Perfekt Control (The Ære Saga Book 2) (9 page)

“You brought a
girl
? To
our
spot?” Finnea looked down her aquiline nose in disgust. Her steely
green eyes seethed distaste, and if the way she flared her delicate
nostrils was any indication, I’d have said she wasn’t my biggest
fan.

Since my face was level with a pair of barely
contained boobs I’d have given my eyeteeth for, and the flesh on my
arm was slightly tender from the jab she’d inflicted, the feeling
was just the slightest bit mutual.

Our spot?
Was Finnea Henrik’s… back
the Bifrost up. Did Henrik have a secret girlfriend? No wonder he
hadn’t kissed me back.
Oh, gods.
Could this day get any
worse?

Henrik’s shoulders tensed, and he shifted his
weight. Everything about him screamed “uncomfortable,” but he
reached out to pull Finnea into a hug. A
welcoming
hug.

What the Helheim had become of my life?

“Finnea, this is Brynn. We work together.”
His fingers rested lightly on the fairy’s forearm, and a lead
balloon landed in my stomach. We
work together
? We shared a
house, a charge, and an entire lifetime of memories, but all we did
was
work together
?

I clenched my jaw so hard it popped in
protest.

“You
only
work with her?” Finnea
managed to inject so much disdain in the last word, it was all I
could do not to stick my tongue out at her. As Finnea glared at
Henrik, he glanced at me. There was none of the usual affection in
his eyes, and not so much as a hint of the mortifying moment we’d
just shared. His neutral face was the picture of practiced
calm.

But his right eye twitched.

Whatever. I’d just decided to bolt back to
the Bifrost when Finnea turned to examine her nails, her
self-satisfied smirk reflecting off the pond. The minute her gaze
left Henrik, his expression shifted and morphed into a mask of
remorse. I blinked back tears that were
so
not invited to
this party, and Henrik shook his head. He mouthed the word
please
, and glanced down at his bracelet. What did that even
mean? Henrik usually made sense. He was predictable and steadfast
and logical, and above all else, consistent. In battle and in life,
his actions aligned with whichever strategy would yield the most
favorable outcome.

So what the Helheim was he doing dissing me
for this… this…
fairy
?

Before I could wrap my head around the
nightmare that was my day, Finnea turned around and Henrik became
the picture of apathy once again. Well, not apathy, exactly. More
like ice king. The expression he gave me was firmly on the jotun
side of frosty. He ran his hands up Finnea’s bare arms and let his
eyes linger on those unfairly oversized boobs. “Good to see you
again, Nea-Nea,” he murmured.

Nea-Nea?
The black box of pent-up
emotion wanted to explode in my chest. So they
did
have a
past. Or maybe a present. Mia’s birthday cake threatened to make a
violent and unsightly return.
Don’t be sick, don’t be sick.
Don’t let the stupid fairy know she’s winning.

Finnea’s existence wasn’t a surprise; Henrik
had been going to see an
älva
for years—long before I’d
joined Tyr’s team, and on one occasion right after I signed on as
Tyr’s second. I’d thought the fairy was his dust supplier—a
benevolent drug dealer who sprinkled magic fairy dust on worthy
Asgardians as part of Odin’s plan for the greater good. But seeing
her here spilling out of her stupid mini-dress and into Henrik’s
ogling eyes…well,
skit.
Finnea didn’t look like a drug
dealer. And something told me
they
didn’t just work
together.

With Henrik’s attention locked on her boobs,
Finnea’s smirk developed into a full-fledged grin. “It’s good to
see you too, darling. Why don’t we go back to my tree and get
reacquainted?” She flicked a hand in my direction. “Your little
work friend here can enjoy the waterfall. Be a dear, won’t you,
Brie, and pick us some berries to go with breakfast?”

“It’s Brynn,” I corrected through gritted
teeth. “And I’m not going anywhere. Not without my partner.” I
planted my hands firmly on my hips and stared Henrik down. I shot a
pointed glance at his bracelet. If the charm blocker worked as well
as he claimed it did, this little display with Finnea was all his
idiot boy hormones.

“Actually, Brynn, I do need a few minutes
alone with Finnea.” Henrik spoke impassively. My jaw burned as I
ground my teeth together.
Whatever, Henrik
.

“Mmm.” Finnea ran her finger along Henrik’s
cheek. She was so tall, she barely had to reach up to touch his
traitorous face. “I think I’ll need more than a few minutes.”

