Fall (The Ragnarok Prophesies) (25 page)

“How is everything there?” I asked, twisting my take-out cup of coffee around in my hands.

“Everything is fine here. I’m doing some research.”

“Anything new?”

“No.”

I expected the answer, but it still bummed me out a little. Why hadn’t Dace or I written anything down about Sköll or Hati in at least one past life? Having notes like that would have helped tremendously.

I thought about the possibility for a moment, and then sighed.

I knew why we hadn’t. Dealing with the entire destiny thing was a big enough ordeal without having to relive it through journal entries. Besides, I couldn’t really see any version of Dace risking those journals falling into the wrong hands. I didn’t remember a lot of who we used to be, but I remembered enough to know that past-Dace had guarded our secrets as closely as my Dace.

Turning over every little detail about us and our failing power to Sköll or Hati would be a disaster. If they didn’t already know we were fading away―which I doubted―I didn’t really want to give them a play-by-play.

“Maybe Dr. Michel will know something,” Dad said, trying to sound hopeful.

“What do you know about him?”

“Not much, I’m afraid. I’ve never met him, and Norse mythology isn’t my area of expertise. He seems to know his stuff though.” Dad hesitated. “Sounds like Dace knows him fairly well.”

I swallowed back the little flutter hearing Dace’s name sent rippling through me this time. God, I missed him. “Is…. How’s he doing?” I whispered, my hand tightening involuntarily around my cup.

Dad sighed. “He misses you. So do I.”

“I miss you guys too.” So, so much.

“He’s okay, Ari. He’s been quiet, but he’s thinking about going back to work.”

“He is?” I straightened up in my seat at this bit of news. “Really?”

“Yes.”

I exhaled sharply, beyond glad. “That’s good,” I said. Maybe being there without me really was what he needed to snap him back into reality.

Was it wrong that the thought hurt as much as it helped?

“When are you going to go back?”

“Soon.”

“Dad.”

“Ari,” he said, mimicking my disapproving tone.

“You promised to go back to work,” I reminded him.

“And I will go back, but I have a few things to finish up before I do.”

“What things?” I didn’t want him home alone with no one to watch out for him. He would be safer on campus, or at the Inn with Melinda, his girlfriend.

“Research things,” he said, far too vaguely.

I frowned. “What research things?”

I almost heard him thinking through the phone.

“Looking into Sol’s lineage got me thinking,” he said, picking and choosing his words carefully.

“About?” I prompted. He and Dace spent way too much time together. They both made me pry answers from them.

“Gods and their progeny, specifically Norse gods,” he said. “According to the myths, Sol and Mani weren’t the only ones who mated with humans. By all counts, the Æsir were about as discerning as their Greek and Roman counterparts when it came to who they slept with.”

I couldn’t deny that, though I did blush a little. Talking about sex with my dad, even god-slash-mortal sex, was about as awkward as watching Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze get it on in
Ghost
the first, and only, time we watched the movie together. Dad might have been pretty open-minded about sex and dating, but that didn’t mean I wanted to talk about the former with him.

“Maybe some of their descendants are still wandering around,” he continued. “There are plenty of people out there who claim the lineage.”

“You think they might be right?” I asked, surprised. I never really considered the prospect before. It made sense though. If Sol and Mani had living descendants, why couldn’t Odin or Loki or any of the other gods?

“Possibly. I’m not sold on their claims just yet, but maybe some of them stumbled across evidence that will help us locate Sol’s descendants, or Sköll and Hati. I figure it can’t hurt to at least look into their claims, see if I can’t shake loose a few leads.”

“It’s worth a shot,” I agreed. “What does Dace think?”

“Haven’t told him. He has enough on his mind.”

Guilt twisted through me. “I’m sorry,” I said, speaking softly.

“You did the right thing, hon,” Dad promised me. “He’s worried about you.”

“I wish he’d worry about himself more. We’re fine here.”

“He knows. Ronan called him earlier.”

