Undercurrent

Undercurrent

Copyright © 2011 by Michelle Griep. All rights reserved.

www.RisenFiction.com

Risen Books is an imprint of D&D Books, LLC

Beaverton, Oregon

Edited by Reagen Reed

Cover illustration by Angela Jurgensen

This novel is a work of fiction. Characters, plot, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.

Ebook ISBN:
 
978-1-936835-03-4

PROLOGUE

Rogaland, Norway—Late Tenth Century

A thread-thin shaft of sunshine needled Alarik’s closed lids, but he’d not open them—it would hurt.

His woolen tongue tasted of soured goat milk, and Thor’s own hammer beat against his temples. He hadn’t felt this bad since Björn’s wedding feast.

Something dripped a slow rhythm against his lips, trickling off into his beard. He toyed with the idea of swiping it away, but that would require too much effort.

A quiet rumble, low and throaty, moaned from afar. No, not far off. Near. And it carried a message of pain.

“
Alarik.”

He blinked open his eyes, then swallowed back the shock of light and spit out a string of curses.

“
Alarik.”

“
Ja,” he answered, voice raw. His vision emerged like one who’d been in the depths of a fjord and risen from black, to gray, to stunning blue of day. He focused on a hand, palm open, relaxed, not more than an arm’s span above him. Deep red drops fell from a pallid fingertip and splattered onto his face.

Blood.

He jumped to his feet, warrior instincts alert, and reached for the knife at his side. Gone.

“
Alarik.”

His head jerked to the sound. The room reeled, and his stomach lurched. “Ragnar, by the gods, what has happened?”

“
Go.” His cousin lay ashen in color, tunic slashed and stained, breath light and quick. “You…will be…blamed.”

“
What blame? What has happened?”

Ragnar turned his head, and Alarik followed his gaze to the object silently indicated. A body sprawled over a wooden keg, slaughtered and mutilated, seeping away the last of its lifeblood. A man’s body, with Alarik’s blade driven hilt-deep into the carnage.

Einar…his brother.

Alarik sank to his knees. How many times had he wished Einar dead? How long had he desired Einar’s first-born rights instead of the leftovers given a second son, and an illegitimate one at that?

Alarik turned away and retched.

Swiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he struggled to sort through mead-soaked thoughts. But recollection dangled just out of reach. Strong drink in a never-ending night, laughter and lies, swapping story for ever bigger story, and then…what?

Nothing.

He must have left the long house with Ragnar and Einar, but how had he come to be here in a storage hut with his brother dead and cousin wounded? Who had committed this heinous act and why? Him? So many questions whirled, he raised both hands to his head to keep it from spinning off his shoulders.

“
Alarik, you must…run. You are innocent.”

He staggered to his feet. “You know this? I cannot think. I do not know.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “I cannot remember.”

“
You…will be hunted. I will find who did this and come—”

Alarmed at the strained grimace on his friend’s face, Alarik interrupted. “So be it. I will go to Jorvik and wait for your word. I’ll send Signy to tend you as I leave.”

“
God…go with you.”

“
Which one?”

Ragnar opened his mouth, but Alarik raised his hand. “I jest, Ragnar. Do not give your last breath to convert the likes of me. But I will take your blessing. Be well. Come soon.”

He couldn’t be sure if relief or pain overcame his friend as Ragnar’s eyes closed and head lolled. Either way, he needed care and soon.

And Alarik needed to run.

ONE

Present Day—Northumberland, England

“
For once in your life, will you listen to me? I’m trying to tell you there’s someone—”

The voice on the other end of Cassie Larson’s cell phone cut out when a gust of wind swept in from the North Sea. It whipped back her hair, cooling the nape of her neck, and snagged a wayward strand in her hoop earring. She tugged it free, but even so, she welcomed the blast. She’d never used the words sweltering and England in the same sentence before, but she might after this trip. “Sorry, Drew, didn’t catch that. Bad connection. I’ll have to call you later.”

“
No! There won’t be a later. Do you hear me? I’ve found—”

“
Dr. Larson? The boat’s about to leave.”

Cassie faced the end of the landing, where a ferry blasted a few short warnings on its horn. From the railing, a concerned student waved like a demented pageant queen on a parade float. Tammy. Always Tammy. Cassie nodded an acknowledgement and exhaled long and slow. Turning away, she plugged her free ear with her hand.

“
Really, hon, I can’t talk now. My students have boarded, and the boat’s about to leave. What’s so important that you can’t wait to talk about ’til tonight?”

“
I’m not talking to you tonight or tomorrow or ever. I’m done talking.”

Something in his voice made her shiver in spite of the mid-morning sunshine. “What?”

“
Oh, so now you’re listening?”

“
Dr. Larson!”

Cassie unplugged her ear and waved her arm over her head without looking back at Tammy. “What, uh, what are you saying?”

