WHILE I WAITED FOR Forse to come for me, I positioned my back against the cell door and turned on my communicator. Runa wouldn’t be able to see me through the window at this angle, and if the door opened I could just turn off my screen. My arm hummed, and I opened the document to the first journal I came across. It was dated before I was born.
June 3. Today I accompanied Ragnar to Jotunheim. Things have gotten so dark there. Their king lost all sense of compassion when his would-be daughter-in-law disappeared. Although I empathize with his heartbreak for his son, I cannot comprehend his path. Instead of reaching out to the girl, who clearly wants nothing to do with the giants’ reign of cruelty, he put a hit on her. Ragnar believes the girl returned home to Vanaheim, but I doubt she would expose her loved ones to the tyrant’s wrath. Most likely she sought protection among the dwarves. Their alliance with the dragons all but ensures peace in their realm, and their dislike of the frost giants would make them sympathetic to the girl’s plight. I will continue my own search for Lifa, but I will do so with extreme caution. The king’s rage is terrible.
While we were in Jotunheim, Ragnar negotiated a treaty with the ruler’s youngest son. The prince was reluctant to enter into an agreement with Asgard, but I located a weakness in his emotional center—a pebble-sized hole near his heart, awaiting the return of his runaway bride. When I spoke to his spirit, I saw it was only partially dark—not yet fully tarnished. And so we were able to come to a meeting of the souls. For now.
I read the last few lines twice as Mom’s words sunk in. Forse had been right. Unifying was about connecting with another being on a spiritual level. I mentally kicked myself again for not reading Mom’s journals earlier. Of course my mother’s journals would be about more than falling in love with my dad. If I’d stopped to think it through, I would have realized her grown-up journals would have more depth than my teenage ones. But I’d been so wrapped up in my grief and fear, I’d failed to see the lifeline she left behind. All those tears over not having anyone to teach me…and the textbooks had been in a box labeled “Stuff From Mom’s Closet” all along. Sigh. It was such a universal truth. So often the answers were right in front of us—we just had to get outside our own heads to see them.
I scanned through the communicator, reading entries that confirmed Forse’s theory again and again. I lost myself in my mother’s words, her familiar scrawl embracing me in comfort as I imagined her reading her journals aloud. When I finished that file, I clicked it closed and opened another, reading until I came to a page that stopped my heart cold. No. Way. I read it again, my pulse accelerating as I realized how connected my mother had been to my fate. If only she’d done what she set out to do, maybe none of this would be happening…
December 12. Lifa’s daughter arrived at my home today. I haven’t seen her since her mother’s death—Runa has rebuffed my offers to do a healing since Lifa’s passing, and continues to deny my requests to perform a cleansing. Sadly, this refusal precludes me from giving her a permanent Asgardian placement, and she remains in the custody of her temporary guardian. Seeing her today came as a shock—the girl has her mother’s eyes. It was the first thing I noticed when she came over with Forse Styrke to help me bake for St. Lucia’s. From what I gather, they are together. I should be happy that Lifa’s daughter found such an upstanding young man—Forse certainly will not repeat Runa’s father’s crimes—but I cannot help but feel unsettled. Forse has always been so close with my children, I feel as if he is a part of our family. His soul is filled with light, despite the heavy path he must walk as God of Justice. He deserves a partner who emanates an equal brightness…and truth be told, I have always seen him ending up with my Elsa.
Me too, Mom!
Runa can sense something between them. She watches my Elsa with unsettling calculation. She looks angry, or maybe jealous.
When I reached out to her spirit today, her energy was cold. She has a good dose of her father’s darkness, but tempers it with what little she inherited of her mother’s light. Her spirit is torn—it has not completely given itself to her father, but I sense his energy pulling on her. No doubt he will pull out every stop to bring her into his fight. I will do what I can to keep her on the path her mother wanted for her, but Runa keeps her spirit locked so tight inside her heart, I am not sure if I will be able to reach it.
And I am afraid of what will happen to her…and to us…if I fail.
