Immortals (Runes book 2) (15 page)

“Over here,” Lavania called and waved toward a stool. “Sit.”

She sat on the other side of the kitchen island counter. In front of her was a neatly folded brown leather cloth. She waited until I sat before she carefully unfolded it.

It wasn’t exactly a cloth. It was some kind of leather knife belt with six pouches. One by one, she pulled out the instruments from their sheaths. All were the size of a pencil, but varied in color, the shape of the blade, handle, and the guard. Half of them had black, shiny blades, while the others were white. Runes ran from handle to blade. One blade was shaped like a sickle, another like a stag knife, and the rest were of various thicknesses.

“These are called
artavo
, meaning ritual knives. One is called
artavus
. Some high priestesses called them artanus, artany, or arthame. A more corrupted version used by the present magical world is athame.” She picked up a black
artavus with a pointed blade and a guard. I had seen Maliina (or was it Ingrid?) use one just like it. “This is called a stillo. Try it for size.”

I closed my hand around the ridged handle. My fingers fitted the ridges as though it were made for me. The blade extended about three inches from my fist.

“It’s light.” I touched the blade and gasped when pain radiated up my arm and blood pooled at the tip of my finger. Wooziness swept over me. I hated the sight of blood, especially mine. I stuck my finger into my mouth and carefully put the artavus down like it was a poisonous snake.

Lavania chuckled. “You’re as white as a ghost.” She reached down and came up with her own rune blade. “Give me your hand. I’ll take care of the cut with healing runes.”

I shook my head. I so wasn’t ready to be runed yet.

“The sting doesn’t last and that cut is deep, if you hadn’t noticed.”

The pain radiating from my finger told me it was. Slowly, I removed my finger from my mouth and moaned when blood rushed to the wound. This was bad.

“Come on,” Lavania urged impatiently.

Cringing, I offered her my hand and closed my eyes. When she chuckled again, I opened one eye and fought the urge to snatch my hand away. My finger was bleeding profusely, the blood dripping onto the counter.

“Try to relax, Raine.”

“This
is
me relaxed,” I retorted through clenched teeth. “I hate blood, and it hurts.”

Moving so fast her hands were blurry, she etched runes on the back of my hand. She was right. The sting was brief, and the cuts weren’t really cuts. They were more like burns.

I forgot about my churning stomach when pink burn marks criss-crossed my skin. They darkened to beautiful sketches like the ones I’d seen on Lavania’s hand, the ends forming whorls and tendrils. I stared at my hand with morbid fascination, but the beautiful runes ebbed away. A tingle started at the tip of my finger, and I turned my hand. The dip cut closed, too, and the temporary pink skin lost its color until my finger was normal again.

When Torin healed me the first time, I had been flat out unconscious. The second time the remnants of his runes sealed my knife wound, so I hadn’t actually seen it happen. Watching my skin close like someone was zipping it up was surreal.

“That wasn’t bad,” Lavania said, wiping the blood from the counter. I snapped back to reality.

“No, it wasn’t. Thank you.” I got up to wash the blood off my finger.

“You’ll have to overcome your aversion to pain, you know,” Lavania said. “I can start you off by etching the healing runes with my artavus, but eventually you’ll have to etch your own and create a bond between you and yours. Since your movements are not as fast, the sting will last longer.”

“Gee, thanks.” I felt woozy just thinking about it.

She waited until I sat before saying, “You’ll be fine. Maybe Torin will help.”

“No.” I didn’t want him to see me acting like a baby. “I can do it on my own. You know, once you etch the first ones.”

She grinned. “That’s the attitude. Now, where were we?”

“You asked me to hold the stillo,” I reminded her.

“Oh yes. After you’ve bonded with them, no one else can ever use them, but you. That’s the mistake young Valkyries make when they try to turn Mortals on their own. They don’t realize they cannot use their stash of artavo. Eventually, the person you turn must have their own rune daggers to bond with and complete their transformation.”

No wonder Torin always warned Andris to stop turning Mortals. Had Maliina gone a little crazy because Andris had screwed up? I hoped not. It might mean Ingrid was in trouble, too, because Andris had turned both of them.

I touched one of the white blades. “What are the blades made of?”

“The black ones are made of special onyx found in Asgard. The white stone is made from selenite found from Goddess Freya’s realm. Do you remember where that is?”

“Vanaheim,” I said.

“Good. The runes etched on their surface help channel the magical energy. That one,” she indicated the black one I’d nipped myself on, “is used to sketch the first runes. It is powerful and, when not used properly, can make a transformation go wrong. But you don’t have to worry about that. I’m here to guide you. See the runes on the handle and the blade?”

I recognized the prominent one. “That is Goddess Freya’s symbol.”

“That’s right. She is your protector, so all your artavo will have her symbol. This one is called
bolino
.” She picked up one that looked like a cylindrical block with a nail at the tip. She gripped the handle and pressed it on the counter. When she opened her palm, the bladeless handle looked like a wooden block a kid could play with. “It has retractable blade and is used on surfaces to create portals. You can carry it anywhere and no one would consider it a weapon. As soon as you engage the runes on your arm, the blade slides out.”

“Can you show me?”

“This is yours, so it won’t respond to me.” She gave me the harmless-looking wood, then reached under her belt and pulled out hers. Her handle was darker and ridged for better grip. Runes appeared on her hand, their tendrils coiling between her fingers and up her wrist as though an invisible artist was painting a masterpiece on her skin. They looked like henna decorations. The blade shot out from the base with a sharp whoosh, and I gasped. She chuckled.

