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HIPPOCRATES MADE GOOD ON his promise to take his time. He made slow, sweet love to me tonight, the kind that moved the earth in a much different way than the frantic thrusts of our first christening. And just like the prior night, I memorized his tender touch. When we laid spent and exhausted from passion, I curled into his arms, letting him hold me as he drifted to sleep.
Melancholy hit and my chest hurt enough to squeeze tears from the corner of my eyes. That imaginary clock in my head kept spinning faster toward my demise. I had to figure out a plan to get this man somewhere where I could keep him safe.
I kissed his temple and then smoothed his hair from his brow. “Would you leave Kos?” I whispered.
“No,” he whispered back in that sleepy way I wasn’t sure whether he was fully awake. When he turned and met my gaze in the dark room, I knew he wasn’t asleep. “So, you need to stay.”
I wanted to spill my secrets and convince him to run away with me in the night. But the look on this face stopped me. I nuzzled into him without giving him any indication of my plans.
I drifted off, and that tingle started in my brain just before the intrusive voice boomed in my head for an update. I sat up with a gasp, shaking Henrick out of my mind. I mentally slammed the door on Asgard without answering his call.
“Hey. Are you all right?” Hippocrates asked with a groggy voice.
“Yes. Just a nightmare,” I muttered and slid back into his grasp. But I was too wired to sleep, unlike Hippocrates, who began to snore almost immediately.
I listened to his breathing, trying to let my body relax and rest without drifting off. I did not want Henrick to invade my mind again, and sleep seemed to be the thing to allow him entry.
But sometime in the wee hours of the morning, I fell into a dreamless slumber, only waking when Hippocrates moved from the bed. I curled onto my side and watched as he slipped out of the room to get ready for another day at work while I puttered around with his mother.
I was tempted just to grab him and fly out of here with him because time was not on my side now that I’d passed the deadline. But I had a feeling he would fight me and that wouldn’t do, especially if we were in the air. I didn’t know how long I’d have before Odin would send someone to check on me.
But my answer came a little after noon when a boom echoed from the mountains. I straightened, with my heart slamming against the walls of my chest.
Here we go.
Sophia hopped to her feet next to me just as fast, and the weeds we were pulling were forgotten as a winged warrior flew directly toward where I stood, as if she could track me. The armor glinted in the sun, and I stepped back reaching for the walking stick, my mouth as dry as the sun’s surface.
The warrior landed between us and the fruit trees, and my chest stuttered. Odin sent Freya after me.
“You have failed.”
Freya’s voice hit a nerve. It was the same voice she used after the battle when she accused me of calling forth the wraiths.
Hippocrates’s mother stared in abject horror as Freya pulled out her sword and pointed it at me.
“I have not failed.” I swallowed hard. Without my own sword, I was at Freya’s mercy. “I have not been given a credible reason for the mission.” My voice wavered.
“Odin ordered it. That is reason enough.” Freya’s eyes turned to slits.
“We are supposed to protect the innocent.” I gripped the walking stick tightly in my right hand, even though I doubted it would hold up against the sword’s edge and reached my left hand protectively toward Sophia.
“It was an order, Kara. We do not disobey orders.” Her nostrils flared in that familiar way of hers when she was disappointed.
“I will not kill an innocent man.” I straightened my back, shifting my feet into a battle stance.
“You were sent to kill someone?” Sophia asked.
“A man named Hippocrates. Do you know him?” Freya snapped.
Sophia paled. Her eyes widened with accusation, but she was cognizant enough to shake her head. Her eyes never left me, but I couldn’t look away from Freya without risking death.
“I think she’s lying.” Freya charged forward with the intent to skewer me.
I pushed Hippocrates’s mother away, ignoring her squeak of surprise, and stepped toward Freya, ducking under the swing of her sword and parrying with the walking stick. It snapped cleanly where the sword connected with it, as I thought it might. But the deflection was enough for the blade to miss me.
Close contact with swords, especially when one was within arm’s length, was difficult and before Freya recovered, I grabbed her sword wrist and threw a brutal punch to her exposed throat with the hand holding the walking stick.
She gagged from the force of the hit, and I twisted her sword arm hard enough for a crack to echo in the courtyard. The clang of metal on stone resounded.
I kicked the sword out of reach. Burning pain sliced my shoulder. I twisted away from Freya, hissing at the pain. A bloody knife glistened in the sunlight.
“Freya, please.” I reached for my own knife. “I cannot kill an innocent. But I can kill you if you insist on this insane mission. Hippocrates is a healer, for goodness’ sake!”
Rage filled Freya’s features, turning her feral. There was no reasoning with her, and I stood between her and her sword. She pulled a second knife and launched another attack.
Block, parry, slash, hit. Actions on repeat, over and over until I lost my temper. I spun, sending my elbow into her chest. Freya flew into one of the fruit trees, nearly tearing it out of the ground.
I didn’t have time to categorize my wounds, not with the guttural cry from Freya. She climbed to her feet. As she stalked toward me, I swiped her sword off the ground. The view behind me startled me. Hippocrates’s mother sat on the ground, with sightless open eyes. Blood covered the wall above her. Right about where her head height would have been if she were standing.
Damnit. I had tried to push her to safety but sent her to her death instead.
I turned back to Freya, who held blades in both fists. Either she hung onto them, or these were an extra set just for carving her enemies to pieces.
Instead of trying to block with the sword, I twirled away, hissing as she landed another slice across my back. But my maneuver gave me the advantage, and I swung her sword with all my might before she could even turn in my direction.
Freya’s wide eyes met mine just before the blade tore through her spine, sending her head flying and drenching me in the torrent of blood pluming from her neck. Her body stood planted in place for a few moments, and then the lack of brain signals to muscle groups caused her body to fall.
My raspy breath dragged in and out of my lungs as the past few minutes hit me. My dress was no longer clean, it was dripping with Freya’s blood. Just as bloody as the mark on the wall where Hippocrates’s mother’s head smashed into the stone.
I couldn’t catch my breath as the truth squeezed my chest. These deaths had horrific ramifications.