Skyla told me she wanted to take a nap before the Valkyries’ memorial service and to recover from her sleepless night of exhuming ghosts, so I left her and went to the kitchen to finish cookies, cheese straws, and some other snacks for the reception afterward. Baking kept me so busy that I failed to notice the sky darkening outside the kitchen window. Sunset fell over the Aerie, and women’s voices rose and fell in hushed conversation as the Valkyries passed by the kitchen entrance. In a long line, they trickled outside, resembling wraiths and ghosts in the dying light. Many of them wore white ceremonial dresses and gauzy shawls like the one Tori had worn the first time I met her. Skyla was among the last in line, but she had opted to remain in her street clothes. I tried and failed to imagine her in one of the gauzy gowns.
As she passed by, she popped into the kitchen and asked, “Are you coming?”
“I hadn’t quite made up my mind.”
“Come on.” Skyla motioned toward the front of the house, where the others had exited. “It might do you some good. And if not, then come for me. For moral support.”
I nodded. “Okay. But I have to finish up in here first.”
I arranged my last pan of chocolate-chunk cookies on a silver serving tray and set it among the other munchies I had displayed on the Aerie’s formal dining-room table. A big coffee urn perked on the kitchen counter, and water simmered in a huge pot for anyone who wanted to make a cup of tea or hot chocolate.
“What are you doing still hanging around the kitchen?”
Startled, I spun around and found Val leaning in the doorway, his brows drawn down, his lips thinned and frowning.
“Just dragging my feet. I’m never anxious to go to these kinds of things.”
“Because of Mani?”
I nodded. “It’s still pretty raw.”
Val’s expression softened, and he opened his arms to me. I hesitated. He gave me a look that said, Really? I sighed and went to him and sank into his big, warm hug.
“C’mon,” he said after a moment of silence. “We’ll do this together.”
Val led me outside, and we met up with the Valkyries. They bunched together at one side of the house, a few feet from where the yard fell off into the Pacific Ocean. The wind blew ferociously, but the bonfire around which the women had gathered burned bright and hot.
“The bonfire is an ideal symbol.” Embla’s voice rose above the wind. “The blaze represents the light of all the lives that were lost. The heat represents the warmth of our memories of our sisters.”
The fire and the chill in the air reminded me of home, movies in front of the fireplace in our den. Mani and I used to make pallets on the floor and have our own slumber parties, falling asleep to the crackling of the fire. Val pulled me close and slid an arm around my shoulder. Even though I could generate my own heat, I sank into his warmth, and all questions of fidelity drained away for the moment. Val often seemed to understand me in a way no one else did. Yet, I doubted him, and things between us remained complicated. Val had been Mani’s best friend. Of all the people involved in my life now, Val had known me the longest. Our shared history was difficult to dismiss.
Skyla stood across the fire from us. She caught my eye and screwed her lips into a scowl, showing her aversion to my intimacy with Val. She might not understand why I let Val get close, but he represented a link to my past, a totem of better times. That night was the kind when leaning on sentimentality should be forgivable.
While Embla talked, one of the sisters weaved through the crowd, passing out individual stems of white calla lilies. Val accepted his flower, tucked his stem into the bend of my elbow, and slid his arm back around me. Embla read a brief biography on each of the fallen women. She recited Auden’s poem, “Funeral Blues.” By the time she read the line about packing away stars and dismantling the sun, barely a dry eye remained. I shoved my emotions down deep, refusing to give in to my sorrow. Grief can look like a shallow hole until you step in and find out it’s really a bottomless pit.
Skyla also held in her heartache. As the Valkyries took turns telling anecdotes about their lost friends, her face hardened, stony and forbidding. She held her shoulders stiff, a physical dam to hold back a flood of emotions I could probably guess, knowing her as I did: sorrow for the lost lives, hurt for the denial of her sisterhood because of secrets and lies, and outrage at the Valkyries’ factiousness.
I envisioned her as an angel of judgment, bringing retribution and righteousness upon the Valkyries. Skyla had confirmed her legacy, and her involvement would certainly influence the Valkyries’ future. To the sisters of the Aerie, that influence might feel like a tornado tearing up, chewing to bits, and spitting out. Then Skyla would lead them in building anew.
