I hustled to the pool, fidgeting with my team swim cap. I wore my stretched out pink cap for practices, but looking professional seemed the thing to do when swimming for a recruiter. The team cap was bright blue with a white block letter Z and matched my team swimsuit. Funny how swim uniforms fit in backpacks and every other athlete at our school hauled a duffle the size of a body bag.
I closed my locker and took a steadying breath. This was it. My chance to get into college on my own. If I accepted tuition money from Dad, he’d have collateral over me. I’d rely on him, hoping every minute he wouldn’t cheat on me by reallocating his money to a new house or a new car for his new girlfriend.
I stopped short of the glass door to the pool and shook my hands out at the wrists. What would Coach say?
“You’ve got this, Ingram,” I whispered in my best impression of Coach at a big swim meet.
My shoulders relaxed inside the natatorium. The beloved scent of chlorine filtered through my nose and into my soul. Water called to me like a siren. I was powerless to ignore. Voices echoed off tiled walls and sunlight filtered through condensation-covered windows. I was home.
“Ingram,” Coach barked my name.
My head snapped in his direction. “Yes, sir.” Bare feet pulled me forward, toward Coach and a stranger dressed in head to toe athletic apparel.
Coach crossed his arms, hugging a clipboard to his shirt. He widened his stance and smiled. Energy zinged in the humid air between us.
“This is Coach Larsen, the swim coach at Tennessee Temple University. He’d like to see what you’ve got.”
Coach looked proud. I knew he loved swimming, but it was his job. I didn’t think he attached feeling to anyone on the team, aside from keeping us alive and afloat. Male pride was something I didn’t understand. Except self-pride. I saw that in practice every day for every one of them. My dad was the worst. He never came to my swim meets or asked about my times. His lifelong indifference had blinded me to something suddenly obvious. Coach was proud of me. I smiled widely.
“Nice to meet you, Ingram.” Coach Larsen extended a hand in my direction. “Do you have a first name?”
“Callie.”
He tipped his chin up and laughed as if my name was a punch line. If he thought “Callie” was funny, he should hear the whole thing. His shiny white and orange warm-ups swooshed as he moved. He looked like a walking ad for his school.
“Callie’s my strongest swimmer. Her times improve every year.” Coach piped up in the awkward silence. “Last week her times rivaled all your best swimmers.”
They did?
Coach’s prideful expression transferred to the man at his side. “We’ll see about that. Callie, let’s see how the water treats you.”
My coach looked from Coach Larsen to me. His eyebrows rose over his forehead. “Something wrong, Callie?”
I examined Coach Larsen. Something seemed off about him, but I couldn’t pinpoint it. I searched his exposed skin for runes. Anything was possible. His eyes were brown like mine, not luminous green.
“No, sir. Nervous, I guess.”
The men laughed in a knowing way. I turned for the starting block.
Rough ribbed matting held my feet in place. I gripped the block’s edge, adjusted light blue goggles over my eyes, and held my position. The water lapped against the pool’s edge, inviting me in. One quick puff of Coach’s whistle and I was in the air, flying, submerging, and swimming. Water caressed my body like countless little fingers, pushing me forward, splitting a path through tightly bound molecules. Breaking the surface for air seemed an unnecessary drag on my euphoria. I took a quick breath and moved seamlessly into my fastest freestyle, turning and returning several times before Coach’s whistle pierced the air.
He pulled me from the pool with one strong arm. “Nicely done, Ingram.” Coach slapped my back and turned the face of his stopwatch to Coach Larsen.
“How’d I do?”
Coach Larsen removed his shiny jacket and folded it over one arm. “You’re a natural. Have you ever swum in salt water?”
“Yeah. A friend has a saltwater pool. It’s invigorating.”
My coach laughed, patting my shoulder and shaking his head. “Invigorating.”
It was.
Coach Larsen wore his hair longer than most coaches. I wondered how much it could’ve grown since the last meet I watched online. He was fit for a man his age, probably in his thirties. His sandy hair was highlighted from hours in the sun, like Justin’s. My mind scrambled to recall his swim history. All the big swim schools had coaches with unbelievable swim records.
Coach handed him a file with my name on the tab. “This is her complete record. I pulled times and comments from her middle school coach and grade school instructor. She’s been impressive from the start, but this year all the hard work has paid off. Her times are dropping like pants at a swim meet.”
Larsen’s eyebrows met in the middle. Not everyone got Coach’s humor.
I swung my arms. “So, the time’s good? Do you want to see my butterfly or backstroke?”
“Sure.” His eyes roamed over me, stealing my breath. What was he looking for? If he was a creeper, I’d pass on any offer he had in mind, scholarship or otherwise.
“Show him your butterfly,” Coach instructed.
“Yes, sir.” I adjusted my suit and goggles.
Larsen followed me to the block. “You look like your mother.”
“You know my mother?”
His eyes crinkled at the edges. “She’s beautiful.” He opened the file and pointed to a picture of Mom squatting next to me after I took the Tiny Torpedoes to state finals in fifth grade. I had four medals weighing me down and Mom’s contagious enthusiasm lifting me up.
