Dead Embers (15 page)

As far as I could see, Mika remained unaffected by the whole
horrible episode. Unfazed, she recapped the events for the rest of the team, a
recap that was really a bullet-by-bullet replay. I had to remind myself that
she was a centuries-old shape shifter with decades of killing under her belt.
Mika was used to blood and death. Besides, she didn't have the same picture of
Karim burned into her retinas. Or the memory of Karim's tiny smile in the
moment of her death.

What would Karim have been thinking? Would she have
convinced herself that she'd only imagined my wings? Would she have thought
she'd seen an angel? I paused for a minute, unsure if a Valkyrie would make
sense within the rebel leader's faith. I recalled my own astonishment and
disbelief the first time I'd seen Sigrun's wings.

I'd witnessed so much in the last few months, things that
surprised and amazed me, over and over again. If the gods of old Norse legend
were living breathing beings, then who knew which other cultures had a
mythology that wasn't just a figment of their imaginations?

Fen strode into the room, back from staking out the hospital
with Joshua, so deep in thought that he didn't see me perched carefully on a
short wooden stool that was so not Valkyrie-proof. I rose, and the wood
creaked, relieved of my Valkyrie weight. I gave the fragile stool a disgusted
look. Might as well stand.

With a quick step I caught up with Fen before he barged
right past me. "How was Karim able to see through my glamor?" I
asked.

My random question seemed to pique his curiosity, enough for
him to come to a dead stop—although he did still scowl and tap an impatient
finger on one muscle-bound arm. "What do you mean?"

"She saw my wings. In the split second before she died,
she saw my wings." I shook my head and swallowed, the memory of her
expression still clear in my mind.

"Ah." Fen didn't bother to ask me how I knew. He
simply took my word for it, and nodded. "This happens sometimes. It
depends on the person and upon the clarity of her thoughts and beliefs. Her
soul. Her true essence."

So, it seemed that Medeia Karim had been more than just a
rebel with a cause. Her life had been fraught with pain and strife, and yet
she'd found her essence in the crazy hell of fighting for freedom, endangering
her life for her fellow man.

I focused on his now motionless finger and said, "I
think I understand. She had a pure heart and mind. That's how she saw my
wings." A thought struck me then, and I glanced up at Fen. "Do you
think she was always able to see through the glamor?"

"It is hard to tell, but I would say that even had she
been capable, she would have had too much to think about to spend time honing
that particular skill."

A sharp voice interrupted our conversation. "Fenrir,
could I have a word, please?" Beside us, Ingrid's pale face promised more
bad news. Great.

Fen walked off with the blonde Valkyrie, both of their faces
dark and worried. Though I was tempted to follow and find out what the hell was
going on, I stopped in my tracks. My gut was screaming
bad news
.

Could things possibly get any worse?

***

We bided our time, wolfing down sugar-encrusted
tortilla-type breads and washing them down with hot mint tea. An hour later,
we'd just finished freshening up when we were summoned again.

The Asgard team headed out to join Ingrid's operatives in
the hot, dry streets of Cairo. Thankfully, this time we had the privilege of
four wheels and an engine to get where we were going, as opposed to two wheels
and a prayer.

I battled the knives of heat that stabbed my lungs as I
stood in the blazing Cairo sun, watching and waiting. The street and sidewalk
overflowed with people, heedless of the midday heat. Chanting, singing and
wailing filled the air as the coffin passed us by.

The sun, high in the clear sky, gleamed on the white fabric
covering the coffin; the bright blue stripe that bordered its edges spoke of
strength and purity to me. The casket floated by, borne on the shoulders of
eight men whose faces twisted with their own personal grief. I choked on a
mixture of dust and unshed tears. What the hell was wrong with me? Why should
the death of this woman, this stranger, touch me so deeply as to draw tears?

I knew she would soon be revived to serve the All-Father and
fight the enemies of Asgard. And yet I still felt bereft.

Fen and Joshua positioned themselves across the street, cut
off from me by the seething crowd that flowed behind the coffin. We were
visible, with only our wings and weapons hidden from human eyes. Our attire
helped disguise us. Forced to fit in, the team donned rebel uniforms and joined
the mourners, keeping close to the coffin.

