Dead Radiance (15 page)

At last, with some stiffness out of my legs and shoulders, I felt human again.

Human. A sharp stabbing pain wrenched through my heart. But I was not human. Wings were not human. I was more of a monster and freak than ever. Cherise had called me a freak. If she saw me now, what would she say? Mutant? Monster?

The abyss began to call me to the precipice. Loud. Insistent. I gritted my teeth, feeling the solidity, the reality of the pressure, and tried to focus on the here and now.

I felt a little more limber now, able to walk better, and I shuffled to the door, still unused to the weight of the wings. But, as if on cue, it opened and Sigrun glided into the room along with a rush of cold air. Shivering, I tugged the fur closer.

"Oh good. You are awake." She smiled.

A smile that warmed me inside out. I remembered that she'd been a friend to me. She'd helped me through the Initiation just by standing beside me. But it didn't mean she'd been entirely honest with me either.

A doubtful frown replaced my answering smile, but Sigrun just shook her head.

"I know you must be upset with me for not telling you what was going to happen, but those are Odin's rules. I really would have told you if I had been allowed," she said, bringing a large wooden tray to a stool by the fire.

She dragged the stool toward my bed and said, "Sit and eat. You need the strength. I will get the fire going again." She gave a delicate shiver and turned to tend the fire, throwing a few more logs onto it until it blazed happily, giving off the most welcoming toasty warmth.

I stared at the food. A goblet of gleaming Mead. A plate of bread, still warm and slathered with melting butter. A handful of blood-red cherries and a small bowl of honey. The Mead whispered, and though I worried about the deliciously addictive effect it might have on me, my traitorous tongue was already tracing my lips.

Naked thirst knifed my belly and my throat ached, parched, as if I'd roamed a desert for weeks. My body shivered and I gave in, reaching for the goblet, ready to gulp the contents of the goblet down.

"Do not drink the Mead too quickly, Brynhildr. Slow sips will be much better for you, or your stomach may rebel." She smiled as she raised her palms to the fire.

I folded my quaking fingers around the cup. "Call me Bryn, okay?" I still disliked the old name, and all it implied. I was annoyed that everyone kept using my full name, assuming I'd be happy with it.

Sigrun frowned, confused for a moment. Then her eyes brightened. "Ah, yes. Bryn is a shortened form of Brynhildr. Yes, the modern human proclivity for shortening names. If it makes you feel more comfortable then I shall call you Bryn. Now drink and eat and rest."

I sipped the divine liquid and it took all my strength not to swallow everything in one go. The drink was liquid cotton candy and honey straight from the comb. Sweet and warm and delicious.

"I don't think I could go back to sleep. I feel fine, actually." My eyes darted to the door, and despite the gorgeous drink, I longed to leave this claustrophobic room. Fresh air sounded wonderful, even if it was cold fresh air. "I need to get out of here for a while."

"Oh, there will be plenty of time to explore and learn about Asgard. But your recuperation is terribly important, Bryn. Not only for your own health. It is important to Odin and the Valkyries too. It is not often we receive a new Valkyrie into our fold. And besides, you need to get strong and prepare for the goddess to arrive. I am sure she is as excited to know that the child of the legendary Brunhilde has joined us in Asgard."

Content to drink my Mead, I listened to Sigrun's excited ramblings with only half an ear. Not until I'd dripped the last dregs into my mouth did the meaning of her last words register. Child of who? I coughed, sputtered. "Goddess?" I asked.

"Oh, Freya. She is our goddess. The leader of the Warrior Valkyries. She will lead us into the battle Ragnarok when it comes." Sigrun looked away, but not before fear flitted across her usually cheerful features. She even wrung her hands as she fell silent.

I wanted to ask her about Brunhilde, and what Ragnarok was and when did she think this battle would arrive, but my head began to swim, the room tilting at odd angles. The Mead must have been drugged. I struggled to keep my eyes open. But it was much more comfortable when I closed them and the world stopped spinning.

