Grim had no reply other than a shrug. After making quick work of searching the rest of the house and finding nothing more than shadows and dust, we eased out the back door and surveyed the rear of the Aerie. A short, stubbly lawn dropped off at the edge of a cliff descending several dozen feet into the Pacific. Clearing the main house left us few other places to search.
I pointed toward the outbuilding housing the Valkyries’ School of How to Be a Badass. “Maybe they’re in the training barn.”
Grim shrugged and motioned for me to take the lead. As I stepped forward, a shout rose through the mists below us. A broken, strangled voice cried out. He looked at me, and our gazes locked.
“The beach,” we said in unison.
Grim drew his sword and darted forward, heading for the path winding down to the rocky shore, and I raced after him. As we descended into the fog, a faint memory rattled in its storage box in the back of my mind. I grabbed his sleeve and tugged. “Wait. There’s something...” I furrowed my brow and worked the lock on my memory box.
“There’s no time—” he started, but I yanked his arm again and cut him off.
“Yes there is. This is dèjá vu...” I gasped as understanding hit me. “No. It’s a premonition. I had a vision—Thorin, stabbed through the heart with Odin’s spear on that beach. There was fog like this. The wolf was there. He attacked me.”
Grim drew back and gave me a wary look. “Odin’s spear?” He shook his head. “No way. I’ve been looking for it for centuries.”
“My visions never lie.”
“Thorin’s not here, so what are you worried about?” Grim twisted free from my grip and worked his way down the precarious path until it leveled out on a stony beach enrobed in thick, oily fog.
Unsatisfied with his response, I followed close behind and explained my concerns. “I had the vision the first time we all came to the Aerie. I thought I had prevented it coming true by sending Thorin away. I thought that was the end of it, when we left the Aerie, but I saw the tail end of that dream again when I was in the Norns’ well.”
Grim stumbled to an abrupt halt. He looked at me over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes. “You were in the Norns’ well?”
I flapped a hand, tossing aside his question. “Long story. But trust me, it happened. I saw Thorin bleeding out on the beach, and the spear was in his chest.” In my mind’s eye, I zoomed in on the image. A man lay prone and unmoving, awash in blood and sea foam. Blank, empty eyes stared from a familiar face that looked so much like the one glaring at me that same moment. I gasped and blinked at Grim. “You and Thorin look a lot alike, sometimes.”
He raised his shoulder and dropped it. “So?”
Before I could express my concerns, a sharp thwak—half mechanical, half musical strum like a guitar string—echoed through the fog. Without thinking, without considering the danger or my own mortality, I flung myself at Grim and tackled him. My attack surprised him, and he lost his balance as well as his grip on the fire sword.
As we tumbled down, a hoarse, raw scream clawed from Grim’s throat.
“Shit.” I grunted and rolled away from him.
He lay beside me, his face crumpled in an expression of agony. He bared his teeth and groaned. A short shaft protruded from his shoulder, and the weapon’s point had buried itself deep in his deltoid. But a deltoid wound was not lethal. At least, I didn’t think so.
Grim cracked an eyelid and peered at me through a dim slit.
“You believe me now?” Spitting hair and grit from my mouth, I rose to my feet only to wind up flat on my face again, inhaling more sand and salt. A hundred-plus pounds of claws, teeth, and fur strained my ribs and ripped at my spine. As I screamed, fire bloomed over me, intense and bright. I inhaled, screamed again, and called my flames higher, hotter.
My attacker hacked a wolfish complaint and leapt from my back. I rolled over, ignoring my screaming flesh and the warm blood oozing from my wounds. I would heal. My fire always renewed me. Slowly, I stood, spread wide my stance, and centered my weight on the balls of my feet.
Two or three strides away, Skoll crouched low, waiting, watching as greasy mists swirled around us like an ensemble of dancing ghosts. Twisted scar tissue disfigured his muzzle, revealing evidence of the damage I had inflicted during our fight in the desert. His ruddy fur stood in a rigid line down his back. He crouched low, tail flicking, ears lying flat against his head.
