Mist

futile.”

“My, but we’re Mr. Sunshine tonight, aren’t we?”

“The sun seldom shines at night,” he said. “And there may soon be no sun at all if we fail.”

“Gods.” She spiked her hands through her hair, pulling more strands free of the messy braid. “Have you got anything useful to say?”

“I doubt you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I won’t. Go ahead.”

“I don’t believe it is a coincidence that the boy found you today.”

“According to him, it wasn’t. And I thought you said Loki didn’t send him.”

“Yes. But did you consider that it might be more than his visions that brought him to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Even if Ryan is a seer, he doesn’t seem to have any other magical skill. He has never seen you before. It is unlikely that he could have found you with only the help of the images he has described.” Dainn tensed and inhaled deeply, like a high diver about to plunge into icy water. “You may have summoned him here yourself.”

“What?”

“When you confronted Loki in Asbrew with your mother’s power,” he said, “you used a certain type of magic against him.”

Mist suddenly realized she had forgotten to turn on the heater. The house was freezing. “Do you think I’ve forgotten that?” she said. “I don’t care what Freya does. That kind of . . .” She shuddered. “I won’t use those tricks on anyone again.”

“They were not tricks, Mist. They will be among Freya’s primary weapons when she is ready to confront Loki directly.”

“And that’s why we’re here?” Mist said, beginning to rise. “I’m supposed to learn more of that kind of magic?”

“No,” Dainn said steadily, holding her gaze. “Not today.”

“Not ever.”

“Listen to me. The Lady possesses a glamour that can have a profound effect on anyone who sees her, god or mortal. She can induce feelings of lust, love, and devotion with only the slightest effort and draw all attention to her with no more than a glance. As Freya’s daughter—”

“Forget it.”

“It is not a feature you can remove as you would your shirt.”

Heat flared in Mist’s face again. “I’m not Freya.”

Dainn dropped his eyes. Mist stared at the top of Dainn’s head and turned the dial up to heavy sarcasm.

“Look at me,” she said. “Do my eyes sparkle like the dew? Am I shaped like Raquel Welch rising out of the ocean on a clamshell? Is mine the face that launched a thousand ships?” She laughed. “Loki wasn’t seeing me in there. Maybe if I hadn’t created some kind of illusion . . .”

Dainn declined her invitation to gaze upon her glorious perfection. “It is not only a matter of beauty,” he said quietly, “but in the very nature of the goddess. Your nature.”

Mist shivered, getting colder by the second. “So what exactly are you trying to say? That this nature of mine made Ryan look for me?”

“Or simply find you, since he already had some idea of who he was looking for.”

“But you were talking about drawing attention with a glance, making someone fall in love . . . I never met Ryan before in my life!”

“Your innermost self—what Freud called the unconscious mind— knows what you, what Midgard, must have to survive. Just as it did in Asbrew. Perhaps Ryan heard you call in his dreams.”

“That’s unbelievable. I wasn’t even thinking—”

“You do not have to think,” Dainn said, his voice suddenly harsh with anger.

Mist flinched. “So you’re saying I’m . . . some kind of living, breathing homing signal?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“That’s why you were so sure all along that we’d find mortal allies?”

“Yes.”

“So they show up here, and then they fall in love with me? But Ryan certainly doesn’t have any interest, and Gabi—”

“They will recognize the need to follow you, regardless of gender.”

“Then I’ll send them away.”

“You will be denying them what they most desire, which is to save their world. You will merely make them aware of why they must fight.”

“Like I said before, it isn’t going to happen. People being drawn to us by some general magical knowledge or feeling I can understand, but I won’t accept this kind of responsibility.”

“And as I said,” Dainn said, meeting her gaze again, “you cannot simply choose to rid yourself of it. Your inherent abilities were already at work before Ryan and Gabi arrived to declare their allegiance.”

“You mean in the fight with Loki?”

Dainn didn’t answer, but Mist heard him anyway. He wasn’t talking about Loki now.

He was speaking of himself. This was why he’d stared at her in the hall. Not because he decided she was “hot” in her bathrobe, but because she’d somehow made him . . .

Loki’s piss. No wonder he couldn’t stand to look at her half the time.

“You should leave,” she said, hopping off the couch. “Go back to Freya. Tell her . . . tell her . . .”

“You know that is impossible.”

Mist felt her guts twist as if they were about to burst out of her stomach like some alien parasite. “If I can’t turn this off myself, you’ll have to teach me.”

“There are more important skills you must learn.”

“Then you can do it, if you want to.”

“Not without great risk.”

“To who? Me?” She stood over him, clenching her fists. “I’m not giving you any choice. I’m ordering you to help me.”

“Freya will never permit it.”

“You said she can’t read your mind. She doesn’t have to find out until it’s done.” Mist crouched before him, very careful not to get too close. “At least teach me to control it, like the other magic. Let me have some choice.”

“I cannot,” Dainn said, turning his face away.

“So you’ll let yourself suffer from some artificial emotion every second you’re around me? How effective can you be as a teacher then?”

Dainn didn’t move a muscle. He hardly even seemed to be breathing. “I am not suffering,” he said.

Mist rubbed her tattoo over and over again. “Did she make you love her?”

“She has never deprived me of my will,” Dainn said, his gaze fixed in a two-thousand-yard stare.

“Did you love her? Do you still?”

Dainn unfolded his body and rose, moving aimlessly around the room. “No,” he said.

She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. But this is wrong, Dainn. You know who else does this kind of thing? Loki. I’ll slit my own throat before I play his kind of game.”

“Mist. Look at me.”

Even before she met his gaze she could feel him—the inner agitation and desire he didn’t want her to see, the worry, the anger. All aimed inward, not at her.

“Loki uses his magic to manipulate others,” he said. “You will never do so. It is not in your character. Eventually you will learn to govern this ability like all the others. After you know how to help defend Midgard, and yourself.”

Mist swore, carefully backing away as she got to her feet. “I wish I could find out who or what prevented Ragnarok so I could squeeze the life out of it.”