Redeemer (Night War Saga Book 3) Page 7

  “Allie?” Tore leapt to his feet, placing one hand carefully atop my back. “What’s happening?”

  I grimaced. “My armor. It’s freaking out. Every time one of you talks about Vidar being in Helheim—ouch!” I hunched over as a fresh wave of pain ricocheted from my shoulder to my wrist and back up. “Stop doing that!” I yelled at the piece.

  Mack and Lela emerged from the kitchen, curiosity on their faces. “You okay, Allie?” Mack asked.

  “What’s going on?” Bodie asked. He and Johann hurriedly crossed the living room to stand beside me, while Mel and Malena exchanged confused looks from the couch.

  Awesome, Allie. Crazy level one thousand achieved: yelling at inanimate objects.

  “Did you say . . .” Tore paused. “You said that every time somebody says—”

  “Please don’t say it,” I interrupted. “You have no idea how much it hurts.”

  Greta placed her palms on the table and stood. “Allie,” she said. “Your armor reacts when a piece of Gud Morder is close, right?”

  “Yeah, but there’s only one piece per realm, and we already found the Midgard one.” Thank God. “But I’m guessing that just mentioning what Vidar’s experiencing in Hel—uh, that word, is enough for my armor to . . .”

  Crappers.

  Dear Universe, Please, for the love of all that is good in all the worlds, don’t make us go to Helheim tonight. I already tracked down one of the pieces today, and a break would totally rock. For all of us. Thanks. Xoxo, Allie

  “Allie?” Tore moved closer, and I felt the comforting heat of his body against my back. “What are you thinking?”

  My eyes rolled closed. One night off. I’d asked for one freaking night off for my team. Was that really so unreasonable?

  “I’m thinking . . .” I opened my eyes, bracing myself for the inevitable wave of agony. With a deep breath, I pushed forward. “I’m thinking we have to go to Helheim. Now.”

  My hands balled into fists, but the pain never came. Acknowledging its message seemed to appease my armor enough to not zap me. Awesome. Apparently, everyone—and everything—liked validation.

  “Now?” Tore’s eyes narrowed. “While Revenge is there?”

  “It makes some sense,” I admitted begrudgingly. “The Alfödr said the pieces were hidden near people I have a connection with. And whether I want one or not, I have a connection with Vidar because I have a connection with Tore. Which means . . .”

  “Which means the piece of Gud Morder will be located somewhere near Revenge.” Tore squeezed his eyes shut. “Guess we’re going to visit my father.”

  At Tore’s words my armor sent a soothing buzz along my arm, a balm to its earlier shocks. Was that its way of apologizing? You’d better apologize, armor. Pull a stunt like that again, and we will have major words.

  Tore opened his eyes, revealing years of frustration within their azure depths. “I didn’t think we’d have to see him again.”

  I slipped my hand into his. “I know.” What else could I say? Going to Helheim to visit Vidar straight up sucked.

  Quick footsteps drew my attention to my left, where Astrid paced the carpet with her shoulders drawn and her hands folded behind her back. Ever the warrior, she met Tore’s eyes as she assessed our situation. “Nott will have teams on the ground in both of the remaining realms. We can assume her stronghold is in Svartalfheim, but last I heard, she and Hel were pretty tight so she’s likely got a solid presence in the frozen realm, too.”

  Awesome.

  “Did Hel forfeit her alliance with the Alfödr?” Mack asked. His bushy eyebrows shot up in surprise. Seemed like a lot of folks were betraying the Alfödr these days. Yikes.

  “Hel is loyal to Hel.” Astrid shrugged. “And Nott’s selling her new Midgard as the Asgard of Darkness. Everyone in the lower realms wants in.”

  A frustrated growl ripped from my throat. “We’re not letting that happen.”

  Two rows of blindingly white teeth formed a grin across Astrid’s face. “Then let’s go get that piece.”

  Johann gazed adoringly at her before crossing the living room and opening the closet door. “Parties are overrated, anyway,” he said as he tossed jackets at Tore, Bodie, and me.

  “I kind of like parties,” I muttered.

  Tore shrugged into his jacket before helping me slip mine on over my armor. I zipped it up as Astrid stalked toward the front door, waving for Malena to follow. The pretty warrior leapt off the couch, retrieving her sword from where it was propped against the wall before standing beside her commander.

