My gaze fell, and I turned away from him. “I-I don’t know. I’m not a murderer, and that’s what this feels like. I’m contemplating murder.” The wind kicked up again, and the harsh cold on my cheeks felt like a slap of judgment. I shook my head and wrapped my arms around myself, bracing against the frigid air. “He would have to provoke me at least. He would have to threaten my life. Otherwise...” A soft whimper escaped my throat before I could choke it back.
“Enough.” He stepped closer and cupped my face in his hands, flooding my cheeks with warmth and ridding them of the wind’s bitter sting. His dark eyes peered into mine and warmed me from within. “We’re in the worst conditions to be having this discussion. The world won’t end tonight. I won’t let it. Let’s talk about this somewhere else. Sometime else.”
I nodded and let myself sink against him, soaking up his warmth. “You’re right. Let’s get out of here.”
Half an hour later, I stood in another indistinct and posh bedroom, stationed before a panoramic window at the River’s Edge Hotel. At least it isn’t Finney’s Roadside Retreat. My life had become a series of temporary living situations, and it chafed. I missed my old bedroom, its personalized clutter and familiarity. I craved the comfort of dependable, mundane routine.
Room service had come and gone after delivering a sandwich and a pile of fries. I ate on autopilot, gobbling turkey on rye, oil and vinegar dribbling down my fingers while I stared into the inky waters of the Columbia River, five stories below. The dark water served as a backdrop, a blank movie screen onto which I projected my thoughts. The images played on repeat like a .gif file. Over and over, I saw Hugh in Baldur’s barn as he told me how this whole nightmare could end, if only I’d obliterate Val. There’s got to be another way.
Behind me, in the sitting room, Thorin debriefed Baldur on the evening’s events. “There’s got to be some way we can trigger more specific visions from her,” Thorin said as if echoing my thoughts. His words sank through the static haze in my brain and woke me from my trance.
I blinked and turned away from the window, clutching my half-eaten sandwich. “I don’t see any World Trees standing around, waiting for me to hang myself from their branches. And I’ll be keeping my head connected to my shoulders, thank you very much. Don’t think I haven’t read about that Mimir guy. If you carry my severed head around with you, it won’t be words of wisdom I whisper in your ear.”
Thorin chuckled. “I like your head best right where it is, Sunshine. No, I was mostly thinking out loud.”
“The Greek oracles used hallucinogens sometimes, didn’t they? Or was that just in a movie?” I drank alcohol only on rare occasions, so the thought of heavy-duty drugs turned my stomach. But not as much as killing Val, so... Psychedelic mushrooms, anyone?
I crossed the room and joined the men in the suite’s seating area. I tossed the remnants of my sandwich in a nearby trashcan before taking a seat in one of the empty club chairs. Thorin sat parallel to me in the other chair, and like defense and prosecution before the judge in the courtroom, we faced Baldur, who managed to look lordly, even as he sprawled across the sofa.
“I think acid-induced delusions don’t count as reliable,” Baldur said.
“It’s about thinning the walls between realms so the spirit can travel or some such, isn’t it? If you guys can exist and do the things you do, why couldn’t I have an out-of-body experience?”
Thorin grunted. “Are we really having a discussion about taking drugs?”
“We need something concrete,” Baldur said. “And right now, that’s my network. I’ve already put them on the lookout, searching for anything out of place, listening to the internet and social chatter. If Helen slips up, makes one little mistake, we’ll find her.”
“And what if she doesn’t?” I took a deep breath, steeling myself with the courage to broach a sensitive subject, something Thorin certainly wouldn’t like. “I think the idea of refining my visions has merit. We’ve proved I can reach into people’s thoughts with more purpose and intention than I’d thought was possible. Why not put some purpose and intention into my visions?”
Thorin’s face reddened, and his jaw clenched. “The last time we experimented with your gifts, it nearly killed you.”
“Aw, pshaw.” My lips spluttered. I waved my hand in a dismissive gesture. “Don’t be so dramatic.”
He had stated things accurately, though, and the recollection of that experience, of reaching into his mind and drowning in the immensity of his memories, still chilled me. But giving in to fear never got me anywhere. Putting on a false front of bravado might not fool Thorin, but it might fool my own inner doubts. “It’s like learning to ride a bike. I have to crash a few times before I get the hang of it.”
He leaned toward me and lowered his voice. “It is not like riding a bike. It was not a scuffed knee or a sprained wrist. You almost died.”
I replied through gritted teeth. “And you said you wouldn’t stop me from learning to use my abilities. All of them. You said you’d be there, be my lifeguard, pull me out of the deep if I needed it. You’re taking that back now?”
His nostrils flared, and he exhaled like an angry bull. “I ought to.” He scrubbed a hand across his face and leaned back in his chair, eyes closed. “But I gave you my word. If you want to pursue this...”
“I’m scared,” I admitted, letting Thorin hear the uncertainty in my voice and trusting him not to use my vulnerability against me. “But it’s a lot less risky than some of our other options, don’t you think?”
“What are you getting at? It sounds as if you have something already in mind.”
“I sort of do.” I looked away, wrapping a strand of hair around my finger as I fidgeted with my split ends. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I did some research.” I paused.
He sat like a rigid statue, shoulders square, back straight, eyes hard, attention narrowed on me like a sniper sighting his target. “And?”
“And I found something about völvur and spákonas.”
“Witches,” he said in the tone one used to discuss bitter and rotten things.
“And that”—I pointed at his scowl—“is why I’ve been reluctant to say anything. I was sure you’d be dismissive.”
Baldur put a fist to his mouth and coughed politely. “They were mostly charlatans, Solina. Scammers with strong cults of personality.”
I frowned. “I guessed as much, but I still think it’s worth a try. My visions are real. I can’t be the only one who has them.”
Baldur shifted in his seat, sitting up straighter. “Maybe. But I wouldn’t get my hopes up. I’ve met modern women calling themselves seers. At the time, I thought they’d make a useful addition to my network. None of them ever panned out though. None of them foresaw anything that ever came true.”
I shrugged. “It’s not as though I would know how to get in touch with one if they were real.”
He leaned back, stretching until his joints popped. Then he stood and tugged his cell phone from his pocket. “I’ll make a couple calls. Send out some feelers. Just because I had no luck doesn’t mean you won’t. But you have to do something for me first.”
My eyebrows arched, and I sat up straighter. What favor could I do for the Allfather, Master of the Runes? “Of course. Anything.”
“Go to bed. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look wrung out.”
Short on sleep and burning through my fire the way I had been, I couldn’t disagree. I felt like, and probably looked like, a thrift store rag doll, all dingy and frayed. Baldur’s words worked like magic, and maybe they were—one of his Allfatherly imperatives influencing me. My bones gained weight, and lead shot filled my muscles. My heavy eyelids fluttered.
“Okay...” I yawned and somehow managed to stumble to my feet and into the bedroom. “But don’t let me sleep too long. We’ve wasted so much time already.”
“All of our problems will still be here in the morning,” Baldur said. “Sleep and try not to worry.”
The command in his voice held sway, and I slept.
