Duck, Duck, Noose

by Sara C. Roethle

  He had almost reached the side of the house with Sophie still close behind him, when the front door opened with a loud creak of wood.

  Alaric and Sophie watched, concealed within the trees, as a man exited with a rough-looking ax slung over one shoulder. He wore a ratty tunic and threadbare breeches, definitely not modern day attire.

  “Fuck,” Alaric muttered, using his arm to push his sister back away from the home.

  “But wha—” she whispered.

  Alaric shook his head and hurried her away. The woodcutter had turned to look in their direction, but hadn’t spotted them yet. With a final glance at the man, Alaric turned and ran, tugging Sophie along beside him.

  After running a mile or so, he finally halted.

  “What the hell is going on?” Sophie panted.

  He shook his head. How was this even possible? Estus did not have that sort of power . . . unless he’d used the key. Or, unless the key had used him.

  “We’ve been sent back in time,” he explained.

  Sophie’s eyes widened. She’d seen the woodcutter just as he had, but he understood it was a difficult conclusion to jump to. He was only able to fathom it since he’d travelled back before with Madeline and Mikael.

  “But why?” she gasped, glancing frantically at the woods around them. “How?”

  He leaned against a nearby tree, feeling utterly defeated. “Estus is probably using us to force Madeline into doing something she doesn’t want to do. Maybe he wants her to send back the banshees, or maybe he needs her to participate in his plans.”

  Sophie slumped to the ground to sit amongst the dead pine needles and grass. She looked up at him like a child would, hoping their parent was about to tell them that they were safe, and none of the monsters were real. Unfortunately all of the monsters were real, and one of them was effectively holding them hostage in the past.

  “How do we get back?” she asked finally.

  “We don’t,” Alaric answered. “We only were able to return before with the help of a Norn, and the energy of Yggdrasil, which only Madeline could touch.”

  Tears trickled down Sophie’s face.

  He sat in the dirt across from her. “Estus kept us alive for a reason. I’m guessing he’ll give Madeline the offer to bring us back, but only if she adheres to his wishes.”

  Sophie put her elbows on her knees and buried her head in her hands. “He’ll just use her to get what he wants, then he’ll leave us here forever.”

  “Probably,” Alaric replied honestly.

  Would he never get to see Madeline again? Would he not be there when his daughter finally came into the world? A single tear slipped down his cheek.

  “Why the long faces?” a voice asked from behind them.

  Alaric leapt to his feet. He hadn’t heard anyone approach, nor had he smelled them. He turned, then looked the woman who’d spoken up and down, from her long, curly red hair, to her sparkling blue eyes.

  Her pink lips curved into a smile. She wasn’t in the body he’d met, but he’d recognize that smug smile anywhere. “Hello Alaric,” she purred. “Fancy seeing you here.”

  “Is that . . . ” Sophie trailed off, still seated in the dirt.

  “The Morrigan,” Alaric replied, feeling almost as shocked as he had when he’d realized they’d traveled back in time.

  The Morrigan smiled, and it chilled him to the bone. He hadn’t liked her in spirit form, and he was getting the feeling the real deal was going to be much, much worse.

  9

  “How did you find us?” Alaric demanded.

  The Morrigan smoothed her hands over her long, green velvet dress. “I am the earth,” she explained. “I sensed a massive, magical disruption, tearing time apart.”

  Sophie finally rose to her feet. “How do you even know who we are? We don’t even truly exist in this time. You won’t actually meet us until the distant future.”

  The Morrigan smirked. “If you think time is truly linear, you are mistaken, and if you think I’m held by the bonds of time, you’re even more wrong. My spirit exists in all times at once.”

  “But if that were true,” Alaric countered, “the you in this time would know your future, and you’d be able to save yourself from your fate.”

  The Morrigan chuckled. “I am not the me in this time. She will still make the same mistakes. I am the energy that will be left over, the energy you met in the future, only I can exist more solidly in this time because my original form is still bound to the earth.”

  “That makes no sense,” Sophie argued.

