Norse Code Read online

  I heard what sounded suspiciously like a squeal of terror from the kitchen. I thumbed over my shoulder. “Back there.” I waggled my finger at her in warning. “He’s working, Eyra. Let him concentrate and when he’s got everything cleaned up back there, then you can harass him.”

  She rewarded me with a wide and bright smile. Gravelbeard, on the other hand, sent a blistering string of curses at me, insulting both my heritage and my mother’s virtue.

  “I don’t know who my mother was, you bloody bag of puss!” I called back.

  “If this were really Midgard instead of some magic woo woo you created, that would be an HR complaint.”

  “HR?”

  Eyra rolled her eyes. “Nothing. I forget we’ve spent more time here than you have.”

  “I like Gravelbeard. For approximately 12 hours. Then I see him for eight and all bets are off.”

  “I’m going to ruin him,” she declared.

  I made a sound of disgust and walked away.

  An hour later, the last patron had straggled out of the bar leaving me to clean up. Eyra was sitting there nursing a tankard of ale when I shoved a broom at her.

  “I’m a paying customer!” she said in outrage.

  “If you sweep the floor and do a good job, I’ll let you help Gravelbeard clean up the kitchen.”

  Her gaze went feral. “Done.” Eyra stood up and swept that floor like a surgeon during a twelve hour heart surgery.

  “Noooo,” Gravelbeard cried from the kitchen. “I’ll do anything, Freya!”

  “You insulted my mother,” I called back.

  “Your mother was a beautiful and delicate lady who when she walked spread flowers and joy!”

  “Too late, Gravelbeard.” I held my hand out for the broom and with the other shoved a key at Eyra. “Neither one of you leaves until the place is spotless. After that, make sure you lock the door behind you. I don’t want to know what happens next as long as it doesn’t happen here.”

  Eyra waggled her eyebrows, shoved the broom at me, and took the key. “You got it, boss.”

  “FREYA!! A CURSE UPON YOUR HOUSE. I HOPE YOUR CHILDREN HAVE THREE HEADS AND TENTACLES FOR HANDS!” came the strangled cry from the kitchen.

  I chuckled all the way out the door and all the way to my house.

  Instead of going straight home, I took a detour and went back to the place where we'd found Sig's body. All of us were so shocked at the discovery, we probably hadn’t looked at things as closely as we should have. I paused at the entrance to the alley and stared down the dark opening. This town wasn't creepy. It was friendly and nice, but standing here right now as the darkness pushed against my shoulders, a chill crept down my spine. Never once had I thought something like this could happen. I took a deep breath, shook off the weirdness I was feeling, and stepped into the dark street. With a quick whisper, I created a soft glow in my hand, enough of a light to highlight even the darkest of shadows. I kept my steps to the middle of the street, though I stopped to peer in all the dark crevices and potential hidey holes. Seeing nothing, I kept walking until I came upon the spot where she had fallen. There were still some spots where her bare skin had lain on the road, but other than that, there was nothing immediate I could see. I knelt down and moved the light to where I could see against the corners.

  I hadn't wanted to do this, but I could see no other choice. I opened my magic wide and let it creep out into the darkness and search for magical signatures. At first I felt nothing, but I kept going. Nothing mundane could have killed Sig. It had to have been either one of us, or someone who used heavy magic.

  There.

  I stilled as my magic caught something several feet away. With barely a whisper of movement, I crept over to the spot and looked down. My light reflected on something silver and shiny. I bent to pick it up and inhaled a shocked gasp of breath.

  It was a buckle from a boot.

  Specifically from one of the Valkyries.

  This, in itself, wasn't enough to condemn anyone. I'd been working closely with the winged warriors on this place for a long time. But it was suspicious to find it in the alleyway where Sig had died. I continued reaching out to see if I could find anything else. I tucked the silver piece into the pocket of my dress.

  I spun as a magical signature different from my own hummed in my veins. It tasted like elderberries and smelled of a deep musk. It was unfamiliar to me, but this wasn't surprising. The gods tended to keep their magic close to the vest. Not a single one of us knew all of the capabilities the other had. It was easier this way. Just in case one of us wanted to stab the other in the back later.

