by Anne Schlea
Kristoff remembers how she looked, standing at the bottom of these stairs, her golden hair on top of her head with a few ringlets hanging around her face. Her dress had been made of a beautiful blue silk with silver stripes running through it. The skirts were voluminous, making her wider than the narrow steps, the corset slimming her waist until he could almost circle her abdomen with both hands.
She’s twisted her ankle in the heeled shoes on the cobblestones and paused to catch her balance.
When Kristoff reached his hand out to catch her, she giggled and fell into his arms. Together, they’d laughed until he kissed her with the wagons and horses passing by them.
“Are you going back to Russia after New York?” Runa doesn’t pause at the wall and she steps past him to start up the stairs. When he doesn’t respond, she turns to look at him with a frown. “Kristoff?”
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” He shakes himself out of his memories, a terrifying feeling descending over him.
“I asked if you were going back to Russia after New York.” Her frown deepens and her eyes looks him over. When she sees nothing wrong, she glances over her shoulder toward the port authorities to see if they had been found out. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, just thinking about something.” Reaching up to guide her with a hand on her elbow, they ascend the steps to Bay Street where the car is parked. Kristoff hands the boy keeping an eye on it a coin and then helps Runa inside. “No. The cotton is on its way to Paris. I need to check my businesses there.”
“I thought your businesses were in St. Petersburg.” She tucks her skirts in around her legs while Kristoff pulls into traffic.
“They were, but I’ve been moving them into western Europe. After the royals were murdered, the area is becoming more unstable. It seemed safer to move.” His mind races, the terror subsiding. This is too much, he must be tired, he can’t possibly be thinking what he thinks he’s feeling. “The clan can’t move; they must stay to protect the maji. Hopefully, we’re far enough in the wilderness that the Bolsheviks will leave us alone.”
“Surely the vampires can stay safe from the humans.” The car stops to wait for traffic at light. Runa looks out the window. “I need to know where to find you the next time I want to have an adventure.”
“This one doesn’t have to end on Monday.” He tries to sound casual; he needs more time to sort out his thoughts. Preferably time without Runa; but he knows that it could be years before they meet again once they part ways. “You could come with me to New York. I hear the shopping’s divine this time of year. It’s my treat. I’ll splurge for diamonds.”
“You’re very sweet, but I have to meet with my sisters in a few weeks and I need time to get to where I’m going.” Her eyes laugh at him joyfully as she tucks a stray hair behind her ear. Reaching out, she rests her hand on his thigh. “We still have a couple of days, so let’s make the most of them.”
“Always.” Kristoff picks her hand up and kisses her lightly on the knuckles. When they reach the hotel, he stops on the street. “You go ahead and call for that bath you’ve been talking about. I’ll go to the Lucas and pick up tickets for this evening.”
He watches her walk up to the door of the hotel, hips swinging. She glances over her shoulder to blow him a kiss before disappearing through the door being held open by the doorman.
Kristoff pulls his car around to the side street where he parks the Kissel and finds a boy to watch it for him. Paying the young man a silver coin, he promises two more if no damage is done to the car, and then sets off walking toward the theater.
As soon as he’s able, he ducks into an alley and leans against a building, taking deep breaths into his lungs. He’s hyperventilating. The world around him swims on the edge of darkness as he tries to catch his breath and sort out his feelings.
He’s in love with her.
When did this happen? When did adventures and fun times turn into something he’s terrified of letting go of? When did Runa, the valkyrie who once tried to gut him with his own knife, become as important to his world as air?
She’ll never be okay with this. Runa hides everything about their time together from her sisters. If he so much suggests making anything more permanent, she’ll run, and he’ll never see her again. She can’t know. Ever. The only way this works is if it continues as it always has.
Nausea passes. A few more deep breaths of air and Kristoff can stand upright again. He straightens his jacket and his hat, then steps back onto the street. Cars speed by, pedestrians pass him on their way to their own lives.
