Dead Silence (15 page)

"We have to get going." I glanced at Fen.

He nodded at Joshua and Aimee. "You both come with me." Then he glanced at the four warriors dusting themselves off. "You lot too. I need you to round up a few more warriors and you need to do it fast and quietly. In fact, keep your mouths shut." He was already halfway to the door to his hall when he glanced back, looking annoyed. Everyone, including Joshua and Aimee scrambled down the passage to get their instructions, leaving me by myself, with time to get nice and pissed off with myself.

Why hadn't I seen it?

When "Derek" had given me the details of Loki's location why hadn't I felt that something was wrong? Was I getting ahead of myself too much? Not paying enough attention to the subtle things?

I shook my head. That way led to problems.

Now was not the time to be second guessing ourselves.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Making a fist, I headed to Fen's hall, pausing inside the door beside Myst. Awarded to me by Freya, she'd become my second in command, making sure that all my instructions were carried out while I was on a mission.

This time, though, it looked like she'd geared up and was ready to leave.

Nudging her in the ribs, I asked, "Where do you think you're going?"

She turned her dark head and I could see one dark eyebrow curve. "This time I am not going to be left behind." Her tone emanated determination, something I didn't want to shut down instantly.

"So who's going to do my heavy lifting here while I'm busy in Asgard ripping out Loki's lungs?"

She snorted. "I think Asgard is too busy recovering from the quake to care what instructions we leave behind."

She was probably right about that.

I looked at her, my eyes going from the top of her ebony head, to her crimson dress and minimal armor, to the cute little toes peeking out of her leather sandals.

"What are you looking at me like that for?" Her sky-blue eyes narrowed as she glared at me. Any minute now she'd be putting her hands on her hips.

"You planning on coming to Midgard like that?" I asked dryly.

She glanced down at her clothing and almost unshod feet, then shifted her gaze to my armor, leather pants, and leather boots. "Mmhh," was all she said.

I chuckled and said, "Best change, then?"

She shook her head too, her eyes still narrowed and focused on me. "I do not trust you. You are likely to leave without me the moment I set foot out of that door." She pointed at the threshold through which half a dozen warriors now walked.

I wanted to laugh. She had me pegged. Instead I suppressed a sighed.

"Busted," said Joshua in my ear as he passed me on his way out.

I strode to the mantelpiece where Fen had neglected to light a fire. Considering the tumultuous day we'd had, I didn't blame him. Reaching for the bell that would summon a Huldra, I rang it, glad we wouldn't need to wait too long before one arrived. Moments later, a fox-tailed, cheery-smiled Huldra arrived. I whispered my instructions and she nodded, her eyes sparkling with delight. She seemed to enjoy the conspiratorial nature of my request and left with a slight curtsy and a serious expression on her face.

Myst closed in on me, her eyes, watching me, still saying she didn't trust me. "What is going on?"

I hid my smile. "If you don't mind changing in a half broken room," I pointed at the hole blasted in the wall between Fen's office and mine, and continued, "your clothing and armor will be here shortly."

Myst nodded, her cheeks flushing as she stared at me, a little stunned. "Thank you, Bryn. I did not expect you to be so thoughtful." The moment the words left her lips she put her hand to her mouth and said, "I am sorry. That came out wrong. I just meant you are so busy and then you take time out to take care of my needs..." She fell silent and I just laughed and pointed a finger at her.

"Nothing that you wouldn't do for me, right?" I said. It wasn't a question either. I knew she'd do whatever she had to to help me if I needed it and from her vigorous nodding it was confirmed.

The room soon filled up with summoned Valkyrie, Ulfr and
einherjar
, we were almost ready to leave.

We outlined the plan to the gathered group of two dozen warriors, pointing out stations for each group of three; one
einherjar
, one Valkyrie and one Ulfr, the strongest grouping we could devise.

A team of twelve would enter the Oval office directly, a second dozen to wait outside the building, not far from where the Bifrost landed.

We needed the support team nearby in case something went wrong.

Fen handed a small earwig to Joshua, who he'd put in charge of the backup team. "That will give you an ear into what's going on inside the room. If you hear anything go haywire come straight in, no waiting around."

"No code-word?" Joshua asked.

Fen looked over at me, a question in his eyes. "Code word is Raven," I said softly. That drew a few unamused snorts from around the room, especially those warriors who'd just witnessed Loki's oh-so-stunning transformation. I looked around the room at the warriors. "A-team, stay alert. You see a Jotunn or Loki, or anything fishy, I don't care if it's a freaking black feather, you say the code word. This could be . . . no, it very likely is a trap, so be on your guard at all times."

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a Huldra hovering at the doorway. Waving her in, I pointed at Myst.

As they both left, Derek came to stand beside me. "I have something for you," he said, his eyes shining with excitement. He grinned widely and his emotions were infectious.

Failing to squelch my laughter, I said. "What is it, Derek? Don't keep me in suspense."

He held out his hand. In his palm sat a white jellylike substance. "This, I call Icebreaker."

I raised my eyebrows at the gloopy mess. "I take it Icebreaker breaks ice?"

"Not exactly. This substance is soft and squidgy now, but when it comes into contact with glass, it'll turn into ice and shatter the glass within seconds."

Impressed, I pursed my lips and nodded. "Great. I hope it'll come in handy. I'd like to see it in action."

Derek nodded absently, looking over at his laptop as if the sight of it would conjure the words he was looking for. "I studied the plans you gave Fenrir. I'm hoping you won't need it but if the President engages the emergency safe then you might."

"Emergency safe?" I frowned. Another thing to complicate the mission.

