Collide and Seek

by Sara C. Roethle

  “Any day now!” Sophie shouted from outside the bathroom door.

  I frowned. “I can’t decide if I’d be better off with dirty underwear, or no underwear at all.”

  Alaric gave me a mischievous grin. “I like the idea of no underwear.”

  I sighed. “You go without underwear in wool pants and tell me how much you like it.”

  Alaric chuckled and picked up the offending black panties. “Dirty underwear it is.”

  I grabbed them and put them on my clean body before I could think about it. I didn’t care that we were in hiding. Tomorrow I’d be procuring some clean underwear, or else.

  Sophie cleared her throat loudly.

  We finished getting dressed and let ourselves out into the hall amidst a veil of steam. Sophie looked up at us from her seat on the carpet. “It’s about damn time. It smells like dinner is ready.”

  Sophie rose to her feet and stalked past us, shutting herself in the bathroom. Alaric took my hand and gave it a squeeze before we prepared to head downstairs. I didn’t fancy the idea of eating at the same table as Faas, but it was the least of my worries. When your life, free will, and perhaps your very soul were hanging in the balance, what was dinner with a mortal enemy?

  26

  Our meal was blissfully uneventful. Afterward, I found myself wandering the house alone while everyone else talked strategy. I’d never been involved in a war before, so my opinions weren’t exactly valuable.

  Our hosts, who I’d found out were named Clive and Marie, had dined with us. They were expats living in Norway, and they’d spent their lives tracking down the strange and unnatural, trying to find proof the old gods existed. Mikael had met them whilst drunk in a human bar, and had told them the story of his entire life. They didn’t believe him, but remained friends. After twenty or so years of friendship with their eccentric comrade who thought he was a Viking, they started to realize he hadn’t aged a day. The rest was history.

  I shook my head as I trailed my hand up the gold-patterned wallpaper of the hall. I didn’t blame Clive and Marie for searching for something magical. I’d done my fair share of wondering after accidentally killing Matthew, but had never come to any real conclusions until the Vaettir came for me. Luckily, Clive and Marie’s initiation into Vaettir society had been a little more pleasant than mine.

  I padded barefoot further down the upstairs hall, wondering if I’d find anything strange, or if our hosts, who had retired for the evening, were actually as normal and friendly as they seemed. Even James had stayed for the war planning, so I had no one to speculate with, leaving me only with the option of snooping. Okay, I could have just tried going to bed, but I knew I’d have trouble sleeping, and snooping seemed like a lot more fun.

  One room in the hall drew my attention. It was guarded by a set of white double doors, one slightly ajar. I lifted a finger and pushed the door open a little further to reveal a large study, though all I could make out was a large desk in the center. Wanting to see more of the room than the hall light allowed, I flipped on the switch inside and quickly entered, then shut the door gently behind me.

  The desk in the middle of the room looked antique, but that wasn’t what held my attention. What caught my eye were the books. Lining both walls on either side of the desk were books that looked hundreds of years old. Some spines were cracked and fraying, while others, made of thick leather, held together a little better. Closer observation revealed the books were all on the occult, mythology, or ancient history. The collection had to be worth thousands, if not more, though I’m no book appraiser.

  My fingers skimmed the shelves until a title caught my eye. I removed the book simply titled, Norse Mythology, figuring with everything that had happened, I could stand to brush up on the subject. I was glancing around for a comfortable place to sit when the door opened. I dropped the book in surprise and cursed, then bent down to pick it up.

  Mikael beat me to it, crouching in front of me to cradle the book lovingly. We both stood.

  “Doing some light reading?” he asked as he closed the heavy tome to look at the cover.

  “I wasn’t really needed down there,” I said defensively, taking the book back from him. I took in his fresh clothing and damp hair. He must have snuck away from the group to take a shower. His clothing was just as Viking-esque as ever, making me worry that perhaps he was planning another visit to olden times.

