Mika giggled. "Not much chance of him agreeing to that, you know."
"Why ever not?" I swung a leg over the bike, settling my wings on either side of the frame. After lowering myself carefully onto the cracked leather seat, I stiffened, deathly afraid that the weight of all those feathers and bones would tumble me to the ground, wings, wheels and all. Almost as an unconscious thought, I threw a glamor over my feathery appendages. We were meant to blend in, not appear and disappear on a whim. With a foot on a pedal, I teetered on the two wheels, then steadied myself. I glanced over at Mika, waiting for her answer.
My bicycle's wheels squeaked as we covered a few miles of dusty ground, and I wondered if Mika would avoid my question. But she sighed, staring straight ahead as she said, "Fenrir is afraid of your friend Joshua."
"You're kidding, right?" I laughed. "Fen's not afraid of anyone. It's Joshua who's scared of him."
"Perhaps afraid is not the best word." Mika frowned. "It is about who I am."
"Huh? Is there some rule against fraternization between Warriors and Ulfr?"
Her lips thinned into a cold line, the chill also entering her eyes. "No. There is no such rule." She stared pointedly at me as she continued, "The only rule for Fenrir is no fraternization with his offspring."
My lips formed a silent, "Oh boy."
I forgot to swallow, and although a shiver of surprise snaked through my body, I said nothing. Then I was tempted to laugh. Poor Joshua. As fathers went, Fen would no doubt be a protective one.
And Mika was Fen's daughter.
***
At least the whole balancing act on the bicycle took my concentration off Mika's revelation. Though not for long. I managed to find the best position, the correct angle in which to lean forward to ensure I didn't fall on my ass or on my head. The bike shuddered as its wheels struggled along the dusty street, but I managed to remain upright. And even though I knew that bikes were pretty sturdy contraptions, the combination of my weight plus that of my wings worried me. The old bicycle's almost flat tires didn't look up to the job.
Thankfully, we didn't have that far to go.
A dozen minutes of stressful cycling later, our destination appeared up ahead. A dozen minutes in which Fen's strange behavior fell into place. Now I knew the reason Fen made sure Joshua and Mika weren't paired together. He was just a dad protecting his daughter. A dad way too powerful to cross. Poor Joshua.
We propped the bikes outside a little coffee shop populated by tourist types with large voices, large appetites and large wallets.
We entered the bright eatery, just two young girls dressed in black. I pretended not to notice the two blond guys giving us the once-over; maybe the black outfitting had been a cool idea, but I just wasn't sure that the whole black boots and black coat getup would serve to camouflage us. From the looks of our two admirers, I'd say not.
We chose a table looking out onto the street. Mika sat with her back to the huge glass window while I lowered myself carefully, glad I'd found a corner seat to avoid some unsuspecting customer walking into a pair of invisible wings. Our little march through the center of the souk had certainly taught me a few lessons.
The seat creaked, the crisscrossed fiber cords in the seat of the chair stretching to the danger point; I feared that the old wooden chair wouldn't hold up under my weight. Propping my elbows onto the table seemed to ease the strain, and my stress, a little.
By now, I was so used to the weight of the wings that I automatically did everything to accommodate them. Walking, sitting, even sleeping had ceased being uncomfortable, and I was pretty glad for it. I'd grown to love my wings. Grown to love the very idea of what it meant to be a Valkyrie.
We ordered coffees, shelling out strangely large paper money, provided within Ingrid's bag of surprises. I scanned the bag's contents: money, a cell phone and a satellite phone for emergencies.
And two handguns.
Mika leaned forward, and I tilted the bag so she could get a glimpse of the gleaming dark metal. When she raised a cool eyebrow, I just shrugged. "Guns?" I asked, wondering at Ingrid's intentions. "Hardly our weapon of choice." We were well kitted out weapon-wise; beneath our coats, inside boots and strapped to thighs we'd hidden our requisite swords and a handful of small knives.
"Perhaps we will need them." Mika sipped at her coffee.
I lowered the bag out of sight. "Even if we needed them, I hardly see the sense considering we've had zero weapons training."
"You mean you have had zero weapons training." Mika smirked.
I paused, startled. "You mean Fen's been training you guys? With guns? How come we haven't had weapons training, then?"