  “I’m heading back to Asgard to retrieve more weapons, and the remainder of my team. They’re loyal to me now, not Revenge, so don’t worry.” Astrid shot Johann a look over her shoulder as she holstered her own sword, turned the doorknob, and marched across the threshold. “You coming?”

  Johann tripped over his boots as he hurried after her. “Yes, ma’am.”

  If the situation weren’t so dire, I would have laughed out loud. As it was, I permitted myself a discreet snicker. If anyone could handle the heckle-loving Hannie, it was Astrid. Girl power for the win, all the way. I was grateful she’d decided to join our team.

  Whispers from the kitchen door drew my attention to Mack and Lela. They stood with their heads together, communicating quietly.

  “What?” I blurted. Patience was so not my forte.

  The happy couple exchanged a troubled look. “Allie, if you lend me your horn then Lela and I will go fetch Scarlet.” Mack held out his hand. “You shouldn’t be without her on this trip.”

  He wasn’t wrong. We’d need all the reinforcements we could get in a realm run by a chick called Hel. Seriously. “That’d be great. The horn’s in my satchel—it’s hanging from one of the hooks by front door.”

  “We’ll get it,” Lela offered. “You just get yourself ready, Allie.” She and Mack each placed a hand on my shoulder, offering a light squeeze before heading toward the door.

  “What about your chili?” I asked Mack. I knew how excited he’d been to entertain.

  “I’ll transfer it to the crock pot.” Mack shrugged. “If we get home in the next ten hours, we’ll have a nice warm meal ready for us. The crock pot shuts off after that, but if we’re not home in ten hours we’ve probably got problems too big for chili to solve.”

  “Thank you,” I offered softly.

  “Always.” Mack gave a dignified nod, then lifted the pouch from its hook and ushered Lela outside.

  Holy Helheim, we’re really doing this. A shaky breath rocked my ribcage as I permitted myself one tiny tremor of fear. Tore wrapped his arms around me from behind, leaning forward to murmur in my ear, “Don’t worry, Pepper. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  I leaned into his comforting embrace, and turned my head so my lips brushed against the stubble along his jaw. “Thanks, Protector. I won’t let anything happen to you, either.”

  Tore chuckled. “That’s my girl.”

  While I breathed in the simultaneously stimulating and soothing wintry scent of Tore, Greta made quick strides from the table to the couch, where Mel continued to pet the now stick-chewing Killer. “Can you look after the dog, and make sure Ophelia stays out of trouble?” she asked.

  “Ophelia?” Mel’s eyes widened in surprise.

  “Sorry. Ophelia’s alive, and she’s staying with us. She thinks she’s a domestic servant. We’ll explain later. Just keep her safe, okay?” Greta urged.

  “Ophelia’s alive? And you want me to keep her safe?” Mel balked. But with one glance at Tore she quickly schooled her face into a more neutral expression. “Ja, I can totally do that. Just be safe yourself, big sister.”

  Tore frowned. “Greta—”

  Greta spun around, the protective sibling disappearing as the fiery redhead took her place. “Enough. Tore Vidarsson, you will need a healer. Not every warrior carries a sword.”

  Tore groaned, but I couldn’t stop my smile. “She’s not wrong,” I said.

  “I
know, but . . .” Tore broke off with a sigh, and it hit me that Tore protected Greta the same way Greta looked after Mel. He saw her as a little sister—how had I missed that? But Greta was every bit as fierce as she was gentle, and she was right—we’d need a healer with us when we took on the underworld. And also, when we faced Tore’s dad. Seriously, Universe, just a little break?

  “I wish you’d listen to me. I don’t like you putting yourself at risk,” Tore muttered to Greta before storming up the stairs. “I’m getting weapons.”

  “Thanks,” I called up after him. “Sorry,” I mouthed to Greta.

  She just shrugged. “It’s sweet that he cares, but I can handle myself.”

  “I know you can. But for what it’s worth, I don’t like you putting yourself at risk either. You’re one of the best friends I’ve ever had, so please be careful,” I urged.

  A soft smile lit Greta’s face. “I love you too, Allie. Now go outside, clear your head for a minute. The night air will be soothing, and we all need to be grounded before we head into Hel’s domain.”