“He did?” I blinked.

“Yeah.”

“He didn’t tell me.”

Dad sighed. “Promise not to shoot the messenger?”

I groaned aloud. In the history of the world, I doubted anyone had ever started a single piece of good news that way. When it came to Dace and Ronan, I doubted there
was
good news to report. “What happened?” I asked, bracing myself for the worst.

“Dace told Ronan he would hold him personally responsible if you or Chelle suffered so much as a scratch while you were with him. I don’t know what Ronan said, but Dace almost broke the phone. He stormed out a few minutes later.”

“Have you seen him since?” I asked, instantly feeling panicked.

“Calm down, hon,” Dad said. “I think he went to see those wolves of yours.”

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Dace was fine. I had to believe that.

I groaned again, shaking my head. At least now I knew why Ronan was in such a pissy mood. He and Dace were fighting. Again. “Tell Dace to stop threatening him. Ronan isn’t responsible for us.”

“Sorry, kiddo, but I side with Dace on this one.” Dad’s tone brooked no arguments. “I want you safe.”

“I am safe.”

“Make sure Ronan keeps it that way, hmm?”

I rolled my eyes. “At least tell Dace to stop threatening Ronan. Ronan is doing the best he can. Besides, he didn’t have to come with us in the first place.” I wasn’t really sure why he decided to come, and part of me still wanted to send him back to Beebe to keep an eye on Dace. But the other part appreciated having him here. At least Chelle and I had some protection if Sköll or Hati followed us.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Dad said. “Love you, Ari.”

“Love you too, Dad.”

The phone beeped, signaling the end of the call. I sat staring at it for a minute and then I sighed and climbed heavily to my feet to go apologize to Ronan for Dace’s behavior.

I found him in the backyard, watching Fuki.

The little wolf paced around one of the trees, his eyes trained on the branches above his head.

“What’s he looking for?” I asked, wrapping my arms around myself. The sun sat directly overhead, burning brightly, but it did little to warm the air. The wind blew, whistling through bare branches and over the decaying leaves scattered around the yard.

“A squirrel,” Ronan said. He didn’t turn to look at me as I made my way toward him, placing my feet carefully in the thick cover of leaves on the ground.

“Oh.” I lifted my head to examine the tree. I couldn’t see a squirrel in the thick branches. Fuki kept circling though, intent clear in his yellow eyes. Poor squirrel.

“You should go to bed.” Ronan rolled his eyes in my direction.

As usual, I couldn’t read his expression. “You talked to Dace earlier,” I said. My voice was soft, but an edge of accusation still crept into my words.

Ronan arched a brow as if to ask me if I had a point.

“What happened?”

This time, he turned his head to look at me. There were hollows beneath his eyes, making his exhaustion evident. He narrowed his black eyes on me, focusing intently.

I shivered under his gaze. I couldn’t help it. I hated when he looked at me so fully. No matter how often he did it, or how much time I spent around him, the way he looked at me still managed to unnerve me. I didn’t understand him, and that bothered me. I squared my shoulders, staring back at him, letting him know he couldn’t intimidate me, even if that wasn’t quite true.

“Nothing happened,” he said finally.

“Dad told me Dace threatened you.”

He barked a short laugh. “Dace always threatens me, Arionna.”

I couldn’t deny that. “Does it bother you?” I asked instead.

“Should it?” Ronan gave me a sharp look. “Does it bother you?”

I stared at him for a minute, his question catching me off guard.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured.

“It does bother me,” I said, irritated at him for assuming he knew how I felt, “but I also know he won’t follow through on his threats.”

Ronan laughed again, disbelieving. “You don’t know him as well as you think you do then. He’d kill me in a heartbeat, given a reason.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Dace isn’t a murderer.”

“I never said that.” Ronan’s lips curled up in a mocking smile, his gaze cold and hard. “But he blames me for Dani’s death as much as for you being attacked. He’s not thrilled with me.”