  He gestured to the book. “You won’t find much of use in there,” he explained, “just the human versions of the myths.”

  “You’ve read it?” I asked, unable to picture Mikael snuggling up contentedly with a good book.

  “I’ve read them all,” he answered, sweeping his hand to encompass the books surrounding us.

  I smirked. “Is that why you’ve spent so much time with Marie and Clive, their books?”

  He snatched the book away from me and thudded it onto the shelf, obviously offended.

  “I didn’t mean—” I began, realizing how bitchy my comment must have seemed.

  “It’s fine,” he grumbled. “Spend several centuries using people for your own gain, and eventually that’s all anyone will see.”

  I went silent, not sure what else I could say.

  Mikael sighed and his anger leaked away. He gave me a knowing smile. “Your little kitty cat was quite insistent we work on your shielding tonight. It quickly became clear that we’d accomplish nothing else until I attended you.”

  I sighed. I had been hoping for a good night’s rest before tackling that issue, but it probably was wise to do it sooner rather than later.

  Yet, there was still a more immediate matter. “Where did you get a change of clothes?” I asked, shifting uncomfortably in my dirty tunic.

  He looked me up and down and laughed. “I keep supplies anywhere I might end up. Your wardrobe will have to wait until the morning. Now back to the shielding . . . ” he trailed off, as if he didn’t really want to talk about it, but knew he had to.

  “Go on,” I urged, wondering if Mikael’s temper would resurface at the previously touchy subject.

  “I’ve been thinking,” he began, moving away from me to pace around the room, “it’s going to be a difficult task for me to let down my shields. Deceit is in my nature, and it’s a trying task to fight one’s nature.”

  “I didn’t think it was going to be a cakewalk,” I commented, not seeing his point.

  He paused his pacing to smirk at me. “What if we try it while I’m asleep?”

  I opened my mouth in surprise, then paused to think about what he’d said. It made sense. We were all at our most defenseless when we slept. “It’s worth a shot,” I agreed.

  He smiled, but it was strained. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was nervous. For someone like Mikael to be showing his nerves, they had to be pretty extreme. The only question was, what did the ever-confident Viking not want me to know, and would he forgive me if I found out?

  He leaned in close to me, reaching his arm around me to retrieve the mythology book once more. He handed it to me.

  I frowned. “I thought you said it wasn’t any good.”

  He smiled, looming over me. “I said it wasn’t accurate, not that it wasn’t any good.”

  My frown deepened. I wasn’t sure if he was just covering up for his nervous display, or if he was somehow mocking me. Men were complex enough to begin with. Give them a thousand plus years and they only got worse, like ever-growing labyrinths of smugness and bravado.

  Mikael was the most complex labyrinth of all. I had a feeling he possessed many dead ends, and probably more than a few dark abysses. I sensed I might be seeing into one of those abysses when I tucked him into bed that night. I could only hope I’d find my way out again.

  Eleven o’clock found me in Mikael’s room. I had waited in the study alone, reading the mythology book, until Alaric appeared, looking for confirmation that Mikael had spoken with me. Alaric had warned me to be careful. Careful with what, I wasn’t sure. Could a sleepin
g Viking really be so dangerous? Don’t answer that.

  When Mikael hadn’t answered my knock, I’d let myself into his room, hoping he was already asleep. No such luck. He was, however, drinking straight from the bottle of some hundred year old bourbon. He leaned against the padded headboard of his bed as I stepped into the room, his lower half obscured by the blankets, but his bare chest plain for all to see. His deep, reddish hair was pushed back from his face, trapped between his back and the headboard.

  He paused to regard me with the bottle’s opening hovering near his lips. “No kitty cat?” he questioned, then immediately started giggling.

  “You’re drunk,” I accused, still standing near the doorway. I would have told him to put a shirt on, but I knew the comment would only get turned against me.

  Nervous, I looked around his room. It was just as grand as the rest of the house, with plush, beige carpeting and a queen-size, four-poster bed. A cushy chair had been placed beside the nightstand for my convenience.

