Mirror of the Gods, page 5
The hand that held onto one of the cuffs let go, jerking back. There was an emblem burned into his flesh, the skin singed and peeling away. He gaped at it.
Power radiated from her. The air crackled with it. The other men stepped back.
“Her eyes,” one of them said. “Look at her eyes!”
“I said . . . Let. Me. Go!”
Raising her free hand Lucy pushed out, shoving the man with all the force she could muster. When her hand made contact with his sternum, it felt like the wildfire blazing inside her exploded outward.
All she could do was scream.
***
Dira, who had been silently stalking closer to help, watched stunned as a pulse of power threw all three men back near ten feet. She was far enough away that the burst didn’t throw her back too, though she stumbled, and her hair bristled at the feeling of static sliding across her skin.
The flash of light was blinding. Lucy Sheridan’s head tipped back, mouth open in a silent scream while two more shockwaves pulsed from her.
A streetlamp nearby blew, sparks raining down in a shower of gold. Car windows ruptured, spraying small cubes of glass across the street and sidewalk. Dira raised her arm to shield her face as she darted forward.
When the light died away, Lucy’s knees buckled.
Before she fell back and smacked her head against the concrete of the sidewalk, Dira caught her and laid her gently on the ground. The lights glowing from the windows of the surrounding buildings flickered. The car alarms remained blissfully silent, much to her surprise.
But she knew the sound of the shattering of glass was sure to have drawn attention. She crouched to examine the man who had grabbed her, cocking her head as the smell of burnt flesh tickled her nose. The seal burned into his hand had made a small hitch in her plans. She growled low in her throat.
Dira turned back to Lucy and tugged her up, wrapping her arm over her shoulder.
Her townhouse wasn’t far, maybe fifteen to twenty feet away, so Dira gently set her against the door in the shadows, before turning back to deal with the men. She took out her phone. It rang twice before someone answered.
“Jay, hacker extraordinaire, at your service, my liege. What can I do for ya, sis?”
“I need a clean-up crew. K street, Boston. And I need you three on a plane here in the next hour. The Order found her.” She began dragging the men into an alley, propping their lifeless bodies against the brick wall.
“Gods D, how many were there? Sending the crew to your location now. Are you hurt?” The sound of a keyboard clacking at light speed filtered through the speaker along with Jeger’s voice.
“I’m fine. I’ll explain everything when you get here. I’m sending a picture. It’s a seal I don’t recognize.” Once the picture was sent, Dira patted down his pockets and found a lighter.
Swallowing the bile that threatened to rise, she held the small flame against the man’s hand. The skin charred and burned away, making the alleyway smell even more of burning flesh. It was brutal but necessary. The seal was now gone from his skin.
“Looking it up,” Jeger said. “It’ll take a while. I’ll call back—” Something on her end dinged. “Son of a bitch, that was fast. Okay... Woah. D, there’s an exact match written in some sort of old manuscript.”
Well, it’s a start, Dira thought as a black van parked on the street in front of her, a man climbing out and nodding to her. She nodded back, and pushed away from the wall, walking back toward Lucy. She hadn’t moved from her slumped position against the door.
“Where is it?”
“Uh... the Bodleian. In Oxford.”
Dira’s phone buzzed, and the picture Jeger had sent of the manuscript appeared on its screen. Sure enough, there it was among a smattering of other symbols inked into yellowing parchment.
“Alright. Text me when you’ve left and where you’re landing. We’ll meet you there.” Dira searched Lucy’s bag for her keys, ultimately coming up empty. Setting Lucy down, Dira began what felt like an extended search of the front stoop. Standing on the balls of her feet, she reached up to trail her fingers over the door frame. Next, she checked for any loose bricks and under the solitary flower pot filled with withering hydrangeas. Finally, she lifted the welcome mat, letting out a small huff as she plucked the key from the ground before turning back to the still unconscious form of Lucy Sheridan.
Hoisting her up, Dira tried to balance three things at once, barely managing to unlock the door as she cradled her phone between her ear and shoulder.
