Dead Embers(21)

But nobody came running to ask us who we were and what we wanted. The large lot was empty and silent. Raised burial sites dotted the plot like little sarcophagi. Here and there, bright spots of green broke the monotony of white.

A long, thin building stretched along one side of the plot, its roof divided into three beautiful domes. Moonlight tinted the half-dozen dark windows that dotted the shallow porch, which would offer much needed shade to daytime visitors. We slinked past the doorway, and I cast a wary glance at the shadowed windows. And though I half-expected the grounds-keeper or a guard to come running, nothing happened.

Fen led the way, deeper into the cemetery. He always knew where he was meant to go. Wish I had that wolf's nose of his. Not to mention the special brand of night-vision he had going for him.

At last he halted, beckoning us to a burial tomb draped in green fabric, the bright color diluted in the pale moonlight. I slipped the sheet off the lid of the tomb and folded it carefully over my arm, treating it with infinite respect. We desecrated this tomb out of necessity, to retrieve Odin's chosen Warrior. That did not mean we had the right to disrespect Karim's traditions.

Fen and Joshua each held an end of the heavy stone lid, and though I knew I could help I stood aside and watched, keeping the silent Warrior Olaf company. Thankfully, he was as aloof as his boss Ingrid, which suited me. I wasn't in the mood for small talk.

Stone ground and grumbled against stone as they pushed the lid aside, a little at a time. They laid it carefully on the ground beside the sarcophagus, bearing the weight as if it were as light as a feather. In reality, the stone slab would've taken five to six normal men to push it into place. Clearly I wasn't the only one blessed with super-strength, then.

Inside the stone box lay the coffin itself. I waited as the two men removed the lid and placed it on the concrete slab. Medeia Karim's body lay wrapped in a white sheet.

Olaf leaned forward to pull away the white fabric covering her face. Would she be as beautiful in death as she was yesterday when I'd seen her in the cafe? I peered closer, curious to see if her body still retained the beatific glow of yesterday.

Then my heart clenched as I noticed dark, shadowy blotches dotting the white fabric. "Wait—" I cried, trying to warn them.

Too late. Olaf's fingers brushed against the dark spots.

The Warrior winced and shied away from the body, falling to his knees. He held his hand up, inspecting it with a desperate horror that turned his face as pale as the moon itself. I knelt beside him to inspect the wound—and gasped. His skin simmered as if acid had fallen onto his fingers and palm. Olaf jerked back, unable to support his kneeling frame any further. His head lolled, and he slumped over. The slight glow on his skin receded a little at a time until he no longer glowed like the other Warriors.

Fen knelt beside me, shooting me a glance; fear and worry clouded the darkness of his eyes. So now we knew for sure. This inky black gloop was definitely a poison. And worse yet, it looked dangerous to the living Warriors as well.

"It is much worse than we thought." Fen's whisper sounded rough and raw. "We must hurry back. His reaction . . ." Fen trailed off, then got to his feet. Shadows hid his eyes, but I knew he felt the same way I did; horrified and helpless.

Fen and Joshua pushed the lid back onto the coffin, and the scrape of stone on stone filled the silent graveyard.

We left the cemetery under the white eye of the moon, Joshua helping Fen to support the unconscious Olaf between them as we hurried back to the base, taking extra care to keep away from the Warrior's horrific wounds.

We left Karim behind, alone in her silent dark crypt. I swallowed hard, one memory clear in my mind. I'd wanted to see her glow, the beautiful beacon of the einherjar.

But there had been no glow.

And Medeia Karim was dead forever.





Chapter 18




Ingrid's face went white with horror as Fen and Joshua shuffled in, struggling with the dead weight of the unconscious Olaf.

"Valkyrie Ingrid, your Warrior needs care." Ingrid dropped the sheaf of papers she'd been reading and rushed toward Fen. A heavy silence blanketed the room as they all waited for the Ulfr general to continue. "He has come into contact with the black substance and he is gravely ill."

Ingrid's shoulders sagged, and a surge of pity for the Valkyrie flowed through me. She must have felt as if everything was falling apart around her. With bleak eyes she gestured to two of her Warriors, who relieved Fen and Joshua of their burden.

"Be very careful, Warrior," Fen growled as he passed Olaf over. "Do not touch his hand with your bare skin. We do not know if it is contagious. It is possible the substance is deadly even to a living Warrior."