There stood my greatest adversary—not Helen Locke, not a fire sword, not Val, Grim, or Embla. From the beginning, it was the wolf, and I cursed myself again for having forgotten that so many times over the past months. Perhaps everything that happened since Mani’s death could have been avoided if I had never taken my focus off finding and killing Skoll. If I had discarded my need for vengeance and taken him down that night at Oneida Lake instead of his brother, we could have all avoided so much pain, torment, and loss.
But Thorin had said the Aesir were beholden to fate, and all evidence suggested the truth of his claim. Skoll and I were here now because this was the way it was supposed to be. I had finally become the woman, the warrior, who could defeat the beast, and I vowed I wouldn’t leave this beach until Skoll was dead.
I sneered at my adversary. “You’ve tasted my fire three times. Haven’t you had enough yet?” I felt like Atreyu taunting Gmork, the wolf who was the great Nothing’s agent. If Helen had her way, that never-ending story would come true. She’d take our world and leave us with destruction and chaos.
Skoll snarled, and his lips rippled over his long, horrible teeth. I laughed at him. “I’m not afraid of you anymore.” I waved him forward. “Come for me. Let’s end this already.”
Perhaps Skoll was as fed up with Helen’s plots and schemes as I was. He wasted no more time on posturing. He threw himself forward, and I charged to meet him, two steam engines hurtling forward on the same track, head-on collision imminent. Fatalities guaranteed.
As he lunged and closed the inches between us, I raised my flames to full capacity and welcomed Skoll into my embrace. I crumpled under his weight, and we crashed to the ground, rolling as his fangs sank into my shoulder. His claws raked my belly, shredding flesh. Pain flashed like lightning before my eyes.
The fire will heal, I chanted to myself—no fancy fighting moves, no Krav Maga or Valkyrie fighting techniques needed. I gritted my teeth and locked my arms around him. Just hold on. Just hold on.
Skoll wriggled like a monstrous eel, slipping from my grasp. My body screamed with the pain of his bites and scratches, and my arms shook from the effort of restraining him. He was muscle and might and power, and I was only a woman. But I wasn’t helpless.
I reached to the depths of my powers. The farther I sank into the flames, the more the goddess took over, and the less I felt Skoll tearing me, taking me apart bit by bit. I have to hold out longer than he does...
Whose motivation was greatest? Skoll had hatred and revenge. I had those things too, but they were nothing more than a small, dark closet in a fortress I had built from love, hope, devotion, and second chances. Most of all, second chances. Skoll’s claws and teeth would never be enough to take that away from me.
My conscious self drifted away as the goddess rose to power inside me, but a scream brought me rocketing back, crashing hard into reality. Every cut and gash and bleeding place inside me roared. Over the protests of my own body, I heard my name as a desperate cry.
“Solina!” Skyla screamed at me with a raw and distressed voice. “Don’t let go. Finish him!”
Still wrapped in a massive Skoll bear hug, I centered what was left of my fire in my hands, arms, chest, belly, legs. I shut out the agony and pain and held on. Skoll’s panting came hotter and faster in my ear, each breath underscored by a high-pitched whine. The acrid stink of burning fur invaded my nose and mouth, and his struggles grew anxious, frantic.
“Go on, you bastard,” I snarled. “Your brother’s spirit is out there somewhere waiting for you. Go find him. Leave Helen and all this bullshit behind. It’s not worth it. I am not worth it.”
Skoll uttered a long, ear-shattering howl that drowned out everything else: my heartbeat, my shuddering breath, the ocean. Then with a strangled gasp, he kicked, once, twice, and fell silent, limp, and still.
Utterly still.
My flames guttered and died, leaving me chilled to the bone and empty. Oh, so empty. I was spent, exhausted, and lacked the energy to do anything more than sprawl beneath the dead wolf and breathe moist, salty sea air that tasted so very good because it meant I was still here. It meant I hadn’t lost myself to the starlight.
It meant I had won.
