Dead Embers (39 page)

My heart thundered as we waited for a response. I scanned
the tablet, hoping to see the blob that would tell me Joshua was okay, but all
I saw was a blank screen with a blinking phrase: "Offline." Perfect
timing for the tablet to act up. Pia and I stared at each other, worried now
more than ever as each second passed without a sound from either Joshua or
Karl.

Pia took a step down the passage, then sent me a questioning
look. I nodded, and she tiptoed silently down the corridor. Common sense
dictated that I stay by the door. I was seriously tempted to stop her or follow
her, but I knew that was a foolish move. The only access to Brody was through
this door. Even if I let it shut and went to help Pia, what were the chances of
the remaining guard opening the door for us? The tablet did show him somewhere
on the other side of the door, but from the looks of it, he was guarding Brody.
And even if he did come to the door, he'd see his pals out for the count and
sound the alarm. And we'd lose our chance to rescue Brody.

Just before she got to the end of the corridor, Pia turned
and gave me a confident thumbs-up. Before I could respond with a nod or a
thumbs-up of my own, she disappeared around the corner.

I waited for her.

And waited some more.

My heart knocked loudly against my ribs, fear gripping my
body and my mind. What happened to Joshua? Those sounds were really ominous. My
brain could only process those noises in one way; Joshua had been knocked out.
And the thought of him injured, or dead, terrified me more than I could even
imagine.

Time dragged by.

And Pia was gone way too long.

Beads of perspiration trickled down my back, and a tremor
ran along my arm. The metal door thumped against my back, and I gasped. I'd
slackened my hold on the handle and the door had almost closed onto me.

Pay attention, Bryn.

The silence in the corridor continued to deafen me.

I had no idea what had happened to Joshua. And now to Pia.
But what could I do? Caught between the desperate need to find out if my
friends were okay and an equally desperate desire to save Brody, I hesitated.

The continuing silence made the decision for me. Whatever
happened to Joshua, Karl and Pia, it didn't seem likely that any of them were
on their way to help me. If I let the door close and lock, I might never get
another chance.

I gave the empty, silent corridor one last look and
reluctantly slipped into the room.

The door clicked shut, and the metallic cold seeped into my
back as I sagged against it and faced the inside of the room. My heart thumped
in my throat. I had no backup. No idea where my team was. No idea what I was
walking into. I took a deep breath, hoping the fear that churned so painfully
in my gut would go away.

A large glass viewing window across from me revealed another
small room, which was actually a prison from the looks of the sparse furniture,
the bars on the window and, of course, the armed guard.

The guard accounted for the third and final orange splodge,
but the other man lying inert on a camp bed held my attention.

Brody.

My eyes remained fixed on his motionless form until I sensed
movement from the guard. He was turning toward the window. Icy shock brought me
to my senses, tugging me down below the glass, and safely out of view. Even a
second longer and the guard would have spotted me.

Then I laughed at myself. I was still glamored, so the guard
couldn't see me at all. Odd though. Whoever had abducted Brody would surely
have expected some kind of rescue attempt. They would have anticipated Ulfr or
Valkyries, or both. Breaching the security system, even disarming the guards,
had been far too easy. And that worried me even more.

But I had no choice. I’d come this far. Had to see it
through. Brody was my main concern, and I was on my own.

Right, Bryn. It's now or never.

The guard was my target. I had to get him to leave the cell.
Squatting down on the concrete floor, I scanned my surroundings. I needed
something large enough to attract his attention, to bring him out of the cell.
A small fridge sat in the corner, flanked by a table with two chairs. Didn't
leave me with much of a choice.

I shuffled forward, gripped a steel leg of the nearest chair
and flung it sideways with all the energy I could muster. It flew at the
viewing glass, so fast it almost missed, crashing against the glass with an
ear-shattering thunk. The chair bounced off the window and then off the
concrete floor, finally skittering to a stop behind me, two of its metal legs
twisted and broken, its seat unscrewed, askew. The aluminum seat and back sent
out tinny echoes.