  “It helps with the defenses,” he explained as he lifted the bottle, slightly slurring his words. “Plus, I doubt I’ll be able to fall asleep whilst you’re staring at me awake without it. I’d offer you some, but—” he glanced down at my belly.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I said tiredly, shutting the door behind me before approaching the bed.

  “So he let you come alone?” he asked, looking up at me.

  I sat. I didn’t like the way he said let. Alaric hadn’t wanted me to come alone, but he’d seen the logic in it. Mikael’s defenses would be difficult enough to penetrate as it was. We didn’t need someone that he disliked, and who hated him in return, in the room to make matters more difficult.

  “You should probably close your eyes if you’re going to fall asleep,” I said sarcastically, knowing Mikael would go to sleep when he damn well pleased, if at all.

  He took another deep swig of the bourbon, then lowered the bottle to his lap. “Perhaps it would help if you sung me a lullaby.”

  “I don’t sing,” I grumbled.

  “All women sing,” he stated matter-of-factly. “They just don’t all admit it.”

  I glared at him. “Well if we never admit it, then how do you know that we sing?”

  He crooked the corner of his lip into a half smile. “Well do you, when no one else is around?”

  I did, but I wasn’t about to admit it, and I sure as hell wouldn’t make the admission for the entire female race, allowing Mikael to lump us into some antiquated stereotype.

  “Do you have any advice?” I asked tiredly, attempting to change the subject.

  “About singing?” he asked, before taking another deep swig of the bourbon.

  “About what I should do,” I clarified. “I’ve never tried to read someone’s emotions while they’re sleeping. I never really try at all. It just happens.”

  “Do the Erykah thingy,” he suggesting, seeming more drunk by the second. I glanced down to see there was an extra empty bottle beside his bed. “The one where she puts her hands on either side of your face,” he continued, “and suddenly knows everything you’re thinking.”

  “She was a telepath,” I sighed. “I read things a little differently than she did.”

  “Was,” he sighed, suddenly sad. “Sometimes the past seems like it was just yesterday.”

  I smiled softly. “Probably because yesterday we were in the past.”

  “Oh yeah,” he replied, still gazing forlornly across the room.

  I took the bottle from his hands and placed it on the floor beside the empty one. “You know, you’re a terrible drunk,” I teased.

  He turned to me and grinned. “Perhaps, but I’m awful good at most everything else.”

  I smirked and pushed my hair behind my ears. “Not good at sleeping, apparently.”

  Suddenly he was somber again. His mood swings were jarring, especially with my fatigue setting in.

  When I just stared at him, he explained, “Sleep becomes a tiresome thing after a few centuries. You can only see so much evil before all of your dreams turn ugly.”

  It was an interesting thought. I only had twenty-some odd years of experiences to dream about, Mikael had centuries. “I’m sure you’ve seen a lot of good,” I countered, “and beauty.”

  “I’m staring at some beauty right now,” he said lasciviously, leaning forward to playfully leer at me.

  I snorted. “Add flirting to the list of things you’re bad at.”

  He sighed dramatically and resumed his comfortable position against the headboard. “If you keep up with the scathing remarks, I’ll be up all night nursing my wounds.”

  I slouched back into my chair. “My guess is my remarks don’t affect you in the slightest.”

  He smiled softly. “Words wound more fatally than swords my dear, for time may dull a blade, but words will never fade.” He hiccuped and chuckled at his rhyme.

  I rolled my eyes. “At least lie down properly,” I instructed. “You’re never going to fall asleep like that.” I gestured to the headboard he was still propped against.

  “It would be more comfortable if you laid with me,” he teased. “Of course, a lullaby might warm me just as much.”

  He was being manipulative, but his past few days had been almost as rough as mine, and he’d been pretty nice to me about it. Mostly.

  “Shut up and I’ll sing you your damn lullaby.”

  He grinned. “I promise I won’t tell anyone you sing. It will be our little secret.”