  We were coy like that.

  I bent down to touch the area. It was a large pool of power. Someone had expended a ton of magic all at once, possibly taking Sig by surprise. It's probably why there was no sign of a struggle. Sig probably died immediately. It was odd, though, that none of us felt the expenditure of power.

  I committed the smell and feel of the signature of the magic to memory and stood. I closed off all my magic except for a hint of it, cleaned up the rest, though I took a bit of the spell and sent it back to my lab where it would wait for me to examine, and cleaned the area as thoroughly as I could. If I wasn't going to tell anyone what happened, I certainly didn't want anyone with a hint of power coming through here figuring out what occurred here.

  The whole thing felt skeevy and dishonest, but Eyra was right. It was better this way. To have a firm grasp on my leadership, I needed to ensure suspicion wasn't cast upon me immediately.

  I sighed. Also, I needed to contact the Morrigan as soon as I could to see about getting this marital bond resolved.

  With a wave of my hand, the magic signature and any evidence of Sig's death disappeared into the aether.

  It was time to go home.

  Just a few minutes later I was in the kitchen cursing as I tried to remember exactly what the witches told me I needed to do to get into Morrigan's good grace. I remembered the salt, the black candles, and the star pattern. Other than that, I couldn't remember anything else. Maybe that was all.

  I gathered everything up with me and went into the living room. I pushed the couches and furniture out of the way, all while thanking the humans for their interest in comfort. Odin thought couches were the work of demons. There wasn't a single surface back in the palace worth sitting on. I'd corrected all of that in my home. Almost every sittable surface had both comfort and aesthetics in mind. I pushed the rug out of the way too because it didn't seem like it would be easy sweeping salt from it when everything was said and done.

  I went back into the kitchen, grabbed the broom, and swept up any remaining dust. It was never a good idea to start a ritual in a dirty space. Low Magic 101. Griselda would pinch my ears if she even suspected I was thinking about it. Once the floor was clean, I grabbed the bowl of pink salt and slowly began to trace out a circle large enough for me and my skirts to comfortably sit in without ruining or accidentally opening the circle. Once I made sure there were no openings, I carefully set the candles out around the appropriate points of the star.

  A knock on the door had me cursing bloody murder.

  "What?" I growled.

  "It's me," Loki's voice said from the outside. "Can I come in?"

  I gaped at the sight before me. How in the world was I going to explain this? With a quick blast of magic, everything was scooped up and hidden and the furniture put right back into the places it was before. Annoyed at having to redo everything, I flung open the door.

  Loki stood there, one dark lock of hair hanging over his face. "Everything all right?" he inquired.

  "It's fine." I didn't ask him to enter.

  He stood there for a moment before one of his eyebrows went up. "Am I...interrupting something?"

  "Yes."

  "Okay. What?"

  I rolled my eyes. "If you must know, it's almost my moon time. I was drawing a bath." I did not look like I was drawing a bath. I looked like a haggard old woman who was ready to rip hi
s face off.

  "Umm, okay." He held up his hands and took a couple of steps back. "I merely wanted to talk." His gaze became calculating. "I can always talk to you while you bathe..."

  "Goodbye, Loki." I slammed the door in his face.

  "I hate that you don't even entertain the possibilities!" he called back.

  My lips twitched in amusement. He was annoying. But kind of cute. I shook my head. "Stop it, Freya," I hissed to myself. "Don't even think about it."

  I leaned my ear against the door and waited until I heard his heavy footsteps recede from the porch. I realized I never even asked him where he was staying. Hmm. I'd ask him tomorrow. When we were both free.

  Once I was satisfied he was gone, I moved back into the living room and started the process over. But this time I couldn't stop thinking about how good drawing a bath sounded.

  I sighed. If I got through this fast enough, maybe I could still do sink into the tub. Once the candles were in place and everything looked like I thought it was supposed to, I went back into the bedroom. I planned the circle while I was still wearing my dress, but I figured it best if I didn't put anything to chance so I wanted to change into something a lot less cumbersome and flowy. Griselda hammered it into my head that breaking a circle during the middle of ritual was one of the absolute worst things that could happen.