"Yes, it's a large bulletproof glass box that rises from beneath the floor of the Oval Office. It will enclose the big man in a safe zone, about 15 foot square, just large enough to surround him and his desk. It's said to be impenetrable and only deactivated if the Prez presses the button, which I might add is fingerprint coded." He raised an impressed eyebrow and I wasn't sure if he was proud of himself for knowing about the technology or of the tech itself.

"It just gets better and better," I said dryly, taking the blob from Derek's palm. I tried to bounce it in my own hand. An action that made the poor guy so nervous that his hands shot out to grab the blob from me. "So this stuff will shatter impenetrable bulletproof glass?"

"Yup. Up to ten inches thick." He held it for a moment before placing it my hand with tremendous care. He closed my fingers slowly over the mass and said, "Any thicker and Icebreaker will implode."

"I'm not sure I want to know how that works," I said shaking my head, but ensuring I took great care with Derek's gelatinous creation.

Derek nodded as if he was okay with my lack of interest in the nitty-gritty of how Icebreaker works. "Keep it safe," he said before turning to head back to his laptop. He didn't get far before he glanced over his shoulder, his nervous gaze flitting from my face to my hand.

I shook my head and tucked the Icebreaker into my pocket as Myst walked into the room, tugging her leather jacket down at her waist, her black wings shimmering with blue sparkling lights. She fidgeted in her modern garments and I frowned as a hard knot burgeoned in my gut.

As Myst drew alongside me, I asked, "Have you ever been to Midgard?"

"No." She shook her head and looked like she'd swallowed a spoonful of Castor oil. She glanced at me, her expression wary, then looked away quickly. "Does that mean you won't let me come with you?"

I wanted to say yes, but I forced myself to say, "All it means is that there will be a lot of things that are new to you, a lot that will surprise you and probably distract you." I suppressed a sigh. "Just stay at my side. And try not to get distracted."

She nodded, then swallowed hard again tugging at the hem of her biker jacket, and fidgeting with the buttons, her face strained and tight. "Very well. When do we leave?"

I laughed and reached out to grab hold of her shoulder and turned her in the direction of the door. Then, together we headed straight out of the hall leading the way to the Transfer room.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The team arrived group by group in a small clearing within the park across the road. Hidden by trees, the spot was the only place we could arrive without being noticed. And the nearest place to the White House that the Bifrost touched down.

The sky hung low, a murky, red-tinged, orangey hue that reminded me of blood-smeared chalk. I shuddered at the thought of having to live with a sky like that for too long. Enough to drive a person a little crazy looking up at that sodden mess every morning.

It didn't take long for both teams to be ready and sending a soft smile to Joshua, I motioned for the A-team to glamor up and move out. We disappeared in groups of three, and I hid my smirk at the sight of Thor as he blinked out of existence. He'd been persistent, and who was I to deny the will of a god anyway?

I appeared in the Oval office, Gungnir in hand, surrounded by my team, with Suri on my left and Fen on my right. A dragon and a wolf, what more could I ask for?

Sparse orange light filtered into the room, the kind of sunlight no President would ever have expected to see shine onto his desk.

The room really was Oval in shape, with wood floors, now cracked and broken in places, and a giant cream oval carpet edged with words sewn into it, which I assumed were special quotes.

The famous Resolute desk sat at one end, still intact. Behind it were creamy-gold brocade curtains that should have been framing a triplicate of floor to ceiling windows.

Now, they stood askew, the curtains broken away from the wall, one end still attached, the other sitting on the floor. A seating area with two large sofas occupied the center of the room and the setting looked undamaged.

Unfortunately, the fireplace on the wall opposite the window, along with the two bookcases on either side, were split in half by vicious cracks that ran along the walls all around us. Wood, plaster and paint were ripped like fragile paper.

What I was more interested in were the doors that led into the Oval Office. There were too many as far as I was concerned. Doors to the garden, panes all shattered, doors to the study, hanging half open, to the West Wing corridor and the secretary's office.

Too many ways in and out.

One of those ways were currently guarded by the President's Secret Service agent. I felt a rush of worry, knowing someone would very likely die if that agent entered the room.

The team fanned around the room, remaining hidden by glamor, waiting in silence as the President spoke to one of his aides, head bent revealing a balding spot on his skull. No-one moved until the younger man left, striding straight-backed and serious-faced through the door to the West Wing.

I moved slowly, gliding along the floor, gritting my teeth and praying my armor didn't clink and alert him to our presence.

Glancing around the room, I waited, watching as my team moved out until every entrance to the room was guarded. The President sat in his chair, flicking through documents page by page. He seemed oblivious to the sudden additional presence of a dozen people.

President Russell Whitman had been in office a year now, and I recalled the raised eyebrows in Craven's conservative culture at the latest leader of the free world being a man whose race was hard to define. If ever there was a man able to lead a multitude of cultures it was Whitman. Descended from a combination of grandparents; African-Hispanic and Middle-Eastern-Asian, Whitman's wife was from Native American and German stock. A cultural melting pot if there ever was one.

One of the most popular Presidents since Kennedy, he was also known for straight-talking and keeping his word. Personally, knowing how much the man had done for the good of the country since he'd arrived in the Oval Office, this unceremonious intrusion felt inherently wrong.

But necessary.

I came to a standstill on the right side of his desk, a few feet from him. His gray hair glinted in the murky light, his aquiline nose and dark eyes shadowed. He must have begun to sense something was wrong because he frowned and looked up at me.

I chose that moment to throw off my glamor and appear in front of him.