  “Don’t try to understand it,” the Morrigan replied. “It’s as incomprehensible as fate. It exists, but not entirely within the bounds of known reality.”

  Alaric let out a loud sigh, already annoyed with the Morrigan, though her presence also gave him a measure of hope.

  He took a step toward her. “All of that aside, why have you come for us?”

  Her smile suddenly leaked away, leaving her blue eyes intense. “You honestly think I would leave the father of Madeline’s child to rot in the past? I may not like you, but I would never do such a thing to her.”

  “So you can send us back?” Sophie asked hopefully.

  The Morrigan frowned. “Not quite, but the real me could.”

  “Then . . . ” Alaric trailed off, waiting for her to get to the point.

  “Well,” the Morrigan explained. “We can find her and ask, but she’s a bit . . . vengeful at the moment. She may be difficult to convince.”

  “If she’s our only chance, then we have to try,” he stated.

  The Morrigan answered him with a sharp nod. “Yes, we must.” She turned to Sophie. “We should probably send you in first. She’s likely to kill Alaric on the spot just for being a man.”

  Sophie bit her lip, but nodded. “So how do we find her?”

  The Morrigan rolled her eyes like Sophie had asked a very silly question. “We walk, of course,” she explained, then turned on her heel and marched away.

  With a huff of exasperation, Alaric hurried after her, followed by Sophie. He let out a sigh as he jogged to catch up. Madeline just had to be descended from the Morrigan. Alaric would have taken any other goddess, or creature resembling a goddess, over the egotistical, red-headed woman marching off ahead of him.

  “A private jet?” I questioned in disbelief.

  Mikael looked smug as he nodded. He hadn’t said anything about a private jet all the way to the airport. Then we’d arrived, and had been directed to our own, private boarding area.

  The rest of our people waited around us. Frode and Aila were still keeping an eye on Marcos, while Faas, Tabitha, and the red-haired woman that had arrived at the Salr when Frode first showed up, all watched over Maya, Rose, and Dominic. Alejandro seemed to be doing his best to hit on Tabitha, while Tallie sat off in a corner by herself. Kira stood a few feet away from me, looking around the boarding area in awe. Her mismatched, oversize clothes and green hair actually blended in well with the human populace. She looked like any other preteen trying to fit in with her peers. The fact that she was traveling with a bunch of dangerous looking adults was besides the point.

  Unfortunately, being dangerous looking wouldn’t get us far. Really, our party was pretty pathetic. Sure Mikael, Frode, and Aila were physically imposing, but the rest of us were a bit lackluster when it came to the intimidation factor. Okay, Marcos got by on sheer creepiness, but most of us weren’t exactly tough.

  “So why haven’t we used this jet previously?” I pressed, turning my attention back to Mikael as we stood side-by-side, surveying the rest of our group.

  He’d changed into street clothes to fit in with the crowd, though the tight, hunter green tee-shirt contrasting with his long auburn hair made him stand out more in my opinion, not less. Of course, being 6’5” and built like the Viking he actually was, he was bound to stand out no matter what.

  He scoffed. “Do you have any idea what a pain in the ass it is to make flight arrangements, even w
ith your own jet? It’s not worth it when only a few people are flying. The only reason we’re good to go now is because I started planning this trip when we first arrived in Ireland.”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “How on earth could you have known we’d need to go back to the States at some point?”

  “Well that’s where your story began, isn’t it? In any great adventure, you must at some point end up back where you began.”

  I furrowed my brow as I tried to determine whether or not he was serious.

  He chuckled at my expression. “Or, knowing that Estus maintained his main base of operation in the States, I thought it likely that we’d need to travel there eventually.”

  “Ah,” I replied, “that makes a little more sense.”

  A stewardess appeared from within the long corridor leading to the plane. She gestured for us to begin boarding, and that was it. Apparently you didn’t get the full steward experience when you flew private. It was a decent trade off though, since we’d gotten to keep most of our weapons in our luggage. Blades only though. Luckily, most of the Vaettir weren’t fond of guns. If you had to use a gun, it meant you were weak. Physical prowess was needed to be successful with blades. I wasn’t accustomed to either, though Alaric had taught me basic fighting skills.

