“But you want to stay here,” I said.
“It’s a crucial time. The Valkyries are a balloon cut from its string. They have no direction. The right person could come along and lead them astray, or—”
“Or the right person could put them back on task, remind them of their purpose, rally them to help us on our way to victory, and there will be puppies, unicorns, and rainbows for all.”
Skyla huffed. “Let’s let me be the cynic. I like you better as an optimist.”
“Being a pragmatist is more likely to keep me alive. Which is why I’m not going to Oregon alone.”
“You’re not? But who…” A pained look passed over her face. “Val?”
“Better the devil you do know than one you don’t. I know Val. I don’t know Grim, and I don’t want to risk facing him alone.”
When I’d first gone to Alaska, I was a naive twit. I thought I’d pop across the country, ask some questions, look around a little, and go home. I was more scared of leaving my comfort zone than finding and facing a murderous psychopath. Maybe I had believed I would find nothing except some closure and convince myself to accept Mani’s death once and for all. But I knew the truth now: men were beasts, and gods were monsters. They were not windmills, yet I still tilted at them. I must be crazy. Utterly out of my mind.
Skyla pursed her lips. “I don’t like it, but I’m not going to be the one to tell you what to do. Just promise me you’ll keep your eyes open at all times. Be skeptical of everyone. Even Val.”
“I promise. I’ll wear eyes in the back of my head.”
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?”
