Annika sat on the bed in her room with her laptop balanced on her crossed legs and booked her homeward flight. She'd finally met her father and found a man who she connected with deeply, yet Tyr and Vali both wanted her to leave.
Why did nobody want her? She felt more alone now than she'd ever been in her life. She'd always known she was different from other people because of her spirit guide. And although she felt bad, right now she shut out his normally reassuring presence. Her disturbing visit to the ice palace in the sky was enough to put her off anything out of the ordinary for a while.
The first available flight to London was the following morning. She booked an early cab, packed her bag and fell into a restless sleep. Fractured images of her father and the weird people at the Yule Fest alternated with heated memories of Tyr's kiss and the feel of his body pressed against hers.
In the still of the night, she woke and blinked in the darkness. A streak of illumination from a street light penetrated between the curtains. Tinny Christmas music still played in the distance, although it was well past midnight.
Something dropped onto the pillow beside her head. Annika raised herself on an elbow and picked up a black feather. In the sliver of light, it gleamed blue-green like oil on water.
Movement in the shadows snagged her attention. She squinted at the corners of the room, the first hint of panic crawling inside her chest. Suddenly fingers clamped over her mouth from behind, wrenching her head back against a body.
Her cry was muffled behind the bony fingers.
"Shhhh. Shhhh," a male voice hissed in her ear.
A second figure loomed out of the darkness in front of her. He stripped away the bedcovers from her body. She clawed at the hand over her mouth while her legs were pulled over the edge of the bed and her ankles tied.
When the hand left her mouth, she dragged in a frantic breath and screamed as her wrists were jerked behind her back. All too soon a gag tightened between her lips, cutting off her cries.
She struggled, kicked, grunted, and banged her head back against the bony chest until sparks swam in her vision. She must escape now. Once these men took her from her room, no one would find her. Anyone who checked would think she'd left for her early flight. She opened her mind, longing for her spirit guide, but he wasn't there. More than ever, she needed his calm support to help her cope.
Dark, suffocating fabric covered her face as they dragged a bag over her body, enclosing her. She stumbled as they tugged her upright and the tight binding on her ankles and wrists bit into her skin as they picked her up.
Her head was banged against something and pain speared down her neck, bringing tears to her eyes. Cold hit her and the festive music blared louder. Then she was dropped with a bruising thud on a hard surface. Muffled voices argued for a moment, then she felt movement as if she were in a carriage or sleigh like the one Tyr had used.
Why had she come to Iceland? She hated the damn place. She opened her mind to her spirit guide again. She implored him for help, as she had many times over the years when she'd felt lost and alone with nobody else to turn to.
Suddenly, her spirit guide's presence flooded through her, shoring up her shredded control with a tender supportive embrace as if he held her in his arms. The image of Tyr merged with the masculine presence in her mind. In that moment she realized that Tyr was her spirit guide. Tyr was the loving presence she'd sensed in her mind since childhood. How was that possible?
***
Tyr jolted awake to find himself slouched on the sofa before the log fire in his retreat. A flash of terror streaked along his mental link with Annika, and her anguished call burst through his mind.
After years bonded to her he responded automatically, calming, soothing, in the same way he had since she was a baby. He blinked and swiped a hand over his face as his thought processes caught up with his instinct. He'd left her in her cabin at the resort hours ago. She should be asleep. What in the Furies had happened to her?
Staggering to his feet, he knocked his shot glass and empty vodka bottle to the floor. His temples thudded, making him wish he had postponed drowning his sorrows until Annika was safely out of the country.
He pulled on his boots, grateful now that he hadn't got around to undressing, and headed for the door. At the sound of whistling wind battering the protective heat shield over his front door he wheeled around to grab his fur coat off the back of the sofa. He wouldn't be much use to her if he froze to death.
