Mist

He bent to scratch Kirby’s head, turned and followed Mist into the hall. Mist strode past the stairs and the ward room, where the Rune-wards still streaked the wall above like black paint applied by a toddler’s messy fingers, and went into the gym.

The largest room in the loft was a vast, silent space in the darkness, but when Mist closed her eyes she could hear her last duel with Eric, the sound of his laughing voice, the caressing touch of his fingers.

She flicked on the light. “Did you see this when you were here alone?” she asked.

Dainn walked into the center of the gym. “No,” he said. He circled the room, taking in the weights and equipment before stopping at the barrel of staffs and the rack of swords and axes standing against the far wall. Four of the swords were made of wood in various shapes and weights. There were also eight functional swords, including a katana, two rapiers, a broadsword, a pair of Viking spathas, and a two-handed claymore. Mist and Eric had sparred with the wooden swords until very recently, when they’d switched to the spathas. Hardly more than twelve hours ago Mist had told Eric that he had become almost as skilled as she was.

Another joke on her.

“An impressive collection,” Dainn said, leaning closer to the rack.

Mist came up behind him. “I make them,” she said.

Carefully Dainn lifted one of the spathas from the rack and examined it with interest and something very like admiration. Alfar were not known to wield weapons even in battle, preferring the less “messy” method of fighting with magic. But Dainn held the sword expertly, as if he had fought with such weapons all his long life.

“You know how to use that?” Mist asked.

Dainn quickly replaced the sword and dragged his hand along the thigh of his jeans as if he’d been touching something filthy. He backed away and leaned against the nearest wall.

“What are we to do with these children?” he asked.

She told him what had happened with the Jotunar. He listened intently, thoughts racing behind his dark blue eyes.

“Visions?” he asked. “Are you suggesting he may be a spamadr?”

“A seer?” She paced in front of him, scarcely aware of her own movements. “I don’t know. There have always been mortals with that skill. Some say they were the children of the Norns. Most were killed as witches centuries ago, but some had to have survived to pass the trait on to descendants. It’s not like Galdr, or even the simpler forms of Seidr. It can’t be taught.”

“He claimed to have seen a winter that never ends,” Dainn said. “ ‘War and fire and things rising up.’ The winters have been harsh in many places, and there are always wars in Midgard.”

“I know,” Mist said, coming to a halt. “But you did say that mortals with magical abilities might show up.”

Dainn stared down at his folded arms. “It seems too convenient.”

“Do you really think he could be working for Loki?”

“No. One of us would surely have sensed it.” He sighed. “It’s possible, even likely, that Loki will use improbable agents to put us off our guard, but I think my wards would have detected something amiss when they entered the house.”

“And those giants hurt Ryan,” she said. “That would be a taking authenticity a little too far, don’t you think? Loki wanted him for something. And he knew where Ryan was, or at least he had Jotunar following him.” She blew out her breath. “The question is, how did Loki know about Ryan? We’ve known all along that Laufeyson will have someone watching the loft, even if they can’t get in. If Gabi had been casing the loft when Ryan supposedly came after me, did the Jotunar follow him from here?”

“I have no answer.”

“That’s the problem, isn’t it? The girl doesn’t seem to have any significance except as Ryan’s friend and protector, but a spamadr would be extremely useful to us, just as he would to Loki.” She gazed unseeing at the sword rack. “By now, Loki must know I took him. I think we should hold off any decision until we get more information, especially about these visions.”

“They may steal your valuables and run off before you can question them again,” Dainn said.

“Somehow I doubt that’s going to be a problem.”

“As you wish.”

Dainn didn’t sound terribly enthusiastic, but then he seldom did.

“I’ll finish up with the kids,” she said. “You check the wards again, just to be on the safe side.”

She turned to leave. Dainn was right behind her before she’d gone three steps toward the door.

“I am glad you didn’t find Loki,” he said.

His voice was gruff, more like a Jotunn’s than an elf ’s, and she could hear the suppressed emotion in it. Emotion she certainly didn’t want directed at her.

“You couldn’t have been too worried,” she said lightly, turning to face him again, “or you would have come running after me.”

“I am sorry,” he said, dropping his gaze. “I was not sufficiently recovered to be of any use to you.”

“I told you not to come, anyway.”

“Do you think that alone would have stopped me?”

They stared at each other in charged silence, and Mist knew then he hadn’t been worried about her just because of Freya. It had been personal for him..”

That scared her. “I won’t be treated like some swooning Victorian maiden in need of a big strong man to protect her,” she said coldly.

“I am not a man,” Dainn said. “And I have done a very poor job of protecting you. But I will continue to keep your warnings in mind.”

He’d gone back to his dry, almost remote tone, and she was relieved. “We’ll have this out later,” she said. “You obviously need more rest, and so do I.”

“You rest first,” he said. “It will be necessary to begin our lessons later tonight.”

Magic lessons, he meant. She knew she needed them, badly, in spite of her idiotic insistence on going after Gungnir by herself. But the mere idea made her wish she could sleep for a century or so and wake up to find this was all a bad dream.

She had a feeling bad dreams were only the beginning.

“Okay,” she said, turning her face away so he couldn’t see her fear. “I’ll rest for a while. Just don’t let me sleep too long.”

Before he could answer she was striding across the gym and into the hall. She found her sleeping bag rolled up in a storage closet, picked up a few blankets and a pair of pillows, and went upstairs.

Though it was only midafternoon, Ryan was already sprawled on the bed in the nearly finished room, snoring lightly. Gabi was sitting half asleep on the bare floor next to him, all thick black hair and oversized hoodie. Her eyes flew open when Mist came in.

“Don’t wake him up,” she whispered. “I’ll take care of that stuff.”

Mist set the blankets and pillows down on the single chair. “Do you want to see the bathroom?” she asked.

“Si.” Gabi hesitated. “Gracias. Thank you for letting us stay here.” She cast a worried glance at Ryan. “It’s been a long time since he’s slept on anything but the ground.”

“But you look after him.”

“He needs it.” She frowned at Mist. “I don’t trust you, but Ry does. He says you’re okay. Maybe you can help him, so he don’t get sick no more.”

“From the dreams?”

“All they do is hurt him, and I can’t make him better.” She hugged herself, pulling the hoodie tight to her chest. “Can we go now?”

Mist showed her the bathroom, clean towels, and a spare, unused toothbrush. She needed a shower herself. Suddenly the prospect of lying down on a soft bed seemed more important than saving the world.

“There are a couple of frozen dinners in the freezer,” she said as she left the bathroom. “You can borrow some of my clothes, and Ryan can have—”

Eric’s, she thought. She hadn’t had a chance to get rid of his stuff, but now his