Val’s face softened. He leaned forward, and his blue eyes peered solemnly into mine. “You don’t get it, do you? Helen is intent. With or without you, Solina, she intends to rule this world. If she can’t recreate Ragnarok, she’ll find another way.”
I turned away and stared out the window. “I can’t control Helen, and maybe I can’t stop her. Not yet. But at least it wouldn’t be all my fault.”
“Your parents are worried sick about you. They’ve opened up a missing-person case. They believe they’ve lost both their kids. Don’t you think you should call them?”
I had put my parents out of my thoughts, purposely refusing to think about them or consider the pain I must have caused them. If I thought about them too much, my resolve might have faded. I might want to go home again or call them and tell them I was okay, but that was too risky. “Do they think I’m still alive?”
Val shrugged. “I don’t know what they think at this point. It’s been two months since anyone knew where you were.”
“I think it’s better they believe I’m dead. I think it’s better if everyone does. If things go badly in the end, then they won’t have to mourn me twice.” Saying that aloud sounded coldhearted, but the weight of my parents’ expectations inhibited my freedom. Their continued involvement in my life made things harder and more dangerous. A ghost could move about freely, so it made sense to keep playing dead.
Thorin cleared his throat, disrupting the morose atmosphere that had settled over our group. He rose to his feet. “I’m going to get another beer.”
Val raised his empty bottle. “I’ll take another one, too.”
Thorin glanced at my drink and raised a questioning eyebrow.
I studied the last few inches of Diet Coke in my glass. Then I wrapped my lips around my straw and sucked up the remaining contents in a rude and prolonged slurp. When I had to stop and let out my breath, I smiled, handed him the empty glass, and said, “Thanks, Thorin. You’re a real sweetheart.”
Chapter Seven
An hour or so into our flight, Thorin’s phone rang. He tugged it from his pocket, swiped his thumb over the screen, and put it to his ear. “Yes,” he said to the caller. “We just left Reno. We should be back in Siqiniq by—”
The caller cut him off. Only one person could interrupt Thorin without igniting his immediate irritation: Baldur.
“Why, what’s happened?” Thorin asked.
I sharpened my hearing after noting the concern filling Thorin’s voice. Baldur said something, and Thorin’s expression darkened.
“Okay. I’ll talk to the pilot,” Thorin said. “I’ll see if we can change our flight plans. I’ll call you and let you know our ETA.”
“What’s up?” Val asked after Thorin ended his call.
“Baldur,” Thorin said.
“What’s he want now?”
“He’s got a lead on Nina, so change of plans. He wants us to meet him in Vegas.”
Ah, Nina, Baldur’s wayward soul mate. I should have known. I had mostly forgotten about her over the past few weeks, but of course Baldur hadn’t.
Val exhaled a noisy breath. “And the Allfather always gets his way, doesn’t he?”
Thorin went to talk to the captain but returned a few minutes later wearing a grim expression. “The captain can’t change our itinerary. He already has a return flight booked on the other end. The best he can do is drop us off in Salt Lake. We’ll arrange something from there.”
Thorin and Val spent the next several minutes focused on their phones, searching for transportation from Salt Lake City to Vegas.
“I’m having déjà vu,” I said.
Val looked up and arched a questioning brow.
“Feel like I’ve done this before,” I said. “Gone off on the Legend of Nina quest. I wasn’t terribly fond of the idea last time we did it. I’m even less game now.”
Thorin glanced up from his phone. “Have you got urgent plans that I’m not aware of?”
“Finding Skyla, getting rid of Helen and the wolf, saving the world…” I said, flicking up a finger for each point. Then I waved those fingers at Thorin. “I’ve got four urgent items on my to-do list, and you should be aware of them already.” I pointed to my unextended thumb. “You’ll notice that, once again, Baldur and Nina are nowhere on my list.”
Val watched our exchange, wearing a carefully neutral expression, although I suspected he sided with me.
Thorin’s nostrils flared, and he huffed. “Baldur has as much interest in locating Skyla as you do in tracking down Nina. If you expect him to do you a favor, then maybe you should do one for him, too. Quid pro quo.”
I sighed. When had Thorin gotten so good at making reasonable arguments? If assisting Baldur meant having his help in return, I could make hunting for Nina a temporary priority—emphasis on temporary.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s go to Vegas. I mean, it worked out so well for us last time. What could go wrong?”
When we touched down in Salt Lake City, Samantha-just-call-me-Sam escorted us from the plane. She lavished her charm on Thorin and Val, passing them her business card and assuring them of her eagerness to accommodate them anytime they should need her services. For me, she offered a perfunctory smile and a brief “Buh-bye.”
We disembarked and headed toward a black Yukon parked nearby. Thorin and Val marched behind me like wardens transporting a dangerous prisoner, Hannibal Lecter style. Wonder how their livers would taste with some fava beans and a nice Chianti… I tolerated their behavior because airports were notoriously bad places to exercise displays of agitation. One tends to end up in secret federal detention centers when one starts setting things on fire.
“Come on, Solina,” Val said when he noticed my lagging pace. “You can stretch out in the back. It won’t be so bad.”
He opened the door for me, and I sank into the supple leather of the Yukon’s backseat.
A yawn cracked my jaw as I settled into a mostly horizontal position. “What’s the point of owning a private jet if you can’t use it when you need it?”
“Seemed like it made good business sense.” Val shrugged. “Sometimes I question whether that’s true.”