“Alright, be careful.”
“I will.”
One less thing to worry about, Dira put her phone back in her pocket and pulled the limp woman through the door, setting her down on the worn sofa.
She shut the door and locked it, leaning against it for a moment.
The tools supposed to be solely wielded by one of the Vanir. They had never reacted to a mortal before. For centuries, the Order had tried to use them. For centuries, they had failed.
Dira rounded the corner and leaned against the doorframe leading into Lucy’s living room, crossing her arms as she watched her with a mixture of confusion, apprehension, and intrigue.
Just who is she?
Chapter Six
Lucy’s entire body hurt. Her muscles were stiff, her head pounding, and even her bones felt like they were aching. It felt like she had swallowed a mouthful of sand. What in the world happened? Had Jane convinced her to go out again? The few times she’d drunk enough to get a hangover hadn’t even been this painful.
Memories began trickling in. Walking home. Fear. Panic. The man who grabbed her. The anger.
Her eyes flew open, and she bolted up with a gasp, immediately regretting her hasty movements as the room spun. Her head felt like someone had shoved an ice pick through her brain stem. Cradling her head in her hands, she squeezed her eyes shut.
“Hurts, doesn’t it?”
The scream was involuntary but completely justified. Jumping high enough that she took a tumble off the couch, however, was slightly embarrassing. And if all of that wasn’t enough, Lucy rapped her hip against the corner of her coffee table on the way down, eliciting a pitifully high-pitched whine.
“What the hell?” Lucy screeched as she shoved her curls from her face.
The face that stared down at her in amusement was one she had seen multiple times. In dreams. In the dreams. “I-I watched you die.”
The woman’s smile turned icy in seconds. “What did you just say?”
The voice was wrong, Lucy realized. The face was almost a carbon copy of the woman from her dreams, but this voice was a bit lighter, higher in pitch. And there was no scar through her eyebrow.
“I...” Lucy trailed off as her mind caught up to her. “Wait, no. Who the hell are you? And why are you in my house? How did I get into my house? The last thing I remember was...”
The blond woman cocked her head to the side. “Three men trying to kidnap you? Take those bracelets?” she supplied.
Lucy’s face drained of all color.
“That actually happened?” she asked shakily. The woman just nodded. “Holy shit.”
Lucy shifted so she sat fully on the ground, drawing her knees to her chest. “Did I... Did I kill those men?”
The woman hesitated, then uncrossed her arms. “No, you didn’t. I did.”
Lucy felt relieved for a split second. Then the fear came back. “A-Are you going to kill me too?”
The stranger scoffed.
“It’s a valid question,” Lucy said.
“No,” the woman said, pushing off the wall. “I’m here to help. Those bracelets are incredibly important to me and my siblings. We need them, but it looks like they’re very much attached to you. That means we need you as well until we can figure out how to get them off you.”
Lucy stared dumbfounded at her. “Excuse me, what?” Her voice had gone up at least an octave.
“Look,” the woman said, “this is a lot to explain, and we don’t have the time. We need to get you to a safe location before the Order sends someone to search for those men.”
Lucy’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. “Wait! How am I supposed to trust you? How did you know where I lived? How did I get inside? Who are you?”
The woman’s eye twitched, and then she stomped over to Lucy and stuck out her hand. “My name is Dira. Like I said, I’m trying to help you and keep you safe. Right now, that’s about all I can explain.”
She helped Lucy to her feet. But as Lucy took her hand, she felt the ground give out beneath her. The world faded from focus like smoke, disappearing with a single breath.
What she saw next were flashes that flickered in and out of focus. A beautiful mountain, covered in snow. The laughter of children floated through the haze. She saw the fire again and heard the screams. The scene bled into an image of charred wood at her feet as snow dusted the ruins. And a sword.
Lucy could feel the weight of it in her hands. The sword was large, too big for her small hands. It was so much more than just a weapon. She felt the responsibility and leadership that came with it.
