Thorin raised an eyebrow as if to say, “Oh? And how does that work?”
“I’m going to cooperate with you. No, don’t give me that look. I mean it. Whatever you want us to do next, I’ll do it, and I won’t give you a hard time. In return, I expect you to make a complete commitment to helping me find Skyla.”
Thorin’s lips thinned. “I said I would. I don’t go back on my word.”
“All right. Then we have an understanding.”
Thorin leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Have you had any dreams about this? You know… premonitions like the one you had about your brother’s death? Have you had some forewarning about Nina and Baldur or Skyla that you’ve been holding back because you think it will protect someone?”
I huffed and waved a hand, dismissing his question. “I’m not Zoltar the fortune-telling machine. It doesn’t work that way. I’ve had some dreams, but there’s no context. They don’t make sense.”
“Tell me about it?” Thorin took my hand.
Maybe he meant it as a sympathetic gesture, but my fingers burned against his. Could he feel it, or was it all in my head? I hesitated, expecting one of his thoughts or memories to overcome me, but the moment passed, and my awareness remained firmly in the present. What does that mean?
To avoid invading Tre and Nikka’s thoughts, I had shunned prolonged physical contact. When Tre and I trained together, I focused on his instruction and my technique and refused to dwell on the occasional unwelcome mental image. At most, I saw flashes of things mostly likely inspired by Tre’s experience as a cop. I never lingered on those visions or made opportunities to explore further.
I was in no way prepared to go spelunking in Thorin’s head. For whatever reason, the contents swirling through his gray matter remained locked behind his skull. And for that, I was immensely grateful.
I swallowed and cleared my throat. “I, uh, there were apples.” I told Thorin the rest, the bit about the orchard and the fire and how it had burned my hand.
“It sounds a little like Idun’s orchard,” Thorin said.
“I thought so too.” When he quirked an eyebrow, I shrugged. “What? My research assistant is missing, and I had some time on my hands. Would you have preferred that I stick my head in the sand?”
Thorin grinned. “That makes for an interesting mental image.”
“Not helpful.” I poked his shoulder. “Do you have any idea what it means? It makes no sense to me.”
Thorin shook his head. “I don’t know what it means either, but I assume we’ll find out soon enough.”
For a moment, Thorin and I stood in silence, my hand still gripped in his, but I blinked, and the moment passed. I pulled loose from his hold and backed away, eager to breathe air that didn’t smell like him. When I opened the bathroom door, Thorin took my hint and strode out to the living room.
I followed him out and found that Baldur and Val had changed into a matching set of Commando Ken outfits. They wore black cargo pants, black T-shirts, and black caps—possibly in an attempt to blend into the darkness outside. I had failed to notice before, but Thorin was dressed in similar attire.
“Here.” Thorin grabbed another black T-shirt from the kitchen counter and shoved it at me. “Put this on and meet us out front at the truck.”
I snatched the shirt and marched into the bathroom. The fabric had molded to every plane and angle of the men’s physiques, but if I knotted the hem around my hips, it looked slightly less like a trash bag on me. I braided my hair and pulled up the hood of my black sweatshirt. “Good as it’s going to get,” I said to the mirror. My reflection didn’t disagree, so I turned off the lights and hurried to catch up with the guys.
Chapter Eight
After an hour-and-a-half ride and a brief geography lesson from Baldur, I learned Helen’s warehouses were situated near the Mojave National Preserve, a federally owned wilderness composed of 1.6 million acres near the border of Nevada and Arizona.
“That’s neato and all,” I said, “but why would Helen take Nina to some warehouses out on the edge of nowhere?”
“It’s not an easy place to stumble on by accident or run away from on purpose,” Baldur said. “Desert for miles around. If you escaped, you might succumb to the elements before you lucked into an ATV or a hunter who was willing to help you out. It makes a good prison.”
“It makes a good place for us to die without anyone noticing, too. I learned that lesson at Oneida Lake.”
Speaking of the lake had the effect of naming an evil spirit. Everyone fell silent, and gooseflesh broke out on my arms. I wondered again about Skyla—where she was and if she was okay.
“Seriously,” I said. “All you’re going to achieve by this is to gratify Helen’s desires. The only things waiting for you at the end of this road are empty hopes or a trap. Probably both.”
Thorin slowed the SUV and turned it off the dirt path we had followed into the desert. The truck rolled to a stop behind a thatch of cacti and desert brush, and Thorin killed the engine and turned off the headlights.
“We’ve considered all that,” Baldur said. His flashlight bobbed in my direction as he bailed out of the truck. “But it’s a chance we have to take. This is the first solid lead I’ve had on Nina in decades.”
“You guys could be putting yourselves in danger—”
“Solina, don’t worry,” Val said, cutting into my objection. “We know the risks. We’ll be smart about it.”
Smart?Hardy har har. But I bit my tongue and took a fortifying breath. “Okay, what’s the plan?”
Thorin grimaced. “It’s one thing to keep you close, Sunshine, and quite another to lead you into the heart of the lion’s den. Stay here, be safe, and if we don’t come back—”
“Run for your life,” Val said.
No valid reason existed for me to insist they take me along. Immortal blood did not flow through my veins. Some goals and schemes might have been worth the risk of losing my life, but walking into semiobvious traps laid by Helen was not one of them. “All right. I’ll wait here. But this is the part in the movie I always fast-forward through. I hate the anticipation.”
Val squeezed my shoulder. “We’ll be back before you know it.”
Thorin hung back as Val and Baldur started down the pathway. Without a word, he dangled the SUV keys before my face. I snatched them and stuffed them in my pocket. He winked at me, turned on his heel, and caught up with the others.
The three men’s figures moved away from the truck and dissolved into the darkness. I climbed into the Yukon and pulled the door closed, making sure to lock it before stretching out across the bench seat. After a few minutes of staring up through the aptly named moon roof, my stomach growled, and I cursed myself for not having asked for a food stop on the way. I had eaten nothing since… I couldn’t remember, exactly. The ghost of a low-blood-sugar headache haunted my temples. When the scheme ended, if we all lived through it, I intended to insist on a burger stand or a taco truck or a freaking 7-Eleven hot dog, even if it meant we had to drive all the way back to Vegas to get it.
“Solina, wake up!” Val pounded on my window and jolted me from my daze.
I hadn’t slept—too much worry kept me from dozing off—but I had zoned out, staring into the sky, looking at the moon and thinking of Mani and tacos.
