Waking the Gods: Their Dark Valkyrie #4, page 13
“She might have observed something useful.” Baldur raised his hand to beckon her down.
Muninn glided in another slow circle as if deciding whether to take that invitation and then then swooped down to land beside us. A couple of the newer gods gave her a curious glance, but most of them were focused on Vidar and his marking of the map.
“You came a long way from where you’d planned,” the raven said. “I couldn’t find you until I saw a report about the disaster on the front of a newspaper.”
“Well, if you weren’t flying off to do your own thing all the time, you’d have been with us when we left,” I reminded her. “Where did you go?”
“I was checking the other gates I’m aware of between Midgard and the other realms.” The corners of her mouth creased with a frown. “Surt must realize we can sense when he’s brought down his bridge. I worried he might start to diversify his strategies.”
I hadn’t thought of that. “Did you see anything that looked like a problem?” I asked.
“Not exactly. There were a couple of jotun who had come through their gate into Midgard, but they weren’t disturbing anyone. They were acting more like tourists. I didn’t like that they’d come here at all, though. The fewer giants, the better.”
“Absolutely.” A chill trickled through me. “One giant is more than enough.”
“I’d prefer none,” Muninn muttered, with a ruffle of her dress.
Vidar stepped back from the map, dropping the pen beside it. He rubbed his jaw. “All right,” he said. “These are all the largest nuclear power stations in Midgard.” His marks were spread out across the map. “I’m not sure how we can predict which one Surt will target. Has there been any pattern to his targets so far?”
“I can’t think of any,” Thor said. “But we’ve got no reason to think he’ll stay near here.”
“He attacked a large city the first time,” Freya put in. “And the plant last night isn’t far from another one. He appears to be aiming for maximum destruction. Does that help narrow it down?”
Vidar squinted at the map. “We could eliminate a few possibilities, but not many.”
“Who’s to say he’ll follow the same logic that we are at all?” one of the other goddesses put in. “Would Surt even know how to find out which sites are the most powerful? He might be going by some other measure completely.”
That was true. It’d hardly looked as if Surt’s fortress in Muspelheim had been set up with internet access. Even the gods who’d been living here among humans for the better part of a few centuries looked at Bragi’s laptop as if it were some kind of alien device. Where would the giant be getting his information—and how skewed would it be?
“Wherever he decides to attack next, it took him a long time to get the meltdown going yesterday,” I said. “And he can’t make us fly much farther than we had to then, considering we crossed half the world to get here.”
Njord crossed his arms with a dark expression. “He’ll have learned from that first attempt. We can’t count on having anywhere near as much time when he strikes again.”
Muninn eased forward to peer at the map. “And if he succeeds with this nuclear detonation he wants, what will be the result?” she asked me.
“Millions dead,” I said. “Maybe more, depending on how big he can amp the explosion up. Not even bodies left, anyone who’s close by—just ash. It’d be awful.”
Her chin set. She stepped right into the middle of the crowd.
“I can go,” she said. “To Asgard. I should be able to make it from here to Muspelheim and from there to Yggdrasil. I’m small and quick. I’ll make sure the guards don’t see me, and I’ll listen in on Surt’s planning.”
The tension coiled through her body showed she wasn’t making this offer lightly. She was putting her own life on the line.
Skadi gave the raven woman a narrow look. “Weren’t you involved in helping Surt capture Odin in the first place?”
“That’s right,” Njord said. “How do we know you won’t fall in with him again or lead us into a trap?”
“I made my peace with Odin,” Muninn said. “That should be good enough for any of you. If I’d known Surt was going to carry out a plan like this, I wouldn’t have helped him in the first place, no matter how angry I was.”
“Easy to say that now,” Freyr muttered.
“Hey,” I said. “I’ve got as much or more reason to be wary of Muninn as anyone here. I had to live through her torture. But I believe she wants to help now. We could be so much better prepared if she can spy on Surt.”
Vidar gave me a look that seemed to say my opinion wasn’t worth any more than Muninn’s was, but Thor spoke up then. “I’d say the same. Muninn has proven her allegiances. She made her original contract with Surt to save her life, not because she agreed with him. As I understand it, Odin was the one who forced her to put her life at risk in the first place. We can’t judge from that situation.”
“The wrongdoings of others are not always as they seem,” Loki said with a crooked smile. “I say we let her go and see what comes of it.”
The others glanced around at each other. I sensed another argument on the horizon. Then a low dry voice swept into our midst.
“I’ll support the raven’s suggestion.”
We all jerked around. Odin had arrived in the yard as we’d been talking. His head was bowed a little lower than usual, his charred hat looking particularly depressed. Grit clung to his traveling cloak. But his grip on his spear was firm and his single eye glinted at us from beneath his hat’s brim.
“Father!” Baldur said, rushing to Odin’s side.
“I’m all right,” the Allfather said, briskly but not unkindly. “I went looking, and pieces have come to me, but it seemed time to rejoin you all.” His gaze slid over the assembled gods. “There are more of you here than there were before. It has been too long. I wish we were having a less fraught reunion.”