All eyes focused on Olaf, whose head lolled forward while the rest of him remained still and scarily silent. Ingrid gave quick instructions for Olaf's care, beckoned a nearby Valkyrie to accompany her and followed the Warriors and their burden toward the back rooms of the house.

A strange hush hung over the base, as everyone worried about Olaf and the black substance and the Warriors we kept losing.

Fen's voice pulled us out of our fear-filled thrall. "We need to ready the teams and step up our Retrievals." His voice echoed around the silent room, strained and hollow. "I will have to return to Asgard to confer with the All-Father. This is beyond my own knowledge and experience."

He opened his mouth to continue, when the sound of feet stamping down the stone staircase filtered into the basement. Fen's face darkened. A different tension filled the air, a different fear than losing Olaf.

Had we been followed? Had the hideout been discovered by the army? Nothing that could happen could possibly have surprised me. Not after the week we'd been having. I tensed, muscles straining, not even daring to take a breath.

Around the room, Warriors, Ulfr and Valkyries moved hands to hilts and weapons, ready for anything. Many of the Valkyries and Ulfr faded into nothingness. I followed suit, leaving only the Warriors unglamored.

The heavy footsteps pounded on the stone stairs, sending vibrations all around the walls of the underground room. Looked pretty likely that this new visitor would bring the whole flight down with him.

A room full of Asgard warriors watched the doorway, not daring to breathe or blink. I stared with them. Sigrun shifted beside me, a strange sensation considering I could barely see her. It occurred to me then that our glamors only hid us from humans. Glamor hardly shielded us from each other; we could still see a hazy, shadowy reflection of a glamored Valkyrie or Ulfr. A good piece of information to know.

When the footsteps stopped, the man who stood at the threshold needed no glamor to hold the room spellbound. His arrestingly gorgeous looks cut my introspection short and, I'm ashamed to admit, stole the breath from my lungs. I felt the urge to sigh like a silly schoolgirl. Schoolgirl I was, silly I was not. So I squelched the impulse and waited, sure I would find out soon enough who he was.

Nobody dashed forward to challenge the man; nobody tried to lop his head off either. In fact, Valkyries and Ulfr began to rematerialize all around the room. The fear-edged tension that had filled the air only moments ago dissipated. Fine then, guess he wasn't much of a threat after all.

Beside me, a half-materialized Sigrun sighed in a way that reminded me way too much of the air-head, boy-crazy girls back in Midgard. I threw her a disgusted look.

"Mmhh, he is so good to look at," she said softly.

"What? Who is he, and why the hell are you looking at him as if he were a mug of Mead?"

"That is Thor, God of Thunder, Son of Odin," she answered, a dreamy smile on her lips.

"Oh," was all I could manage.

Thor. Wow.

She continued, silly grin still plastered across her face. "Although, to be brutally honest, he does not hold a candle to his brother Baldur. But he is good enough."

I glanced over at Fen, whose gaze was trained on the god. Fen, you really should get a load of this little display of female infatuation.

Thor strode across the room, and the ground still rumbled beneath his feet. Sure, he wouldn't be the god of thunder without the odd rumble, would he? The god went straight to the still-hazy image of Fenrir and stuck out his hand.

"Well met, brother Fenrir."

Fen materialized slowly, a familiar grin on his face.

One look around the room and I had to stifle a giggle. Every female—Valkyrie, Ulfr and Warrior alike—gaped at the god with similar smitten expressions. Oh boy. Even Mika stared.

I eyed Sigrun and wanted to giggle. This exact situation would so easily have fit into any random school in Midgard. I guess the whole infatuation thing wasn't unique to humans. Even Asgard had its fair share of besotted fans of certain hot dude gods.

Fen frowned and so did Joshua, each of them flicking glances at Sigrun and Mika, respectively.

Oh, boy. Jealous much?

Apart from being majorly hot with all his blond locks and yummy muscles, the god was dressed in human clothes very similar to ours: black pants, black shirt and matching fake-leather coat. His muscles bulged beneath the shoulders and sleeves of the leather, reminding me of a well-built wrestler or bodybuilder.

In his fist an object shimmered, an object whose glamor had almost tricked my eye. Almost. Thor held his famous hammer, Mjölnir, as calm as you please. And every time he clenched his fingers around the handle of the hammer or so much as moved it, a soft thunder rumbled around the room. Mjölnir, then, had contributed to some of the intermittent rumblings that seemed to accompany Thor as he moved.