Viking Claim (The MacLomain Series: Viking Ancestors Book 2) (2 page)

Over and over.

“Pursue what you love not what someone else thinks you should.”

Veronica had been trying to do that her whole life but always came up short. She had no great love for any of the career paths she'd chosen. But there had been money. So she remained on course, steady, true, determined. Was there any other way to be? After all, she’d learned from the best. Megan.

Veronica sipped her wine and got lost in the crowd on television. Was it safe to say she’d been riding on her looks for a while with modeling? Sure. Though she didn’t see the same thing when she looked in the mirror, evidently the rest of the world thought she was a knock-out.

But that wasn’t
her
.

Not at all.

Though she might have thought so a few years ago, that had changed.
She
had changed. Everything changed. Too many times to count. Lost in the masses of New York, she visually drifted into the crowd as surely as she had since moving there. It was a place to escape. A place she didn’t have to look at herself because there were too many other people to look at.

A constant distraction.

Amber and Sean were either not interested in engaging her further or needed to engage one another more because they vanished. Thank God. Veronica might have moved to the city, but she preferred silence, her own space. That’s why she had rented a place in a high-rise where she could look out the windows and watch life go by.

Then, every day, she was forced to be part of it.

She’d plaster on a smile and be the dazzling woman who’d gained respect within the circles of New York’s high society. Then she would return home to her safe haven and release a sigh knowing that she’d taken one step further. She was more accomplished than she’d been the day before.

That’s what mattered most.

Climbing the ladder. Being better. More noticed.

And she had done that.

Again and again.

Yet even she knew it was a means of escape because she didn’t give a damn about any of it.

Veronica watched the crowds grow rowdy in Times Square and nodded, glad she
wasn’t
there. Wine polished off in record time, she eyed the box.

The stones.

Because that’s all they were. Two rocks that might or might not stand between her and a preposterous future. Still, she pulled the box onto her lap, relieved by its pressure, its very presence.

“Raknar. Kol,” she said aloud because she hadn’t dared to say their names before…and wanted to. “Where are you?”

The fire crackled and wind howled, but that was it. What else would there be? An actual response from men gone from this Earth for over a thousand years? Veronica shook her head as she once more rolled the stones over in her hand. Sleepy, she continued to hold them as she curled onto her side. While one part of her wanted to believe they might whisk her back in time so that she could find Megan, another part was defiant and disbelieving.

If it was so easy to find her, wouldn’t Megan have said so in her heartfelt letter? Veronica ground her teeth, frustration rising. Her sister could have left a map, something, anything, if she went somewhere other than to her death. Veronica blinked back tears as she thought of Megan sailing out on her small boat alone. Why would she have done such a thing when Veronica and Amber could have gone
with
her? Even her dog Guardian had vanished. She just prayed that whatever had happened out there, Megan wasn’t alone.

Her phone beeped another incoming text, but she ignored it. Though Amber clearly thought otherwise, Phillip was by no means a love connection. He was merely good company with excellent connections. So far, they enjoyed a sex free, casual relationship. Did he want more? Yes. Unfortunately, she didn't feel the same. Though successful and handsome, she had yet to feel any fireworks with him. Maybe in time. Truthfully, she wasn’t a big believer in love at first sight. As far as she was concerned true love, if such a thing existed, came over time once people figured out if they were compatible.

That would be why the romance between Megan and her Viking king seemed even more impossible to believe. Way too much, way too fast. A total crash and burn relationship in her opinion. After all, lust could only take you so far.

Issuing a yawn, her eyes grew heavy as she found herself not staring at the television but once again at the Hugin and Munin symbol. Two ravens, supposedly shamanic spirits, sent by Odin to fly the world and gather information. So, by all means, the Norse saw them as extensions of Odin himself. And though the common definition of Munin was memory she wondered at its other potential meaning.

Desire.

Veronica only felt strong desire once and it certainly wasn’t for a man. No, it had been for the return of her child. But no amount of praying or even strong desire could ever bring back her son. Without the support of his father who took off when he found out she was pregnant, she only had her sisters and therapist to help her through the heartache. Yet all that was in the past now. She shook her head and sighed. Time to lose the negative thoughts.

So she utilized a trick her therapist taught her.

Wind howled against the house and she mentally pictured it blowing her sad thoughts away in the form of a feather. Away and away the feather blew, curling and twisting over the ocean. Eyes closed, she watched it drift.

Until something changed.

A vision she had no control over.

Hovering, caught, the feather split in two and started to float back toward her. 

Slow at first then faster until the feathers became two black ravens. They flew at her so quickly she flinched. Instead of flying into her, they veered off with her somehow following. She had no body…only visuals.

It was daytime, but the skies were dark and brooding.

Though they flew along the coast, they didn’t go far before landing on a tall cliff back-dropped by pines. Yet she coasted over them, catching their cries on the wind. Whispers started, but she had no idea where they came from. If that wasn’t insane enough, numbers, perhaps even coordinates, started to flash in her vision.

44°21'7.27
then
-68°4'29.03
.

Over and over and over.

Then everything burst into pure white and Veronica jolted upright, shaking. She blinked rapidly, shocked to smell coffee brewing and bacon sizzling. Dim daylight had replaced night.

“Hey sleepy head,” Amber said, already heading her way with a cup of coffee.

Though still on the couch, someone had laid a blanket over her.

“Morning,” she mumbled, grateful for the hot brew handed to her. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Amber grinned. “You were out like a light when we came back downstairs last night.” She nodded at the box. “I put the stones away. Thought it was gonna take a crowbar to pry them from your hand.”

