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“We bundle up and we run,” I said. “There are only a few miles between your house and the train tunnel. Fyrcat will take it from there.”
Sandy licked her lips nervously. “And what exactly will we be doing if we make it that far?”
Fyrcat drew a length of pale wood from her sleeve with a smirk.
“You slide a little further down this branch of the World Tree. I’m thinking somewhere sunny. How does Florida sound?”
Chapter Twelve
Torsten
I always forget that civilians aren’t a well-oiled machine.
They weren’t taught efficiency nor urgency, it seemed. With sixty of them in one space, it was like trying to herd kittens.
Ogun’s rambling distracted Fyrcat long enough for me to speak with Jovi and Skarde in private. The witch looked slightly amused by the endless stream of words coming from the ridiculous man. I knew the amusement wouldn’t last long. The three of us stood beside the front door with our voices lowered to a whisper.
Jovi grimaced, pulling the hem of her borrowed jeans down to examine a mark on her upper thigh. Her eyes snapped up to mine, and she asked, “When did this happen?”
The mark was long, thin, and jagged. It branched out like thin spider legs, as if she’d been struck by lightning.
“It’s what happens when you travel between realms without using the Bifrost,” my brother answered. Then he looked at me and his jaw was tight. “What happened while you were away? I want details. Now.”
Jovi explained what had happened in Muspelheim. She took her time and made sure to give enough details to Skarde to lessen the worry in his eyes. My brother often pretended to be heartless, but I knew differently. Not only was he capable of love, he was also capable of fighting for it. Skarde was on a quest to find his mate. A shieldmaiden named Eir had fought valiantly on the battlefield until being struck down by an enemy’s sword. Skarde told me she’d died in his arms, promising they would meet again in Valhalla.
However, Eir was never able to sup with the All Father. She became a Valkyrie, tasked with the honor of watching over the wars of Midgard. Eir had chosen to spare many lives, using her powers to heal others as she watched Skarde fight against the Christian army.
Frigg had seen great potential in Eir and had offered her a place among the Aesir. Eir rejected the offer, hoping to be with her mate when the day came that he was slain. But Eir was killed once more. Skarde blamed the Vanir Gods for her death. And when he finally reached Valhalla, he learned that Eir had been refused entrance. She was sent to Niflheim, the realm of the dead. Niflheim was a peaceful place where the dead could be as they had been in life. For a shieldmaiden like Eir, that was a fate worse than Helheim itself.
It pained me to think that Skarde sensed Eir whenever he was near Jovi. Jovi was a mystery. Part Valkyrie, part witch, a unification of Aesir and Vanir blood that should never have existed. But she was also the woman I had loved in the past. Our whirlwind affair had ended badly, but my feelings for her hadn’t dissipated over the years. If she really was my brother’s mate… No. I couldn’t even allow myself to think about it.
“Torsten?”
I closed my eyes and let the smoothness of her voice ease the tension that coiled inside of me. “Sorry, I… I’m just tired,” I said. “I didn’t mean to lose focus.”
Jovi nodded in understanding. It had been a long day for both of us. Our bodies had been reborn as Freya’s had, but the excitement of our little adventure had taken a toll. Jovi’s mouth stretched wide as she yawned.
“Perhaps we should wait until morning,” Skarde suggested kindly, eyes soft as he stared down at Jovi. Unthinking jealousy rippled through me. Jovi was my mate. Mine. He didn’t have a right to look at her like that.
Unless he did. And it was I who didn’t have the rights I was currently enjoying.
“No,” Fyrcat said, glaring at him from across the room, and before the others had the chance to get us into more trouble said, “This cannot wait. We get the mortals to safety and then we find Freya. Waiting could cost us everything.”
Jovi pinched Skarde’s arm. “I’ll be fine. Now stop glaring at Ogun. I don’t know why you two are so suspicious of dwarfs when that wackjob, Fyrcat, is walking around. She’s clearly up to something. This little quest of hers isn’t normal.”
“She isn’t a wackjob,” Skarde said sharply. “She helped me, even when she had no cause to do so.”
“I’m telling you, death magic aside, there’s something not right about her.” Jovi tapped her foot rhythmically, chewing on her bottom lip as she eyed Fyrcat from across the room. “Don’t you guys think it’s a little odd that she was so eager to help you get rid of your oath to Freya and then got cold feet about taking me to Muspelheim? And then all this stuff with the people here? It’s not like her.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I don’t think she wanted Torsten to come back,” Jovi said worriedly.
Skarde followed Jovi’s gaze over to where Fyrcat stood, propped against a window sill. She was only half-listening to what the dwarf was saying and by the expression on her face, he’d already worn out his welcome.
“I trust my instincts, Jovi. Fyrcat wants to save Freya. Beyond that, I can’t parse her motives,” Skarde responded, breathing in deeply as he nodded. “I’ll deal with whatever comes. She won’t touch you or my idiot brother, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
I didn’t like the way Skarde was looking at the witch. It was almost like… almost like he liked her. Which was impossible. They’d been at each other’s throats before we’d gone into the fire. So much had changed in a day, but I couldn’t imagine any force that would make my brother look at a witch with anything other than abject hatred. And yet… he wasn’t.