I gave in to the lure of sleep, and crawled under the covers. It was rude to ignore poor Sigrun, but I didn't get a chance to thank her for her help and kindness. As I slipped into the warmth of sleep, I recalled Sigrun's face, the worry and concern in her eyes as she looked at the amber jewel hanging at my throat.

Chapter 17

The fog of sleep evaporated, and I tensed as new sounds intruded on my lethargy. Fabric swooshed and rustled, and soft footsteps whispered across the floor. I cracked open an eyelid. A young serving girl, her dark hair braided to frame a plump, cheerful face, stopped in front of the fire and glanced over to me as I stirred. I sighed in relief and yawned, my hammering heart slowly returning to a normal plod.

"Hi. Who are you?" I asked, propping myself up onto my elbow, with the fur still wrapped tightly around me.

"My name is Turi. I am your maidservant. Like one of your human lady's maids." She nodded with vigor, but kept the rest of her body oddly still. She seemed skittish, as if she'd be out of the room in a flash if I so much as moved toward her, so I stayed in the bed. I didn't have the heart to tell her we didn't have lady's maids anymore.

She'd brought a clean dress, white again, and another tray of food. I'd been too sleepy to touch the bread and honey, a gift from Sigrun, but this pie-like creation looked more inviting. I found myself hungry for the first time in such a long time. I tried to recall what my last meal had been but came up blank. It must have been something like Ms. Custer's fried chicken and mashed potatoes, or maybe her unforgettable spaghetti Bolognese.

My tummy squealed and Turi giggled behind her hands. "You must eat. I have brought you clean clothes. And you may like to change out of your rumpled clothing too." She nodded at my creased dress.

What I would have preferred was a bath. I already reeked. I'd dripped sweat like a wet sponge during my Initiation and still felt grimy and unclean. My fingers trailed through the oily tendrils of my hair. Eww!

"I so need a bath," I said, winkling my nose.

"Oh, Sigrun will take you to the Bathhouse when she gets back from her training. She should be here after you have broken your fast."

She was nodding again. Slightly annoying now. But I didn't want to be mean by telling her to lower the flames on her happiness fire. I nodded and smiled even though my muscles hurt. I just wanted her to leave so I could dig into that magnificent looking sweet pie.

She gave a quick, hesitant curtsy and turned to leave, closing the door softly behind her.

I stared open-mouthed at the closed door, all thoughts of food gone from my mind. The girl had seemed normal enough. Until she'd turned away from me.

If Turi had surprised me with her kindness and happy glow, she'd surprised me even more with the long, pale swishing tail, which sprouted from her lower back and followed her out the door.

Strange things had been happening to me. And they just kept getting stranger.

***

With my mind still on the swishing tail, I pulled the tray onto my lap and ate. Delicious. Flaky. Asgard had a master pastry chef hidden away in their kitchens. Since my arrival in this dream world, my taste buds had actually begun to function again. I was relieved, as I'd missed the comfort that food gave me.

If only Ms. Custer could see me now, she'd be very relieved. My poor foster mom. I wondered what she would be doing right now. Would she be looking for me? Or would she have assumed I'd taken the warning and gone into hiding after witnessing Aidan and his goons in her kitchen?

Who could've known Aidan would be mixed up with those horrible types? Ms. Custer had been fond of him. Trusted him from the start, and she'd be blaming herself for putting me and the other foster kids in danger. If only I'd had time to tell her about Aidan's reasons for being in Craven. And about the real freak I'd turned out to be. If only. . . .

This dream-nightmare seemed more real, more concrete to me now than ever. And it terrified me. If I admitted this Asgard hallucination was even one percent real it would mean I'd lose my grip on whatever reality I still retained.

Lost in thought, I barely noticed Sigrun's arrival. I even missed a significant portion of her conversation as she chattered on, smiling, blabbing away about baths and bathhouses.

"Hey, hold on. What's a Bathhouse?" I asked, hoping to get a decent answer before she rattled on again.

Sigrun blushed. "It is the place we go to bathe, get clean. You know, to remove dirt and bad odors from your body."

