Freya

by Matthew Laurence

  I take a moment to digest that, tumbling it around with my other thoughts, then meet her gaze. “What do you believe?” I ask her.

  She holds my eyes for a long time, then shakes her head. “I wasn’t made to believe. I’ve been forgotten and tormented by the ones who were,” she says. “All I know is that I am tired, and would like to rest. It was nice meeting you, Sara.”

  Without another word, she closes her eyes and leans back on her pillow. I stand there for another minute, dumbstruck by what I’ve discovered, then turn to leave. I must find Nathan. I must get out of here and create a real plan to destroy this place.

  I must do many things, but for now, as I move back among the researchers and employees of Finemdi, all I can think is that I must not cry.

  11

  THE LONG HAUL

  I hate waiting.

  You see, I never thought about what to say to Nathan when I saw him again—stupidly, I just assumed I could spill it all, bring him up to speed with a whirlwind tale of skulduggery and adventure. What I’m holding on to is basically some of the best gossip I’ve ever had. The moment I rush to his side in Recovery, I so badly want to tell him everything. Then I remember where I am—remember there are cameras, microphones, suspicious staff—and realize I can’t tell him a damn thing. Fortunately, he’s still a little groggy, so he doesn’t ask too much. I shush him and tell him to rest for now.

  I have to wait until we’re off-site and certain they haven’t bugged any of our things. It is killing me. The look in his eyes tells me he understands there’s definitely something going on, that I haven’t lost my mind while he was asleep, but to censor everything I say is completely at odds with my character.

  I have to get out of here. I decide to skip dinner, which is, admittedly, another choice at odds with my character, but at this point it’s the lesser of two evils. I don’t even bother trying to navigate to the exits on my own, either—I flag down the first guard I see and have him escort Nathan and me off the property, flashing my permit and ID badge every chance I get. As we head out, I start to get an idea of their security systems and realize why it’s been relatively easy to go wherever I please inside the base; they have an outright ludicrous array of defenses, checkpoints, and armed personnel guarding the entrances.

  X-ray machines, body imagers, and no less than three biometric scanners (hand, iris, and voice identification) form the frontline defense, but if someone manages to breach them—or trip an alarm—then the turret nests, guard stations, and pressurized bulkheads will probably make short work of any intruders. There’s also an off-key buzz in the back of my head, a distant thrum of hidden magic that tells me everything I’ve seen so far is probably just the technological half of Impulse Station’s defensive line. I have a hard time picturing an unauthorized god getting in here, let alone a mortal.

  It takes us nearly five minutes just to leave once we reach these exits, guards checking us to confirm we’re not trying to smuggle anything off-site, but at long last, we step out into the waning Florida sunlight, free. I have to admit, I was worried they’d try to pull us back in at the last second. Since he’s an official “retainer” of mine, Nathan is supposed to have the same freedoms I’ve been granted, but I wasn’t about to trust Finemdi to keep their word. Now that we’re out, it looks like they were telling the truth. It’s early evening, the sky is still relatively bright, and only a handful of stars have begun to make an appearance. We’re standing outside a nondescript warehouse, clearly not even a tenth the size it would need to be to contain everything I’ve seen. The parking lot is filled with all sorts of vehicles, and I pray ours is among them. Just how thorough were they when they retrieved us from Disney? I brandish the keys to the CR-V like a talisman, holding them high above my head, and give a hopeful click. In the distance, there’s a flash of lights and a little beep.

  “Yes!” I say, grabbing Nathan and striding toward our car.

  “So, about, um, everything…” he begins, letting me guide him away from the building.

  I turn and give him a look. “In a bit,” I say, gesturing at our clothing and shaking my bag. “I want to get home and get ‘comfortable.’”

  He gives me a quizzical stare for a moment, then motions at the building behind us and holds a hand to one ear as if he’s on the phone, mouthing They listening? as he does. I nod as I give him an expression that says Obviously! and then grab his arm and continue my march to the car.

