Valkyrie Symptoms (8 page)

I fought against the intrusive urge, because it came from someplace that I didn't trust. I grabbed her wrist but couldn't knock her finger away.

“Valkyrie,” she said in clear, ringing accents. The word unleashed a double roller-coaster ride of exhilaration in my veins. It was so foreign, yet so familiar, both the word and the feeling it trigged. The effect must have been plain on my face, because the blond girl smiled. While her expression was far from warm, it was the first thing she'd done that didn't chill me to the bone.

My hand flew to my forehead when the blond girl released me. The skin where her finger had been was still hot to the touch.

Everyone in the bar was watching us by then—maybe because of the gorgeous supermodel who'd practically burrowed her finger into my brain, or maybe because they'd noticed that an underage American was in their midst. Either way, the eyes that met mine were a strange milky white. I swallowed hard, fighting back panic, as I realized that Kjell and I were alone with those lunatics in a room full of vacant, slack faces.

The blond girl said something else, a torrent of angry Norwegian that left me confused, breathless. “I don't understand,” I said, shaking my head. “But I think you should leave.” After a moment, I added,
“Blad.”
I'd either told her to leave or called her a car.

“How fascinating that you exist,” she said, switching languages effortlessly. Her accent was different from that of everyone else I'd met in Norway. Antique. Like she'd studied English three hundred years ago. “Information so valuable that I'll forgive you this once.”

“Astrid,” her friend said, a protest brewing in her voice. Something flashed between them as their eyes met. I felt the silent argument roll back and forth the way you can sense motion in the water even when it's far away.

Astrid glanced from me to Kjell as if weighing her options. So I took a step in front of him, like I'd actually be able to protect him from those two if they were determined to hurt us.

“No.” Astrid surveyed my defensive posture and gave me a patronizing half smile. “Let her live. There's no justice in punishing the ignorant. And they understand just enough to carry an important message home.” She locked eyes with me. “Consider this a one-time courtesy.” The last word stuck to her tongue as if it were the vilest combination of letters in the dictionary. “Next time you won't be so lucky. When I hunt, I kill anything that gets in my way—predator or prey.”

Astrid turned on her heel and strode toward the door without hesitating and without looking back. Her friend fell into step behind her but cast one last angry glare in my direction. Their boots pounded against the hardwood floor in unison. With military precision. It was the only sound in the bar other than my shallow jackrabbit breathing.

The moment the door closed behind them, Kjell leaned forward onto the counter and exhaled as if he'd been holding it in for an aeon.

“I can't believe that just happened,” he whispered. He stepped forward, putting his hands on my shoulders. “I don't know how you did that. But thank you.” Then he kissed me, quickly, so lightly, on the lips.

“You sure?” I challenged, keeping my tone casual and hoping to distract everyone from the fact that all the blood in my body had just relocated to my face. “Tuck, er, my friend, would scream at me right about now—say that I got in his way when he could have gotten laid.”

“Laid?” Kjell made the word sound even dirtier than it was. “Is that what you think was happening?”

If there was one thing I couldn't stand, it was being talked down to. “I don't know what to think,” I said frostily. “And I really don't care. I just want to go home.”

“I see.” Kjell was looking at me like I was four years old, which was the other thing I couldn't stand. “Didn't your grandmother tell you about the rumors? Your brother arrives tomorrow, right? After what happened here tonight, he'll need to be very careful.”

“What rumors?” I asked. “And what do Graham and my grandmother have to do with you picking up girls?” I said it even though I was beginning to realize that there was more at stake here, there were deeper implications that I couldn't even begin to grasp. Like denying it would make it go away.

Kjell's eyes widened in surprise. Or maybe it was disappointment. “It has nothing to do with picking up girls, and I think you know that. They would have kidnapped me if you hadn't stopped them. I owe you my life.”

“Dramatic much?” I pulled my hand away when he reached for it, alarmed by his sudden intensity. “Look, you don't owe me anything,” I said. He clearly did owe me an explanation, but I was willing to wait until we were in the car, especially if he was going to act so peculiar in public. “Except maybe a ride home.”

“Anything you say.”

Fifteen minutes ago, he had observed a careful enough distance that I figured the age difference was too much for him. But those baby blues now told me they were seeing me in quite a different light. It was such a complete one-eighty that I couldn't help wondering how much of it was beer goggles or some sort of misplaced gratitude for supposedly saving him. Either way, I didn't like it one bit.

Kjell's blue eyes were still bright with excitement as he turned to Margit and Sven. “We should go.” In all the chaos of the last few minutes, I'd forgotten they were even there. “I believe you now,” Kjell said. “But we'll be okay. Elsa just drove them off. She saved me. It was incredible. You saw, right?”

Margit was glaring at me with so much loathing, I was surprised I hadn't felt it, even with my back turned. Sven, who'd seemed nice enough before, was now staring at me like I'd just sprouted bat wings and a third head. I almost touched my shoulders to make sure I hadn't.

Kjell didn't seem to notice their less-than-enthusiastic reactions. He was already pulling me forward. “Let's get out of here.” As the people around us were shaking off the strange fog that had settled over their pupils, they started conferring in whispers. More than a few unfriendly faces had already turned my way. “C'mon, Margit, Sven.”