  Everyone automatically waited while Mikael and I boarded the plane first, which felt weird on so many levels. Was I seriously somehow supposed to transition into the role of these people’s leader? Not to mention that we hoped to recruit many, many more members.

  I shook my head as we stepped into the narrow corridor and made our way toward the plane. We’d probably all be dead in a few days. No need to worry about a future that might never come. I clutched my belly nervously as I thought of Alaric. Though death was likely imminent, I had plenty of reasons to fight. We all did.

  Even the Norn was willing to fight with us, though she wasn’t willing to fly with us. She had her own means of travel that I was sure I wouldn’t comprehend. Hopefully it wouldn’t take her long to find us again, but she had some time. We had to find Alaric and Sophie and figure out a way to trap Estus before we could move on to the task of regrowing Yggdrasil.

  We reached the end of the corridor and entered the jet, which was smaller than I’d expected. Our entire party would barely fit.

  Seeming unconcerned about, well, anything, Mikael walked past the cockpit and small bathroom, then sat in one of the large, cozy seats in the main cabin. He patted the chair next to him as he grinned up at me.

  The aircraft was obviously designed with luxury in mind, with the seats clustered to face each other around central tables. More like you were just hanging out at a restaurant than flying somewhere. I sat with a sigh, then moved my brown canvas purse to my lap. It was filled with snacks. Growing an entire other person was hungry work.

  The rest of our companions slowly filtered into the plane behind us. I turned to observe them, once again thinking about what a strange little clan we made. Marcos ended up in a seat next to Tallie, who widened her eyes in fear and scooted as far away from him as her armrest would allow. He seemed unperturbed. Everyone else did their best to choose seats away from Marcos, but in the end, there simply weren’t enough seats to be choosy. Alejandro and Tabitha ended up across from Marcos and Tallie. I was glad to see Tallie relax at their presence, if only a fraction.

  The seats across from us had been avoided too, though I guessed it was likely they’d just already been spoken for, as we ended up sitting across from Faas and Aila. Aila was never far from Mikael’s side, and lately, Faas didn’t seem to want to be away from mine.

  Mikael asked the stewardess, a woman who appeared to be in her late fifties, to bring him a glass of bourbon on ice before the plane could even take off. I looked over at him to make a snide remark, then realized he looked almost scared.

  My jaw dropped in surprise as I stared at him.

  He glared at me. “I don’t like flying.”

  Faas remained utterly silent at the admission, while a small smile curved Aila’s lips. I had a feeling she’d already known about his fear.

  I turned back to Mikael with a grin. “You know, I’m never going to be able to let you live this one down.”

  He scowled. “Well, once we crash and die in a fiery explosion that we have no chance of surviving, you can mock me in Hell.”

  I laughed, feeling almost cheerful for the first time since Alaric had been taken . . . almost. “So it’s a control issue?” I questioned. “You don’t like the idea that you can’t talk or fight your way out of a plane crash.”

  He continued to glare at me as the stewardess returned with his bourbon. He took the glass from her, then downed it in a single swallow, the ice cubes bracing against his upper lip. He handed the glass back to her. “Another, please.”

  I was about to make a comment, then the plane began to move down the tarmac, and Mikael gripped the armrests so tightly I didn’t have the heart to make fun of him. Still, I enjoyed seeing him like that. I was used to his defenses being utterly impenetrable. It was nice to not feel like the weak, scared one for once.

  The plane rumbled into motion, not giving the stewardess time to return with a second glass of bourbon.

  As we took off, I sighed, then placed my hand on top of Mikael’s. “Think happy thoughts of alcohol, money, and women with loose morals,” I joked.

  Though he looked a little pale, he managed to leer at me. “How about I think happy thoughts of fine wine, and you, on a bed with satin sheets.”

  I made a sound of disgust and removed my hand, though the exchange seemed to have made Mikael feel less scared, just as it made me feel less morose. Friendship worked in odd ways.