“Oh, she’s”—not my mother—“amazing. You’re right. Beautiful, too. Thank you for saying I look like her.”
His expression froze me in place. Something between curiosity and shock flashed over his features before a mask of indifference settled there.
“Move it, Ingram. Larsen’s got a plane to catch,” Coach called.
I swam another three laps before the whistle sounded. This time Larsen pulled me from the pool.
“He had a phone call.”
I followed his gaze across the cavernous room. Coach stood in his office with his back to the door.
“The water loves you,” Larsen said.
The unmistakable shadow of India ink lined the sleeve of one arm. “Is that a tattoo?”
He rolled his sleeve over his shoulder, revealing a thick curved line. “Do you recognize it?”
No. “Should I?”
He shrugged and rolled down the sleeve.
“All right. Sorry for the distraction. This time of year I get lots of parents interested in putting their freshmen on the swim team.” Coach rubbed his eyes. “They always want to know how well their kids should swim before trying out.”
I laughed. Swimming: the unreasonable expectation for swim team members.
“Well, is there anything else we can do for you?” Coach asked Larsen.
“I think I have everything I need. I’ll be in touch.” Larsen shook our hands and tucked my folder against his side, wedged beneath one bent elbow.
When the door closed behind him, Coach turned to me. “Your times were Olympic quality today, Callie. Don’t take the first offer you get. I don’t care how much you love the school. Hear every recruiter out. I know they’ll all come for you, and I know you want to cover college expenses on your own.”
I opened my mouth. Words failed, so I snapped it shut.
“Hey, I listen to you guys. It’s my job. Now, you listen to me. Hear them all out. Make the best decision for you. You’ll have plenty of opportunities presented, so be smart. Get everything you can from each school. You’re going to take their team to the top. They can afford to give you a full ride, books, too, and maybe some spending money so you don’t have to get a job. Believe me, they’d rather give you a stipend and keep you training than lose your talent because you have to work at the local theatre to make pocket money.”
Speechless.
The phone rang in Coach’s office. “Hey, if you want to hash out the offers with me later or if your mom has any questions about their individual programs, I can help. My wife and I would love to have you and your mother over for dinner sometime.” He glanced at the ringing phone.
“Thanks, Coach.” My heart warmed at his offer. “You better get the phone.”
We parted ways and I drifted into the locker room on a wave of endless possibilities. Could what he said be true? My heart leapt. My dreams were coming true. I stripped out of my wet suit and yanked clothes over damp skin, too eager to tell Liam my news for nonsense like toweling off. I snapped the cap off my head and flung it into my bag.
Liam leaned against the wall outside the locker room.
“Hey.” I bounced onto my toes and kissed his sad face.
“Hey.” He stroked my hair and almost smiled. “I watched you swim.”
“You did?”
“Yes. I like seeing you in the water. You’re unstoppable. Unless you race me. In which case, you’d be lost in my wake.”
“Ha. I accept your challenge. Coach says my times are Olympic quality.” I pinched my eyes and lips shut to staunch a squeal.
“Impressive.” He looped an arm over my shoulders. “You have a great life ahead of you.”
We moved down the hallway toward the main doors. My tummy churned. “Why don’t you come with me?”
Liam tensed at my side. “To college?”
“Yeah. You’re a Viking. I mean, traveling is what you do. Why not hang with me a while longer? Don’t leave.” If he knew what leaving would do to me, maybe he’d stay, but I couldn’t explain something so awful. I needed him to be the man who proved the others were the exception, not the rule.
“We’ll see.”
I stopped. “I’m not sure what it means to you, but around here ‘we’ll see’ is the parental equivalent of ‘I’d prefer to fight about this some other time.’”
He smiled. “Do you think of me as your parent?”
My cheeks flamed. “No.”
“Good. That would be a big blow to my self-esteem, not to mention disgusting. Tell you what, let’s deal with the Viking war first. College later.”
He pressed the front door open and the world rumbled around us. A motorcycle club gunned their bikes past the school in a thunderous roar. They disappeared one by one around the corner. I covered my ears. There were at least a dozen bikers on black motorcycles with green rims or a green helmet or jacket.
“They’re matchers.” I admired their coordinating gear.
“They’re pissed off, and we have to settle them down before we have a war on our hands.”
More Vikings. “How many are there?”
“Including the ones you met today? Upward of fifty, give or take.” Liam opened the door to his car parked in the empty lot.
“Fifty! How many Stians are there?”
“Hundreds.”
I fell into the seat and clutched my bag to my chest.
Liam started his car and followed the path of the bikers. “There are more Stians than we knew. According to some newcomers, the Stians have targeted smaller clans for years, challenging the leaders before killing them. Our battles aren’t supposed to end in death unless a great injustice is done, but our nature is violent and it happens.” He slid his eyes to me. “We didn’t know. Our clan has been in defense mode for some time, losing brothers and focused on finding new.”
“And the other clans want in on this for revenge? They’ll fight on your side?” Hope lifted me. I loved this day.
