“The marks on his chest, though, those were the worst part,” I said.
“What marks on his chest?” Oona asked.
“They’re not fully healed yet, so he’s been wearing a bandage,” I explained. “It’s these two … marks or symbols or something. He told me that Abaddon had done it, and at that time he told Asher, ‘No one else can have you.’”
“Can you draw them for me?” Minerva asked, handing me the pen and paper.
They were two simple marks, almost like cursive letters that had been left unfinished, so they were easy to replicate. Once I’d finished, Minerva took the page back, tilting it this way and that as she studied it.
“Do you recognize them?” Oona asked, peering over Minerva’s shoulder.
“I can’t say.” She squinted at them. “They look familiar, but I don’t know what they are.”
She stared at them a moment longer. “I know I can figure it out, but I’ll have to look through my books, which may take a little bit. Why don’t we go on and see if there’s anything you can tell me that would help?”
I told her everything else I knew, describing the nightmares and shaking that I’d witnessed, but nothing else really seemed to stand out. Minerva took careful notes, writing down everything I said so she could look back at it all later.
“Do you have anything of his?” Minerva asked. “I know it sounds silly, but sometimes it can help me get a read on him and what’s happening.”
“Oona said you might want something, so I brought this.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out his Vörðr bracelet. “That’s the only thing he brought into Kurnugia that he managed to get out.”
“That should be very good, then,” Minerva said as she carefully looked it over.
The bracelet itself was made of black paracord with a small metal plaque on one side, like a medical alert bracelet. But instead of allergies or conditions, it had the symbol of the Vörðr on it. Every member of the elite security squad got one.
“This symbol—the three horns and an eagle—that’s for the Evig Riksdag guards, right?” Minerva asked, and I nodded. “Are the horns for you? For the original three Valkyries?”
“No, the horns are for Odin,” I explained.
“There were nine Valkyries originally,” Oona said. She scooped up the chubby rats so she could sit down beside me, then sat them back on her lap, where they were very happy to curl up with her. “I’m surprised you didn’t know that.”
“Oh, I probably learned it at some point,” Minerva admitted. “But now that I deal more with alchemy and thaumaturgy than history, I forget a lot of those things.”
In a singsong voice, Oona recited the poem we’d learned in grade school to help us memorize all the names of the original Valkyries:
Nine Valkyries did Odin make
And in the darkness he did take
Blades of ice and dragon claw
Summer sun and winter thaw
To create the power and the might
The maiden protectors of mortal plight
Eir, Göndul, Hildr, Mist, Ölrún,
Róta, Skögul, Thrúd, and Sigrún.
Minerva smiled and offered a few golf claps. “I am impressed.”
“It’s just a nursery rhyme,” Oona demurred.
“As for this”—Minerva held up the bracelet—“I think it will be more than sufficient for me to be able to make you a protection potion for Asher, and maybe even a few for the two of you for whatever trouble you’re going up against in the coming days.”
I offered to help, but for the most part, Minerva and Oona had it covered. I handed them a few things when they asked, but mostly I watched them creating—passing ingredients between each other, flipping through books, sometimes speaking in Latin.
There was a strange beauty and fluidity to their movements, and the occasional puff of glittery smoke or fizzing brightly colored liquid only added to the magic. It was almost like a blend of ballet and science, of emotion and precision.
Not for the first time, I was amazed by Oona and her talent, and I couldn’t be more grateful that she was my best friend.
SIXTY-FOUR
Oona and I returned to our apartment a few hours later, carrying a few new elixirs and powders and balms. Asher was sitting on the couch, watching television with Bowie sprawled out beside him, and I felt this rush of relief and happiness. He looked over at me, smiling in his cautious way, as if he were waiting for something to come along and ruin it.
“You’re still here.” I hadn’t even realized until we’d gotten back, but I’d been afraid that he’d be gone.
“Of course I am.” He laughed. “Where would I have gone?”
“I don’t know.” I dropped my bag on the floor and went over and sat beside him. I wanted to feel him, touch him, know he was really here. “I … I don’t know.”
“Well, the good news is that we made all kinds of good stuff today.” Oona set her bag on the table and pulled out the small vials and tubs she and Minerva had filled. “The bad news is that Minerva doesn’t know what’s wrong with you.”
“Does she have any ideas?” Asher asked.
“She has more research to do, but hopefully she can call me tomorrow and let us know something,” Oona said.
“Oona was really, really amazing today,” I said, to which she rolled her eyes.
“This one right here is the most important one.” Oona held out a round flat tub filled with a bubbly blue gel.
“What is it?” Asher asked as he took it from her.
“Salvari Balm,” Oona explained. “It’s like an antibiotic mixed with an antidemonic, so bacitracin with a serious edge. You need to put it all over your wounds twice daily, and make sure you really get it in there good. It’ll be a little cold and it might sting, but it’ll help your wounds heal faster, and it’ll fight infections, both bacterial and supernatural.”
“Should I … should I go put it on now?” he asked, looking at me and Oona.
“It won’t hurt to get started,” she said. “The rest of this stuff is more for offense than defense, but we can go over that later.”