  Digging through my wardrobe, I pulled out a pair of loose cotton pants I used to train in and a white tank top with the words Goddess emblazoned across it. I didn't spend a lot of time on Midgard, but when I did come here, there was usually shopping involved. I had the Valkyries to thank for that.

  Once I'd dressed, I slid on a pair of comfortable sandals and headed back into the living room where I abruptly stopped.

  Every single one of the candles I'd set out was now lit.

  I had not touched them.

  Swallowing hard, I stepped a little closer. I could see nothing out of the ordinary besides the lit candles. Perhaps the ritual had already begun to work and this was a sign Morrigan was willing to listen to my plea.

  I stood outside the circle for a moment before I walked around, carefully checking to make sure it was still intact. Just to be safe, I grabbed the bowl of salt and took it with me before I stepped into it. I double checked again because my paranoia was now in hyperdrive, but everything seemed okay.

  I sat down inside the circle and cradled the bowl of salt in my hands. With a flick of my fingers, I dimmed the lights inside of the home and sat quietly, waiting for my breath the deepen and steady. After a few moments, I began to focus on the bond between Loki and me. Once it was firmly in my head, I sought out the Morrigan.

  I'd never seen the goddess but I'd heard enough about her to be sufficiently terrified. She wasn't known to be good or gentle, but I also knew she had her own sense of honor. Whether I shared it, I didn't know. If she showed up today, I guess I would find out. I couldn't imagine she would sever the bond without requesting something in return. It wasn't really our way.

  I sent seeking tendrils of magic into the world seeking the dark goddess out, but they fell away.

  Morrigan, it appeared, did not want to talk tonight, but I continued searching for her and quietly called her name in my head. Even from behind my eyes I could see the candlelight flickering. Something was happening but Morrigan was not appearing to me.

  I tried for what seemed like hours before I opened my eyes. Every light in the house besides the candle pointing north had blown out. I was sitting in almost utter darkness. Creeped out, I ensured I turned all the lights back on before I extinguished the last candle, released the magic of the circle and broke the salt line.

  "Crap," I muttered. I looked over at the clock and saw it was past one in the morning. Morrigan was not coming tonight.

  I looked down at my wrist and inhaled a choked gasp of shock. Whereas only vines had bunched together, there was now a large black flower blooming gloriously on top of it.

  "Ha," I said, my voice hoarse. "Funny, Morrigan."

  I had no idea what this meant, but whatever it was, it probably wasn't good.

  I scooped up all the candles, put them in a basket I kept underneath my coffee table, set the bowl of salt inside, and swept everything else up. I moved my furniture back and collapsed into bed last than ten minutes later.

  The next morning, I woke up feeling like I'd been drunk for a week. My head was killing me and every muscle in my body ached.

  Plus...I couldn't breathe. I tried to gasp for breath but it was like a boulder was sitting on my chest. I blinked open my eyes.

  A woman was sitting on top of me.

  I tried to scream but I couldn't pull in enough air for it.

  "If you keep wasting your air, you'll die a lot sooner," said the woman as if my airway issues were no big deal. She studied her long, black fingernails.

  I began to take shallow, panting breaths.

  "Even worse," she said conversationally. "That wastes your air even faster. I saw that once. Maybe during Shark Week?" She tilted her head up to look at the ceiling. "Or maybe during an SVU marathon when one of the main people got locked in a coffin." She shrugged. "Time runs together these days, you know."

  I clamped my mouth shut and held my breath. She gave me a delighted grin. "Wonderful! But what are you going to do when you absolutely must breathe?" She tsked. "Seems a shame to waste any of the oxygen out there, doesn't it? Isn't it odd, you know, that humans have to breathe the same air and that we both need it to survive?" She tilted her head in thought. "I mean we probably won't die, but I'd bet we'd shrivel up like a mummy and go into stasis. So bad for our complexion."