“I….” I closed my mouth again, not able to deny that either. “Doesn’t mean he’d really kill you,” I said instead, weakly.

“Oh, he would if he could.” Ronan watched me for a minute and then glanced away. “I wouldn’t blame him.”

“What?” I gaped.

“You know how Dani died?” he asked.

“You said your friends let her die.”

“I left her.” He locked his gaze on the ground at his feet. “To follow you and Dace. I knew who she was, but I left her alone anyway. I thought she would be safe with the werewolves near. I thought we had time. I was wrong, and she died because of it.” He spoke in the same monotones he always did, shaped the word as perfectly as always, but he couldn’t hide the bitter edge they contained.

All this time, he carried that around.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. I didn’t know what else to say to him.

He didn’t respond.

I stared out at Fuki. He’d given up circling the tree and lay beneath it, no longer interested in chasing the squirrel. Now that he was sitting still, he looked sad again, as if all his energy from the past few hours had run out. As if he remembered he was alone now.

“That’s why you came with me and Chelle,” I guessed, cutting my gaze toward Ronan again.

He nodded.

“You aren’t responsible for us, you know.” No matter what Dace said, Ronan wasn’t my keeper. “And you don’t have to worry about Dace killing you. I won’t let him.”

Ronan looked at me, curious lights in his eyes. “Why not? You don’t even like me.”

I opened my mouth and then closed it again, unable to lie to him. He wasn’t stupid. “You make me nervous,” I admitted.

“Why?”

“You mean aside from the fact you threatened to kill Dace if you had to?” I thought about my answer before giving it to him. He’d been honest with me. I felt like I owed him the same in return. “I think you see more than you let on, feel more than you let on, but you never show it.”

“And that bothers you?”

I nodded. “Aside from wanting Sköll and Hati dead, I don’t know where you stand in all of this, and I don’t like that.”

He stood quietly for a minute, processing what I’d said. “You were always like that,” he said then. “In every memory I have of you, you hated not being able to read me.”

“I did?”

“It’s because of who you are. Because of Freki.”

The smile twisting his lips this time wasn’t mocking or bitter. The amused, almost proud expression caught me off guard. I couldn’t remember ever seeing him smile,
really
smile before.

“How so?” I asked.

“Remember when I told you who we are?” He waited until I nodded. “You remembered Odin sending Geri and Freki to the humans to teach them how to live. He sent them because of you. Geri and Dace have always been warriors, but you always had an innate ability to get to the heart of a person. You know when to fight and when to show mercy. You and Freki see things more clearly than Geri and Dace do. You always have, and you’ve always done the right thing. Odin knew humans could benefit from that wisdom as much as from the connection you and Dace share with one another.”

“Wh-what does that have to do with anything?” I asked a little breathlessly, awed that he remembered so much of a time that still seemed more legend and myth to me than my actual past.

“Everything,” he said, spearing me with a look that twisted through me. “You knew from the moment you met me that you couldn’t trust me. You sensed I could be a danger to you.”

I’d certainly gotten that sense, but I never expected him to admit it, let alone so bluntly.

“I considered killing you the night I followed you.”

“Why?” I mouthed the question, unable to force sound out.

“I didn’t think you’d be useful to us, and I resented that you didn’t remember any of this.” His lips thinned into a grim line. “I spent my entire life with these memories I didn’t understand. But you… you didn’t have a clue. I would have killed for that peace.”

“Do you still feel that way?” I whispered the question, butterflies making nervous laps in my stomach. I desperately wished I had even half of the memories Ronan could pull out at will. Even with his gift failing, he still had access to so much more of our pasts than Dace, Geri, and I remembered.

Ronan eyed me critically for a moment and then shook his head. “No, I don’t,” he said. “I envy the normalcy you had growing up, but I don’t envy where it’s left you. I thought forgetting would be easier, but after watching you… I think forgetting is a lot harder than you make it seem.”