A shout up ahead, loud enough to hear over the din of the
procession, caught my attention. I pushed my way toward the sound, one
frustrating step at a time, struggling between bodies pungent in the searing
Egyptian sun. National army officers lined the streets, scowling at the
mourners as they passed. The government couldn't stop such a large contingent
of followers, not without a bloodbath. But the threat of violent opposition was
enough; the army displayed troops who stood watching, hands on their guns and
hard eyes inspecting every face, ready for any unrest.

As the crowd mourned for their leader, I craved a moment to
dwell on my own grief.

Throughout the Cairo trip, the job had occupied all my time,
leaving too few moments to think about Aidan. Just as well. What good would it
do me anyway? What good would it do me to miss him, miss his crooked smile, or
long for his arms around me? I suppressed a sigh, breathing away the remnants
of a sob that would never be.

I concentrated on the procession, fighting back tears when
the mourners lowered the coffin at the entrance of a ceremonial hall. A rising
cry filled the street, a muted echo of sadness, both eerie and painful to
listen to as women and men lamented the loss of their warrior.

The casket followed a solemn imam inside a small hall, where
they would perform the funerary rites. Ingrid had said they wouldn't take too
long to send Karim's body to the graveyard for the final burial.

Fen nodded at me over the heads of the crowd, and I followed
him as he and Joshua retreated. We'd seen nobody suspicious. The Asgard team
rode back to the house in silence. I guess none of us had anything significant
to say, not after being steeped in grief and heat for so many hours.

Ingrid's team remained with the funeral procession to keep a
close watch on the body. Whoever had cursed all our other
einherjar
with
the dreaded black substance had to get to the bodies somehow. So far, there had
been no hint of anything untoward. Perhaps this Warrior was safe. Perhaps.

For now, all we could do was wait.

***

A full moon hung low in the black sky. We approached the
cemetery, bordered by desert and not much else. A low iron fence ran around the
site, more a demarcation than a barrier to protect its contents or keep people
out. We pushed the gate open, and it squeaked loudly, announcing our entry to
all and sundry.

But nobody came running to ask us who we were and what we
wanted. The large lot was empty and silent. Raised burial sites dotted the plot
like little sarcophagi. Here and there, bright spots of green broke the
monotony of white.

A long, thin building stretched along one side of the plot,
its roof divided into three beautiful domes. Moonlight tinted the half-dozen
dark windows that dotted the shallow porch, which would offer much needed shade
to daytime visitors. We slinked past the doorway, and I cast a wary glance at
the shadowed windows. And though I half-expected the grounds-keeper or a guard
to come running, nothing happened.

Fen led the way, deeper into the cemetery. He always knew
where he was meant to go. Wish I had that wolf's nose of his. Not to mention
the special brand of night-vision he had going for him.

At last he halted, beckoning us to a burial tomb draped in
green fabric, the bright color diluted in the pale moonlight. I slipped the
sheet off the lid of the tomb and folded it carefully over my arm, treating it
with infinite respect. We desecrated this tomb out of necessity, to retrieve
Odin's chosen Warrior. That did not mean we had the right to disrespect Karim's
traditions.

Fen and Joshua each held an end of the heavy stone lid, and
though I knew I could help I stood aside and watched, keeping the silent
Warrior Olaf company. Thankfully, he was as aloof as his boss Ingrid, which
suited me. I wasn't in the mood for small talk.

Stone ground and grumbled against stone as they pushed the
lid aside, a little at a time. They laid it carefully on the ground beside the
sarcophagus, bearing the weight as if it were as light as a feather. In
reality, the stone slab would've taken five to six normal men to push it into place.
Clearly I wasn't the only one blessed with super-strength, then.

Inside the stone box lay the coffin itself. I waited as the
two men removed the lid and placed it on the concrete slab. Medeia Karim's body
lay wrapped in a white sheet.

Olaf leaned forward to pull away the white fabric covering
her face. Would she be as beautiful in death as she was yesterday when I'd seen
her in the cafe? I peered closer, curious to see if her body still retained the
beatific glow of yesterday.