  Once we get in, and he navigates out of the parking lot and onto the streets, I lean over and turn the radio way up. Over the din of some heavily Auto-Tuned pop music, I yell at him, “Sorry! I’m just worried we’re bugged!”

  “I got that, yeah! When can we talk?” he shouts back.

  “Let’s get home, change out of these clothes, leave the phones behind, and take a walk!” I reply.

  “Sounds great!”

  It’s fully dark by the time we get back, but the apartment complex is in a nice enough neighborhood that nobody looks twice at two young friends out for a stroll. It feels good to be out of Impulse Station, out of their clothes and away from gadgets I’m not certain I can trust. It feels even better to be doing all this with Nathan at my side.

  “I was worried about you,” I say, giving him a hug.

  “I didn’t even have time to worry,” he admits, smiling. “One moment we’re knocking out a lousy god of wine, the next I’m waking up in a hospital bed and there’s a nurse telling me everything’s fine and she’s calling your cell phone. What the hell happened?”

  There are so many incredible things to talk about I feel like I might start drooling. “The organization Garen works for is called Finemdi. It’s this huge world-spanning company, and that was just one of their facilities back there. They’re beyond evil; we’re talking twisted, sadistic people, Nathan. Forget about Garen. We have to wipe them all out.”

  “What?” he says, taken aback. “Wait—back up a step. We’re killing a whole company now?”

  “Eh.” I waggle a hand. “Just most of it.”

  He frowns. “Um, being anticorporate is topical and all, but isn’t that a bit extreme?”

  “Hardly. You haven’t seen what I have.”

  “Yeah, but … it’s like you’re talking about declaring war here.”

  I nod eagerly. “Yes! Exactly like that.”

  “Sara, this—I mean, how long was I out? Last I heard, you wanted to get away from these guys, not fight them. What’d I miss?”

  “A lot of really sick things, Nate. The world will be a better place without them in it. Trust me. Let me give you the full story, and then you’ll—”

  “Hang on,” he says, fidgeting. “I want to hear it, but I’m going to go out on a limb and assume the spoiler is that they’re really bad and deserve some serious smiting. Now, are you asking me what I think you’re asking?”

  I spread my hands, feeling a little bashful. “War is part of who I am, Nathan. You don’t have to help me if you don’t want to, but this kind of opportunity? Oh, it’s good. Glory, vengeance, and a cause worth fighting for? Take it from a girl who knows: They don’t come around often.”

  He considers this, gauging my obvious conviction against whatever misgivings he might have about getting pulled into a quest to destroy a global corporation. “Whatever happened to Disney princesses and life on the run?” he asks at last.

  “They … well—”

  “Can’t we just … disappear again?”

  I pause, looking at him, feeling the concern and frustration bubble in his heart, and actually consider it. He’s not wrong. I didn’t start this adventure wanting revenge, didn’t intend to go to war with anyone. I wanted to be left alone. We could totally manage it, too, especially now that I know there are other ways to empower myself beyond worshippers. Freedom, power, and adventure. It’s all there, just waiting for me to take it, wrapped up in a choice that’s safer, smarter, and way less likely to get innocent people—like Nathan—killed.

  I could do it
. The Valkyrie would scream bloody murder, but I could still do it. Oh, how I’ve changed. Turns out I did myself a favor with all those years of apathy and self-doubt: I have free will, maybe more than any god before me, and I really could see myself bowing out of this whole mess to live life to the fullest with my new friend.

  Then Nan’s room and its pitiful contents flash through my mind, and I know the truth.

  “We could, Nathan,” I say, feeling like I’ve been strung up between two trees. “It’s certainly the wisest choice for us both. But there’s so much evil there, so much hurt. I can’t set it all aside, not in good conscience. This cannot stand, my priest.”

  “Yeah, but … Sara, the world is full of bad stuff. Why does this have to be on us?” He runs a hand through his hair, conflicted. “No, I don’t think—”

  “Nate, please,” I cut him off, feeling tension squeeze my heart. “Really consider this. Think about what’s important. Life is more than finding what you can live with—it’s about finding something to live for.”