Asher thanked her, then headed off to the bathroom to lather up. I offered to help him, but he said he had it covered. There really wasn’t much room in the bathroom, so I didn’t push it.
Oona sat down on the far end of the couch and propped her feet up on an ottoman.
“Thanks again for helping me so much,” I told her.
Oona shrugged it off the way she always did. “You know you can always count on me.”
I settled back into the couch, absently petting Bowie and watching the movie Asher had left on. I didn’t know what it was, but little blue men were chasing an orange cat around the house, and the cat seemed quite upset about it.
When the movie went to commercial, a news bulletin cut in, which caused Oona to groan and say, “What fresh hell is this?”
But instead of showing us a death count or telling us about a new terror out to get us, Ellery Park was out on location. She was more dressed up than I usually saw her behind the desk, with large sparkling earrings and her hair pulled back. Her black dress was fairly conservative, but she’d ditched the glasses.
It was hard to tell where she was exactly, because the street was so crowded I couldn’t get a good look at any landmarks. Behind her seemed to be all types of mortals and immortals, dressed in flamboyant regalia. The good news was that everyone seemed to be laughing and having a good time, so I hoped that meant they weren’t all about to be hit by an asteroid or some other ridiculous catastrophe.
“This is Ellery Park reporting live from downtown,” she began, and I heard someone yell, Whoo, loudly in the background. “In light of recent events, many citizens are feeling scared and uneasy. Now someone thinks they have a solution.
“I’m outside the Red Raven right now, where a prominent member of the community is calling on everyone to come together,” Ellery went on.
The camera panned out farther, so sh
e could motion toward the shiny obsidian-black building that loomed behind, flanked by two red spotlights. The camera pulled back enough that I could see the man standing slightly off to her side, and that’s when I leaned forward, sitting on the edge of my seat as I watched the news.
He was handsome, in that weathered, rugged look of a cowboy, with pale, almost ashen skin. His graying black hair had a purposeful messy quality to it, and his black dress shirt was tailored perfectly to his formidable frame.
I recognized him instantly as Velnias, the mobster demon.
“For many years, Velnias has been a major player, not just in the Aizsaule District, but throughout the country,” she explained. “His close ties to the controversial Kurnugia Society are well documented, but he insists that his only goal has always been to have a fair, equal world for everyone. With me right now is the man himself to explain what he has in store.”
“Thanks, Ellery,” he said. “I’ve been a proud business owner in this fair city of ours for four decades. My goal when I created the Red Raven was to create a fun, safe place where everyone can have a good time.
“Over the years, that has tilted toward a very narrow group, and I’m ashamed to say that I didn’t do more to welcome in the rest of you,” he continued, sounding appropriately somber, with a touch of hope. After all, he’d had plenty of time to hone his political acumen.
“Tonight that all changes.” He motioned with his hand, miming as if wiping a slate clean. “With all these disasters, violence, and social upheaval, I want us to remember that we are all brothers and sisters on this big blue rock of ours, and when we come together, we can overcome anything.
“With that in mind, I want to extend an invitation to every person in the city. The doors to the Red Raven are open to you tonight—and every night.” He put his hands together, like he was about to pray, but then he linked them together and pointed at the camera with his index fingers. “We have some of the best security in the world, and I promise you that if you come here, no harm will come to you. You are safe within those four walls. The Red Raven has always and will always be a place for anybody who needs it.”
He was pointing at the camera. Logically, I knew it was at the camera and he couldn’t see me. But the way his eyes met the screen—the burnt orange color glistening in the light—it felt like he was looking right at me.
“There you have it,” Ellery said with a bright smile. “The hottest—and safest—party on the planet is at the Red Raven.”
“Mal, I know what you’re thinking, but the answer is no,” Oona said, already sensing the plans that were forming in my head.
“He says everybody,” I reasoned. “We’re all welcome there.”
“He doesn’t mean us,” Oona argued.
Then, before the segment wrapped up, the camera closed in on Velnias again. And no matter what I should’ve known, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was talking to me personally.
“The doors are open from dusk until dawn every day,” Velnias said. “I hope to see you there.”
Oona clicked off the TV, probably so I wouldn’t get any more ideas, but it was already too late.
“No, he does mean us,” I insisted.
“Malin.” Oona groaned and leaned her head back against the couch. “Why must you be this way?”
“No, hear me out.” I pivoted to look at her better. “By Velnias’s own admission, this is probably the safest that the Red Raven will ever be. That makes this the best time—and maybe the only time—I will be able to question him about what he knew about my mom and Azarias.”
Oona scowled at me, her eyes narrowing as she tried to think of a way to change my mind, and eventually she gave up. “Fine. But I still think it’s stupid.”
SIXTY-FIVE
The cab could only get us within three blocks of the Red Raven. A stream of potential clubgoers went by, following everyone else toward the flashing red lights that signified the entrance.
“This is ridiculous,” Oona announced as she got out of the hovertaxi, careful not to get her chic minidress caught in the door. “There’s no way we’ll be able to get in.”