Then my heart clenched as I noticed dark, shadowy blotches
dotting the white fabric. "Wait—" I cried, trying to warn them.

Too late. Olaf's fingers brushed against the dark spots.

The Warrior winced and shied away from the body, falling to
his knees. He held his hand up, inspecting it with a desperate horror that
turned his face as pale as the moon itself. I knelt beside him to inspect the
wound—and gasped. His skin simmered as if acid had fallen onto his fingers and
palm. Olaf jerked back, unable to support his kneeling frame any further. His
head lolled, and he slumped over. The slight glow on his skin receded a little
at a time until he no longer glowed like the other Warriors.

Fen knelt beside me, shooting me a glance; fear and worry
clouded the darkness of his eyes. So now we knew for sure. This inky black
gloop was definitely a poison. And worse yet, it looked dangerous to the living
Warriors as well.

"It is much worse than we thought." Fen's whisper
sounded rough and raw. "We must hurry back. His reaction . . ." Fen
trailed off, then got to his feet. Shadows hid his eyes, but I knew he felt the
same way I did; horrified and helpless.

Fen and Joshua pushed the lid back onto the coffin, and the
scrape of stone on stone filled the silent graveyard.

We left the cemetery under the white eye of the moon, Joshua
helping Fen to support the unconscious Olaf between them as we hurried back to
the base, taking extra care to keep away from the Warrior's horrific wounds.

We left Karim behind, alone in her silent dark crypt. I
swallowed hard, one memory clear in my mind. I'd wanted to see her glow, the
beautiful beacon of the
einherjar
.

But there had been no glow.

And Medeia Karim was dead forever.

Ingrid's face went white with horror as Fen and Joshua shuffled
in, struggling with the dead weight of the unconscious Olaf.

"Valkyrie Ingrid, your Warrior needs care." Ingrid
dropped the sheaf of papers she'd been reading and rushed toward Fen. A heavy
silence blanketed the room as they all waited for the Ulfr general to continue.
"He has come into contact with the black substance and he is gravely
ill."

Ingrid's shoulders sagged, and a surge of pity for the
Valkyrie flowed through me. She must have felt as if everything was falling
apart around her. With bleak eyes she gestured to two of her Warriors, who
relieved Fen and Joshua of their burden.

"Be very careful, Warrior," Fen growled as he
passed Olaf over. "Do not touch his hand with your bare skin. We do not
know if it is contagious. It is possible the substance is deadly even to a
living Warrior."

All eyes focused on Olaf, whose head lolled forward while
the rest of him remained still and scarily silent. Ingrid gave quick
instructions for Olaf's care, beckoned a nearby Valkyrie to accompany her and
followed the Warriors and their burden toward the back rooms of the house.

A strange hush hung over the base, as everyone worried about
Olaf and the black substance and the Warriors we kept losing.

Fen's voice pulled us out of our fear-filled thrall.
"We need to ready the teams and step up our Retrievals." His voice
echoed around the silent room, strained and hollow. "I will have to return
to Asgard to confer with the All-Father. This is beyond my own knowledge and
experience."

He opened his mouth to continue, when the sound of feet
stamping down the stone staircase filtered into the basement. Fen's face
darkened. A different tension filled the air, a different fear than losing
Olaf.

Had we been followed? Had the hideout been discovered by the
army? Nothing that could happen could possibly have surprised me. Not after the
week we'd been having. I tensed, muscles straining, not even daring to take a
breath.

Around the room, Warriors, Ulfr and Valkyries moved hands to
hilts and weapons, ready for anything. Many of the Valkyries and Ulfr faded
into nothingness. I followed suit, leaving only the Warriors unglamored.

The heavy footsteps pounded on the stone stairs, sending
vibrations all around the walls of the underground room. Looked pretty likely
that this new visitor would bring the whole flight down with him.

A room full of Asgard warriors watched the doorway, not
daring to breathe or blink. I stared with them. Sigrun shifted beside me, a
strange sensation considering I could barely see her. It occurred to me then
that our glamors only hid us from humans. Glamor hardly shielded us from each
other; we could still see a hazy, shadowy reflection of a glamored Valkyrie or
Ulfr. A good piece of information to know.