Bjorn might appear relaxed, but she knew her husband well and recognized the subtle signs of tension—the way the corners of his eyes crinkled as he squinted slightly, the flare of his nostrils, the smallest curl of his fingers as he readied himself to grab something to use as a weapon.
“Everything’s okay. You’re safe here.” A tall woman with striking green eyes and red hair made the pronouncement from the lap of one of the most dangerous men she’d ever laid eyes on. And considering she’d known some of the mightiest Norse warriors—including her own husband—and had glimpsed some of the gods in the afterlife, that was saying something. “I’m Morrigan,” the woman continued. “That’s Maccus.” She pointed at the man holding her.
They weren’t the only couple in the room. The other pair appeared not quite as deadly, but looks could be deceiving. The stench of pure power practically overpowered the air in the room.
“That’s Asher and Jo,” Morrigan said. “None of us will hurt you.”
She wasn’t about to take their word for anything. She didn’t know them, but she trusted Bjorn to tell her the truth.
“I know you have many questions,” he began. His chest was bare, as he’d used his shirt to bind her wound. A wound that no longer hurt.
She grabbed her upper arm. The bandage was gone and her skin was unblemished. Astonished, she held her hand up in front of her. The skin she’d torn against the ground was healed. “What magic is this?” she whispered.
Or had she been unconscious for weeks and her body had naturally healed? “How long was I out?”
“Not long. I’ll explain later.”
The answer didn’t satisfy her. Only the gods could heal, as far as she knew. Unless this world had magic the likes of which she’d never encountered.
Before she could question him further, several tattoos on his chest caught her eye. The ones on his face and neck she knew well, having traced their lines many times. He’d had them for almost as long as she’d known him. There were more on his arms that were unfamiliar. But these ones in particular made her throat close and tears burn in her eyes.
She brushed her fingers over the markings. “You did not forget us.” Her name and those of their children were etched above his heart.
Bjorn grabbed her hand and flattened it over the runes. “Never.”
There was so much to be said, but not with strangers surrounding them. What he needed from her was her strength, to not show weakness before the others.
“I don’t know what happened.”
“What do you remember last?”
She closed her eyes to block out everyone and concentrated, using her connection to Bjorn to ground her. At first, there was nothing but a blank void. Then the memories came trickling back. “I’d served the last meal of the day in Freya’s Hall, as I normally did.”
“You went to Freya’s Hall?” Bjorn’s fingers entwined with hers as he lowered their bound hands to her lap.
She opened her eyes and nodded. “Yes. Because of the way I protected our children, fought for them, she took me in.” Emotion threatened to choke her. “And because of my courage, because the children were so young, she allowed them to reincarnate, to live again.”
Bjorn tipped back his head, his jaw taut, every muscle in his body flexed to their limits. His grief was still so fresh after so very long.
“They are safe,” she told him. “A mother knows.” Her heart was settled, even if it sometimes ached with a loss too huge to put into words.
He sucked air into his lungs. None of the others in the room stirred.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”
She cupped his beloved face in her hands. “You were doing what you needed to do.” The men had been called to fight, to defend their land against invaders. Some of them had slipped through, but that was the will of the gods. “And you were with me in spirit. My love for you gave me the strength to fight even when all seemed lost.”
He nodded and heaved a huge breath. “What do you remember last?”
She understood his need to push the hurt and anguish aside for now and deal with their current situation. Many thought her husband unfeeling. She’d always known it was the opposite—he felt too much.
Frowning, she picked through her memories. “I went for a walk after. It’s something I do to clear my thoughts. I sensed something. Someone.”
“Who?”
She licked her dry lips, wishing for some water or ale to quench her thirst. Hunger gnawed at her, but she would not ask for sustenance. They had not offered, as custom and manners dictated. Another reason she doubted their sincerity.
“I don’t know.” A huge shudder racked her. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and a wave of dizziness washed over her. “Then I was in the dark in a place with no light, no sound, no smell, and no touch. I was simply there. Time lost all meaning. I could have been there for a blink of an eye or a thousand years. Then I was where you found me.”
…
Bjorn’s instincts screamed this was going to turn into a shitstorm of epic proportions. “Tell me more about the void.” Any detail she could recall might help.
She shook her head, her fear a living, breathing entity.
“I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important. The Allfather believes you willingly escaped. My orders are to find and kill you. Only I didn’t know it was you.”
Her eyes widened. “Why would he ask such a thing of you?”
“Later.” He wished he could put her off indefinitely. He was hesitant to speak Odin’s name aloud for fear of conjuring him, even though it was unlikely the god would be paying attention. He’d simply assume Bjorn would follow his orders and call out to him when it was done.
“It was complete nothingness. When I screamed, there was no sound. It was sucked into the blackness. Swallowed whole, as I was.”
Maccus swore and stood, setting Morrigan on her feet beside him.
“What do you know?” Bjorn asked.
“The gods travel from realm to realm through rifts in time and space. They can create them to take them where they wish to go. It’s conceivable a god could stash a person in one of them and retrieve them at another time.”
“So Lucifer could have a hand in this.”
“Lucifer? Who is Lucifer?” Anja asked.
“King of the Underworld for another pantheon—the Christians. There are many more gods out there, all with their own worshippers.” The idea of them working together against the Brotherhood was a scary thought.