Riveted (48 page)

There was nothing but the next step. The next. And the next. Nothing but moving on. The light faded, but filled with the memory of her falling asleep on the snow, of the terror when he’d been unable to wake her, he didn’t dare stop to build a dome. Darkness fell.

His breath was a constant scalding scrape through his throat. His skin was on fire, dry and tight. Too many layers, too many clothes. He stopped to unbuckle his overcoat. Annika slipped from his back, and he cried out, turning to catch her before she fell. Realization roared through him with her soft moan.

He’d been seconds from taking off his coat, from stripping out of his clothes.
Jesus.

The fever. But he couldn’t stop. He had to go on.

Sliding his arms beneath her shoulders and knees, he lifted her up again, against his chest. God, she was so heavy. But there was only one more step. One more.

The next. And the next.

The moon rose, burning against the sky. David glanced up, saw the round face staring down at him with a fishhook smile. Laughing, laughing. He blinked, flipped his lens, and it was just the moon again, the shadows of the craters standing in sharp relief against the gray. Annika’s head lolled off his shoulder. He paused, felt for her pulse. They still lived; there was still hope. He trudged on. As if oiled, the moon slid down the sky. Faerie lights danced in the
dark. The witches and trolls, released from the Underworld by the eruption, prancing through the snow. He laughed with them, a rasp through his parched throat. Far ahead, mangy forms slunk through the night in a single line, not showing on his thermal lens but their shapes clear.

Dogs. They were trying to hide, but he could see them. A grin stretched his dry lips.

He’d kill one now, and feed it to Annika, and everything would be well. The dogs came closer. Not barking but growling all around him, the moon growing brighter, brighter, huffing down the back of his neck, shaking the ground.

Not the moon.

David turned and found a monster. Too astonished for fear, he stared up into the terrible face. He hadn’t believed that anything came from the fissure eruptions, but there was no other explanation for this. Steam poured from giant nostrils, icicles hanging in the ragged beard below. White fur formed a thick ruff around its enormous neck.

A ruff. Perhaps it was a royal troll.

He laughed wildly, until it huffed again and squatted, ejecting a burst of steam. David stumbled back, almost lost his balance.

Almost lost Annika.

His grip tightened, and he steadied, cradling her against him. His vision wavered. He shook his head, tried to clear it.

The monster vomited his mother from its chest.

He stared, disbelieving.
His mother.
Her beautiful face was softer now. Not broken and bleeding, and she wore a coat of fur and homespun trousers instead of a nightshirt stained with crimson. Gray streaked her black braid.

But his mother was dead—and he suddenly realized why she was here, traveling in the belly of a monster from below.

“You can’t have her,” he whispered.

“David Ingasson—”

“No!” he shouted, backing up. “You can’t have her!”

Another woman joined her, her face ghostly pale. “Annika!”

“You can’t have her!”

His mother came forward, her dark eyes shimmering. “You must give her to us.”

And rip out his heart? A desperate howl tore from his chest, a prayer to the gods that shredded his raw throat. He fell to his knees in a cushion of snow that froze his thighs and crept upward, stabbing ice through his gut. His vision faded. He shook his head wildly, hating the fog.

“David.” Her hand cupped his cheek, her skin deathly cold. “Oh, you’re burning. Frida, take her.”

“Don’t. Please don’t. I’m sorry, so sorry I didn’t keep my promise. But please don’t take her. Please.” He bowed over Annika’s still form, holding her close. His arms shook. “Or take me, too.”

“We will. But you have to let her go.” She bent her face to his. “We’ll help her. We’ll help you. Trust me.”

David didn’t know if he could, but if he held Annika any tighter, he’d hurt her. He couldn’t do that. He’d never do that. With a broken sob, he loosened his hold.

He felt her weight lifted from him. And then nothing after that, except the cold.

The darkness receded from an insistent huffing and swaying
. Beneath him, a soft mattress cushioned his back. A firmer body lay against his side.