  Her hair was a deep vivid black, so dark that when the light hit it, it turned blue. Her complexion was pale as death though unmarred as if even the atmosphere hesitated to touch her. Where her skin was pale, her eyes were vivid. A deep crystal blue like a long forgotten ice cavern of lore. Her lips were a deep red and everywhere I looked, she wore feathers. Black and purple. On her clothing. Braided into her hair. Strung through her ears. Even her necklace looked to be made of finely wrought hand-worked silver and raven feathers.

  I was beginning to feel lightheaded.

  She abruptly got off of me and I turned and pulled in a massive lungful of air and coughed.

  "See? We don't absolutely need it, but it sure is good to have, right?"

  "Morrigan?"

  She gave a little bow and the feathers on her dress swayed slightly in the wind. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Freya, Goddess of Love and War."

  I snorted. I'd dropped the love part of my title years and years ago. There was no love in my body for such a long period of time it didn't make any sense to use it.

  "Ah," she said. "I can sense Odin's influence strong within you." She gestured around her. "But I do not see him, do you?"

  I shook my head.

  "Then you are free to love again, are you not?"

  "I suppose."

  A wide grin split her cruel mouth. "You suppose? There is no supposing when love is involved." She hopped onto the top of my dresser and sat with her legs crossed lotus style. "Now, although I do suspect I know why you've summoned me, I'd love for you to paraphrase in your own words."

  I held up my marked hand silently.

  One of her dark eyebrows went up. "Yes? It's beautiful is it not? Very few are marked by the Morrigan, my dear. It is both an omen of power and good luck. So you called me here to thank me?" She waved a hand. "No need. My pleasure." She lifted her hand as if to snap her fingers.

  "No!" I called. "Please stay."

  Her fingers froze in mid-air. "So you aren't going to thank me?" Her lips set into a pout. "Very sad, my dear. I suppose I ought to be used to the selfishness of Asgardians. You are all a useless lot."

  "How do I get rid of it?" I asked quietly.

  Her gaze sharpened. "Get...rid of it?" she said. Her voice turned soft and deadly.

  "Aye, Morrigan. I cannot be wed to Loki."

  "And why is this?" s
he asked, still speaking in that soft and low tone.

  "Because I've barely been free of Odin!" I hissed. "I am not ready for that kind of commitment again."

  "Hmm. Are you saying you do not love the Trickster?"

  "Of course I don't love the Trickster!" I insisted.

  "You lie."

  My shoulders fell. "I do not lie. I love him like a brother. Not as a husband." I was lying.

  "You lie again. Tell me, Freya, why I should not strike you down for refusing to accept a boon from me?”

  "I don't know if I love him, okay? I am barely free of Odin and I have had no time to find myself before I get strapped to someone else!"

  She tilted her head. "Honestly. Do you assume you're so weak and feeble that you haven't been finding yourself every single time you defied him?"

  "Why Loki?" I asked without answering her question.

  "Sometimes...I see things. Things other people cannot. This leads me to do things other people might not understand right away. Trust me when I say, you and he will both be better for it."

  "I do not want to be bound to him."

  She shook her head. "This is where you're wrong. You do not wish to be bound to him right now." She hopped off the dresser and waved her hand. Morrigan motioned for me to come closer. "Look," she commanded.

  The fog she commanded coalesced into a picture. Loki stood in the woods studying the beginnings of...something. "What is this?" I asked.

  Morrigan shushed me. "Watch."

  Several flying creatures buzzed around a structure and as I watched it began to form a house. Morrigan sped up the frame and the same thing happened over and over.

  "Why is he building houses?" Confused, I continued to watch. When there were no less than fifty homes built, the fog followed Loki back into town where he began knocking on doors. Children, the ones bound to me, and their families began pouring out of the homes and followed him into the woods. They carried small bags and possessions and the truth hit me like a ton of bricks. "I didn't have enough houses built."

  Loki got them all settled and went back into town. Though I couldn't hear him, he spoke to several families. All of them reached out and either embraced him or filled his hands with baked goods or other offerings.