Henrik locked his hands firmly around
Finnea’s waist and picked her up. She gave a soft giggle that
echoed across the pond like a chorus of tinkling bells. “Henrik!”
she squealed. But her laughter slowed when he set her down an arm’s
length away. My stomach settled at her indignant expression.
Been there, sister.
And by the time he dropped his hands and
folded them across his chest, her amusement was completely gone.
“What the Hel?”

“Listen, I really enjoy our time together. I
mean, believe me, I
really
enjoy it,” Henrik began. My
stomach resumed the fevered churn of an Olympic rower. Now he was
just being a troll.

Finnea stamped her foot. “Are you saying
we’re over?”

The churning slowed. Was he?

“I do need to talk to you about our…
arrangement,
ja
. But first, I need you to do something for
me.” Henrik stepped into her space and whispered in her ear.
Finnea’s face went hard, then softened just a bit, then finally
broke into a satisfied expression.

“I see.” She gave a small nod. “And in
exchange you’ll…” She leaned forward to whisper in Henrik’s ear.
Since her shiny wall of hair blocked my view, I couldn’t read his
expression, but his voice sounded clear as a bell when he pulled
back and swore to do what she asked. Finnea broke into an
ear-splitting grin, and pulled a small pink satchel out of the top
of her boot. “You have yourself a deal, darling. Hold this.” She
passed him the satchel. I shot Henrik a look. What was going
on?

Finnea tossed her lavender hair and looked
over her shoulder, flexing her wings as she did so. They took on a
pearlescent glow, and she flapped them nine times. With each pulse
she rose a foot off the ground, so that on the final movement she
hovered well above us, one leg bent with her toe pointed at her
knee. She twirled a tight spiral, creating a shower of glitter I
assumed came from her wings. It rained down, peppering the
ground—and my right arm—in a glimmering hue. With hands cupped
together, Finnea captured a portion of the glitter in her palms,
then slowly lowered herself to the ground. Henrik held out the
pouch and she emptied her hands with care, dusting the granules
into the pink sleeve.

So
that
was where
älva
dust
came from.

“Brie, love, be a dear and take this back to
your colleagues.” Finnea took the pouch from Henrik’s hands and
held it out.

I swiped sparkles off my arm as my eyes found
Henrik’s. “Come on, Henrik. We got what we came for. Let’s go.”

“Not so fast.” Finnea trailed her finger
along Henrik’s chest. “I believe we have a little matter of payment
to work out.”

Henrik grimaced. “I’m afraid she’s right.
Brynn, Heimdall can drop the Bifrost on the east side of the
waterfall. It’s secure enough. Take the dust to the safe house, and
come back when Tyr has new orders.”

“You want me to leave without you?” I balked.
Raging fire giants, spear-throwing jotuns, and homicidal dwarves I
could handle. But bailing on your partner in the middle of a recon
mission? That was unprecedented. And
so
unacceptable.

Finnea thrust the pouch at me, and I snatched
it up with a scowl.

“A deal’s a deal.” Henrik sounded resigned,
but he gave me a firm nod. “If you’re not back within three hours,
I’ll meet you at the compound.”

Finnea looked absolutely giddy. I felt well
beyond nauseated.

“Whatever, Henrik. It’s your funeral.” I
turned around.

“Heimdall,” Henrik called out. “Open the
Bifrost.”

A brilliant beam shot across the sky and over
the waterfall, and landed just behind the pond. I didn’t feel my
legs move as I covered the ground. Without a backward glance, I
stepped into the rainbow’s light and gripped the straps of my
shouldered backpack. “To the safe house,” I said in a level tone,
no longer caring that perfect Finnea was twirling her perfect hair
and positioning her perfect body as close to Henrik as inhumanly
possible. I’d bypassed anger as I sped through mortification, and I
was officially over it. Hundreds of years of love and friendship
stuffed themselves firmly into the black box in my chest, to be
dealt with later. Or never. I didn’t care.

When the Bifrost failed to transport me, I
repeated myself, slightly louder this time. “To the safe house.
Fast.”

Black boxes were indestructible,
ja
.
But just in case mine had a leak, a timely departure from this
stupid realm would be nice.

The wind began with a deafening roar as I was
sucked into the sky. But it wasn’t loud enough to drown out the
tinkling giggles I heard beneath me. Or the low murmur of the voice
I wanted reassurance from more than anything in all the realms,
whispering sweet nothings to a girl who was my opposite in every
conceivable way.

“
THAT WAS FAST.” TYR
looked up from
his tinkering as I stormed across the porch and yanked open the
door. He sat at the kitchen table of his house in the compound. The
time freezer lay in front of him, casing open and wires spilling
out.