David opened his eye, rotated his light-blocking lens. Annika looked down at him, her lips trembling, her brown eyes shimmering.

“Are you with us again, then?”

She couldn’t be real. His hand lifted to her face. Warm skin. Her tears spilled over, wetting his fingers. She turned her cheek into his palm, her breath shuddering.

“My mother and Hildegard found us.”

Trying to moisten his dry tongue, he turned to look. A pale woman with hair the color of rust stood in the troll’s hearth chamber. Movement near the head drew his gaze higher. A tall woman—not his mother—climbed down the ladder.

“Aunt?”

He could barely form the word. His aunt nodded. “I am Inga’s sister.”

Annika’s hand flattened on his chest—his bare chest. Only a blanket covered his hips.

“We had to put you in the snow. Or they did, in truth.” Annika’s voice sounded high and tight, as if skimming the edge of crying. “I was in here, with my sister pouring fish broth into me. It’s been two days. I just woke up this morning, myself. Dooley and Källa are outside. They’re on the dogsled.”

And she was alive. He looked up into her eyes. Her mouth curved on an unsteady smile. God, he’d never thought he would see that again. But she was here, and so was he. Her curls fell over her forehead. Throat aching unbearably, his chest swelling, he brushed them back. Another tear spilled down her cheek and broke him. She was here. Oh, God, she was here. A harsh sob tore from his throat. He drew her down, buried his face in her neck. She clung to his shoulders, crying against him.

“We’re all right, David,” she spoke past her tears. Her fingers slid into his hair, holding him tight through each wracking sob. “We’re all right.”

Her soothing murmurs continued. She lifted her head as his shudders eased. Dimly, he was aware that the huffing had stopped, that the others had left them alone. She raised a tin cup to his lips—warm water, and she only allowed him a few sips, but even that was enough to soothe his parched tongue, his raw throat.

“I couldn’t bear losing you,” he said roughly.

“And I couldn’t bear to lose you.” She bent her head, a soft kiss flavored with tears. “We’re not all the way there yet. They’ve been pouring broth down our throats, but we need to keep sleeping, slowly eating more.”

And he needed to get up. Though shaky, David could sit, then stand. He found his trousers and shirt at the end of the bunk.

Curled up on the mattress, Annika watched him dress. He heard her envious sigh. “I need nanoagents.”

Yes, she did. “When we see her, Lucia can perform the transfusion.”

“Oh. No, now that we are out of danger, I’ll wait until I visit Hannasvik again. My mother will like to celebrate sharing her blood with me—and it gives everyone an excuse to drink and eat too much.”

A
visit
to Hannasvik. Not returning to stay. “You won’t be able to travel through the New World.”

At least not without the bribes that the Society paid during his expeditions through the interior, and those were simply for traveling through the different territories. He could probably find some way to bring her with him…
if
he continued that, too.

But he had other options. And he’d choose one that let him stay close to her.

Now, he just had to figure out what that option might be.

“I don’t mind,” she said. “I like traveling, but I’m ready to be home. Your boots are under the bed.”

He glanced down at his steel feet. “Do you have a pair yet?”

“No. But I’m not leaving this troll anytime soon. I’ve been forbidden.”

“By your mother?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Yes.”

“Good.” He could see that the little bit she’d done since he’d woken had worn her out. He lifted his hand to the beads at his neck. “They came to Vik to find me?”

“Yes. And learned that we were up on the glacier instead.”

“So the town wasn’t flooded?”

“No. But something else happened. I’ll let Dooley tell that story, though. I’ve heard it three times from him already.”

He grinned, strode over to the bed to kiss her. “I’m sure you will soon hear it again.”

The muscles in his legs shook when he dropped from the
chest hatch into the crunchy snow. Though David was aware of the others turning to look, he ignored them all for the relief of a nearby boulder. They must have stopped near the ocean. He could hear it in the distance, taste it on the air. Rectangular basalt columns stood ahead of him, their sides carved into regular widths, as if with a measuring stick and a sculptor’s adze. But it was just nature.