For just a moment, Mika appeared shocked, the color draining from her face—such a short moment that I was sure I'd imagined it—but she recovered swiftly enough, deflecting my questions. "I am not sure who has received the training and who has not. I would think that all Midgardians would already be adept at using Midgard weapons."
She tightened her jaw, tension coming off her in waves, and sipped at her coffee, avoiding my eyes. "This coffee you Midgardians drink, it is pleasant enough," she finally said. I frowned at the Ulfr's abrupt change of topic, but said no more. Maybe Fen was still meaning to train us with Midgard weapons. Or maybe Mika didn't know as much as she thought.
"How long do think we'll have to wait here?" I played my part at keeping the subject changed.
Mika shrugged. "Hopefully not too long. The coffee has good flavor, but I much prefer Mead." Her tone still remained cool and conversational.
"Sorry." I laughed softly. "I'm pretty sure they don't serve Mead in Cairo. Or anywhere in Midgard for that matter."
I managed to thaw her icy reserve, and we made small talk, which somehow grew into a discussion on Egyptian mythology. Mika surprised me with her wealth of knowledge. I listened intently. My introduction to Asgard and Hel and even Muspell had made one thing clear. For all I knew, Ra and Isis and even Zeus and Hera were as real as I was.
"Where did you learn about Egyptian mythology?" I asked, thoroughly curious now.
"Books." Her eyes twinkled.
"Books?"
"Yes, information is written on pages, then the pages are bound together—"
"Ha ha, very funny." I smiled. Despite our differences of opinion on the spice merchant, I found I quite liked Mika.
Odd that Sigrun had never mentioned Fen's child to me. But knowing Sigrun, she wouldn't have thought it necessary to tell me.
So who would be the one to break the news to Joshua that the love of his life was Fenrir's daughter? Poor guy. As boys went he was majorly hot, but for some reason he'd never been able to hold down a long-term relationship. Guess Craven hadn't had enough nice girls anyway. That led me to wonder if Mika was as taken with my poor friend as he was with her. I opened my mouth to ask her just that, but I never got the words out.
The door slammed open and a flurry of activity ushered a woman inside the now silent café. Dressed darkly in a hijab and gown, she entered, surrounded by a group of four surly-looking men. The woman threw an apologetic smile around the room as if embarrassed at the racket her companions made.
My feathers shivered at my back as if an unseen draft had dared to rifle through them, and I tensed as I stared at her. It would've been impossible for me to ignore the woman. She glowed as if she'd swallowed a million light bulbs.
So, I still had the ability to see people glow. All my life it had been almost a curse, this glow that only I had been able to see, a glow that promised death for the one who shone. Not that their death was permanent. No, if I had known what it meant during those awful last days of Joshua's life, or even when I shed my tears for a cancer-beaten Aimee, perhaps I would've felt better about myself, felt as if I mattered. I couldn't change my past. But maybe, if I could help save this einherjar's future, just maybe it would be okay.
Medeia Karim chose a seat two tables away, her olive skin gleaming as if flames of white fire danced on its surface, making her look like very much like an angel. The four men, so buff and surly they just had to be her bodyguards, sat with her, eyes tracking through the room as if searching every face for treachery and every hand for weapons. Her glow was painfully bright, and my stomach clenched. Her end was very, very near.
Mika leaned close. "She seems well protected," my Ulfr partner whispered. Her eyes played the same game as the bodyguards, scanning the room and the hot and silent street outside.
I nodded, and tried not to wince at the brightness while I kept a close eye on our soon-to-be Warrior of Odin. The room settled again into a comfortable hum of meaningless conversation and midday relaxation, and yet a few tourists did throw the new group strange and dirty looks. Was it just a cultural prejudice or something deeper? I recalled Ingrid briefing us; Cairo simmered in the midst of a civil war that had lasted years. I guess I'd been paying attention after all.
Tourists still came, though, as Egypt offered them the beauty and mystery of the pyramids. Sometimes beauty and mystery were more important than absolute safety.
We sipped our coffees and smiled pleasantly, keeping up the happy tourist pretense, talking about nothing much, all the while throwing covert glances at Karim and her posse. The coffee had cooled, but I still forced myself to swallow. No Midgard meal or drink would ever compare to the fare back home in Asgard.