As quickly as the images came, they disappeared, leaving her staring up into Dira’s frowning face.
“What just happened?” she asked. “Your eyes. They were black. Solid black.”
Lucy shivered. “I-I don’t know.” The visions had thrown her off-kilter, as they normally did, but aside from the fear she still felt, a strange sensation washed over Lucy. She felt that she could trust Dira.
“I have a few theories, but I’d like for you to talk to my brother,” Dira murmured. “We have a few hours before the plane lands. Do you trust me?” She let go of Lucy’s arms.
Steady on her feet now, Lucy hesitated for only a moment before nodding firmly.
“I can’t explain it but yes... I do trust you. I’m warning you now, I have a plethora of questions for you, but I trust you. What do I need to do?”
Dira’s shoulders relaxed, just a fraction. “You need to pack a bag,” she said.
Lucy paled again. “Wait. I have a family. What do I tell them?”
Dira paused. “If it’s that important, Jay can get you an encrypted satellite phone. It’s how my siblings and I communicate when we’re not together,” she explained.
“Can I take a shower?”
“Make it quick.”
It took less than thirty minutes to shower and repack the brown leather duffel bag that she had taken to Norway. She danced frantically around her room, tugging on a pair of jeans, her worn brown leather boots, and a long-sleeved charcoal-gray shirt. Her hair was still wet as she yanked it into a messy mound of curls that just barely passed as a bun.
She didn’t have many toiletries to pack into her backpack, just necessities, and as many hair ties as she could find. The clothes were just as easy. She zipped up her bulging duffel and looked around for last-minute things she would need, then nodded to herself and headed back down the stairs.
Dira didn’t speak as Lucy made her way toward her kitchen, dumping items out of the tote bag she had been using for school supplies.
“Can I take my laptop?”
Dira just shrugged.
“Weren’t you afraid I’d call the cops, or something, or try to run?” Lucy asked.
“Your phone’s down here and I made sure there were no escape routes upstairs before you woke up,” Dira said matter-of-factly. “You’d have had to come down here and there’s no way you’d get past me.”
Blinking, Lucy nodded and stiffly turned back to her tote bag, repacking two blank spiral notebooks, her well-thumbed copy of Sense and Sensibility, her glasses, and her laptop charger.
“Are we staying in Boston?” she asked.
Dira raised an eyebrow and pushed her hand into the pocket of her skinny, probably designer, jeans. “No.”
“Okay,” Lucy said, more to herself than to Dira. She moved to the fridge. “You put my groceries away? Thank you.” Dira grunted in response. Lucy grabbed a plastic bag from her pantry, shoving in the apples, a few water bottles, and the box of baked cheese crackers she’d impulsively bought for herself.
Lucy checked and double-checked everything before turning to Dira. She already had her worn backpack on and slung the tote bag onto her shoulder as well.
Lucy hesitated, impulse making her reach for the phone on her counter before thinking better of it. Dira hefted Lucy’s duffel onto her shoulder.
“What about my classes?” Lucy questioned as they stepped out into the late morning sun. Dira had the spare key in her hand, locking the door. So that’s how she’d got in.
Part of her wanted to run, but the sane portion of her brain reminded her it was either Dira or more people like the men that had tried to take her the night before. She’d try her luck with the stoic Norwegian, thank you very much.
“We can stop by the campus. You can talk to someone about taking an extended break.” Dira started down the street, toward a sleek luxury sedan with dark tinted windows. Lucy briefly wondered just who this woman was, before placing the tote bag, her backpack, and the grocery bag full of snacks into the trunk.
“I didn’t need to bring snacks, did I?” she asked as Dira shut the trunk.
“No.”
Lucy sighed and slid into the passenger seat. Dira pressed a button and the car purred to life. As Lucy admired the buttery black leather seats and plush interior, there was no doubt in her mind that the car itself was worth at least as much as her student loans.
Dira was silent for a while as they drove toward the campus. Then, she said, “Earlier, you said you had seen me die. What did you mean by that?”