Heimdall let out a rough chuckle but didn’t say anything. Some of the other gods bobbed their heads in acknowledgment. Odin turned his attention to Muninn.
“Fly, dear raven,” he said. “Be our eyes and ears where we cannot see or hear. And thank you.”
Muninn gave him a flicker of a smile and contracted into her bird form. In an instant, she was flitting off through the air.
“You said you found ‘pieces’,” Thor said, approaching his father. “Pieces of the answer? What came to you?”
Odin sighed, planting the end of his spear on the ground in front of him. “The visions never come easily. I must see what I can and make what I can of that. What I sensed, from my walking…” He closed his eye. “The light of day can burn before a fire. But only the highest water can put out all the flames.”
Ah. So, super useful advice then. I managed not to sputter a giggle, but it was a near thing.
“Excellent,” Loki said. “Let us hope the rest of the pieces to make sense of that foresight find us sooner rather than later.”
No one else seemed to know what to say about Odin’s prophesying. Maybe that was for the best. With a sharp breath, Vidar turned back to the map.
“Whatever happens, wherever Surt appears, it’d be good to have as many Asgardians gathered to fight him as we can,” he said. “Can we reach out to any of the others?”
Heimdall stirred where he’d been standing on the fringes. “I may have ideas for a couple. And I also—I was given to understand that through me we might bring the battle back to Surt instead of waiting around for him here. It seems like it’s time I attempted to stretch my powers, perhaps in coordination with a few of you, the way Thor and the others have found their synchronicity around the valkyrie.” He glanced at the thunder god rather than me. “If you could demonstrate—I haven’t yet gotten to see how your powers merge in action.”
Thor perked up at the prospect of getting to play out at least a fake battle and deflated a moment later. “We can’t,” he said. “Not without Hod. I don’t think we should rouse him yet.”
“Ah. Well… why don’t you come along, then, and talk me through it, and—Skadi, your skills might be of use, and Njord, and Idunn.”
The gods he’d called meandered away from the group with him. Loki had drifted away too, so stealthily I hadn’t noticed him leaving.
Freya bent over the map again, and Odin moved to join her. Bragi turned back to his computer. Vidar dashed after Heimdall. “Before you get started—you mentioned there might be others you could point us too.”
I rubbed my arms, my skin creeping with an uncomfortable sensation. Our group had gotten bigger, but it felt so scattered now. Not like a bunch of people with the same goal working together. How were we going to stop Surt if we were running off in every direction, arguing over every offer of help?
I didn’t want to just stand here with those thoughts, and it was obvious no one out here had much use for me. I touched the phone in my pocket to confirm it was still there and turned toward the house. “I’ll check on Hod.”
17
Aria
Just past the school building’s main entrance, I spotted a stack of bags in the room that had once been the front office. Someone had bought us a new stash of food. When Hod woke up, he’d probably need all the nourishment he could get.
I went over and crouched down to paw through the bags for whatever looked at least somewhat substantial. After a few minutes, I’d come up with a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter and a knife for spreading it, and a couple cartons of grape juice, which seemed like a safer bet for a god on the mend than the bottles of wine that had dominated the beverage selection. Doctors had people drink juice after they gave blood. Maybe the same principle would work for divine beings who’d given a whole bunch of their energy to saving the world.
I hadn’t known for sure which room the gods had set up Hod in, but I didn’t need to spend much time searching. Voices traveled down the hall from a door standing ajar about halfway down. I knew before I reached it that I’d found my trickster too.
“So that’s the long and the short of it,” Loki was saying in his languid voice. “Since half of those dopes forget that anything exists beyond what they can see in front of them, I thought I’d better take it upon myself to see if you had any suggestions to make about our current activities.”
“I can’t say I’m thrilled about the raven going off to Surt, but if the others felt she was genuine…” Hod spoke with a faint rasp, his tone wary but not hostile. I couldn’t remember if I’d ever seen the two of them talking one-on-one at all before. For most of the time I’d known the dark god and the trickster, their conversations had mainly consisted of sniping at each other. I guessed they were actually coming to terms with the horrors of their shared past and the revelations of the last few weeks.
“I’m not sure there’s anything else I can offer,” Hod went on. “Other than we’d better catch Surt quickly if he tries that tactic again. There was so much power in that blast.” His voice trailed off again as I slipped past the door.
Sunlight was streaming from a single large window into the classroom-sized space on the other side. It left patches of brightness on the white walls and floor. The other gods had set Hod up on a real bed—well, maybe it was more of a cot—with a folded blanket as a pillow and another tucked over his trim frame. Loki was leaning against the empty bookcase near the door. He gave me a nod. He’d probably heard me coming from the moment I walked into the building.
From the looks of it, this room must have been the school nurse’s office. Appropriate for its current use.
Hod had propped his shoulders up on the makeshift pillow at the head of the bed, positioning himself halfway between lying down and sitting. He turned his head toward me at the squeak of my sneakers on the old linoleum.
Had his face gotten thinner since yesterday? The shadows beneath his high cheekbones looked starker, or maybe that was just my imagination, seeing him laid up like that. His short black hair was sticking up at various angles exactly like it would on any normal person who’d just been sleeping for hours. My fingers itched to smooth over it, to touch his pale cheek.
