapped. “I won’t risk them entering another Salr where I won’t be able to find them.”
“How do you know that hasn’t already happened?” James huffed, stomping up beside her.
She’d stopped to scent the wind. James’ sweaty man-smell was confusing her senses. She glared at him, and knew her feline eyes were likely reflecting in the moonlight by the way he gasped.
“I hate it when you go all cat-like,” he grumbled, looking down at his shoes.
“Says the man that can sear flesh with a single touch,” she quipped before starting off again. They were close.
Sophie had retraced their steps back to the tunnel entrance where they’d parted ways with Aila and a few other members of Mikael’s clan. It hadn’t even been a full twenty-four hours since that meeting, so the scent was still fresh. With the distant wail of sirens spurring her on, she’d traced the scent all the way to where they now searched, a remote area of the woods, far northeast of the Salr where they’d first met Mikael.
Sophie stopped to scent the air once more, then perked up at the sound of far off conversation. The voices were speaking Old Norsk, letting her know they were Vaettir, and not the police who were likely looking for the villains who’d left several corpses in a quaint, suburban neighborhood. The only question was if the people speaking belonged to Estus, Aislin, or Mikael.
She continued listening as she crept near, gesturing for James to stay behind. She didn’t need his lumbering steps giving her away.
As the camp came into sight, the first form she saw was very tall, and very blonde. Sophie’s smile was more of a snarl. She shouldn’t go charging into the situation with brute force, but it was the only way she knew how.
I sat in a secluded area with Alaric, near the Viking camp. We were close enough to the sea that I could hear the waves crashing in the distance. A lot of people find the sound soothing, but it just made me nervous. I’d always been afraid of deep waters, even more than heights.
Not wanting to sit around while Mikael’s human friends stared at me, Alaric and I had built a small fire of our own. We sat on a piece of driftwood, huddled near the flames for warmth.
I had a moment of wishing for our more comfortable lodgings of the night before. My heart lurched. Those lodgings were likely now burned to the ground. The people who had thrown Mikael a party the night before, dead in the cold night air.
“What are you thinking?” Alaric asked softly, startling me away from my morbid thoughts.
I jumped at his voice, then settled down to lean my shoulder against his. “What makes you think I was thinking anything?”
He put his arm around me and pulled me closer. “You had a look on your face like someone had just kicked your puppy. Were you thinking about the baby?”
I shivered. “It still sounds weird to hear you say that. We’ve travelled back in time, left a village full of people to their deaths, and were accosted by genuine Vikings, yet the pregnancy is the part that doesn’t feel real.”
He laughed. “I imagine it will begin to seem real as more time passes, and certain things begin to . . . show.”
I turned my head and quirked an eyebrow at him. “You mean when I blow up like a balloon?”
He laughed again, using his free hand to push his tangled hair out of his face. “Something like that. Did you have enough to eat?”
I glanced over at the large wooden bowl we’d shared for our supper and wrinkled my nose. My vegetarian senses had not been pleased by the choice of fresh caught rabbit with hard, root vegetables, but I’d been so starved I ate anyway.
“More than enough,” I replied, my distaste coloring my tone.
The sound of rustling branches and movement to our left caught our attention. Mikael appeared within the trees, then approached. I had no particular desire to share our fire with him, however, he might by slim chance tell us what we had to do to get home.
He looked right past me to Alaric. “I need to speak with Madeline.”
Alaric didn’t move. “No one is preventing you from doing so.”
Mikael looked to me. I expected to see the harsh resentment I’d seen earlier, but there was an almost pleading feel to his expression.
I sighed, and looked to Alaric.
Picking up on what I wasn’t saying, he frowned. “Are you sure?”
I smiled gratefully. “It’s not like he’s going to hurt me.”
Alaric looked up at Mikael, then back to me. “If you say so.” With that, he stood and walked off, not toward the rest of the camp, but further into the woods.
Mikael closed the distance between us, then took Alaric’s vacated seat. I scooted away, but it was a small log. We still ended up shoulder to shoulder. I sat silently, partially turned away from him, waiting for him to speak.
He inhaled loudly, then exhaled with no words forthcoming.
I still didn’t face him, feeling that it would somehow thwart his effort.
He finally spoke. “We can try working on the shielding thing.”
The exasperated tone in his voice drew my eye to him. “What made you change your mind?”
He had the grace to look almost embarrassed. “If Erykah thinks—thought it’s what needs to be done, then it will be done.”
I knew it was a bad idea to say anything, especially with how he’d reacted earlier, but I couldn’t help it. I placed my hand on top of his. “I’m sorry.”
He didn’t get angry, and instead smiled sadly. “Honestly, I was surprised you even told me the plan. Erykah manipulated my emotions and broke me down without warning. One would think it better to have me off guard.”
I smirked. “Manipulate a descendant of Dolos, god of deceit and treachery? That seems like a losing battle.”