“We got in once before. We can do it again,” Asher reasoned, and then he looked back behind us in time to see a bus dropping off a whole gaggle of fallen-angels-cum-lingerie-models. “Although it is definitely going to be much harder.”
“No, we can do this!” I insisted. “We all look hot, we’re all badasses, and we’re supposed to be here!”
Asher and Oona exchanged a look, which only succeeded in irritating me more. Back at the apartment, when it had been taking me a while to get ready, they’d already started teaming up on me, questioning my motives and the logistics and even my sanity (and they were only half kidding).
Damn the exquisitely made gown and my difficulty putting it on. It was a piece that Rhona had been commissioned to make for an opera, but when the show fell through, no one paid for the costumes, so I’d gotten it.
The floor-length gown was fitted snug across my hips and thighs, but flared out below. Silver thread weaved through the white mesh fabric, giving it a feminine chain-mail look. The look was particularly effective across my chest, where the dress plunged in a low V with only the silver thread crisscrossing over it.
“We’re supposed to be here?” Asher asked.
“I told you back at home. I just know it.” And I did. As much as I knew the earth was round and water was wet, I was supposed to be here.
“Neither one of us are doubting your beliefs,” Oona said quickly, to soften things. “We just don’t understand how you know.”
“Neither do I!” I threw my hands up in exasperation. “But like I said before we left, you guys don’t have to be here. You can go back home. I’ll be fine.”
“No, we’re going with you,” Asher said, with a finality that I hoped finally put his argument to rest.
We’d already had a big discussion, wherein we debated the pros and cons of both Asher and Oona (or either one of them) going with me. Asher insisted he’d felt fine all day, and if it was safe for me, it was safe for him. Oona’s argument was basically the same as that, except she’d also brought a few thaumaturgy aides in her sequin clutch.
“Great. That’s settled. Let’s go.” I turned and walked away before either of them could say more.
When we finally got close enough that we could see the Red Raven and the animated neon-red bird above the door, we were still a block away from the door, and we’d hit the end of the line.
“I am not trying to start an argument,” Asher said carefully as we waited directly behind the throng of scantily clad Fallen. “But there’s gotta be at least a thousand people ahead of us. I don’t see how any of us are going to make it in.”
“Fine,” Oona said with a dramatic sigh. “I’ll get us in.”
She stepped out of line into the street. Traffic was at a total standstill, so walking between the vehicles was no trouble. Her plan was apparently to circumvent the line. I had no idea what would happen, but I trusted her, so I followed her into the street.
“No offense to you or your skills,” Asher said to Oona as we weaved through the vehicles. “But if what you want to do is possible, why wouldn’t anybody do it?”
“Uh-oh.” I winced, knowing the can of worms that Asher had unintentionally opened.
“Everyone has this horrible misconception about thaumaturgy, and they think just anyone can do it!” She was nearly shouting as she walked, without looking back us. “That it’s like baking, and all you have to do is follow the recipe. And yeah, some of alchemy is like that. But that’s not what I do. Well, I mean, I do that sometimes, but that’s not all I do.”
She stopped short and whirled around so she could face Asher directly. “Magic—real magic—is near-impossible for the average person or immortal to do. There has to be something in you that connects to the metaphysical. Minerva says that her mother called it ẹmí—your life force.
“It’s something you’re eith
er born with, or you’re not,” Oona elaborated. “There are a lot of kick-ass fighters out there, but they can’t be a Valkyrie. I was born with an intuition so that I can do something the rest of you can’t.”
“Sorry, I didn’t … I didn’t realize,” Asher said.
“It’s fine. Most people don’t,” she said, but she sounded more exasperated than forgiving. “Compared to angels and dragons, a human that can cast a couple spells isn’t that exciting, so people like me get overlooked a lot.”
The line directly in front of the Red Raven spilled out into the street. The only things keeping the crowd from rushing in the front door were a dozen bouncers and a red velvet rope, and it seemed to be working—so far.
Oona stopped short, outside the edge of the crowd in the middle of the street, and opened up her clutch. She pulled a small blue tablet out of a mint tin, but the way she placed it delicately under her tongue was unlike how I’d ever seen anyone eat a mint.
She closed her eyes, and though I couldn’t hear any words, I saw her lips moving rapidly as she recited an incantation. Since she’d dressed up this evening, she’d replaced her usual metal studs in her angel bites with diamonds that glinted red in the light from the Red Raven.
When she opened her eyes, I gasped and took a step back. I was used to seeing Oona doing magical things, but I still couldn’t prepare myself for stuff like this.
Her irises had shifted from nearly black to an intense glowing iridescence. Her eyes weren’t bright enough that they really gave off light, not like headlights, but they did have an electric quality to them, like they would be better suited in an android than in a petite sorceress sneaking into a club.
“Holy shit, Oona,” I said.
She looked at me, blinking slowly over her new strange glowing eyes. “So I take it that it worked, then?”
Asher leaned forward to get a better look. “Can you see with those?”
“Yeah, but it won’t last for long, so if we’re gonna do this, we gotta do it now,” she said.
From the Earth to the Shadows Page 27