“We're not going anywhere with
her
.” Margit stood, shaking her head. “She's one of them.”

Kjell and I had reached the middle of the room, and Kjell fired back an angry torrent of Norwegian. The words were fast and furious, and I was surprised to find I could catch a few. Kjell was calling Margit stupid, demanding to know why I would have stood up for him if I was one of them.

Whoever
they
were.

The important part, the touching part, was that Kjell was begging Margit to give me a chance. I looked back at Margit, more curious about her reaction than anything else. Given the undercurrent of jealousy that had swept through the evening, I was pretty sure Kjell was making it worse by defending me.

“Don't you even look at us,” Margit snarled, covering Sven's eyes with one hand. “You already have my brother. Isn't that enough? Besides, Sven's too young, remember? That's what they said last time. You have to be eighteen.” She took four quick steps until she was right in front of me, dragging Sven behind her.

“Too young for what?” I backed away, right into Kjell. “And I've never even met your brother. I just met you tonight.” I couldn't believe I'd been stupid enough to get myself into this position. I was alone in a bar in Norway with a weird boy talking in riddles and a paranoid stranger who was preparing to wring my neck.

Margit's finger was in my face, practically poking my eye out. “She can't be trusted.” She hurled the words at Kjell. “I told you. What she did proves it. She's just like her grandmother.”

“You say that like it's a bad thing,” I shot back, surprising myself yet again that night.

Margit was dying to hit me. But that wasn't what scared me. I was horrified by the image that flashed through my mind, courtesy of the new voice that had stirred to life inside me. My retaliation would be swift and brutal if she even tried.

Sven shook his face free of Margit's hand and grabbed Kjell roughly by the shoulder.

“We can't let you leave with her,” Sven said. “You'll thank us for this tomorrow.”

“Back off.” Kjell knocked Sven's arm away and shoved his chest, just hard enough to send him back a few paces.

Margit pulled the personal locator beacon out of her pocket.

“Don't you dare,” Kjell hissed.

But without even hesitating, Margit pressed a flat red button on the front. This time, a red light on the top blinked to life, flashing in time with my thundering pulse.

“Turn that off,” Kjell said, taking a step toward Margit and making a grab for it. Sven blocked him. “You're gonna have the Royal Navy out looking for you,” Kjell said. “That's not a toy.”

“No,” Margit said. “We changed the frequency to one the navy won't pick up. You can't pretend this isn't happening now,” she added, suddenly all smug self-satisfaction. “You've seen it too. No more thinking you're so much better than us, Dr. Perfect back from Oslo, acting like you know everything.” The tangible resentment in her words surprised me and made me wonder if I'd been misreading Margit's behavior all along. Because bitter wasn't the best way to sweet-talk your crush.

“I know what I saw,” Kjell said, rubbing his forehead with his palm. “But that doesn't mean Ellie's part of it. She has no idea what's been going on.”

“Fine.” Margit glared at me, and I started inching my way toward the door, pepper spray in hand. “If she's innocent, she can prove it to the others when they get here.”

“What others?” I asked.

But Margit's focus had shifted back to Kjell, who made one more grab for the emergency transmitter in her hand.

“Turn that stupid thing off,” he said. Sven pushed him away. Hard. “If she was part of it, why would she have saved me? Think. You're letting prejudice cloud your judgment.” Sven and Kjell glared at each other, hands balled into fists, teetering on the brink of an actual punch-throwing fight.

“Interesting that you're defending her.” Margit's mouth pressed into a thin line. “Snap out of it. She'll seduce and kidnap you too.”

“Seduce?” I asked as a flush crept up my neck. That accusation was certainly a first. “Kidnap?” I whispered.

“Kjell.” Margit's voice broke over the plea. “Please.”

And then I knew, all at once, that her hostility toward me had nothing to do with an unrequited crush. She was scared for Kjell. She truly thought she was protecting him. The scraps of odd behavior I'd collected over the day, from the angry old lady in the bakery to Margit's flaming hostility, were shuffling inside my mind as I tried to piece together what everyone was so afraid of.

“Let's go,” Kjell said, pulling me behind him. “Before their
new
friends get here.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “Who's coming?” I didn't like the way Margit was standing, hands on her hips, a smug smile on her face, like we were stupid if we thought we were going anywhere.

Kjell's long strides dragged me to the door at a half run, and he didn't slow down when I stumbled, which was when I realized maybe there was a reason we needed to get out of there fast. Whoever Margit had summoned with that transponder was someone Kjell wasn't all that eager to meet.

It was impossible to ignore the stares that followed us across the bar, but I kept my eyes glued to the door, counting down the distance between me and safety with each step.

“Hope we see you tomorrow, Kjell,” Margit called after us. “But if not, at least we know where to find
her
.”

Ingrid Paulson
lives in San Francisco with her husband and daughter and enjoys long-distance running, eavesdropping, and watching science documentaries. She has always loved books and writing short stories but was surprised one day to discover the story she was working on wasn't so short anymore.
VALKYRIE RISING
is Ingrid's first novel.

Ingrid's grandmother might actually be a Valkyrie; Ingrid is still waiting for her to come clean.

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Copyright © 2012, 2013 by Ingrid Paulson

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EPub Edition © DECEMBER 2012 ISBN: 9780062268716

ISBN: 978-0-06-226871-6

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