Veronica swung the blanket aside and sat up, rolling her shoulders. God, that’d all been a dream? Of course it had.

Yet the numbers were stuck in her mind.

“What time is it?” she said.

“Time to get up. The lawyer will be here pretty soon.”

“Ah, right.” She padded over to the island and sat on a bar stool, gaze settling on the sketch Amber drew when they were chatting the night before. Eyes lethal, it depicted Veronica in an odd looking business suit gripping something unseen and obviously in court as a lawyer. But only parts of it seemed to be a courtroom, enough so that she knew it was a place of law. Yet everything surrounding her was different. “This is strange, Sis.”

“I know, right.” Amber shrugged. “It just sort of poured out of me.”

“Too much talk of Vikings lately,” Veronica murmured because everything around her in the image was foreign. Some sort of hall with torches, small fires and crowds of people standing around the edges dressed in ancient clothing. The majority of men were tall, rugged and bearded. The women wore long dresses with woolen tunics belted at the waist.

Head shaking, she flipped the paper over, grabbed a pencil and absently wrote down the numbers from her dream if for no other reason than to get them out of her head.

“Good morning,” Sean said as he came inside with an armful of wood and put it on the hearth by the fire.

“Same to you,” Veronica replied, staring at the numbers while sipping her coffee.

Sean joined her at the island, his eyes falling to what she’d written. “What’s up with the latitude and longitude?”

Surprised, she frowned at him then looked back at the numbers. A chill raced through her. “Um…I’m not really sure.”

Amber joined them, eyes on the paper before they went to Veronica. “You’re not sure?”

Veronica shook her head and told a little white lie. “They just popped into my head.”

“Those coordinates are local.” Sean whipped out his cell phone and tapped a few times. “Raven’s Nest.”

Another chill crawled over her skin. What were the odds?

“That’s bizarre.” Amber cocked her head at Veronica. “The coordinates just popped into your head?”

“So it seems,” she muttered and took another sip of coffee. “I must’ve seen them somewhere. On a Maine map or something.”

“I know you’re good with numbers but wow, Sis.” Amber returned to flipping bacon. “That’s just weird, especially considering Megan’s issues with ravens before she vanished.”

“It’s just a coincidence,” Veronica assured and looked at Sean. “But since you mentioned it, what’s Raven’s Nest?”

“Cliffs.” He shrugged and sipped coffee. “Scenic. A great place to hike but dangerous, especially this time of year.”

“I’m sure,” Amber said, glancing outside at the snowy landscape.

Unable to lose the chills, Veronica headed for the stairs. “I’m going to grab a shower and get ready for the lawyer.”

“I put your suitcase in the guest room at the end of the hall,” Sean mentioned.

“Thanks.”

The moment she closed the door to her room, she set aside her coffee, sat on the end of the bed and held her head. A headache was blooming. Stress. Too much of it. Likely the sole reason for her dream. Her mind was going wacky as she tried to cope with Megan’s loss. Had to be.

Determined to unlock her muscles before they tightened any further, she hopped in the shower. But despite the hot water sluicing over her body, tension only grew as her dream again and again rose up. The steam was like billowing snow over the cliffs. The water hitting the tiles became an echo of waves crashing against rock.

This was one hundred percent
crazy
.

Finished in no time, she cut off the water, dried and got dressed, opting for black skinny jeans and a form-fitting, sage green cashmere sweater. Then she dried her thick brown hair until it fell softly around her face. After adding just a touch of make-up, she grabbed her now cold coffee and headed back down to the kitchen. Amber and Sean sat at the table, munching away. Perched on a bar stool, Veronica pulled on her black two thousand dollar suede, just-below-knee, fur trimmed boots.

“Come eat,” Amber said. “There’s plenty of food.”

Veronica went to the sink, dumped out her coffee and refilled her cup. “No thanks. I’m not hungry.”

“C’mon. You’re way too thin.”

“Necessary evil that comes with the job,” Veronica reminded her as she grabbed the stones out of the box and stared out over the bay.

“Whatever you say, Sis. You’ve always had a good appetite and none of it ever ended up on your hips."

No, she supposed it hadn’t. Amber was right. But it seemed like the thing to say. The truth was her stomach was in knots and she doubted food would stay down. Veronica rarely dreamt but when she did she soon forgot it. Not this time. Instead, she kept replaying everything that had happened over and over again.

Somebody knocked on the front door.

“That must be the lawyer. I’ll get it,” Veronica said, pocketing the stones.

About the last thing she expected to see when she opened the door was a tall, intensely good looking man. With dark hair and pale smoky blue eyes, he was immaculately dressed in a black business suit covered by a black wool jacket.

“Hello. I’m Grant, Sean’s lawyer,” he said with a Scottish burr.

Okay
. This was weird. Where had Sean found a foreign lawyer? For Christ sake, he was a fishing boat captain.

“Hi, I’m Veronica.” She let him in. “Have you got a last name, Grant?”

If she wasn’t mistaken, he had to think about that for a moment. “Yes…Seavey.”

Uh huh. That didn’t sound right at all but what did she know. When they entered the main living area, Sean and Amber greeted him. It seemed Sean had found Grant via Google and this was their first time meeting. Amber seemed just as baffled as Veronica as they eyed the Scotsman. But although he seemed out of place, Grant was every inch the professional as he pulled paperwork from his briefcase and they sat around the island.

“Would you like something to drink?” Amber asked him.

Grant shook his head. “I’m fine, thank you.”