  Hel’s domain. Great.

  With a nod, I headed onto the porch and sat on the top step. My gaze roamed the starry sky as I wrapped my arms around my knees. I was so lost in my own thoughts that I jumped at the sound of Tore’s mom shuffling across the yard.

  “I’m sorry, Allie,” Ophelia apologized as she stood in front of me. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “It’s okay.” I shifted to my right, patting the step so she could sit beside me. “I’m kind of on edge tonight.”

  “I know what it’s like.” Ophelia’s light jacket brushed against my arm as she sat down. She placed her reusable grocery bag on the step near her feet, and I peeked inside.

  “Ooh, you went to the store. Is that bacon?” My taste buds all but jumped for joy.

  “Mack told me it was one of your favorites.” Ophelia’s smile gave way to a grimace as she placed her hands on the sides of her face. I scooted closer to her, all thoughts of breakfast meat forgotten.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Another headache.” She winced, and the Liv flared to life in my chest. It streamed down my arms, filling my hands without my trying to call it up.

  Whoa.

  I gave Ophelia a nervous glance, and she eyed my palms with more than a hint of trepidation. “Does that work on head pain?” she asked tentatively.

  Seriously? She was on board with this? Do it, Allie. Do it now.

  Since I might never get a better opening, I held out my palms and let the azure energy course between them. “Let me help you,” I said softly. “Please.”

  Ophelia’s gaze darted between my hands and my face. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth, but after a moment, her familiar blue eyes narrowed with focus and she nodded. “I want to stop hurting. And I want to understand,” she said simply. Whether she meant that she wanted to understand the Liv, or to understand what had happened to her, I didn’t know. But I ignored the battalion of butterflies careening around my stomach, and raised my glowing palms to either side of Ophelia’s head. My fingers trembled as I struggled to hold my hands steady, and I drew a shaky breath.

  Heal the mom of the demigod I love. No pressure.

  While anxiety lurched in my gut like the sea in a storm, I framed Ophelia’s temples with my hands and I opened my energetic sight. Images flooded my mind with an intensity so vivid, I nearly fell back. Ophelia may not have remembered who we were, or what her function in Asgard had been, but she clearly had a recollection of some pieces of her past. Blue Liv-light flooded the back of her head before swirling forward to push blurry balls of emotion at me. I tentatively moved closer, zeroing in on an inky grey one that trembled fearfully on its approach. My energy reached out to touch it, and I was instantly overwhelmed by sadness, despair, loss, and . . . fear. The word came as if from inside my own head, and I relinquished my hold on the grey ball, sending it back to whatever corner of Ophelia’s memory bank it called home. Yikes. A second ball moved forward, this one a deep, royal blue. With slightly less confidence, I probed the sphere. My body was overcome by an intense urge to protect—to protect Tore, protect my friends, protect . . . protect herself. With a gasp, I pulled back. Tore’s mom knew, on whatever level her wiped memories would allow, that she needed to look out for herself. Now it was up to me to help her remember why.

  Allowing the royal blue sphere to return to its resting spot, I drew the Liv up from my chest and sent a fresh surge into my palms. It seeped into Ophelia’s space, making its way through the skin, bones, and soft tissues, until it reached a spot in the center of her head that held a blurry vision. The Liv surged again, its light bringing the vision into focus. There was some kind of a brick bridge—a partially constructed one—that connected two sections of Ophelia’s mind. The bridge was only halfway completed, the bricks at the apex broken as if they’d been struck by a mallet . . . or an energetic lightning bolt. Ouch. The Liv pounced on the broken bricks, its light softening the jagged edges until they were smooth. Then the blue light pulsed, its vibration intensifying as a bulge formed within its boundary. The Liv swelled to twice its previous width before producing a glowing blue brick that it set carefully along the edge of the bridge. Whoa. The Liv just birthed a brick on the memory bridge. So freaking cool. The Liv repeated its creative production, laying four more bricks. But as it swelled with a fifth, the blue light flickered and extinguished completely.

  What the hell, Liv? You can’t just quit on Tore’s mom!

  I tried to pull the energy back into my chest, but apparently, the Liv was done for the day. Thanks a lot, Liv.