Mikael laughed, and I suddenly realized that my hand was still on his. I withdrew it as inconspicuously as possible, though the act drew his gaze. “Dolos was simply misunderstood,” he explained. “He was practically a slave to Prometheus, and copied his master’s statue to show he was just as skilled. Prometheus stole the statue and claimed it was his own, and thus lies were formed.”
I raised my eyebrows in disbelief. “Oh okay,” I replied sarcastically. “So if deceit doesn’t run in your blood, then how did you manipulate entire nations?”
He smiled, wiping away the rest of the sadness that had lingered on his face. “I see someone has been telling stories about me.”
“That doesn’t answer the question,” I countered before he could change the subject.
He shrugged. “Through deceit and treachery.”
I raised a finger in playful accusation. “But you just said that Dolos wasn’t the god of those things.”
Mikael grinned. “Did I? I’m pretty sure I just said he was misunderstood.”
I frowned. He was playing games with me, and derailing the entire conversation from the original subject. “Misunderstood how?” I asked, giving in.
“By perceptions,” he replied, holding up his hands to warm them by the fire. “Two men can commit the same treacherous act. One may be labeled a swindler, and the other, simply clever. There is no difference.”
I stared into the fire. “The difference lies in how the man’s actions affect others.”
Mikael turned his gaze to me, and I suddenly had the feeling that I’d los
t points in our verbal debate. “Oh?” he questioned. “And what about you? Should you be labeled a server of justice, a guiding hand, or a murderer?”
He was probably hoping to shock me with the term murderer, but I’d spent way too much time thinking upon it myself to be caught off guard. Without thinking, I replied, “If I was taking the life of someone who’d committed heinous crimes, then I’d be serving justice. If it was someone who wanted to die, a guiding hand. An innocent . . . well, I suppose that would be called murder.”
“Yet each of those things depends on who you ask,” he countered. “Say my best friend harmed someone in a crime of passion, and you took his life as justice. Most might call you the righteous executioner. I’d just call you a killer.”
I grinned at him.
He leaned back slightly in surprise. “Whatever could have crossed your mind at that example?”
“I was just thinking that your example wasn’t an accurate representation of the truth.”
He seemed to think about my answer, then replied, “And why is that?”
I grinned even wider. “Because no one would want to be your best friend in the first place.”
He threw his head back and laughed, obviously not offended. At that moment, a few flakes of snow began to fall. Mikael reached out a hand to catch them, seeming almost like a little kid marveling at the miracle of snow.
Seeing his good mood as an opportunity, I asked, “So where are we going now, really?”
He retained his smile as he replied, “We’re going to seek a little more information, then hopefully find our way home.”
“Hopefully?” I questioned, all of Alaric’s observations rushing back to the forefront of my mind.
He patted my leg with his hand, and I shifted away, suddenly nervous. He sighed. “Everything in life is a gamble, my dear. The Norns in this time do not owe me favors like the ones in our present.”
“Well I’m glad you’ve risked our lives, our futures, and the life of our child all in one fell swoop,” a sarcastic voice called from within the tree line.
Mikael turned to me with a conspiratorial look. “Do you ever get tired of his kitty cat hearing?” he whispered.
Before I could answer, Alaric revealed himself and approached the fire. He seemed to fit right in with the surroundings in his dark, wool and linen clothing, and borrowed cloak. His loose, black hair had begun to gather snowflakes, little flecks of white amongst the solid darkness.
“Your lives, futures, and the life of your child were already at risk,” Mikael said happily. “Can you really argue that you had anything to lose?”
“We left my sister in that time,” Alaric replied coldly, gazing off into the distance rather than at Mikael.
“It was my intention to bring her,” Mikael replied blandly.
I realized his hand had come to rest on my leg again, and I scooted away, trying not to draw attention to myself. I had a feeling Mikael would find a way to flirt even as the fires of the underworld leapt up to drag us all to our fate.
“So we could all die together?” Alaric asked, taking a step closer.
Mikael laughed. “On the contrary. There are far fewer people who want to kill us in this time. We could easily live out our days here.”
Before I could blink, Alaric was standing directly in front of where Mikael sat. “You do intend to keep us here, don’t you?” he accused. “If you wanted to come live in this time, that’s one thing, but why drag us into it?”
Mikael sighed, seemingly unintimidated by the fact that Alaric’s eyes had shifted to feline, and he was flexing his fists like he might suddenly sprout claws. “I was simply pointing out that your deaths are not on my agenda,” Mikael answered tiredly, “and I have no intention of trapping either of you in this time. There is nothing for me here.”
“Things are just as you want them in this time,” Alaric countered. “You have your freedom. You can manipulate others into following you without fear of being struck down by the other Vaettir.”
“I have already lived this life!” Mikael shouted as he suddenly stood, placing himself inches away from Alaric. More calmly, he continued, “In my mind, everything here is already ash. It pervades my senses with its acrid stench, with every step I take, with every word I breathe.”