My arm dropped into my lap as I finished reading. Of course my mother knew Runa. Forse, Tyr, and Henrik were pretty much joined at the hip all through forever, and once Forse started dating Runa she invited herself along everywhere he went. Thanks to my parents’ open-door policy, the boys—and Runa—were at our house a lot. But I hadn’t known Mom knew Runa’s mom. Until today, I hadn’t even known Runa had a mom. If Mom’s journal was correct, Runa had been lying to us from day one. It sounded like Lifa had passed away before Mom wrote that journal entry. But if Runa’s father was still trying to pull her into his darkness, whatever that meant, then he was still alive when Runa showed up…and might even still be alive now.
Anger filled my chest. She’d lied to Forse. He’d trusted her enough to hand her his heart, and she’d stomped all over it. She’d betrayed my mom who, apparently, had done everything in her power to help her. And then she’d destroyed our family, and knowingly aided and abetted Fenrir in the murder of the God of War and Unifier of Asgard. I wanted to hate her. Turn her blue-beam-of-death hand on her own heart and do to her what she’d tried to do to Forse.
But I couldn’t help but remember the images I’d seen when I’d tried to unravel her knot. The day she protected her brother; the way she soldiered on as her mother pleaded for her own death; the night she bore her father’s rage after she sent her brother away.
Hold on. Had Mom known Runa’s brother too? And her father? I knew Mom had helped thousands of souls during her reign as Unifier, but her story about Lifa seemed more personal—like she had a deeper connection to this group of spirits than some of the others.
BANG.
A loud noise jarred me from my thoughts, and I quickly scanned the tower and the rest of the building for energy signatures. Instead of feeling my friends’ presences, I felt a bird. Its energy was confused, and I deduced it had flown into one of the tower walls. Ouch.
The clock on the communicator indicated it would be at least another ten minutes before the locator might be able to track me. I swiped the screen, jumping documents to read an earlier journal entry, this one dated before Tyr or I were old enough to start school. As I read, my heart tugged.
I wish you were still with me, Mom.
I wiped my tear and resumed my reading.
May 19. Ragnar and I took the kids camping this weekend. He is just so sweet with them. I don’t know how he checks his war god hat at the door and becomes simply Daddy, but he does it with a grace all gods should envy. This weekend was no different. He and Tyr shared an enthusiastic stick fight with willow branches. Tyr will make a fine swordsman one day. Elsa preferred to cheer from the sidelines, and when the battle ended, Tyr helped me grill the caribou while Ragnar read Elsa one of her favorite fairy tales. After supper, he led us all on a nature walk, lifting the children on his shoulders in turns so they could peek at the bird nests in the aspen trees.
As crazy as our work lives are, I truly cherish these moments we have as a family. The children are our greatest blessing. Tyr adores his sister unabashedly, and his fondness for his father radiates from every inch of his aura. No matter what the Norns throw at him, I know we have given him a foundation of love that will see him through his darkest day. And my Elsa…our baby girl has a heart so beautiful, I doubt there will ever be another like it. I hope she retains that unparalleled blessing for all her existence, and that she always remembers a single act of kindness can brighten even the darkest realm.
I turned off my communicator and rested my head against the door. Gods, I missed my parents. They were honorable; kind; full of love. They were everything the realms needed, and they’d given me the most beautiful childhood. I was so thankful for that. And though I felt their absence every single day, I was grateful for the love they instilled in me. They’d taught me to find the best in everyone, to make the most of even the worst situation. And although I might not be able to hug them anymore, I knew they were with me; in every act of kindness, I saw a reminder of the mother who’d taught me hope, and the father who’d taught me compassion, and the good that could come of change.
Change. I might not have the family I was born with anymore, but my parents were proof that family was more than just what Odin gave you at birth—it was what you built for yourself. And just as they’d taken in my brother, Tyr and I had built a circle of friends we were lucky to call our new family. We’d been blessed with so much love, even in the face of unbearable loss. And with the addition of Mia, Asgard wouldn’t be without its rightful Unifier much longer. We’d face a lot of challenges, but with Mom’s journals as our guide, we’d be able to figure it out together. And then Mia, Tyr, Forse, Henrik, Brynn, and I would do everything in our power to maintain peace throughout the realms.
A sharp pain racked my skull as the door slammed against my back. Holy Asgard, that hurt.
“Get out of the way, ko,” Runa hissed. “You’re going to find that dog, and you’re going to do it now.”