“
I’m saying we’re finished, Cass. I’ve found someone else. Someone who cares more about me than her career.”

A stranger to tears, she startled when her vision blurred and her throat tightened. The fresh tang in the air turned bitter. “I…” She inhaled until her nostrils almost pinched shut, then tried again, “I don’t know what to say.”

“
Just say good-bye.”

“
Doctor, we’re leaving!”

Cassie glanced over her shoulder. Dock workers unlashed thick mooring ropes from the side of the cement jetty. “Drew, really, I’ve got to go. Let’s finish this—”

“
Good-bye, Cassie.”

Her cell phone clicked dead. Out of habit, she shoved the horrible call and all its accompanying emotions into a box labeled Personal that sat in a corner of her heart, then slammed the lid. She turned and sprinted down the landing ramp. The boarding ladder had already been removed, but she continued on undaunted. She jumped and landed with a thud on the deck in front of a stocky crew member.

At that moment, the ferry went into a full reverse, and her legs wobbled. A brief vision of tumbling backward into a watery grave flashed through her mind, and she clutched the crewman’s arm.

“
Have a care, miss.” The man’s glare burned hotter than the solstice sun.

Cassie flashed a professional smile and loosened her grip. She stepped back, trying to ignore the smell of yesterday’s fish and chips that he wore like aftershave. “Sorry. It won’t happen again.”

He frowned, stubby grey whiskers folding into age-old creases set deep into either side of his mouth.

“
Aye, you mayn’t have the chance.”

She wondered at the odd remark, but he didn’t elaborate. Instead, he retreated down a narrow strip of deck ringing an enclosed passenger area, taking his fishy odor with him.

“
Oh, Dr. Larson!”

Flippity-flopping footsteps slapped against the metal flooring to Cassie’s right. She tucked her cell phone into the canvas bag that had somehow managed to stay anchored on her shoulder, then turned, bracing herself to face Tammy Jenkins—undergrad, overeager, and all-around thorn in the flesh.

“
You all right?” Eyes magnified by thick glasses, Tammy looked like a startled screech owl.

“
Fine, thanks. I’m glad you were looking out for me. What would I do without you?”

“
I guess you’d miss the boat.” Tammy laughed, her cheeks blotching with patches of red, and finished with her trademark snort.

Cassie cringed behind a polite mask of amusement, fighting the urge to reach out and clamp the girl’s mouth shut. “Has everyone been seated, then? I really should take attendance before the guide’s lecture begins.” She tried to side-step the girl, but Tammy mirrored her action as if they danced.

“
Sure, Dr. L. I did a head-count for you, seven heads besides mine. Everyone’s here, well, except you weren’t, but now you are so, I guess…everyone’s here.” Her teeth glistened large and white as she giggled again.

Cassie stepped back before a fine spray of saliva could land on her and waited for the snort.

Tammy didn’t disappoint. “Guess what? I saved a spot for you in the front, right next to me.”

“
Tammy, you’re the best.” The best what, she dared not say out loud. “I’ll join you in a minute.”

“
Okay, but you probably shouldn’t take any more calls.” The girl laughed at her own lame humor all the way across the back deck, snorting before the cabin door shut behind her.

Cassie gritted her teeth and turned toward the sea. She allowed herself a grimace but refused to cry. Better to be irritated by a student than think about Drew. If need be, she could blame her stinging eyes on the churning wake. Besides, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hurting her. She blinked back the moisture and watched the ferry skim across the sheltered bay toward the crests of open sea. The lecture would start soon.

Giving herself exactly twenty seconds to run her fingers through her shoulder-length hair, she detangled the windswept knots. Then she hitched up her skirt, which rode low on her hips, smoothed out the wrinkles in her linen blouse and—pop. A pearly white button took flight.

She bent to retrieve the runaway, but it skittered beyond her reach before sailing through a water run-off gap at the edge of the deck. She shot up, smacking her head on the steel railing, and peered over as the button dove into the foamy wake.

Great. First Drew, now this.

Caught by the breeze, her blouse gaped open, revealing as much cleavage as the man-crazed college girls in her class. Professor Cassandra Larson, PhD, worked hard at appearance, and empty-headed varsity chick was not the look she’d been going for.

Nothing to be done for it now. Maybe the island Visitor Centre or priory curator would have a spare safety pin. If desperation set in, she could always stoop to asking Tammy.

Whether or not she looked like a character on a bodice-ripping novel cover, she needed to resume her role as instructor. She set her shoulders, crossed the deck, and entered the glassed-in observation cabin, an invisible cloud of musty mildew permeating the air.

The commentary had started without her, but it stopped as she skirted the seated passengers. All eyes watched as she worked her way to the front and sat next to Tammy.

Once more she earned the scowl of the crewman she’d bumped into earlier. What was he doing leading a lecture? Shouldn’t he be manning the helm or swabbing a deck or something?