He can do this. He can keep himself together and not tell her. He’ll never tell her. This is his secret and his burden.
Chapter 18
Runa stands on the boat resting in the deep waters of the fjord. Water laps quietly along the edges while she looks upward toward the hidden entrance to the Hall of the Slain, Valhalla. When night falls, she’ll fly upward to the cavern no man will ever reach. Ancient mortals couldn’t get there because of the steep sides of the cliff face. Today’s mortals experience gusting winds when they approach, keeping away airplanes and drones.
As the sun sets, she takes out her cell phone, shuts it down, and leaves it on the boat. She leaves the boat moored along the shore and starts the ascent to the top of the cliff. Her arms outspread, the wind carries her upward in flight, her long leather jacket moving in the breeze behind her. She comes dressed for war in boots, leather pants, black top, and loaded with weapons. Even her war sword is strapped across her back, something she hasn’t fought with in a century; not since Nazi Germany marched across their lands.
She sets down lightly in the cavernous entry hall. If the average human gets close enough, it will look like a large cave in the wall of the cliff, maybe ten feet deep, that ends at a solid wall of granite. Nothing spectacular or out of the ordinary in this part of the world.
To Runa, it’s a doorway, huge and gilded in ancient steel. More than twenty feet tall, it’s rumored that dragons resided in the halls beyond before the time of man.
The doors stand open, waiting for her to arrive. Runa knows she’s been asked to come late, giving the others time to discuss her situation with the vampires. This is the reason she thought to bring her war sword. If Torhild has already convinced a majority to side against Runa, then she’ll need the sword to battle her way out. She hopes it doesn’t come to that.
Inside the doors, she’s met by Britta. Dressed much the same as Runa, it seems all the valkyrie must have come to battle. She smiles and falls into step beside Runa, her own hair drawn back into a tight braid. “I was sent to bring you to the Great Hall.”
“I know the way.” Runa keeps her eyes forward. What she is about to do is going to be difficult enough, she doesn’t want to bring Britta into the fight.
Britta’s hand on her arm makes Runa stop. She tilts her head. “I’m on your side. I saw what he did for you. I won’t vote against you.”
“Thank you.” Runa nods her head once, then she turns and continues toward the gathering place of the valkyrie. Their boots click against the stone floor that had long ago been polished to shining perfection. “How badly am I outnumbered?”
“In the vote for war? It’s about even. I don’t think it’s going to take much to convince the others to side with the vampires.” Britta’s movements beside her are fluid. “About Kristoff? Torhild has you beaten by a few. You might need to be willing to fight.”
“Well, I’m glad I came prepared.” Runa glances at Britta out of the corner of her eye, a wry smile on her face. “Thank you for the heads up.”
“Reagan will probably fight on behalf of Torhild; it’s not like Torhild’s willing to risk her position by losing. I live to see Reagan knocked on her butt. It might as well be you that does it.” Britta steps back, letting Runa enter the hall in front of her. “Now, be strong. Don’t back down.”
Staring at the large oak door, Runa’s surprised she doesn’t feel any nerves. She knew coming what she was
getting herself into. The calm before a battle, she realizes suddenly, like it was in the old days when the valkyrie battled alongside men on earth.
She puts her hand against the door and pushes. It swings open to reveal the Great Hall in all its grandeur. Holding her head high, she walks straight to the center of the room and gives a bow to Torhild, seated in the throne that rests in the center of the room. Silence descends on the other valkyrie.
Runa is barely aware of the impressive room built around her. The floors are made of stone, probably hewn directly from the cave around them. Large oak beams reach up to the ceiling; chandeliers filled with candles burn brightly hanging from the beams. Long wooden benches line the sides of the room; her valkyrie sisters are seated there, watching her. She can see a mix of faces, some seem friendly, others not. They are a small race, only thirty or so remaining of the hundreds they once were.
She hopes the dwindled numbers will help her argument.
Torhild, the dark haired valkyrie who currently holds the mantle of leadership, glares at her from the seat of leadership. “Nice of you to join us.”