Satisfied, I turned to the window. As I had suspected, the
glass was way too thick to shatter. A fine crack now marred the once perfect
surface, a flash of lighting captured within the sliver of glass. But the crash
of the chair got the very reaction I needed. The guard rushed to the door and
fumbled at the lock. Before the door opened, I rose and dashed toward him,
relieved to see that the door opened toward me and not into the room.

I slammed the door so hard into his face he probably passed
out instantly, and had his nose shattered to boot. My heart slowly skittered to
a more comfortable pace. Brody lay in the sparse cot in the far corner of the
room.

I took a hesitant step forward, then froze as he sat up
slowly, his hands cuffed in front of him, his eyes searching my face.

"Brody?" I frowned, suddenly terrified as I stared
at this boy who looked nothing like my little Brody.

His eyes inspected me from head to toe. His voice was deeper
than I remembered. "I believe that is what I was known as. My friends
Joshua and Aimee told me that." His frown matched my own. "Are you
going to get me out of here?"

I nodded, a shudder of hurt running through me. He didn't
remember Craven, or me. Sigrun had explained how an unretrieved Warrior would
be reborn and retrieved very early in his next life, as soon as a Valkyrie was
able to claim him. I understood the concept. But my memories were of the
adorable little boy who'd captured my heart. Not this stranger who didn't even
remember who I was.

My heart clenched and hot tears prickled at my lids. What a
joke. Brody was well and I'd found him, and here I was feeling sorry for myself.

Get a grip, Halbrook.

I cleared my throat. "Yes. Let's get going before any
more goons come looking."

When I bent to help him up, he gripped my arms and drew
himself to his feet. Odd to have to look up at my little foster brother. Of
course, he was no longer my little Brody. Not anymore. Not ever again.

Brody met my eyes, and a pained expression drew the blood
from his face; his dark skin tautened at the corners of his hazel eyes. I
blinked, shocked, sure I was mistaken.

A blaze of ice-blue fire had burned within his eyes, just
for a second.

A chill bit into my hand and, frowning at the pain, I
glanced down. At Brody's hands on my forearms. Why did he feel so cold? I
tugged my arms away, needing to be free of the ice eating away at my skin,
feeding on the warmth in my muscles, but he held on. A shiver sped across my
skin, and I looked up at his eyes again, as if something told me that I should
look, that the secret lay within them.

Brody smiled, his teeth seeming thinner and sharper than
humanly possible. When he blinked, fear-filled claws ripped up and down my
spine.

His eyes were chips of ice, razor sharp and deadly, as blue
as icebergs and as terrifying as staring my own death in the face.

I knew what he was even before he shoved me backward against
the wall, before his face lengthened and his eyes glowed a sharp blue, before
his eyebrows turned to crystals of ice. I knew for sure when his warm, deep
brown skin paled of all color to reveal dark lines of deep blue veins.

A frost giant.

They were shape shifters. Probably a talent Loki had
inherited from his birth mother. And this particular frost giant had taken the
form of Brody to lure me here. We had been right; this whole thing had been way
too easy.

Instinct took over and I reached for both my swords, drawing
them in one fluid movement, as ready as I'd ever be for a battle with a frost
giant. I kept my eyes trained on the Brody-giant, glad he didn't look like my
little foster brother any more.

The frost giant began to grow in size, so gradually I almost
missed it at first. But soon I faced a seven-foot ice giant, and all I wanted
to do was run. His thighs bulged with great big muscles larger in girth than I
was. Shuddering with fear, I lifted my chin and stared him in the eye. His eyes
roiled like the frigid Arctic seas.

I wanted to circle him, but I really had nowhere to go,
cramped in this room, which had seemed large to begin with. Now, though, with
the frozen giant occupying so much more of the cell, I had my back to a wall
every way I turned. I felt closed in, as if he would soon grow so large I'd
have nowhere to go.

The giant towered over me, and stood so close I could have
sworn I was breathing the same air as he was. In fact, I was pretty certain I
was breathing in the icy air he'd just exhaled.

Ick.

But I had better things to worry about than personal space.
I had nowhere to run; he could reach me no matter where I went. Suddenly I knew
exactly how Jack felt when he escaped his giant by hightailing it back down the
beanstalk.