“It’s a bit rusty from lack of use. Don’t worry. Yours will come out smooth and easy, hardly making a sound.” The runes disappeared from her hand, and the blade retracted.

“The blade self-retracts?” I asked.

“Once you can control your runes, you can control anything. The artavo, the portals, the ability to move fast, become invisible.” She put her blade away and reached for another that looked like the one that had nipped me, except the blade was white. “This is a portal stillo. When you first learn to create portals, you want to use this one. It is a bit forgiving when you make mistakes with your sketches.”

“How do the runes know where you want to go when there are so many portals around the world?”

Lavania chuckled. “The runes respond to your thoughts. We’ll cover all that in the coming weeks. Today, let’s just focus on the artavo.”

***

It seemed like forever before she stopped, stood, and stretched. “Oh, I’m starving. Will you stay and join me for dinner? With the guys and Ingrid gone, I have to eat alone, and I hate that. We can discuss anything you want. Schoolwork, boys, girlfriends…”

Her expression was expectant, and I hated the idea of going home to work on more homework packets. I guessed we could discuss school. Boys were out of the question because I was only interested in one and I refused to discuss Torin with her.

“Raine?”

I looked at my watch. It was almost seven. My parents would be home soon. “I’ll call Mom first.”

“Good. I’ll start on dinner.”

“You cook?”

She chuckled. “Yes. Cooking relaxes me.”

A model look-a-like who cooks? Could she be any more perfect?

I pulled out my cell phone from my back pocket, turned it on, and speed-dialed Mom’s number, leaving the kitchen for the privacy of the living room. Dad picked up after several rings. “Hey, Dad.”

“How is it going?”

I heard the worry in his voice. “Good. Is Mom there?”

“She went to pick up dinner. We should be home soon.”

“I’m going to have dinner with Lavania, my trainer. The others are in Portland for the game, and she’s alone. Is that okay?”

There was silence, then, “Okay. I’ll tell your mother.”

He didn’t sound too thrilled about it, but there was nothing I could do about that. I had several text messages from both Cora and Eirik. We were winning. I quickly responded then followed the sounds to the kitchen.

Lavania already had two fresh salads on the kitchen counter. She moved around the kitchen at an accelerated speed. I could see right through her hands to the dough she was kneading and rolling. Lined before her were several containers of cheese, meats, and vegetables.

I sat on a stool and watched her. Did her brain work as fast as her hands? If I moved like that, I could be done with all my homework in one day. She put the tray in the oven, rinsed her hands, and faced me.

“Do you like calzones?” she asked.

I grinned. “Oh yeah.”

“Then you’re in for a treat. Wine or juice?”

Wine? “Juice.”

We started with the salad. The calzones, when she removed them from the oven, were golden and tasty. Inside they had cheese, different meats, vegetables, including mushrooms, and fresh herbs. She placed sauces on the side for dipping. I hated mushrooms.

The conversation somehow drifted to my childhood, and soon we were laughing over escapades Eirik and I had gotten into. Before I knew it, we were discussing my dealings with the Norns. I found myself telling her everything that had happened, including how I got my head injuries. She didn’t pass judgment on Maliina or Andris, who had obviously turned her when he shouldn’t have. Discussing my relationship with Torin was out of the question, but she blindsided me.

“What’s going on between you and Torin?”

I choked on my juice, cleared my throat, and fought a blush. “Nothing.”

Lavania chuckled. “I’m not blind, Raine. I’ve never seen two people try so hard not to look at each other, yet steal glances when the other’s not looking. He hasn’t brought a girl home since I got here, even though they trip over themselves to flirt with him wherever we go. I’ve even seen waitresses scribble their phone numbers on receipts. It’s quite hilarious.”

Jealousy rippled through me. “It’s not funny,” I said before I could stop myself. Heat crawled up my face when she cocked her eyebrows. “I mean, uh, don’t you find it annoying?”

She shook her head. “No, but what bothers me is why he’s not calling them. Why night after night he’s in his room with the lights off. Why he’s become such a grouch.” She grew silent and studied me intently. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“Really, there’s nothing between us,” I insisted.

“And I’ve also seen the way
you
look at him, Raine.”

My face on fire, I became defensive. “Why do you want him to call girls back? Aren’t you two, uh, together?”

“What?” She chuckled and was soon laughing so hard I felt like an idiot.

“Never mind. I should be going home anyway.” I stood, but she gripped my wrist.

“I’m sorry I laughed. Please, don’t go.”

Slowly, I sat.

“Raine, I could never be involved with one of my boys. He’s beautiful and can be charming, but…” She shook her head. “He’s like my son. Besides, I have a mate. Whatever gave you the idea about me and Torin?”

I felt even stupider, so I shook my head. As though she knew I didn’t want to discuss Torin, she switched to Eirik. “I would love to train both of you. Try to see if you can convince him to join us. There’s so much I can help him with that his parents can’t.”

“I’ll try.”

She looked ready to say more, but changed her mind, reaching for her glass of wine and sipping. “Since you insist you have no interest in Torin, have you ever thought of dating Eirik?”

I laughed. Been there and done that.

“Why do you laugh? He’s the grandson of a god and an extremely attractive young man. We don’t interact with the gods much, so you should take this opportunity to be his first consort.”