I scooted to the side, rubbing my spine as Runa stormed into my cell. Her aura was heavy as the Svartalfheim soot, all trace of the goodness I’d seen before extinguished by the dark. When I tapped into her energy, I sensed a blackness I hadn’t seen before.
Odin’s beard. The hit on Forse was only the beginning. She’s actually going to kill every last god until she gets Fenrir.
With a deep breath, I drew my shoulders back. The time for training had passed. I had no choice but to appeal to Runa’s spirit. And if I failed, I’d have to try even harder to find my own way out of here. There was no way I was leading my friends straight to this lunatic.
But would I be strong enough to overpower a monster?
Runa took a step closer, and my energy recoiled at her heavy dose of darkness. “Your boyfriend’s dead. The valkyrie’s next. Do you feel like doing what I asked now or do I need to keep killing?” The cell spun a dizzying circle as Runa’s words sent an ice pick through my chest. It took several panicked gasps before I realized Runa didn’t know that her blast hadn’t killed Forse—Tyr and I had saved him.
“Well?” Runa slammed the door behind her and stood over me. “Answer me! Are you in shock or are you just stupid?”
“Your shoulder’s bleeding?” My voice went up on the last word. According to my mother’s journals Runa’s mom was from Vanaheim, which would make Runa the recipient of a partial healing gene. If her shoulder wasn’t knitting itself back together, that meant she was seriously injured. I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes, seemingly to stop my tears, but actually to give myself time to process this information. There had to be a way to use it. “Did Forse do that before…before?”
“Before I killed him? Yes. He went down fighting. Too bad he turned out to be so weak.” Runa sneered. “Now are you ready to cough up Fenrir’s location?”
The light in my brain flashed. Got it!
“Don’t you want me to fix your arm first?” I fake-sniffled, playing along with Forse’s presumed death. “You can’t go anywhere near Asgard if you’re bleeding like that. The guards will smell you before you even touch down, and they’ll take you into custody before you get anywhere near Fenrir.”
“So he is in Asgard!” Runa declared triumphantly.
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “But most of our high-security prisoners are. And you should know, the facility I’m thinking of has more than just Elite Team guarding it. It has some…animals. That much blood is going to agitate them, even on an energetic level. They won’t smell blood since we won’t be corporeal, but they will smell injury and weakness. If I hide myself in your energy the way that it is, they’re going to sniff me out long before I can track your dog.”
Runa pressed her lips together. “How do I know this isn’t another one of your tricks?”
“You don’t.” I wiped my nose on my sleeve, keeping up the act. “You just killed the only god I’ve ever loved. I have every reason to retaliate.”
“You’re not fighting me.” Runa furrowed her brow.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not exactly a fighter.” I shrugged. “Besides, I don’t want you to hurt Brynn, or my brother, or anyone else for that matter. But before I look for Fenrir again, do you want me to heal your arm or not?”
The line was cast. Now came the wait.
Runa glared at her arm, and then at me. She knew the facility I alluded to; we’d toured it in high school, as part of our Law and Justice course. Asgard had upped the security since, but even back then it had plenty of sentinels of the carnivorous variety.
“Fine,” Runa spat. “Heal it. But if I get the slightest feeling you’re up to something, I will track down your idiot blond friend and put a blast through her head so fast, she’ll never know what killed her.”
“Fair enough.” I held up both hands. “Why don’t you sit down? This can be kind of draining.”
“I’ll stand.” Runa crossed her arms. She winced as the motion jostled her injury, but otherwise didn’t move.
“Okay then. This will take a few minutes. You’ll feel my energy moving inside you. Just let it pass through your body, and don’t try to eject it. I won’t be able to fix your shoulder if you do.”
“You heard what I said about killing blondie, didn’t you? I won’t hesitate to—”
“I got it.” I interrupted through gritted teeth. “Now, try to relax. It goes faster if you’re not…clenching.”
The last thing I saw before I closed my eyes was Runa’s angry glare. Typical. It must have been exhausting to live in a state of perpetual fear. Because as much as Runa played angry, anger itself was only a mask. It wasn’t a real emotion—rather it covered up a deeper, more vulnerable one. And from the little I’d seen of Runa’s black knot, she’d lived her life in a state of constant fear—fear for her safety, fear for her little brother, fear of losing her mother, and fear of being alone after her father banished her. If she wasn’t so unbelievably awful, I’d have felt sorry for her.