Outside his cabin, frigid air laced with snow slashed his face. If only he could leave this miserable frozen place and return to his mother's people in Italy. If only he wasn't Odin's son. If only he could be with Annika. His life was filled with if onlys…
He pushed two fingers between his lips and whistled, squinting through the blizzard at the snowy slope above his cabin. His snow cat Helga bounded towards him, freezing droplets flying in all directions as she skidded to a halt at his feet.
He slapped her shoulder affectionately, wiped the worst of the snow off her fur, and threw a leg over her back. His heart thundered in response to Annika's panic. He would rescue her or die in the attempt.
Tyr leaned forward to speak directly into Helga's ear so she heard him over the roar of the wind. Then he tangled his fingers in her silky mane. His stomach lurched sickly as she flung herself off the icy ledge over the ravine, yet the feeling had more to do with Annika's plight than the drop.
***
Annika landed with bone-jarring force on the ground and lay still inside the dark, airless bag, gathering her wits for whatever she must face next. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably. On the journey, the chill had penetrated the bag and her fleecy pajamas to pierce the very marrow of her bones. Now she was lying on a surface so cold it could only be ice.
The bag loosened and the fabric peeled back from her face. She blinked at a gleaming expanse of white. The large space was empty, but a long sooty stain on the floor in the center of the room looked like the remains of the Yule Log that had burned at Odin's Yule Fest.
Still tied, she wriggled around to peer behind her. Odin sat bundled on his ice throne. His long gray hair and beard hung in matted clumps over his stained coat. A huge wolf crouched on either side of his throne, golden eyes glued to her as if waiting for the command to attack.
"Huginn, turn her round," Odin ordered. His voice sounded like a glacier grinding rocks to dust.
A skinny man with long dark hair and pointed features pulled the edge of the sack, sliding her around in a graceful arc to lie at Odin's feet. The gaze from the god's single visible eye raked over her accusingly. His scowl deepened, creasing his ancient face like old paper.
"She has the look of the slayer," Odin said.
Annika lay still so she wouldn't antagonize him, but she listened intently.
Another man who looked like Huginn's twin stepped into view. They had to be her two kidnappers. "Is she dangerous?" he asked.
"Of course not." Odin flapped a dismissive hand. "Her power's bound to the crystal sword."
"Shall I remove her gag so you can question her?" Huginn asked.
"I'll cast the runes first." Odin pointed his staff at a table across the room. "Muninn, my bag."
The more timid of the two kidnappers retrieved a brown leather bag with a drawstring top. Odin shook the bag then dug inside and scattered a handful of rectangular wooden pieces marked with symbols on the ground. He stared down at them, absently scratching his beard.
"Hmm." His gaze moved back to her and he blew out a blast of stinking breath.
"Can you use her against Vali?" Huginn asked.
"The runes say she's the catalyst for great change."
Muninn shuffled closer and stared down at the wooden pieces with a frown. "Is that good?"
Odin cuffed him around the head. "Change is never good, you imbecile." Odin's face scrunched into deeper creases so his good eye nearly disappeared beneath a bushy gray eyebrow. "She might discover her power and become a threat like her father."
Was it possible she had inherited power from Vali? The idea of flying or being super strong like Superman appealed to her. She imagined the shock on Odin's face if she broke free of her bonds and zoomed off into the night.
But she had no idea what type of power her father possessed. Except the moniker the Slayer suggested he was dangerous. Surely if she had any power she would have noticed by now. Her vision of escape faded, and she sank back into her chilled misery. The only way she would escape was if Tyr rescued her.
As if thinking of him called him to her, his warm, reassuring presence hummed more strongly in her mind. The sound of raised voices behind her made her crane her head around. Her heart jumped to see Tyr stride in, his face a mask of anger.
"What in the Furies are you doing?" he snapped at his father. He kicked the scattered wooden runes aside and moved between her and Odin, crouching at her side. "Are you all right, Annika?"
"Leave her be, Tyr," Odin boomed in a voice that made the floor vibrate.
"She's no threat to you," Tyr said without turning. He loosened the gag and pulled it away from her mouth. She dragged in her first decent breath in hours, filling her lungs with cold air flavored with the warm, piney tang that clung to Tyr's clothes.