  He frowns, thinking it over, and, well …

  Okay, you know that moment when you’re talking about really important stuff with a close friend? The one where you lay out your dreams and desires, then watch them as they weigh it all, standing on pins and needles as you dearly hope they’ll end up siding with you? That one?

  Well, this is one of those moments, and as I’m waiting and worrying, all that anxiety gets the better of me. It’s barely a conscious choice, what I do—more a reflex than anything else—but it’s enough to change everything. It also makes me a horrible, awful friend, because as I watch him teeter between decisions and face the possibility he might really leave me, I find myself reaching out with my will and giving him the tiniest, faintest push. Just a little urging to join me, fight by my side, and risk everything for glory.

  I know I could do this without him. He’ll be safer if I do. So why betray his trust like that? Why make the decision for him? Because I’m a shallow asshat of a goddess filled with selfishness of the purest, most damaging sort, that’s why. For all my bluster and arrogance, I’m too weak to let a friend even consider leaving me. The damage is done, too. I can see that little impulse ricocheting around his mind, building and snowballing, rising up as a Valkyrie of his own.

  Then he snaps his head down in a nod, and I know I’ve taken away his choice. “Never thought about it like that. Well, all right. Guess we’re not hiding anymore,” he says, making it clear he’s with me. “That didn’t take long.”

  I smile, even though I’m screaming on the inside. In practically the same breath, I’ve just marveled at how I can actually exercise free will, then stolen it from my only friend in the world.

  I’m so sorry, Nathan, I think desperately. I’ll find a way to make it up to you. I promise.

  I give him another hug, hiding my expression over his shoulder in case that little war of emotions made its way to my face. “Thanks, Nate,” I whisper.

  He hugs me back, then pulls away after a moment, looking curious. “So how are we even talking about this?” he says. “I mean, last I heard, Garen was out for blood and it was either going to be him or you. One mini coma later, and they’re letting us walk out like we own the place.”

  “I’m actually very proud of that,” I say, glad for the chance to focus on something else.

  I use his question as a springboard to launch into my tale, beginning with the moment I woke in restraints and carrying on through my supremely unsettling conversation with Nan. When I’m done, Nathan looks suitably blown away by all the news, and we’ve probably circled the apartment complex half a dozen times. The moon is high in the sky, and even though most of the stars are drowned out by lights from the buildings around us, I think I can make out a few constellations. As I do, I feel an unexpected yearning for the old days, when the air was clearer, the night skies glowed with stars beyond counting, and you met your foes on the field of battle and hacked at each other with giant swords like civilized human beings. Now I get to watch myself bumble around in my best friend’s mind while my enemies commit crimes against nature and hide behind tailored suits.

  “Unbelievable,” Nathan says. “Okay, so they’re evil squared. I get it. Do you have any idea how we’re going to take them down?”

  “More than one, actually. It’s all a mess right now, but I have time. My official Finemdi schedule doesn’t have me doing any real dirty work until my training’s complete, and that will take months. Plenty of hours in those days to get stronger and plan.”

  “Well, I don’t have to tell you I’m with you to the bitter end, right?” he says, glancing at me.

  “No, but it’s always nice to hear,” I say with a shrug, trying to be all nonchalant and hoping my guilt doesn’t show on my face.

  “Great, because when it’s time to invade these guys, I want to make sure you’re not going to leave me behind just because I’m a mortal.”

  “When did you get so suspicious?” I say with a laugh.

  “Sara, I’ve seen enough movies to know how this works—and I think you have, too. You’re going to need all the help you can get.”

  I give him a pained look. I can’t do this. “What if…” I grimace. “Nathan, what if it wasn’t your choice?”

  He frowns at that. “What do you mean?”

  “Remember our kiss in the restaurant? That spillover effect I have on the people around me? Well, love’s not the only thing I was made to spread. What if you want to help me pick a fight with Finemdi because it’s what I want? What if I took away your choice just by being near you?”