Poor things—they have no idea what’s in store for them.
After a final moment of silence, Embla tossed her lily into the fire, and everyone followed her example. When the last flower succumbed to the flames, the outer ring of women peeled away and turned toward the house. Before I could take a step in that direction, however, Val tightened his grip and dragged me farther down the cliff line, away from the house.
“What are you doing?” I asked, pulling against him.
“I want a few minutes alone with you. You’ve been avoiding me all day, and I want to know why.”
“I have not. We’ve been busy—”
“No, Solina.” The distant bonfire provided enough light for the high places on Val’s face to stand out against the gloom of night. The shadows emphasized his scowl. “Something happened when you talked to that ghost, and I’m not going to let you deny it any longer. Tell me what she said.” Hints of vanilla and chocolate sweetened Val’s breath. I suspected he had stolen one of my cookies. “I see you making up excuses in your head.”
“I suck at lying.”
“Yes, my lovely, you do.” Val leaned in closer. “Tell me.”
I’d never meant to keep the news from him anyway, not after talking to Tori, but I had been waiting for the right time to tell him. Out there on the cliff, with the roaring wind to cover our conversation and no chance of being overheard, I spilled the proverbial beans. “Tori has the sword. She went to Grim.”
“Ah, and where is Grim?”
“Corvallis.”
“Hmm. Probably. Grim has been an anthropology professor off and on for a long time. Teaches at Oregon State.”
An academic profession was so unassuming, but Indiana Jones had used it to his advantage, why not a Norse god? Especially one who had an interest in recovering powerful relics.
“You were going to go after him?”
“Yes,” I said. “And I want you to come with me.”
Val’s eyes widened, and he gasped. I had never known him to admit a loss of words. He shook off his surprise and asked, “When do we leave?”
A slow grin unfurled across my lips. “I’ve already packed my bags. Come find me at midnight.”
Chapter Twenty-one
I had heard Corvallis put on a dazzling display of natural beauty in the fall, but December was quickly approaching, and the trees had shed their leaves. Thick clouds and a gloomy drizzle had settled in, turning the landscape into a green-gray soup. Despite those things, the city radiated an innate charm—most college towns did, in my limited experience.
Perched on the west bank of the Willamette, downtown Corvallis beckoned visitors into its eclectic collection of shops and restaurants. In the distance, to the west, a set of hazy peaks watched over the sleepy town.
I took in the views through gritty, sleep-deprived eyes. I had intended to sleep during the nine-hour drive from Mendocino, but I couldn’t relax and had dozed in short fits and starts.
“Look,” Val asked, “why don’t we get a room? You can sleep for a while. We’ll get breakfast or brunch. Then we’ll go see what we can find.”
“Just stroll onto campus?” I asked, stifling a yawn. “Hello, Grim, we’re here for the sword.” I lowered my voice to imitate a man’s deeper timbre. “Oh, why certainly. I have it right here. Let me just get it for you.”
Val smirked. “Do you have a better idea?”
“Nope. That dramatization was the full extent of my plan.”
“It’s an optimistic plan. I like it.” Val plucked his phone from its perch on the dashboard and asked the electronic personal assistant to find us a place to stay. She produced the names and addresses of several nearby hotel chains and a couple of bed and breakfasts. “No Bellestrellas in this town,” Val said.
“If it has a bed and a hot shower, it’s a winner.”
“Who knew you had such low standards?”
I smiled and winked. “I’m hanging out with you, aren’t I?”
Val chose one of the places on his artificial assistant’s list and followed the GPS directions to a bed and breakfast on the edge of campus in an older part of town. He steered the Yukon to the curb and parked in front of a beautiful old Cape Cod. Two massive rhododendrons stood sentry on either side of the front-porch steps. The rhododendrons reminded me of home, of the Appalachian foothills, and a twinge of homesickness plucked at my heartstrings. I vowed to get an update on my parents’ status from Baldur the next time I saw him. Until then, I put my parents and thoughts of going home again out of my mind.