The tension inside her eased as he untied her and helped her to her feet.
***
Tyr pulled off his fur coat and wrapped it around Annika, fastening the front to keep her warm.
"You'll get cold without your coat, son," Odin said sulkily.
"I'll get cold!" Tyr shook his head in disbelief. His father was losing his mind. "Are you trying to incite Vali to violence? He'll bring Valhalla down around your ears if he discovers you've kidnapped his daughter and nearly let her freeze to death. She's half human remember."
"I want to keep her as insurance."
"If you let her go home, Vali's far more likely to leave us alone."
Odin peered up from beneath the brim of his hat, his mouth a flat sulky line. "No." The word echoed around the room with finality. "She's my insurance. Vali won't attack me while I have her."
Tyr sucked in a breath and released it slowly. He could sometimes reason with his father if he was patient, but not on the subject of Vali. The old enmity between the two families had poisoned his father's mind. Tyr glanced at Annika, shivering and pale. He had to get her out of the cold. "Let me keep Vali's daughter tucked away somewhere. If you need her, I'll bring her here."
Odin grunted. "Only if she wears my ring."
Tyr stilled, acutely aware of the slave ring on his little finger—a more effective shackle than a ball and chain.
Odin pulled the enchanted gold ring Draupnir from his finger and laid it on his palm. The metal jumped and flexed. A second gold band grew out of the original before separating with a pop. Odin tossed the new ring to Tyr, who snatched the cursed thing from the air and clenched it in his fist.
Tyr's mind churned frantically, trying to come up with an excuse to save Annika from a fate worse than death. "You don't want to press a human into your service, my lord."
Odin bent to pet one of his wolves. "She's only half human. No one could accuse Vali of having humanity."
Despite Vali's fearsome reputation, he had more humanity than Odin. Tyr's grip tightened on the hated ring.
"Give my ring to Vali's daughter," Odin commanded.
Tyr's breath grated in and out of his lungs as the first streaks of pain shot up his arm from his own ring—punishment for resisting Odin's will.
Once Annika slid his father's ring on her finger, she would never escape the old man's control. "Consult the runes first," he said desperately. He crouched to gather up the wooden pieces and dropped them back in the bag on his father's lap.
"Let me put it on. I can take it off again later," Annika whispered.
Tyr shook his head and hoped she would keep quiet.
Odin stirred the runes in his bag, grabbed a handful, and scattered them on the ground. He bent forward to examine them, his face screwed into a frown.
With Huginn and Muninn also engrossed in the runes, Tyr backed up, taking Annika with him. If he could get past the guards to Helga, she might make it out of Valhalla and still escape Iceland.
"Have you got the sleigh here?" she whispered as the distance between them and the throne widened.
Tyr put his finger to his lips.
Odin's attention lifted from the runes. Familiar agonizing pain shot up Tyr's arm from the slave ring, slicing through bone, tearing along muscle. He slammed down the shutters on his link with Annika as his legs buckled and he collapsed to his knees with a cry of pain.
When the torture ceased, his bones throbbed and his muscles ached. Annika was on her knees in front of him clutching his shoulders. "Tyr, what's the matter?"
Vali had been right to cut her off from this world. If only Tyr had stood up to his father and refused to invite her to Iceland, she would not be in danger. "Go," he grated between clenched teeth. "Ride Helga back to the resort."
She framed his face in her hands. "I won't leave you like this."
"Just go!" He infused his voice with command to make her leave.
Her hands dropped away from his face, her expression uncertain. But she'd missed her chance. Huginn scampered up and pinned her wrists behind her back.
"Not you again!" She struggled but was no match for the wiry strength of the raven-man. Tyr longed to reach out to help her, but his abused muscles wouldn't obey.
Muninn snatched up the ring intended for Annika that Tyr had dropped and pushed it onto her finger. Tyr closed his eyes, and his head fell forward. He'd failed to protect her. Now Annika would be trapped in Iceland forever.