My maneuverings with my swords were useless. The giant
advanced one small step and thrust a finger at my chest. In all this time he
hadn't said a word, just watched me with his hooded, iceberg eyes. Now he
spoke. "Valkyrie, you are not going to escape from me." His voice
rumbled, the sound of ice avalanching down the side of a glacier.

He snapped his finger at me, and I flinched. At first
nothing happened. And then my blood ran cold. The tip of his jagged, broken
fingernails pointed at me, edged with blue, as if his blood were made of
midnight ink. Terror weakened my resolve; I was stuck in this cell, no way out,
and nobody coming to my rescue. Ice crystals began to form on the surface of
his pale skin, creeping along like a living thing. The icicle-finger flowed
forward, lengthening, seeking me out. I blinked, frozen into place by the
horror of the growing blade of ice.

The giant laughed, and the triumphant noise echoed around
the room, almost spearing my eardrums with its sharpness.

The sound drew my gaze to his face, and our eyes locked. In
an instant, I was lost in a swirl of fear and ice.

Held within his thrall, it felt as if I stood outside my
body, unable to do anything but calmly watch as the frost giant thrust his
icepick closer and closer to me. I didn't try to evade the evil shard. I
couldn't. I shut my eyes as he stabbed his icy fingertip into me.

Coward.

I didn't care. If I were going to die, I preferred not to
see the whole slice and dice of it. I expected the blade deep within my heart,
and clenched my muscles to receive it.

What I didn't expect was the sudden stabbing pain in the top
of my left wing. My eyes flew open. I twisted to look at the damage, feeling so
utterly helpless. The frost giant had impaled my wing to the wall. Thankfully,
he'd missed any major bones; the frozen blade pierced only a little flesh and
slipped between my feathers.

I thrust away from the wall, wincing at the burst of pain
that flared in my wing; the blade of ice broke and I was freed. Launching into
the air, I hoped some height might give me an advantage. A sob of pain escaped
my lips as I flapped my damaged wing. The frost giant just gazed up at me, an
unexpected look of pity in his eyes, as if he felt sorry for my weak attempts
at saving myself when both he and I knew I hadn’t a hope in hell of getting
away.

That only made me more angry.

Come on, you great big ice-block. There's more to this
Valkyrie than you think.

But before I got the chance to wipe the floor with him, the
giant ran at the wall beside me and used the solid concrete to bounce off. He
launched himself at me. I gasped, shocked, as he flew forward, impossibly fast,
knocking me out of the air. I tumbled to the ground, helpless and hopeless.

I fell in front of the door, a crumpled heap of limbs and
feathers. As I stumbled to my feet, I noticed two things, and both froze the
blood in my veins.

One was the frost giant, who smirked and slowly returned to
the body and form of what I thought had been Brody.

And the other, more important thing was the shadow—a patch
of darkness that reflected against the tiled wall.

The shadow closed in on me.

Hands shoved me forward, and I threw my palms out to prevent
my face from smashing into the bare concrete. I reacted too late.

Rough hands thrust a dark hood over my head, and I was
plunged into a semi-darkness that both disoriented and infuriated me.

Anger stirred that strange latent strength I had, and a
scream of fury bubbled inside me. I growled and struggled, trying to turn, but
my attacker landed a powerful, stunning blow to my back. Was it just luck that
his blow landed right at the center of my shoulder blades—right where my wings
connected within my body and a complex set of nerves and muscles resided? I
writhed in agony, shafts of icy pain running up and down my spine while my
wings lay limp around me, like those of a dying moth.

A new, sharp pain flared in my shoulder, as if the angry
point of a needle had pierced my skin. My attacker had injected me with
something. My wings struggled and fluttered at my back, reflecting my fear, my
worry. A dull ache built up in my throat, and when I swallowed, it felt pretty
much like I'd swallowed my whole tongue.

Despite the darkness of the hood over my head, I began to
see stars. Tiny little stars like millions and millions of golden dust motes.
Only they kept getting bigger and bigger.