The question made Lucy’s pulse jump. “Well, in all honesty, I thought it was you. But your voice is wrong. Ever since I got these things”—Lucy wiggled the cuffs on her arms—“I’ve been having these dreams. They’re so real. It’s kinda terrifying, to be honest. There’s this huge hall, like a great hall that the Norsemen would have gathered in, except bigger. And it’s on fire.” Her voice caught as the memories of the dreams coiled around her mind.
“Everything is on fire,” she continued. “Tapestries are burning. The beams, the tables, the walls—all of it. I can hear people screaming, and I can just feel the fact that they’re innocent. The people that are dying weren’t supposed to die.”
She swallowed thickly. “Anyways, there’s this woman, standing at the back of the hall, long blond hair loose, and she’s got armor on. It’s beautiful. But I realize that she’s trapped. She can’t get out, and she’s furious. She’s angry that this is happening, that she’s stuck, that her people are dying.”
Dira’s hand tensed on the steering wheel. Her voice was quiet. “How did you know they were her people?”
“I don’t know, actually. A feeling. Or maybe it was the way she looked. Like a shieldmaiden, like a queen, standing there watching as her kingdom crumbled.”
Dira nodded, a silent sign that urged Lucy to continue. “Then, all of a sudden, she’s sad. Heartbreakingly sad. And I hear this scream from behind me. So I turn. It’s her daughter. And . . . and she’s screaming for her mom.”
She bit back her tears. “Someone’s pulling her. The whole thing is gonna collapse. She says something, smiles at her daughter, and steps backward, toward a group of people. Then the beams fall, and everything is consumed by fire.”
“Anyway,” she finished, “you look like her. So earlier I-I thought...” Lucy’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I know how crazy that sounds.”
Dira shook her head. A muscle twitched on her jaw. “No, it’s not. There are things in this world that cannot be explained. You seeing that is one of those things.” She violently shoved the car into park. “Here we are.”
Lucy blinked. Dira was already striding toward the archaeology building. In her haste to scramble out of the car and follow her, Lucy didn’t even question how she had known where to go.
Climbing the steps, the two women made their way into the building and Lucy began leading Dira toward her adviser’s office.
“Okay, so I’m going to go in, explain there’s a family emergency or something, and say I’m going to take the semester off. Drop my classes. And then we should be good to go.” A small part of her heart clenched painfully at the thought of missing her classes. But she needed to make sure her friends and peers were safe, and going to lectures every day would put them all at risk.
“Try not to draw too much attention—”
“Hey! You two. Hold it.”
Lucy stilled. “Oh no.”
Clint McCain’s eyes were hard as he emerged from his office. Lucy looked terrified, while Dira’s indifference just seemed to make him angrier.
“Sheridan,” he said stiffly. His eyes flicked to Dira. “I see you found your friend.”
“I did. I had business in Oslo,” Dira said, “then back here to Boston, and then down to Atlanta.”
Clint shook his head. “Nah, you’re lying. Sheridan, what kind of trouble are you in?”
Dira raised a brow.
“Sir, if we could just—”
“I want an answer right now, Sheridan,” he said, scowling. “She was looking for you in Norway. Claimed she was a friend. But I didn’t buy it then and I don’t buy it now. Is she threatening you?”
“No! Dr. McCain, she’s not—Dira is... I-I mean, she’s helping me—”
“That’s it. I’m calling the police.” McCain pulled his phone from his pocket.
“Dr. McCain?”
His mistake was glancing up at the sound of Dira’s voice. With a swiftness that only came from centuries of practice, Dira’s fist flashed out, striking Clint’s temple. Lucy’s hands flew to her mouth, stifling her shocked cry as her professor’s body went limp. Dira caught him easily.
“Oh my God!” Lucy hissed, her eyes wide as Dira began dragging Dr. McCain toward his office. His feet dragged comically behind him. Lucy lunged for the phone he’d dropped, then scrambled after them.
“What did you do?” she demanded.