Alaric was silent. The two men stood there, inches away from each other, with Mikael’s head towering slightly above Alaric’s. Their anger made my skin itch, muddling my thoughts with their opposing energies. Mikael was like the angry seas he’d traveled in his youth, and Alaric was like a cool, still, night, his rage contained beneath the surface.
I started to feel nauseous, and at first thought it was from the overwhelming energy, then a sharp, stabbing pain seared through my abdomen. “Uh guys?” I questioned weakly, clutching at my middle.
They didn’t seem to hear me, too enthralled in their stare-down. The key started thrumming at my neck, though I had no idea why. The pain grew, and I fell from the log I’d been seated on to my knees.
“Guys?” I said again, and they both finally turned to look at me, identical, questioning expressions on their faces.
I couldn’t answer their questions as the pain doubled. The key at my neck felt like it had been resting in fire. I was sure it was burning my skin, but I couldn’t lift a hand to reach it. I fell to the side, but Alaric knelt and caught me before my shoulder could hit the ground. He sat and pulled me backward into his lap.
Seconds later, Mikael was by my side. The pain exploded into a wracking nausea. I would have vomited if my body were able to move forward. I looked dizzily past Mikael to the falling snow, with Alaric’s arms wrapped around me. I was pretty sure they were both speaking to me, but I couldn’t hear them. Everything had gone numb. All I could think about was how pretty the snowflakes were, and how nice they felt on my hot skin.
21
I woke up feeling warm. A little too warm. I could feel bodies pressed against either side of me. Something was wrong with this picture. I opened my eyes, recalling the pain in my abdomen, and the key burning at my throat. I freed my hand from being pinned by someone’s arm around my waist, then reached up to my throat. The key felt cool to the touch, and my skin was unmarred.
I turned my head to the side to see Mikael’s sleeping face, only inches from mine.
“What the hell!” I shouted, turning on my side to shove him away from me.
He opened his eyes with a start, just as I felt arms convulse around me from behind.
“Oh come now,” Mikael mocked, making no move to get up. “I was having the most marvelous dream.” He waggled his eyebrows at me suggestively.
The person behind me shifted, and Alaric’s face came into view beside mine. We were in a small hide tent, with rough bedding encasing us. Alaric stared past me at Mikael as he explained, “After you fainted, your entire body went cold. I felt it pertinent that you were warmed, no matter the cost.”
He was being very polite, especially with how Mikael was still grinning beside us.
“Thank you for your warmth,” I said through gritted teeth while I glared at Mikael, “now please go away.”
Finally he scooted out of the blankets and crawled toward the covered opening to the tent. “You kids sit tight,” he instructed. “I’ll be back soon.”
Once the thousand plus year old Viking had departed, I rolled over to look at Alaric, who still had an arm around my waist. “The warmth so wasn’t worth it,” I said sarcastically. “He’ll be going on about this for days.”
Alaric frowned. “Maddy, we thought you were dying, or at the very least that you were losing the baby. If I could deal with being that close to Mikael, I figured you could too.”
I frowned in reply, not liking his serious tone. The pain in my stomach was gone, though I still felt a little weak. I reached down toward my abdomen, as if somehow I could tell that the baby was still there, then quickly retracted my hand. It was too early to be able to tell just by touching. Heck, I hadn’t even known I was pr
egnant until Mikael told us.
“Do you think . . . ” Alaric trailed off, and I knew he was trying to ask about the baby.
I shook my head. “I’m not sure.”
His face fell. I really hadn’t expected him to become so invested in the idea of a child. He was a being of war. He lived for violence and chaos, both of which weren’t exactly conducive to raising a child.
“I’m sure it’s fine,” I lied, wanting to wipe the hurt expression from his face.
Not replying, he drew me into a tight hug.
I felt guilty even just admitting it to myself, but part of me would be relieved if the child was gone. Not only had I not planned on having children, but I was terrified of what this child in particular might turn out to be. I wouldn’t wish my calling upon anyone. The idea of having to teach my child to take the lives of others was horrifying. Even if it didn’t end up just like me, we were still Vaettir. Our child would be destined for a life of violence and death regardless.
“What are you thinking?” Alaric asked with his face still pressed against mine.
“Nothing,” I lied again. “Just wondering what supplies Mikael is off . . . procuring.”
Alaric pulled away from me to flash a knowing smile. “Dating an empath is quite unfair. You always know what I’m feeling, but I cannot read you in return.”
I cringed. “Sorry?”
Alaric kissed me softly before I could say anything else. I kissed him back, glad to put an end to the conversation. For the moment, we would just have to worry about getting home, then we could use modern medicine to determine if the child was still present.
I heard footsteps and a snuffling sound outside of the tent, moments before Mikael called out, “Knock, knock!”
Alaric and I pulled away from each other and sat up. He reached the tent flap first, pulling it aside to reveal a landscape dusted with pure, white snow. Amidst the near blinding white of early morning reflecting off ice stood Mikael, holding the reins of three stout, shaggy ponies.
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