  “It better be,” I grumbled, as I wracked my brain for something to sing. “Now close your eyes.”

  He did as I bade him, scooting down so his head rested on his pillow. I cleared my throat and began to sing the only song I could think of. It was a song I’d made up for myself as a child, because I didn’t have a mother to sing it for me. I briefly wondered if Mikael had known his mother, and if she’d sung to him at night. I couldn’t imagine it, but since I was about to dive into his head, maybe I’d find out.

  27

  “Pregnant?” Sophie balked, letting her surprise and disdain show through in her voice. “Traveling back in time I can believe, but you being a father?”

  Alaric put his arms behind his head, resting comfortably on the soft mattress. “You’d think you would be happy about being an auntie.”

  Sophie paced across the room. These cushy interiors were making her claustrophobic. “I’m more worried about what it might do to you,” she grumbled.

  Alaric snorted, increasing her ire. “Like what?”

  “Like making idiotic decisions,” she snapped. “Like trying to put yourself between Madeline and that executioner.” This blasted pregnancy was going to get him killed.

  The widening of Alaric’s eyes gave her a great deal of satisfaction.

  “Yeah,” she went on, “I heard about that. Not everyone was unconscious when they had their little showdown.”

  “I would have done that, baby or no.”

  Sophie felt her expression soften, just as her resolve wavered. She took a seat beside her brother. “You do have a penchant for stupid decisions.”

  Alaric shoved her playfully. “Luckily I have my practical sister to do wise things like rushing off in the middle of battle to chase after a certain little woman who somehow replaced her missing foot.”

  Sophie’s mouth formed a hard line. She was still intent on killing Maya. Next time, she wouldn’t get away. “I’m not ready to talk about that yet.”

  Alaric raised an eyebrow at her. “Remember, the longer you hold it in, the more your rage will get the better of you.”

  Sophie smirked. “Well then we’ll both have something to inspire stupid decisions.”

  “That we will,” Alaric mused.

  Their conversation died off, but Sophie had a feeling Alaric still had something to tell her. She poked him in the arm, then looked at him expectantly.

  He sighed. “You’re almost as perceptive as Madeline.”

  She chuckled, her brother often brou
ght out her better moods, though he just as often brought out her worst. “Tell me.”

  Alaric raised his hands to rake his hair away from his face. Hair that was just like hers. Many might mistake them for fraternal twins, though Alaric was actually several years older than her.

  “She’s hiding something from me,” he said finally. “Something that has her frightened.”

  Sophie stroked her chin in thought. “She has plenty to be frightened of. It doesn’t mean she’s hiding something.”

  He shook his head. “It’s worse than she’s letting on. I’ll watch her when she doesn’t see me, and her eyes look so . . . haunted.”

  She frowned. She had noticed Madeline’s mood after the battle, but that was just Madeline. She was emotional about everything, and probably felt bad about sucking the life out of the injured at her feet, even though she used it to heal everyone else.

  “She did just travel back in time and leave an entire village of people to die,” she commented, repeating the information Alaric had told her while they scouted the woods.

  “Exactly,” Alaric replied. “She was shaken after that, but this new fear came after what happened with the other executioner.”

  Sophie pursed her lips. “What could have changed?”

  Alaric shook his head. “She told me the key is in her thoughts. That sometimes, she cannot tell which thoughts are hers. I think the battle made it worse.”

  Sophie felt a small tickle of panic at the base of her spine. She didn’t wish Madeline any harm, but she feared even more what it might do to her brother. “We need to destroy it,” she said firmly, referring to the key.

  Alaric smiled sadly. “I know. I would not have her alone in a room with Mikael if it could be any other way.”

  Sophie gave him a knowing look. There was some reason Alaric had it out for Mikael, though he wouldn’t tell her why. She planned on figuring it out, no matter how adamantly he kept it from her. She laid her head on his shoulder, doing her best to belie her thoughts.