“
Ja
.” I ripped the charm blocker off
my wrist and reached behind me to shove it into my backpack,
catching the door with my hip.
Stupid fairy charms.

“Oh my god, Brynn. Are you okay?” Mia jumped
up from her seat next to Tyr and raced to my side. She threw her
arms around me in a characteristic display of warmth, and pulled me
through the French doors that separated the thick grey boards of
the porch from the honey wood floors of the beach house. I wiped my
feet on the rug as I walked, not wanting to track sand into Tyr’s
pristine abode. He and Mia were sticklers for tidiness. And Hel
hath no fury like two obsessive cleaners thwarted.

“
Hei
,” I mumbled into Mia’s shoulder.
“I got the dust.”

Mia released me, and I tossed the small pink
bag toward the table. It sprouted the paper-thin wings of a
butterfly and fluttered onto the surface with a delicate
plink
. Mia’s eyes only widened a little.

“You’re getting used to all the weird, aren’t
you?” I asked.

“Not in the slightest.” She shook her head.
“But I’m getting a better poker face.”

Behind her, Tyr snorted.

“Hush your mouth, Fredriksen.” Mia shot him a
glare that was more adoring than she probably intended. “Sit down,
Brynn. I’ll get you something to eat. You must be starving. And
exhausted. And… upset? Why are you crying? Where’s Henrik? Is he
okay? Oh my god, what happened?”

“Henrik’s fine.”
Better than fine.
“And I’m not crying.” I touched my cheeks, checking for evidence.
Nope. Dry.

“I can still see the tire marks where your
mascara drove the getaway car down your face.” Mia pulled a tissue
from the box on the table and passed it over. I swiped it beneath
my eyes and sure enough, it came up dirty.
Stupid
mascara.

“What happened?” she asked again.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” My fingers
shredded the tissue into tiny pieces. I felt Mia’s stare, but I
refused to look up. It wasn’t like I was all goopy about my
feelings for Henrik. Mia knew I liked him, and nothing got past
Tyr, but it wasn’t exactly something I wanted to dissect right here
at the kitchen table. I’d thrown myself at my best friend, and he’d
shot me down like an enemy drone in friendly territory. And now he
was alone with Finnea, paying her back in ways I didn’t even want
to think about for the stupid magic dust we needed to save our
friend. Sometimes life sucked so hard, I wanted to scream.

Knowing my life could literally go on
forever
made the screaming slightly less palatable.
Asgardian Proverb #39: Today’s heartache would be tomorrow’s
repressed memory.

“Fair enough,” Mia said, after a long pause.
I snuck a glance at Tyr and saw him shake his head at his
girlfriend. I appreciated him keeping the female inquisition at
bay, but I doubted it would last. Humans had this unfathomable
desire to talk everything out. Asgardians knew the value of locking
negative feelings deep in a vault and never, ever thinking about
them again.

Well, every Asgardian except for Asgardian
mothers. Apparently parental concern transcended realms.

“I’ll make you a sandwich,” Mia offered.
“Tyr, can you show Brynn what I did to Barney?”

Thank you
, I mouthed to Tyr as Mia
busied herself in the kitchen.

Tyr just shrugged, but his eyes softened as
he took in my expression. No doubt I looked like I’d been to
Helheim and back. “Wanna see Barney?” he offered.

“Sure.” I let out a breath as I smoothed the
hairs of my unruly blond ponytail. I pulled out a chair and tugged
my backpack over my shoulder. Setting it on the table, I rifled
through the contents, checking to see what I should restock while I
was here.

When my fingers wrapped around two tiny
spheres, I stilled. I’d totally forgotten about the forgetters.
Henrik and I had invented them after playing a particularly
mortifying game of “I Never” with his brother and sister-in-law.
Since Gunnar and Inga had been married for-bloody-ever, and were
best friends long before that, they already knew each other’s
embarrassing stories. And they knew just enough about me and Henrik
to ask the kinds of questions that left us wishing we’d never
agreed to play with them. So, being the brilliant scientific minds
that we were, we’d hit the lab the very next morning and didn’t
leave until we came up with the forgetters. They were tiny balls
that, when thrown, exploded and emitted an odorless gas that wiped
the events of the previous twenty-four hours from memory. It was
the manufactured equivalent of what Tyr could do with his magic—a
brain wipe. We’d only made a dozen, half of which were functional.
Since we’d used four in the test phase, there were only two
left.