“Ari?” he said, only slightly a question. I guessed any of the gods would have had significantly heavier footsteps.
“I thought you might be hungry,” I said. “Or thirsty. I brought a few things… How are you feeling?”
“Better,” Hod said, pushing himself higher on the bed. A small smile touched his face, softening the hollows that had worried me a moment ago. “I’ve already eaten—someone left a plate for me to find when I woke up.”
I noticed the plate in question and a nearly drained water bottle on the little table at the side of the bed. My cargo felt suddenly awkward in my hands. I went over and set the bread and the rest on the floor beside the table. “Well, if you get hungry again later…”
“Thank you.”
I stood there for a few seconds, torn between a longing to wrap him in a hug and nervousness that I might hurt him somehow if I so much as touched him. A furrow formed in Hod’s brow. He reached out to me and slid his fingers lightly around my arm.
“Hey,” he said. “I’m sorry I snapped at you last night. I wasn’t angry at you or anything like that—it was just such an overwhelming situation—”
Was he worrying about that? A lump rose in my throat. I eased my arm up to take his hand and sat down carefully on the edge of the bed. “I know. Of course you were on edge. What you did was amazing. I’m just sorry if I made it at all harder.”
He let out a dismissive snort. “Not possible. Come here, then, valkyrie. Shouldn’t temporary invalid status earn me a little coddling?”
My heart swelled. I leaned into his embrace, tucking my head against his shoulder, hugging him as tightly as I dared. His body still held all the lean strength I was used to and that familiar salty smoky smell.
He was okay. He was really okay.
The lump in my throat rose even higher, and tears formed behind my closed eyelids. I willed them back. I’d done enough crying in front of Hod for a lifetime, and the last thing he needed right now was even more reasons to worry about me.
I wouldn’t let myself think about what would happen if Surt struck again before Hod had fully recuperated. Wouldn’t let myself think about how another blast might seep through his shadows and sear him away from me. He was here now, solid and real. I had to focus on that fact.
“I’m glad you’re all right,” I murmured. “And I meant it—the way you stopped that blast and neutralized it was absolutely fucking amazing. We’d all have been fried if it wasn’t for you. You can have all the coddling you want.”
He chuckled, leaning in to kiss my temple. “I’m sure it won’t go to my head. I should be back on my feet in an hour or two, and everyone can go back to not bothering to consult with me right in front of me instead of at a distance.”
“I personally think most of the gods in that bunch have very bad taste in who they listen to,” Loki said. “I supposed we should have expected as much, given that they gave up our excellent company for so long.”
“We need them,” Hod said. But even though his tone before had been wry, his muscles had tensed as he’d spoken. He’d told me before how the gods had treated him after Ragnarok: mostly avoiding him, only coming to him when they had a distasteful task he could handle that they barely wanted to acknowledge. And even before, everyone had always looked to Baldur the bright one over him.
Thinking back over the last few days, I couldn’t remember anyone seeking out his opinions. He’d been sidelined almost as much as I had.
Hod’s fingertips caressed down my back, warm through the thin silk of my tank top. An eager tingle ran through me at his touch. Suddenly I was remembering how Thor had reminded me how much I mattered to at least a few of the gods here when I’d been feeling out of sorts. That was exactly the sort of generosity I was more than happy to pass on.
I eased back and set my hand against Hod’s face. “They need you,” I said, “even if they’re too stuck-up to admit it. I need you. Would you like me to demonstrate how much?”
He pushed himself forward as I leaned in, catching my mouth an instant before I’d meant my lips to brush his. My pulse skipped. His arm looped tighter around my waist and his other hand was teasing into my hair, and just like that, his kiss felt as necessary as air.
I cupped his jaw and kissed him harder. Hod pulled me onto his lap, parting my lips with his tongue. His thumb eased up my side to trace the underside of my breast, and a pleased murmur escaped me.
Loki cleared his throat. “Well, seeing as I’m hardly needed here any longer, I’ll leave you to your recovery.”
The amused lilt of his voice washed over me like a caress in itself. I couldn’t suppress the shiver of longing that passed through me at the thought of that second pair of sly hands moving over my body in tandem with Hod’s.
Hod stilled beneath me. He pulled back with one last brush of his lips against mine and said, “You don’t have to leave.”
My heart hiccupped. I glanced over my shoulder. Loki had frozen with his hand on the door, staring back at us.
“What are you saying?” he asked in a measured tone.
Hod’s thumb stroked higher on my breast, just below the peak. I couldn’t help pressing into his touch, encouraging it to continue its climb. His blind gaze was fixed on my face, but his expression was relaxed. Almost pleased.
“I’m saying our valkyrie could be enjoying this moment even more if you wanted to contribute.”
“Hod,” I said, choking up. Forgetting his hand and its tempting ascent, I bent my head so my forehead grazed his. “You’re enough.”
“I know,” he said, so easily I believed him. “But why stop there? You think I don’t want to hear how you could gasp a little sharper, feel how you could tremble a little harder?”