But she was awful. At least, a part of her was. Now I needed to see if there was any trace of that good soul that had risked her own life to save her brother’s. I hoped the boy was safe and happy, wherever he was. Runa’s sacrifice was worth at least that much.
With a grounding breath, I retreated to the quiet part of my mind. I uncoupled my consciousness, and allowed my spirit to control my thoughts. It was surprisingly easy to do.
Hei, I greeted Runa’s spirit cautiously. When I didn’t get a response, I waited a moment before trying again. Hei?
Still nothing. I retreated into my mind, and took a quick scan of Runa’s energy. There was a heavy blockade surrounding her mind; no doubt she’d braced herself for the worst. She’d thrown up a mental wall, probably thinking I was a mind reader like Tyr.
I snorted. If only my gift was as simple as my brother’s.
“Are you laughing at me?” Runa growled.
“I am sniffling,” I said indignantly. “You just killed Forse. How am I supposed to feel?”
My lie seemed to mollify Runa. “Just hurry up.”
Fine. I directed a stream of positive energy at the wall around Runa’s head, and in moments I’d dissipated the block. With my hands raised, I whisked it away, flicking it into the ground, where it would be reabsorbed and recycled like the fertilizer it was. Good riddance.
This time when I retreated to the quiet spot in my mind, I felt the desperate pull of an anxious soul. Bingo.
Hei, I tried again. I’m Elsa. I’m here to help you.
I know who you are.
My jaw fell open when the spirit presented itself. I honestly hadn’t expected this to work. The spirit looked kinder than I expected. It had Runa’s sharp features—her angular jaw, strong nose and full lips. But it had a softness that Runa lacked. Its cheeks were a rosy pink; its hips were gently rounded. And although it flickered with a dark energy it obviously tried to repress, its heart emitted a strong light. There was hope for Runa yet.
Are you going to kill me? I asked the spirit.
I don’t want to, it answered back.
Is that because you need me alive to find Fenrir?
No. I don’t want you to find Fenrir. The spirit sounded vehement. I wasn’t sure if I should be relieved or alarmed.
Why then?
It’s because I don’t want to kill anyone. The darkness flickered, and the spirit held itself very still. Blackness covered its form from head to toe, draining it of all color. Then a dim light flashed from its heart, and the spirit permitted itself a breath, drawing the light upward. When it reached the spirit’s face, relief washed over its features, and the blackness ebbed.
What was that? I effectuated an air of calm. A freak-out, even a spirit-level one, wasn’t going to win me any friends.
That was the real me, the spirit said sadly.
No, it’s not. You’re talking to me. If Runa had a black soul, it—you—would have killed me by now.
I killed my mother. That’s black enough.
I scanned the spirit’s energy. No, you didn’t, I confirmed.
I might as well have. I’m the reason she’s dead. I left her alone with him.
You lost me.
“Are you fixing me or are you screwing with me again?” Runa’s voice broke through our interlude.
“I told you this would take some time,” I reminded her. But in the interest of sending up a red herring, I sent a pulse of healing energy at Runa’s arm. It would numb the pain enough to make her think I was playing along, when in reality I was searching for information that would help me break her dark streak.
All’s fair in love and war.
“Hurry up. I don’t have all day.” Runa sounded agitated.
With another grounding breath, I retreated into my mind.
What happened with your mom? I asked the spirit.
The spirit’s shoulders drooped. When my father told me to leave, my mom begged him not to kick me out. She said I was the only good thing she had left in her life, and she’d die without me. My father didn’t care. He made sure every guard in Jotunheim knew to kill me on sight if I tried to come home. He gave me twelve hours to gather my things and get out.
I’m so sorry. I was. Despite being God of War, my own father had been nothing but kind. Even on his darkest day, he’d made himself fully available for any games Tyr and I had wanted him to play.
My mother was heartbroken, but she knew better than to defy my father. She had a friend in Asgard who offered to protect me.
My mom, I surmised.
Yes. The spirit smiled. Your mom was one in a million. She said the needs of a child outweighed the needs of a realm, and offered me refuge in Asgard. She’d offered it once before, but I’d been too afraid to leave my mother alone with him to accept. This time, things were different. Even so, your mom sensed my father’s darkness in me, and she worried about what I might do if I snapped.