"I know what bathing is," I snapped. Her smile fell at the sharpness in my tone, and a dozen guilty pangs stabbed at my conscience. "I'm sorry, I just meant . . . I wanted to know what the Bathhouse was. I've never heard of one before."

Puzzled, she bit her lip and said, "Oh. Then where do you clean yourself?"

"It's called a shower." She frowned harder, so I explained. "It's a small space, like a box, and it has water pouring from a tube up above you, and that's how you wash, in the falling water."

"Oh yes, a waterfall in a box. But how do you relax while you bathe?"

It was my turn to frown. "Relax? Oh, when I want to relax I use a bathtub."

"So you have another means of bathing besides the waterfall box?"

"Yes, it's a bath, actually, but it's in a small private room." She nodded. "So this Bathhouse," I said, "does it have small baths or large ones?"

"Oh no, it is one large bath. We all bathe together."

"Together?" I asked.

She nodded again and smiled at the squeak in my voice.

Stranger and stranger. Did anyone ever bathe in public groups anymore? I'd read about Roman public baths and that was strange enough, though I suppose any school locker room would be similar in a way. Some girls showered together and other preferred the privacy of the cubicles. North Wood hadn't had the open stalls like a few of the schools I'd been to. Just the cubicles. You had to be pretty confident in your body, even brazen, to shower where everyone could see you. At least, that's what I believed.

"Okay, let's go see your Bathhouse."

"Do not forget your clothing and your sandals, Bryn," she sang out as she left the room.

I grabbed the leather footwear and slipped my feet into them, winding the soft leather strips around and around my ankles and calves until nothing remained to trip me up. My clean white dress in hand, I trotted after her, curious to see what this Bathhouse was all about.

***

I caught up with Sigrun and found she had company. Another Valkyrie stood with her, tapping her toe, a frown marring her beautiful, pale skin. Blond hair, bright blue eyes—she was the epitome of Nordic beauty. Even the ivory feathers of her majestic wings screamed pure beauty, right down to the shimmering silver ends of the feathers.

The bright orange of her dress added a surprising elegance and style; on a stunner like her, I bet no color would dare to not look good. Only the hard grey glint in her blue eyes marred the beauty. And just like a flawed diamond, she lost a bit of her luster when she smiled. A cold and shadowed smile, so very far from beautiful.

"If you are about ready, could we please go?" she asked.

Her voice was mellifluent, a clear, bright singing voice, dulled with the edge of impatience, which seeped out as she spoke. Her wings fluttered and her eyes skimmed over me, head to toe and back again. They stopped at my neck, narrowing coldly as she stared at the pendant. She gestured down the hallway with an irritated flick of her hand and walked away, shoulders stiff and dismissive.

"Sorry," I said. The apology slipped out. Why was I apologizing to Her Haughtiness anyway? I hadn't asked her to wait for me. But I shut my mouth. She was Sigrun's friend and I'd hate to cause trouble for her.

"Pshaw! We will not be late, Bryn. Of course, there is no rush. Astrid is just impatient as always." Sigrun brushed off the other girl's annoyance and started walking.

I followed while the two talked about new
oolfer
and
fenrees
, whatever they were. I decided to wait to ask Sigrun my questions later, in private. Astrid put me on edge. The kind of on edge that rubbed me the wrong way, real bad. I didn't trust myself to shut my mouth if she pushed too far.

My wings shivered at my back, a warm bronze-red that reflected the cool light of the day. I still wasn't sure I could control their fluttering, as they seemed intrinsically linked to my emotions and quivered and shifted in tandem to my anger or my fear.

We left the monstrous hallways and exited the building. I glanced back and staggered, almost tripping over my sandaled feet. Even the flash of fear that the weight of my wings would tip me over as I lost my balance didn't detract from my sheer awe.

Grey stone archways and turrets towered impossibly far above us. The building was more than magnificent. It rose high, carved right out of the solid rock of the mountain all the way up to the highest peaks, with some parapets disappearing into the clouds. It was an elegant mess, rocky castles, marble palaces and natural stone beauty melding together to create a masterpiece befitting the god Odin.