“I arrive at the time I was told to be here, as you know.” Runa sees Torhild is wearing her battle gear, as well. Dressed all in red, with ancient armor covering her breast, she clearly intends to fight today. Or at least give a good show. “I trust you’ve all had a good chance to gossip about me before I got here.”
A murmur runs through the room and Runa thinks for a moment it might be better to be less antagonistic. She’s going to need some of these women to side with her.
“This is a War Council. We gather to discuss war with the nosferatu.” Britta saunters into the center of the room to stand beside Runa, arms crossed, feet shoulder width apart. “Not the men my sister chooses to bed.”
Torhild’s lips turn up in a cold grin.
Runa curses quietly. Britta doesn’t need to make this her fight, but that’s exactly what she’s doing by taking a stance beside Runa. Now there’s a line drawn with Torhild on one side and Britta on the other.
“Not men.” Torhild cocks her head to the side. “Man. The law is clear. You are not to have a male companion that you hold equal to us. I fear your vampire has become just that. You may have as many men as you wish, so long as you throw them away when you finish with them.”
“Untrue. The law is not clear; it is your word that makes such a claim. Our mother Freyja has a husband and children. She did not scorn men as you guide us to do.” Runa braces her feet on the rock, waiting to see if the currently seated leader of the valkyrie will strike out. She’s doubtful Torhild would risk the loss of her throne but wants to be prepared in case. If Torhild attacks, she’ll be forced to fight Runa to the death, as the mantle of leadership is passed through battle. “I claim Kristoff as mine. Does anyone wish to challenge that?”
More murmuring ripples through the crowd, it gets louder, but Runa stands stock still in the middle of the room. She has an advantage. Last night, while her sisters were undoubtedly arguing about her fate, she was resting. Her energy stores are full, theirs are not.
“I challenge you.” Torhild stands from her throne, the cape of her armor streaming down behind her. She reaches up to unclasp the fabric and steps toward the center of the room. “Our kind are not meant for mates. You show us dishonor.”
Chaos erupts around Runa, valkyrie shouting at her and each other. Whereas another of her sisters could have fought to defeat, Torhild, because of her position, must fight to the death. If she leaves Runa breathing, Runa would hold claim to Torhild’s place on the seat of leadership.
This outcome is completely unexpected and never figured into Runa’s calculations of survival. Defeat one of her sisters, that she can do. Defeat the female who holds the raw power of the valkyrie within her? The odds of walking out of here just went down. If Torhild strikes out, Runa’s a good as dead.
“Our mother Freyja is wed to Odr.” Runa raises her voice loud so to be heard. If she fails, at least her sisters will know the truth. “We strive to be as she is, yet we disrespect her union by our own choice to live alone. This is what I have learned by living with the vampires. You wonder why our numbers die. Perhaps it is because we do not truly give of ourselves as Freyja intends. Freyja is the mother of war but is capable of love. We are not born for vengeance alone.”
The murmuring changes, a thought the others hadn’t had. Torhild has forced others to abandon lovers, maybe some still mourn. Maybe some still hold love for the men they’ve left behind.
“Freyja has not spoken to us in centuries.” Torhild looks around the room. “Perhaps it is because she is gone – her throat slit by her husband while she sleeps.”
“Blasphemy!” Someone shouts.
More shouting, but Runa can hear she has cast the seeds of doubt. The angry rumble in the room grows louder as her sisters in the benches begin to argue with each other.
“Kristoff is a warrior.” Runa lowers her voice enough to force her sisters to quiet. She needs them to hear her words; they need to think beyond the lies Torhild has taught them over the centuries. “He has spilled blood for me and has earned my protection.”
“I have seen it.” Britta, too, looks to her sisters seated on the benches. “He stood guard while Runa recovered. She has led forces in battle beside him.”
Shouts of approval. A strong male who bows to the valkyrie is respectable. He makes a good ally to fight beside in times of war.