Sadness colored my aura.
I’m so sorry. My mother would have been horrified at what I became. The spirit looked as downcast as I felt. She wanted us to move away together, to live a better life, but she knew she had to plan our escape carefully. She reached out to your mom, and asked her to bring me to Asgard for safe keeping. Mrs. Fredriksen wanted to remove my dark energy before I entered the realm. But my mother was adamant that I needed immediate placement, for my own protection. Mrs. Fredriksen agreed to set me up in a house with a transitional guardian until she could do a cleansing—she couldn’t in good conscience place a partially darkened spirit with another family. And my mother didn’t want to leave my father until she knew I was secure in Asgard. So Mrs. Fredriksen stationed a female warrior in the house with me. She was supposed to stay until Mother showed up—then Mrs. Fredriksen could cleanse my energy.
Let me guess, I interjected. My mom never got around to that cleansing.
Exactly. My mother was supposed to join me after a few days, but she never came. My father found out she was planning to leave him, and he had her killed. She’d still be alive if I hadn’t left.
Maybe, I agreed. But you’d be dead if you’d stayed. Your father all but promised as much.
The spirit wrung her hands. I know, she whispered. But look at what I’ve become. The realms would have been better off if I’d let him kill me instead.
Don’t talk like that, I urged. Your father’s choices were his to make.
And my choices were mine. The spirit met my gaze. The darkness took over when I lost my mother.
How so? I questioned.
The part of my physical form that took after my father got stronger. It grew to the point that it all but choked out any goodness I’d cultivated in Runa. At first it was just the genetics; my father’s physical traits manifested in acts of aggression—fist fights, screaming matches, normal teenage goddess things. But then the psychological eclipse occurred.
Psychological eclipse?
The spirit sighed. Your mom reached out to me, but I pushed her away. A cleansing would have meant severing my ties with my father, and awful as he was, he was the only family I had left. When I looked at you and your friends, all I could see was what I’d never have. Loss wasn’t foreign to your families, but you stuck together and made the best of what was left. When I realized how different my life could have been if my parents had made different choices…well, that’s when I lost all sense of humanity.
Boy, had she. Was that when you left Asgard?
Almost. First I went to my father. He hated the Fredriksens, so he said if turned their pet on them, he’d let me come home. I did what I thought I had to do to earn my father’s approval. But it didn’t work. There was always one more task my father needed me to complete before he would welcome me home. And as much as I hated hurting people, my host body has been consumed by her need for his approval.
Your host body? The choice of words surprised me.
I don’t identify myself with Runa. I haven’t been allowed to guide her choices in years. The spirit paused. You know she’s about to snap again, don’t you? My father declared that if I don’t deliver Fenrir to him by midnight, I’ll be dead to him. He’ll close my home realm to me forever, and I’ll be stuck on Svartalfheim, praying nobody turns me over to Asgard.
My blood chilled. Odin only knew what Runa would do if she went on another true warpath. Though her dad cutting her off would probably be the best thing for her. Hold on. What about your dad’s other son? Could he take you in? What ever happened to your brother?
Runa’s spirit blinked. You really don’t know?
No.
The spirit gave a sanguine smile. He’s just fine. She pressed her lips together, indicating the matter was closed.
Fair enough.
“Why don’t I feel better yet?” Runa hissed. “You said it would take a few minutes, but it’s been a lot longer than that.”
Uh, I’d better go. I raised a hand in farewell. Until next time?
The spirit smiled sadly. I’ll be in here.
I’ll work on your host for you, I promised. I’ll try to make your living arrangements if not better, then at least less awful.
Stay safe, the spirit warned.
You too.
“Elsa!” Runa shrieked.
“Sorry!” I sent another beam at Runa’s shoulder. The energy cleared out the region’s darkness, which enabled her demi-god genetics to kick back in. Her muscles rejected the bullet, dislodging it from the bone, and allowing the skin to knit itself back together. As the flow of blood ebbed, Runa leaned against the wall in relief.
“About time.” She swore. Her eyes flew open and she stared at me, her gaze shooting the fire of a thousand Muspelheims. Runa hated me; there was zero doubt about that. The question was, how far was that hatred going to take her?
And how many gods were going to die because of it?