Bludging incredible. The whole damn world was incredible, because he and Annika were still in it.

He started back, his steps slowing as he took his first good look at the troll. By God, it was the ugliest thing he’d ever seen. Mottled patches of hide had been sewn and draped over the frame, hanging loosely. Its enormous, protruding rump steamed. The head was a riot of fur and feathers, and walrus tusks hung over the beard, giving the impression of giant fangs. Though it couldn’t have been much bigger than Austra Longears, the illusion that this thing might be living made it seem twice as large, twice as horrid.

“It was almost the death of me when I first saw it,” Dooley said beside him.

Speechless, David nodded then glanced at his friend. High emotion had flushed the other man’s face. Dooley clapped him on the back, shook his hand.

“Oh, but it’s good to see you up and about, Kentewess. I didn’t think my heart would beat again when I saw them rolling you naked in the snow. It frightened ten years off of me, only a few days after twenty years had been scared off by that troll.”

David grinned. “So I’m only half as ugly. Well, that’s something.”

Dooley laughed with him. “I figure that after this expedition is over, I’ll only have three years left.”

He’d no doubt make the best of them. David glanced over to
where his aunt spoke with Annika’s mother and Källa. Just behind them stood four clockwork dogs in harnesses attached to a sled. “So how do they run?”

“Faster than a live dog can, and thank God for it.”

David recognized the change in Dooley’s voice—he had a story to tell. He wanted to hear it, but not yet. His aunt’s resemblance to his mother struck him again, a hard spike through his chest. He approached her slowly, couldn’t stop staring.

Her gaze searched his face in return. “You look very much like Inga,” she said softly.

“Not as much as you, Aunt.”

“So I do.” Smiling, she gestured to the woman beside her. “This is Frida Kárasdottor.”

Without waiting for his response, Annika’s mother wrapped him in a hard embrace before stepping back, her small hands gripping his. “Thank you, David Ingasson, for bringing my daughter back to me. I will never be able to repay you. If ever you need anything, I will scour the world to find it for you. If you ever need help, I will sacrifice all of my strength and blood to give it. If you have any enemies, I will hunt them and strip their flesh from their bones. This I swear to you.”

Overwhelmed, he shook his head. “I would offer you the same for coming to find us. For helping her when I couldn’t.”

“She was never in any real danger,” Hildegard said. “She’d have clung to life for thirty years, if she had to, crawling into the snow and hibernating until a meal fell into her mouth. She’s as stubborn as her mother. Look at that.”

David turned toward the troll. Annika hadn’t come out, but sat at the edge of the chest hatch with her bare legs dangling over, watching them.

Watching him.

“She hasn’t let you out of her sight since she awoke,” Källa said.

He could hardly bear to be away from her, either. His gaze on Annika’s face, he asked, “How is your son? Paolo?”

“Well. I’m sorry I couldn’t come for you sooner.”

It didn’t matter. They’d come in time. “Where are we now?”

“Coming on about five miles from Vik,” Dooley said. “We stopped when you woke. The dogs needed the rest.”

He heard Källa’s snort. “I’ll push the sled the remainder of the way, Mr. Dooley. Go on in with your friend. He can’t stand it much longer. Annika can’t, either.”

David truly couldn’t. He returned to the troll, holding her gaze with every step. She drew back from the hatch and stood, making room for him.

He caught her up against his chest, loving the warmth of her skin, the silly bows on her drawers, the curve of her mouth, and the dimple in her chin. “Is this Rutger Fatbottom?”

“Yes.”

A footstep sounded behind him. “Turn away, Patrick. I need to kiss her properly.”

Slow and sweet, her arms linked around his neck, her lips clinging to his.

At his back, another step sounded. A throat cleared. A female throat. “You’re supposed to be resting, little rabbit.”