Honeyed Words (23 page)

The day had been exhausting. I let my head nod forward—sleep dancing along the back of my brain—when someone tapped me on my exposed foot.

I started awake. Skella was in the mirror, her hand inside my apartment, pulling back from where she’d touched me.

“How do you do that?” I asked her, pulling away from her. Not really my most pressing question, but her ability to travel through mirrors was damn annoying.

“We just do,” she said. “Look, I’m really sorry about everything.”

She wasn’t in the same place she’d been the last time.

“Where are you?”

“Public bathroom near the bandstand,” she said. “Harder to tell I’ve been here, there’s so many people coming through here every day.”

I looked at her. She was in the same goth getup, with the same shy smile and deep, haunted eyes.

“You can’t have the sword,” I told her. Might as well get down to business.

She nodded. “We had to try. It’s too late now, anyway.”

“Too late for what, and why did you have to try?”

She didn’t want to tell me—I could see the shame on her face. Somehow she’d failed.

“They moved him tonight.” She looked even more haunted. “Don’t know details. Gletts is out right now trying to find where.”

Of course she meant Ari. “Why tonight?”

“New moon, I think.”

Made as much sense as anything else.

“They’re gonna kill him soon, any day now.”

Anger was boiling up into me again, and I was in no real mood to let it go. “You work for them, these dwarves who snatch kids?”

“You don’t understand,” she said.

Yeah, of course not. “So explain it to me.”

“We wanted to help him, but we couldn’t.”

Fire licked at the back of my skull, pushing aside the fatigue. Adrenaline surged through me. “He was right there. I saw him the night you attacked us.”

“I know,” she growled.

That was new. Some backbone, perhaps?

“That’s why we tried for the sword,” she continued. “We’re not evil, if that’s what you think.” She was getting angry as well. “They used special chains—iron and art. We couldn’t touch them, much less break them. That’s what the sword was for. We thought, if we could free him, get him out safely, the dwarves would be stymied.”

Okay, that I didn’t see coming. “Fuck me,” I breathed. “Why didn’t you just ask?”

“We…” She coughed and wiped her face. Her makeup was running, and I could see she had started to cry.

I wasn’t sure, the lighting was bad, but it looked like some of those shadows under her eyes were bruises.

She rolled on. “After you tried to stop them, they came back here, angry and ready to kill. If it wasn’t for the need to wait for the new moon, they would have killed him that night.”

I got the impression she and Gletts had taken some of that anger. I didn’t interrupt, just let her run on, sobs or no.

“Gletts was on guard that night, at the burrow, making sure the eaters didn’t get in, so I was at the compound, keeping the gate open as per our bargain.”

“What gates? What are eaters?”

She sighed. “Gletts and I can open mirrors, use them to travel from one place to the next. The dwarves have used that for as long as I can remember to thwart Jean-Paul along with the local police.”

“The dwarves have a fairly prosperous clan here. They have a few real smiths, makers who can work the old magic, but most of them are less skilled.” She smiled, shrugging. “They get by, and we help them in exchange for their protection.”

She was torn, I could tell. Her part in this wasn’t sitting too well with her.

“They helped us keep the park clear, helped us have a home here when we couldn’t get back to Alfheim. But now, things have changed. Without Jean-Paul to keep us all aligned, they’ve started branching out, demanding more.”

I was starting to have some sympathy for her. Sounded like a raw deal.

“We kept the gates open, kept the eaters from coming through the sideways places, and in exchange, they helped us.”

Eaters did not sound like puppies. “What are eaters?”

She gave a little shudder. “Think spider, only, you know, like big as a dog.”

Okay, that I didn’t need to know about. I slid back from the mirror, glancing at the edges.

This made her laugh. “You’re safe,” she said. “They are rare, more rare than the dwarves know.” She got a wicked smile on her face. “We kind of embellish things so the dwarves respect us.”

I smiled. Clever. “Okay, that’s smart. But…” I eyed the mirror’s edges again. “They do exist, right?”

“Oh, yes,” she said, her face growing serious. “They are attracted to power. We don’t use a lot to open the gates, but sometimes, when the dwarves are doing something big like blood magic, they attract more of the unsavory things out there. Working with the dwarves kept us safe, but sometimes the price is too high.”

“So, let me get this straight.” I tried taking deep breaths, thinking of cool water and soft colors. Red flames raged at the corners of my vision, and I could almost smell the cinders. “Did you know they were snatching Ari? Did you know what they wanted to do?”

She nodded once, looking at the floor. “What is the import of one individual in the grand scheme of our very survival?” she asked. “You must understand. When we found they were offering the brew to the scaled ones, we argued with them, tried to persuade them.”

That would explain her bruises. I had a whole new hate on for those damn dwarves. Who was I to judge her? I didn’t even know the dragons existed before this spring. She and her clan had been living under their bloody talons for their whole lives.

“The ends do not justify the means,” I said finally, searching for a place to direct my righteous indignation.

“You are naïve,” she said wearily. “You of all of your kind should understand the evil they are capable of. You have spoken with Òðr, greatest among the Æsir.” She waited, expecting a response.

“Um, do you mean Odin?”

She nodded. “He and his ilk were betrayed from within and without. First Loki tricked Thor to lay aside his belt and gloves, allowing the Jötunn to slay him.”

Jötunn
I knew. Giants.

“Loki fell to the sword of Heimdall as he crossed the rainbow bridge, attempting to return to his father’s home in Asgard.”

Different from the myths I’d read. Not that I should be surprised. Besides, how trustworthy was she?

“Nidhogg had whispered from her place at the foot of the World Tree, invading Heimdall’s dreams, warning him of Loki’s betrayal. It was the drakes, you see. The scaled ones who coveted the place of the gods. They had begun to move in the open then, hunting down the godlings.”