“Yes, but victory is impossible. It’s complicated. Stians kill clan leaders and give the living members an ultimatum. They can join the Stians or die. Most die. The number of neutral Vikings has dwindled beyond our knowledge. Meanwhile, the number of Stians grows.”
“Wow,” I whispered. “This is happening.”
“Almost certainly, and we were delivered a great blow this morning. Victoria left. She was called home by Zeus. Without her on our side, I’m afraid the prophecy won’t come to pass. Our destined leader will be eliminated in the confusion. Killed and killed again before he knows what hit him. The leader is necessary to win such a battle.”
“You needed Victoria and she left you?” That didn’t sound like the woman I’d met, the one who cleaned my room and told me loving Liam gave him strength.
He stared bleakly through the windshield. “Yes.”
I shrunk in the seat. Justin would be killed and killed again. Bile rose in my throat. Maybe I could get him out of town. I could fabricate a big rodeo far away and offer to go with him long enough for the war to end.
Liam touched my hand with gentle fingers. “I’m sorry I left you at school.”
I turned my palm to match his.
“Victoria lives with Zeus. No one would believe my life.”
“I believe you.” He squeezed my fingers. “I’m sorry you were dragged into this…never mind. I know. You would be here anyway.” He sighed, obviously tired of my saying the same thing.
My thoughts circled back to Victoria. “Victoria lives with Zeus.” Realization dawned. “Victoria is Nike. Holy yikes.”
Surprise crossed his features. “You remembered?”
“Making sense of your life is my new obsession, only it’s more like a full time job.”
He stroked my hand and smiled. “Victoria is Nike, the goddess of victory.”
“You lost the goddess of victory. Tell me that sounds worse than it is.”
“We borrowed her to aid us while we searched for the marked one. Zeus granted her assistance under the condition she return when the leader was found. I assumed this meant after the transformation.”
“Wait. Is Justin okay?” I scrambled to remember the last time I saw him. “Did he die? What if he died?”
“He’s fine. Oliver and Lars are with him.”
“Then you don’t know Justin’s the one. Not for sure. How could she leave you? And if she somehow knew for certain he was the one, even before the transformation, why didn’t she leave sooner?”
“I don’t know. My brothers and I rehashed this all day to no avail. There are only more questions with every answer. It’s insanely frustrating and Hale Manor is overrun with Vikings preparing for battle.”
“Maybe some of the Stian clan will fight for your side.”
He frowned. “Why would they?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the cowardly ones won’t want to lose. If you have the destined leader on your side, a few might switch over. Then, there are the ones who came to join the Stians under duress. Stians killed their leaders. They might be waiting for a chance to get back at them.”
Liam appeared lost in thought. He angled the Mercedes down the long gravel drive beside their home. “We should try to reach out to them before the battle.”
The land between Hale Manor and the enormous garage was polka dotted with tents, people, and vehicles. Near the pool house, a group of girls with long blond hair and tight pants hovered around a group of especially dangerous-looking men.
“Who are they?” I whispered in case anyone outside my window had super hearing to go with their super strength.
“Olympians. Romans. Nice fellows. Intimidating to the eyes, but well mannered.”
I smiled. “Not them. The girls.”
Liam’s mouth twisted in distaste. “Nymphs.”
“Nymphs.” The word on his tongue sounded different. My tongue tingled as I spoke it. “Are they Viking groupies or something?”
“Quite.” Liam parked and glared through the glass.
“Okay, you have to elaborate on this before we get out. I have a feeling this is the last time we’ll be alone for a while.” I twisted in my seat to face him.
He scanned the crowded lawn, considering his words, I assumed. “It is written in the nymph prophecies that a nymph will rise to power, uniting them with the Vikings eternally. They each hope to be the chosen nymph.”
“Ohh. They assume one of those big guys will lead you.” Power hungry nymphs. Got it.
“Yes. They don’t know of our prophecies. Until someone tells them we await his transformation, the Olympians will enjoy the nymphs’ company.” The final word hung in the air between us.
“What do nymphs do?”
“Aside from tease and titillate? I have no idea.”
“You don’t like them. Why?” I sensed a story behind his attitude. The way he looked at the girls said his opinion of them had little to do with their posturing for power.
“Nymphs have a long history of causing trouble for the gods. One nymph trapped a shipwrecked king on her island and refused to let him leave. Zeus had to send Hermes to free him. I don’t know the details of her story beyond that, but I’ve heard Nike speculating in the past. She thinks the nymph also used her influence on Hermes, keeping him longer than he was expected to be. They say she bore his child, though it’s not documented and it doesn’t matter.
“Nymphs are a nuisance. Part of their punishment for her crimes is their indebtedness to the Vikings. You see what a great relief it will be for them when they get to rule beside a Viking instead?”
“What happened to the child?”
“I don’t know. Hermes likely lavished her in riches and fed her every whim. No man can resist a nymph.”
Not great news for a Viking’s girlfriend. “Well, please steer clear of those.” I pointed through the window.
“Can I stay at your place?” he teased.