I came awake with a screech, the burn of a sharp smack throbbing on my rear end. “Wake up and scooch over, girlfriend,” Skyla said.

She shoved at my shoulder, and when I made room for her, she sank into the mattress beside me. I propped up on one elbow and rubbed my eyes, trying to distinguish her form in the darkness of the hotel room. “When did you get here?”

She scraped her fingers through her wild curls. “Just now. And I can hardly hold my eyes open another minute.”

“Where’s everyone else?”

“Baldur’s finding rooms for them. I told him I’m bunking with you. I’m tired of those women. I’ve been cooped up in a car with them for almost twenty-four hours, and I can’t take it anymore. Did you know women can smell just as bad as men? And Siobhan farts. Like a horse. Not like a regular horse, either. Like a Clydesdale. How can someone so tiny be so toxic?”

I giggled, slumped down on the mattress, and yawned. “Did the guys tell you everything?”

“Yup. No luck at the shipping terminal. And now you’re trying to meet up with some modern soothsayers?”

“If I can find them. If they’re even real. I’m hoping they can help me refine my visions.” I hadn’t told Skyla about the ravens or their offer yet. I should have, but there hadn’t been time. And Baldur still hadn’t talked to her either. My patience for his hesitancy was wearing thin.

“That’s what Baldur said. I want to go with when you meet them.”

Skyla’s words swept the last cobwebs of sleep from my mind. Alert, I sat up again. “You do?”

The bed bounced as she rolled over and kicked off her boots. “Nothing else more interesting is going on.”

I huffed. “Tell me about it.”

“What visions have you been having? You haven’t said anything.”

“There’s a lot I haven’t told you, and none of it’s going to be a short story. You want it all now, or you want to sleep first?”

Skyla groaned and fell against the pillows, landing with an “oomph.” She threw an arm across her eyes and sighed. “I’m so tired I can hardly see straight, but I’m afraid if you don’t tell me everything now, something will happen before you get another chance.”

“You sure?”

Her dark silhouette nodded. “Just poke me if I start to snore.”

I summarized everything as best I could—my random dreams, Hugh’s offer, the likelihood Val had done something with Thorin’s brother. By the time I finished talking, I had curled into a ball beside Skyla. Her fingers stroked through my hair, nails scraping my scalp. My inner cat purred.

“Jeez.” She blew the word out on a breath. “Maybe I should have told you to wait until tomorrow. That’s a lot to digest in one bite.”

“I know.” And the biggest bomb is still waiting to be dropped on you.

“It’s like... where do we even start?”

“You’d have no problem doing what the ravens asked, would you?”

She hesitated before answering. “I’m not saying it would be easy, but yes. I think I would have to accept that offer.”

“There was a time when I thought I could fall in love with Val. I know the man he is isn’t the man I thought he was. I don’t owe him anything...”

“But you’re not a murderer.”

“I killed Hati.”

“Not the same thing. He was never really a man, and he was absolutely going to kill you. Val hasn’t ever truly threatened your life, though he might not go out of his way to protect it either. I understand your issues, girlfriend. It’s not a problem we have to solve today. Let’s find these vo—völvur, right? Maybe we won’t even need the ravens.”

“Thank you, Skyla.”

“For what?” she asked through a sleepy yawn.

I shifted, threw my arm around her, and snuggled into her warmth. “For being my best friend.”

Chapter 11

Sitting around, doing nothing—the inactivity irritated me, rubbing me like the worst kind of T-shirt tag. As though he could read my mind, Baldur suggested we discuss our options over an extremely late breakfast in the River’s Edge dining room, and I agreed. At least eating would keep me occupied.

“Have you gotten any more updates on my parents?” I asked Baldur, who studied his complementary USA Today while stirring his coffee. Skyla poked at her egg-white-and-spinach omelet, and Thorin sipped coffee and thumbed his phone screen. Ancient god addicted to technology just like the rest of us. I twirled a spoon around my half-eaten bowl of organic, steel-cut oatmeal and tried not to laugh at the scowl on Skyla’s face as she contemplated her low-fat, low-carb, low-everything breakfast.

Baldur set down his paper and wrapped both hands around his coffee cup as he leaned forward, elbows planted on the tabletop. His auburn hair lay in a mess of cowlicks and swirls, but he made it look artful, like an advertisement for men’s hair products. But it had to be accidental. I couldn’t picture Baldur standing before a bathroom mirror combing his hair or caring about his appearance at all. Sitting there beside his unassuming granddaughter, none of Baldur’s pale, auburn looks much resembled Skyla’s darker ones.

Tell her, I urged him in my head. Tell her, tell her, tell her. Reading the thoughts of others, I could sometimes do, but broadcasting my own thoughts... Not so much.

“I have two men on your house,” Baldur said. “Two more on the bakery. One who follows them wherever they drive. Your parents are safe.”

I paused, spoon hovering over my bowl. “You’ve seen them?”

He shook his head. “I haven’t. But my men have texted me photos of them coming and going on their daily routines.”

“You think that’s enough? A few men here and there?”

His eyebrows rose. “I could surround them with an army, but they might notice. Are you prepared to come back from the dead and explain to them what’s going on?”

“I don’t know...” I eyed Skyla’s plate again: unnaturally white eggs, limp spinach, gluten-free toast. I missed my mom’s sausage gravy and biscuits. A wave of homesickness washed over me. “It might be worth it, if it kept them safe.”

Thorin set his phone on the table and pushed it toward me. “Anytime you want to break the news to them...”

I stared at the phone and considered the cold swirling in my gut. “How can I face down wolves and gods and stone warriors, but I’m too afraid to call my parents?”

“My men understand what’s at risk,” Baldur said. “They understand there’s more to this world than meets the eye. They are not infallible, but they will serve. Your parents are under the best protection I can offer, unless you want me to take them to New Breidablick. I’m perfectly willing to host them, but you know you’ll have to be the one to make the invitation.”

I dropped my spoon, and it clattered against the edge of the bowl. “Okay. That’s what I’ll do. Thorin and I will head to North Carolina. I’ll talk to my parents, tell them everything. I’ll convince them to come to New Breidablick.”

“I think we’ll all rest easier,” Baldur said. “And I think you should consider going to them sooner than later, especially if getting in touch with a real völva is going to be as difficult as I think it...” Baldur trailed off as his gaze settled somewhere behind me. His face hardened, and he clamped his mouth shut.

Curious, I turned to look behind me, searching for whatever had upset him. There, in the dining room doorway, stood a pale woman, wrinkled and white as winter snow in every way except for her eyes, which, even from this distance, burned a feverish green. She wore ripped jeans, a hot-pink T-shirt that said “SASSY!” in fluorescent colors, and black Chuck Taylors. I had expected someone more like Professor McGonagall and less like Punk Barbie’s grandmother, but if völvur were in short supply, I’d take what I could get.

Having spotted Baldur, the old woman raised her chin and peered down her nose at our group. She lifted a knobby, gnarled finger and pointed in my direction. “I’ll talk to the girl.”

My attention swung to Baldur, and I gaped at him, silently asking for an explanation. “Solina,” he said, without meeting my gaze. “I’m making an educated guess, here, but it appears the völva you’ve been looking for has found you.”