  Aila watched the entire exchange with her small smile still in place, then leaned back in her seat and relaxed as the plane gained elevation. Before long, we reached altitude and leveled off.

  The stewardess finally was able to return with Mikael’s bourbon, and asked if anyone else needed anything. I ended up with a cup of decaf coffee and a pastry, because my cravings never ceased no matter what else was going on.

  I lifted my pastry, prepared to take a bite, then dropped it back to my plate as my stomach did a little flip flop. I scowled at the offending pastry. It had sounded so good when I’d ordered it. Turning my attention away from my food, I announced, “We should discuss our plan for when we arrive in Washington.”

  “Storm the castle and retrieve the kitty cats,” Mikael stated. “Plain and simple.”

  “There’s nothing simple about it,” I argued. “Estus will be well prepared for an attack, and we’re not exactly . . . ” I trailed off as I glanced around the rest of the cabin.

  “Well equipped?” Faas offered.

  “Okay,” Mikael corrected, then turned his head to meet my eyes. “First we’ll visit some graveyards to give your army a bit of juice, then we’ll storm the castle.”

  I sighed. “Except my army can’t enter any Salr.”

  “Yes,” Mikael replied, “but we only need to enter long enough to pull Alaric and Sophie out. I don’t imagine we’ll be able to corner Estus on this visit, but dealing him a major blow will make all his followers question their allegiance to him. That is our real intent,” he explained. “Oh, and to rescue your kitties,” he added.

  Faas nodded along with what Mikael was saying. “I agree. This is not about winning. It’s about weakening Estus’ fortifications to grow our own forces. We simply need to retrieve Alaric and Sophie, and make a good show.”

  “And we need to survive,” Aila added. “Though we’d likely stand better chances just sneaking in to rescue Alaric and Sophie.”

  Mikael shook his head. “Estus will definitely be expecting that, just as he’ll be expecting us to aim for defeating him. Our best strategy is to focus on a more minor victory so that we might solidify our own power base in preparation for a true attack. But,” he added, turning toward me, “I still believe having your phantoms at their best is a necessary back up plan. They
will make a clean retreat more likely, and lessen the chances of Estus sending troops after us into the outside world.”

  I bit my lip. I knew strengthening my banshees was necessary. If I’d done it sooner, I could have possibly saved some of the Norns, and maybe could have even prevented Alaric and Sophie from being kidnapped, but frankly, I was still scared. The Norns had been right about one thing. The power of the banshees was intoxicating. It was a little too easy to get swept away.

  “You’re strong enough to do it,” Faas said suddenly.

  I looked up to see him staring directly at me, as if he’d read my thoughts.

  He smiled softly and flipped his blond hair out of his eyes. “Your worry is quite clear,” he explained.

  I glanced around the cabin at our other passengers. Some of them I had grown to trust, but others, I wasn’t willing to show them any weakness. Faas was being vague on purpose. He wanted to reassure me, but without letting everyone else know that I desperately needed reassuring.

  I nodded, accepting his encouragement, though not really believing it. Was I strong enough?

  “There’s one more thing,” Mikael added, drawing my attention back to him. “We’re still going to be outnumbered within the Salr. While I plan to have people in place to create distractions should the need arise, we need to go in with as much power as necessary. That means you and Faas should both be . . . well fed.”

  I glanced at Marcos, who was minding his own business across the hall, looking out the window. I leaned close to Mikael’s side and whispered, “What about him?” I nodded in Marcos’ direction.

  “I don’t think we want him to possess any more power than necessary,” Mikael whispered back.

  I frowned. “But if he’s truly on our side, wouldn’t having him at full power be really helpful in our . . . showing of power?”

  I glanced again at Marcos. We were keeping our voices down, and as far as I knew he didn’t have supernatural hearing . . . although I didn’t really know much about him. Honestly, it didn’t much matter if he heard us. He already knew we didn’t trust him, else we wouldn’t have felt the need to keep guards on him twenty-four-seven.