“This part I’ve heard.”

“Good,” she said, rushing onward. She seemed to be fearful of the time, so I didn’t elaborate.

“… then, the terrible beast, Fenris, foul offspring of Loki, felled Heimdall at the great bridge, calling his mean brethren from the wastes of Midgard. But before the dire wolves of the northern wilds could ascend to Asgard, Heimdall blew such a note on his horn that the rainbow bridge was shattered, sending the fell beasts back to their darkling woods.”

The storm rose again in the night, wind wailed around my apartment, and I hugged the blanket closer.

“What does this have to do with Ari, or the mead?” I asked.

“Indeed,” she said, growing more desperate. “The Vanir and the Æsir had joined forces, and Kvasir had been born of their combined will.”

“Clueless here,” I said, feeling frustrated.

“Kvasir was a great skald, a god of wisdom and insight. It is due to him that the opposing factions became as one. But the dwarves killed him and took his blood. They brewed a bloody mead to give themselves power over the gods. This is what the dwarves here hope to re-create. With it they could command the hearts of men, sway the will of legions, undermine the rule of the scaled ones.”

“Then why would they offer to auction it to the highest bidder?” I asked, confused.

She sighed heavily and rubbed her forehead. “Because dwarves are mean bastards who can seldom see beyond the thoughts of glory or gold.”

I thought of Rolph and his schizophrenia around Gram. “They are fickle creatures.”

“Crazed and drunk with their own worth,” she spat. “They have taken my people hostage, killed a few, enslaved the rest.”

“But if you can travel through mirrors, why don’t you just lead them from their captivity?”

“Iron,” she whispered. “We cannot abide it, and they line the way with tricks and traps. We are helpless to cross certain thresholds. Only Gletts and I have a sort of protection, as we are not true blood.” This last bit seemed to cause her pain, this admission. “We are children of two worlds.”

I tapped the edge of the mirror.

“Let me get this right. You befriended us, then poisoned us to get your hands on the sword. All to save Ari from becoming the new version of this magic mead. Only, you couldn’t stop them, and now Odin’s on the rampage and the dwarves are making deals with dragons?”

“Pretty much.”

My head hurt. I wanted to go to sleep and pretend none of this mattered. “Why Ari?”

She looked thoughtful for a moment, almost sad. “He is strong in the ways of charisma and song,” she said, finally. “There are many who could serve the same, but few have embraced the gifts as powerfully as he—sought out the glory, drawn the magic to him.”

“He isn’t one of the reborn, is he?” I held my breath. Surely not.

“No, definitely not. But the lineage of Kvasir is long and varied. While Kvasir’s blood was the first used to make the mead, back in the days of the Elders, he was not the only man of charisma, wisdom, and beauty. There have been poets and kings, skalds, performers, politicians, and their ilk, who have chosen the path to glory.”

Okay, this was hard to take. “He chose this? Chose to become powerful? You can do that?”

“Sarah,” she said quietly. “Do you not feel you’ve had a hand in your own fate? Chosen certain paths, made certain decisions that have brought you here?”

Heady stuff, for true, and more than my sleep-deprived brain could handle at the moment.

“Okay, so the dwarves get wind of Ari, see his rising star, and snatch him. Where did they learn about the blood mead? I’m sure you can’t just find a recipe on the Internet.”

“How these dwarves knew of such a thing is a long and sordid tale,” she said, her facing growing stony. “Living under Jean-Paul was a hard life. Some chose dark ways, learned forbidden secrets to survive.” She paused, drawing a deep breath. “Don’t misunderstand. Some drew from the knowledge held by Jean-Paul and his allies. He was more powerful and cruel than you can begin to imagine.”

I wasn’t so sure about that. I had a damn good imagination. “So, they made a deal with the devil?”

“You could say that.”

“Let me get all this straight. The dwarves worked with Jean-Paul, or for him, I guess. Learning dark secrets, blood magics, and, in the end, happened to snatch Ari the night I was there?” Coincidence much?

“They had no idea you were here. If they’d known, I’m afraid they may have taken you and left Ari.” The thought seemed to scare her even more. “I have no idea what kind of potion they would make from your blood.” She shivered.

Good to know. Dwarves could want to kill me for my blood. What a fucked-up world. “I appreciate the four-one-one, but what, exactly, do you want with me?”

Now her face lit up—hope, perhaps. “I want you to come back to Vancouver. We need your help.”

“Today? Right now?” Man, I did not want to drive there this tired.

She shook her head. “No, I needed to seek your forgiveness, first. We are not ready. I will alert you. Blood has been spilled, the first draft of the mead is made. They have only bled him a little.” She glanced over her shoulder. “There is no use tipping our hand at this juncture. We are thinking when they are distracted with the auction, our people will be abandoned in their cells. This is when we’ll need you to act.”

I yawned hard, my jaws cracking and my ears popping. “Let me know,” I said. “I’ll do what I can.”

“I told Gletts you would help us.” She smiled broadly, looking as much weeping clown as angst-ridden goth child. “He said you would not forgive us.”

I leaned forward, letting my face get within her grasp, if she chose to reach through the mirror. I bared my teeth in a wide smile but I felt no joy. “I will help you against these idiot dwarves and to prevent the dragons from gaining this mead. But do not mistake a common enemy as friendship. You attacked me and Katie, when all you needed to do was ask for help.”

She made a wry mouth, nodding once. “It has been hard to trust anyone,” she said. “I should have taken your deeds at face value, but I was fearful. This has been my grave error. I will accept your wrath and your judgment when the mead is secured and the dwarves punished for their crimes against my people.”

“Get word to me,” I said, yawning again. “I need to sleep now. I’ll look for a sign from you to come north.”