  My necklace pulsed, sending a warm resonance from my neck to my head. In a burst of awareness, I heard the Liv’s message: It was my job to hold the space, but Ophelia’s healing would happen on its own time—not before Ophelia was ready to receive it. There was nothing I could do to force the process.

  With a sigh, I lowered my hands and opened my eyes to study Ophelia’s face. The wrinkles in her forehead had smoothed, the pinched look of her brow having given way to a more neutral posture. “How are you feeling?” I probed.

  Ophelia slowly blinked her eyes open. As she did, twin streams of tears ebbed down her cheeks. Oh, God, had I hurt her?

  “Ophelia?” I asked nervously. “Talk to me, please.”

  Ophelia blinked again, and her lips quivered as she spoke. “I don’t think I have amnesia,” she whispered. “I think . . . I think someone took my memories from me.”

  My breath hitched in my chest. Had that short healing sparked a memory? Was Tore going to have the long-awaited family reunion he so very much deserved? “Do you have any idea who might have done something like that to you? Or why?” I asked carefully.

  “No.” Ophelia’s mouth turned downward as she shook her head. My heart sank. Whatever functionality the Liv had restored to Ophelia’s memory, it hadn’t been enough to jar her recollection of her son. Yet.

  “Well, we’ll keep working on it,” I offered gently. “Hopefully what we were able to do helps ease the headache pain just a bit.”

  Ophelia’s eyes widened. “You know, it did. The pressure behind my forehead is gone.” Delicate fingers reached up to touch her hairline, and she beamed at me. Her radiant smile sent a surge of happiness through my centers. “Thank you, Allie.”

  “It was my pleasure,” I said honestly. And I meant it. Whatever it took to help Tore’s mom, I’d do it. Even if it meant laying just a few Liv bricks a day into forever. I’d restore all of her memories, and I’d get my boyfriend his mom back. No matter how long it took.

  Ophelia reached over, embracing me in a gentle hug that felt familiar and foreign all at once. Although it was the first time she’d taken me in her arms like this, something flickered in my mind—a long-ago memory of her warmth and love. I wondered if I’d known her when I was a baby—whether she and my mom had been close once upon a time. But the thought fluttered into the starry sky when the creak of the opening front
door alerted me to a third presence.

  “Allie?” Tore’s gravelly voice cracked over the word. “Everything okay?”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  Too quickly, Ophelia pulled back, wiping tears from her cheeks as she turned to Tore. “Allie was just helping me with my headache.” She scooped the grocery bag in one arm before rising on unsteady legs. Tore jumped forward to help her before she could stumble, and Ophelia placed a grateful hand on his bicep. Confusion flickered across her face at the contact. Her gaze moved from Tore’s feet up to his shoulders, before settling on his face. She tilted her head as she leaned forward, her intense blue eyes scrutinizing Tore’s identically hued ones. With a small gasp, she whispered, “I did know you in my old life, didn’t I?”

  Tore shot me a look that was absolutely brimming with emotion, but I shook my head, sending a silent ‘She doesn’t know, don’t freak her out,’ that I hoped he picked up on. Since his jaw was slowly making its way down to his chest, I decided jumping in was the best move for all involved.

  “Do you have some kind of a memory of Tore?” I interjected.

  That was neutral enough, right? God, I hoped so. Don’t freak out Tore’s mom, I reminded myself for the umpteenth time.

  “No,” she admitted. “But he’s seemed familiar since we met, and now I feel like . . . like there’s some kind of connection between us.”

  Tore’s eyes misted, and he hurriedly pressed the heels of his hands to his face to stop what I could only imagine would be a tear-laden emotional release. Oh, Tore. I wanted to jump up and throw my arms around him, to comfort him in the only way I could in that moment. But in the interest in maintaining some semblance of calm, I patted Ophelia’s arm with an easy smile, and gently removed Tore’s hands from her arms. I slipped my hand into his, and gave a light squeeze before addressing Ophelia.

  “We’ve got to head out for a while,” I told her. “You should probably lie down now. Get some rest tonight, and make sure that headache stays gone.”

  “I will. Thank you, Allie. For everything.” Ophelia leaned forward to kiss me on the cheek before scurrying down the stairs, groceries in hand, and disappearing into the little cottage that sat on the edge of our property.