  I mean, I did, but I can’t bring myself to admit that to him, not so soon.

  He shakes his head. “It was still my choice to be near you in the first place. Okay, not, like, when you stole me out of Inward, but after, in my apartment? I chose to follow you, Sara. This is just more of the same.”

  “You don’t even know that,” I say, feeling miserable. “It’s not like I can turn love and affection off like a light switch. There was still a bunch of it left in your brain. You may have never made a truly free choice since you met me. Do you realize that?”

  He tilts his head to the side and just stares for a moment. I rub my arms, watching as he weighs it all, and do you know what the worst part is? I want to do it again. I want to make sure he picks me, now and forever, even though taking that choice away from him is what started all this in the first place. My self-loathing peaks a little at that, and I turn away, trying to hide the oncoming waterworks. I suck, I suck, I suck.

  “Nature or nurture, huh?” Nathan says at last.

  “What?” I say, turning back to him.

  He smiles ruefully and raises a hand to brush away one of my tears. “I’m not the same person I was when we met, I’ll give you that—but you’re not, either. We all change, Sara. That’s life. Everyone and everything we meet has a say in it. Friends, family, advertisers … If I’m making this choice because you played a role in it, then good; at least it was someone I trust.”

  Oh, great. “And if I don’t deserve that trust?”

  He shrugs. “Not your choice.”

  “But it—”

  “Look, I’ve made up my mind: I’m helping you,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Now tell me how.”

  I sigh. Maybe he’s right. Maybe he would’ve picked me anyway, without my meddling. It’s cold comfort in the face of a deeply personal betrayal, but fine. Dwelling on this gets me nowhere, and right now, there is a lot to be done. When all this is over and Finemdi’s in ashes, then I can sort everything out and make amends … right? In the meantime, Nathan is my responsibility, and if he’s dead set on helping, then I will not have his blood on my hands. I got him into this, and I’m going to make sure he gets out. It’s high time I taught him how to survive in a god’s world.

  “All right,” I mutter, wiping away the last of my tears and straightening up. “But you’re going to need to train. Get ready, because you’re about to learn what it me
ans to be a true priest of mine.”

  “Can’t wait,” he says, relaxing. “Though I think it’s customary for generals to high-five on the eve of battle.” He holds up a hand, expectant.

  I can’t help laughing. “Is that what they do now? Knew I was out of touch…” I say, then haul back and slap his palm with mine.

  And that’s that. Nathan is at my side, happy to follow me into the fire once again. The only difference is that, this time, we’re doing a bit more than starting new lives together—we’re kicking off a war.

  * * *

  There’s a strange routine to the following weeks. I have to admit, those years in seclusion at the Inward Care Center keep coming back to help me. This time, it’s in accepting a certain monotony despite every instinct telling me it’s time to act. I throw myself into my work at Disney, picking up as many shifts as possible and attending as many special events as they’ll give me. I’m going to need every scrap of belief I can wring out of these parks if I’m to have any hope of surviving what’s to come. At the same time, I have a schedule to maintain at Impulse Station. There are new “calibration” tests and character assignments to distort and lots of training sessions I need to attend. Every day is a jumbled mix of gleeful childhood innocence and skin-crawling corporate malevolence. Part of me wants to attack immediately, to cut loose and do what I can to bring the place down. It’s only through sheer force of will that I keep myself in check. I need to be patient, and, as I may have mentioned before, that never was my strong suit.

  Finally, in the evenings after we return to our Finemdi-free apartment, there are the lessons with Nathan. Gods can’t be everywhere at once, you see, and for times when we need things done in distant places, our most trusted clergy can be sent to do the dirty work for us. To enable them to speak and act in our names, we can empower them with a fragment of our strength. It’s kind of like reversing the flow of belief, turning that spark of power back on its source. It’s draining, of course, but done carefully, it allows us to represent ourselves around the world. In short, we can grant our worshippers limited powers not unlike our own. For a lowly god like myself, it won’t be much, but if he can get the hang of it, it will still give him an edge over any normal human.