“I almost died when Val said you were in Embla’s room when we came back. What were you doing in there?”
I gave her a rundown of our morning’s activities and finished by pulling the photo from my pocket. “I found something else you’re going to be interested in.”
Skyla took the photo and looked at the image. She gasped and slapped her hand over her mouth. While she struggled for composure, I told her about Embla’s box and the other photos I found in it.
“My mother and my brother?” Skyla said, breathless. “What does she know about my family?”
“I guess you’ll have to ask her, but you can’t tell her how you know. If she knows we were in her room, it puts everything at risk. You’re right not to trust anyone here.” I motioned to the photo. “You have proof you’ve been lied to, but don’t let your indignation interfere with our plans.”
Skyla’s face reddened, and she gritted her teeth. “Are you insinuating I don’t know how to handle myself?”
I raised my hands in a defensive pose. “I didn’t say that to offend you. I can only imagine your outrage. But above all else, we’ve got to find out what happened to Tori and that sword.”
“I know that.” Skyla slapped the tabletop. “I know my mission, and I won’t jeopardize it for personal issues. I mean, if you of all people can keep your head on straight, don’t you think I can do the same?”
“Me of all people? What’s that supposed to mean?”
Skyla’s shoulders slumped. “I meant it as a compliment. I meant a relatively naive small-town girl got thrown into this big, steaming pile of crap, and she’s handled it with decorum. You’ve had every right to have a meltdown and fly off the handle, but you’ve held it together.”
“I don’t know if you were paying attention, but I have had a meltdown. And it lasted for a month.”
“Oh, I was paying attention,” she said. “That wasn’t a meltdown.”
“What was it then?”
“A flare-up.”
I snorted and grinned. “Are you calling me a hemorrhoid?”
Skyla barked a sharp laugh that dissolved into a fit of quivering giggles. “Sh-should I start carrying around some of that cream?”
“Sure,” I said, hiccupping with laughter. “But only if you think it would help.”
I rubbed my hands over my face, clearing away the last of my mirth. Then I sighed and leaned against the kitchen counter. “I need to call Thorin and give him an update. I promised to stay in touch, but I haven’t had a chance. Things around here have been… distracting, to say the least.”
“You two seem to be getting along better than before,” Skyla said. “There’s still tension between you, but it’s a different kind.”
I pressed my lips together and avoided her gaze. “Maybe we understand each other a little better than we used to.”
Skyla made a sound in the back of her throat. “Don’t lie. You think he’s hot.”
I rolled my eyes at her. “Even I wouldn’t lie about that.”
“Go call him.” Skyla grinned. “Tell him I was a Valkyrie after all.”
I pushed away from the counter and slipped my arm around Skyla’s shoulder for a brief hug. “Somehow, I don’t think he’ll be surprised.”
But I didn’t find out whether Thorin was surprised by Skyla’s lineage. When I ducked up to my room to give him a call, his phone rang and went to voice mail. After several failed attempts to reach him, I left a message assuring him no further emergencies had arisen, and I urged him to call me as soon as he could. I fingered the chain around my neck, and the gold radiated heat from where it had lain close to my skin. Despite its warmth, a cold shiver snaked over my skin.
Thorin said he could use the chain to locate me if something happened to me. But if something had happened to him, how would I know? How would I ever find him?
Chapter Eighteen
Old paper and beeswax candles scented the air in the Valkyries’ library—a welcome respite from the smoke. The room’s antique furnishings and tapestries sent me back in time to another century, one with suits of armor. Except for books and scrolls and some musty old furniture, the library was empty. All the Valkyries had gone to bed except a few who patrolled the grounds outside. Hope nobody gets a sudden late-night craving for historical records.
“So, we’re looking for some kind of book that tells you how to commune with the dead?” Val asked.
Skyla’s brow furrowed. “I guess so. Unless you got a better idea.”
No one did.
We pawed through the stacks of books and scrolls. Some things were obviously unrelated to our search, and I passed over them after a quick glance. I paused here and there to read pages in journals and diaries that referenced the Valkyries’ interactions with battles and wars throughout history. I found one that mentioned World War II. The journalist had served as a Night Witch, a member of the 588th Night Bomber Regiment of the Soviet Air Forces. Without the need to fulfill the Aesir’s ancient charge, the Valkyries found other ways to meet the call of the battlefield. What a history lesson those diaries would have made. But I’m not here for a history lesson.
Eventually, I worked my way to a scroll-stuffed cubby hole. The first parchment roll revealed a genealogy record. Tori said the Valkyries kept track of their bloodlines, and there lay the evidence. I dug through a few more, looking for a trace of Skyla’s past. Before I could find her, though, I found a scroll detailing the lineage of Mani and Sol. I wheezed. My knees turned to water, and I plopped to the floor.
“What?” Skyla rushed to my side. “Did you find something?”
“Look at this.” I handed her the scroll, which she stretched across an empty desk.
Val pulled me up to my feet, and we stood behind Skyla, reading over her shoulder.
Skyla ran her finger down line after line until she found an entry for Mani and me. “Look,” she whispered. “It’s you.”
In bright, illuminated inscriptions, a record keeper for the Valkyries had marked every generation in the Mundy family line where a pair of twins had appeared. Sometimes, they were a hundred years or more apart, but they happened frequently enough to show the trait persisted in our family. Our very distant blood connection to the original Sol and Mani came through my father. Seeing it laid out in print, for thousands of years, gave my history gravity and a tangible reality.
“How did they know?” I asked.
Skyla shrugged. “Birth records are easy to find. Maybe it’s the librarian’s job to watch out for these kinds of things.”