Torhild narrows her eyes at Runa. She’s held the seat of leadership for over a millennium. She knows politics and the game Runa plays.
“Yet you allow him to sleep where you sleep.” She accuses; she casts doubt on Runa’s intelligence. While sleeping, a valkyrie is the easiest to kill. “You are foolish; he could kill you at your weakest.”
“Or he can be available for my use whenever I please.” Runa laughs at the bawdy cheer that goes up from some of her sisters. Another mark of respect for the male that comes at a valkyrie’s beckoning. At some point in their history, they must be sisters to the sirens. Runa’s never met a valkyrie who doesn’t have a healthy appetite for a man in her bed. “Your heart is ice, Torhild, perhaps it would do you well to wake next to a warm body on occasion.”
Laughter fills the room, driving red blush into Torhild’s face. She snarls in anger. No one laughs at Torhild.
“Unless, of course, the problem is that you cannot force a man to take you.” Runa pushes harder, feeling the tremors of energy coming off of Torhild. She needs to discredit the leader enough to move the vote in her own favor, but not enough to force Torhild to strike out. She gives it one more jab. “I imagine one look in your dead eyes is enough to shrivel most men. How long has it been, sister? Truly, be honest.”
With a scream of fury, Torhild lets loose a burst of energy that would have knocked Runa over had she not already braced her feet.
Damn, Runa thought to herself. I wanted to make her look like a fool, but not to actually start a fight. Too late now.
The other valkyrie erupted into a chaos of noise and cheers. There will be blood shed today.
Carefully, keeping her eyes on Torhild, Runa removes her duster and hands it off to Britta. She unsheathes her war sword and swings it lightly through the air.
Britta bowed her head to her. “Blessings and strength, sister.”
“Better to die in battle, than to live in shame because you did not defend your people.” Runa kisses Britta on the cheek, reciting Norse words of wisdom. Kristoff is her people. If she dies today defending his right to live, and their right to live together, then she will die with honor. “Thank you, sister.”
Britta steps away from the center of the room, leaving Runa alone with Torhild. The valkyrie leader smiles. “You fight for the vampire? I will take him myself in payment if you would rather live.”
“Oh, no.” Runa holds up her sword. “I’ll fight.”
Torhild rushes at Runa with immortal speed, flying through the air, her blade meeting with Runa’s in
a flash of sparks. Runa holds her ground, flipping the other valkyrie through the air with the force of the deflected blow.
The dark-haired warrior lands in a crouch, her eyes narrowed, and her breathing hard. She clearly expected to have knocked Runa to the ground. Instead, Runa stands strong, her weapon still raised, waiting for the next assault. The cheering in the room rises to a deafening volume.
“Would you like another try?” Runa raises an eyebrow, baiting Torhild. This is a technique she learned from Antonia. Allow you opponent to do the hard work, use up their stores of energy and force them to anger. Anger overtakes calculation. Take their head at the end.
If Torhild has a weakness, it’s her anger, and it’s a weakness Runa is more than willing to exploit. At every pass, Runa barbs at her and Torhild comes more unhinged. She rushes, Runa deflects with a snarky comment, and then they begin again. It becomes evident that Runa, a valkyrie who’d never participated in the politics of the race before, is more than a match for Torhild.
The temperature of the room starts to change. More of her sisters move to stand beside Britta, supporting Runa, creating more challengers for Torhild’s ability to lead. Even if Runa falls, now Torhild will be forced to fight more sisters for her right to continue to lead.
Finally, after allowing Torhild to advance time and again, Runa pushes off the floor, propelling herself through the air toward her adversary. Raising her blade to defend Runa’s blow, Torhild doesn’t notice her change in tactic. Rather than attack with her war sword, she drops the blade and pulls a dagger from her boot, slashing at her face. Torhild spins away, a long line of blood welling up from her cheek to drip on the floor.
As she spins away from Runa and covers the wound with her hand, Runa grabs her long black braid and pulls with all of her strength.