The morning of my departure I met resistance of a different kind.
My father didn't show up as I was saddling the horse, but someone did, and when I turned to see them silhouetted in the doorway of the stable my heart felt like it was turning to stone in my chest.
Sylvi, dressed in a leather coat trimmed with fur, standing with her hands on her hips. "I'm coming with you."
"Like the hottest depths of hell you are."
Sylvi's expression turned from stubborn to pleading, and she widened her eyes. I was used to this, her turning on the waterworks when she was afraid of not getting her way. Already, her eyes were glistening, and she blinked furiously.
Anyone else would think she was bravely holding back tears, but I knew her. She was working herself up to cry. Sylvi is nothing, if not a great actress.
"Don't bother." I hitched the saddlebags tighter, tugging the straps in place. "Your crocodile tears don't work on me anymore."
"Why are you doing this?" Her voice hitched, right in the middle of her sentence. She was really getting into this role. "Why did you take the mission, Loki? Was it to get away from me?"
I looked up, startled, as she closed the distance between us, resting one hand on my warm.
"I know you still have feelings for me."
"You're joking me." I jerked back, away from her, snapping around to stare in disbelief. "You think this is about you? What, do you think everything I do is about you?" I threw my hands up. "I had pork chops for dinner last night because of you? You know that's insane, right?"
"Loki—"
'Don't bother."
I kicked my heels into the horses' side, gently, but enough to let him know I wanted to leave now. I didn't look back, either. I knew what she'd look like, and the transformation that would occur, I'd seen it enough times. She'd stand there with her hands clasped together, tears flowing down her face, sure I would look back and repent. When I didn't, that sad expression would turn narrow and cold and terrible, and her fury would be unleashed.
Sure enough, it only took a total of three minutes, and in the distance I could hear her shouting something at me. I was too far to hear what, and honestly, I didn't care to know.
The farther I rode from the stables, from her, the lighter I felt.
Like I was free of something at last. A weight on my shoulders, a vindictive spirit who had haunted my footsteps for the last few months.
Out here there was only the mountains, to see me. Only the air to surround me, the biting cold to assault me. Sylvi couldn't get her claws into me anymore.
And when I got home, I resolved, after this was all over, whatever happened, I wouldn't let her do it again. I wouldn't play her mind games. No longer would I give in. She could cry her crocodile tears all she wished, they wouldn't work on me anymore.
After all, I knew what she was like.
Gods, I knew what she was like going into it. What her family was like.
But I fancied myself above all that. I was the charmer, the trickster, the player. Not someone who could be played, nor tricked. You can't trick a trickster.
Only apparently you could. You can.
More the fool I.
But never mind all that. I pushed it out of my thoughts, concentrating on the brisk wind winding icy fingers through my hair, watching the spiral of my breath collect in clouds above my head. The rhythm of the horse, the slope of the path as we made our way down the mountain. Nearly out of sight of the castle now, with its black rocks and its red flags.
Away from my father, who was surely displeased with me.
I knew the kind of fight we would have when I got back. Both of us bellowing, him with a goblet of mead clutched in one hand—doomed to crash against the wall at one point or another—and me pacing back and forth. Both of us red in the face. Of course, that will only be after we've driven one another to the brink. Until he has growled and grumped at me, and I have prodded and teased him, until he finally loses his temper and I lose mine.
But for now, only the path ahead, and whatever it brings me.
I watched the human school for four hours
It was unspeakably boring.
The humans were so predictable. Going in and out with bags and sacks, smoking on the steps around the back where they clearly thought no one could see them. Some of them sat in their cars at lunch, heads bent over their cell phones.
I rented a car from a local dealer, a rusty old pickup truck. They tried to give me something far more ridiculous, a shiny black car without a spot on it. I insisted on the rust bucket I saw sitting in the garage instead. The pickup truck had character, it was quirky. And by quirky I meant it had one tire flat on the back left side, I was fairly certain.
I didn't care though, I liked it.
And it was a damn good thing I picked it, because the truck blended in with all the other vehicles in town. Not like the ridiculous black town car the frost giants had picked out.
I knew it was them because they were completely conspicuous. Idiots.
That's how frost giants did things. All flash, no common sense.
Of course, I'd figured on them being there, but it didn't mean I was happy about it. When Rankin had briefed me that morning he'd mentioned them. They had a task force on it, a small team sent to retrieve all the girls they'd experimented on. And since this girl was Amora they'd put their best guy on it, their elite commander.
But I didn't think much of the guy, if that was him smoking the big fat cigar in the town car. He might as well have rode in on his horse all dressed in chainmail and waved his sword around.
Every time there was movement at the entrance of the school I jerked upright, squinting at the door. I kept glancing down at the photograph in my hand. It was a blurry picture of her, the girl, taken outside her house in California. She was turning away from the camera, heading back into her house, saying something to someone over her shoulder. It was a side profile, but she was unusually tall, it looked like, judging by her height versus the doorframe, so how hard could it be to pick her out? An extremely tall, pale blond woman. They couldn't be that common.
There, on the steps, movement caught my eye again, and I sat upright.
My mouth dropped open. There were three of them, each of them far taller than the average human girl, all of them bundled in coats and scarves. All three of them had blonde hair in different shades, honey blond to nearly platinum. I blinked, and then cursed loudly, slamming my hand into the steering wheel so hard my palm stung.
Three of them.
That was no coincidence. It had to be deliberate. Niflheim had been expecting me, or at least, someone like me. They knew we'd send someone and they'd taken precautions. How in hades was I suppose to figure out which girl was Amora?
Now they were walking across the parking lot, toward my car, laughing and talking loudly. I leaned over and rolled the window down a crack. Perhaps I'd get lucky, someone would say her name. Megan, or Amora, I reminded myself. She could be going by either. Probably her human name, since it was unlikely the damned frosties had told her anything.
One of the girls spoke in a voice that carried over the sounds of the engines warming up. "God, Stacey. Get a haircut already. Split ends, much?"
I winced. It was an awful thing to think, but if that one was Amora it wouldn't be that hard to finish her off.
One of the girls took a swipe at the girl who had spoken, and I crossed her off the list. That one was Stacey. That still left two of them, and they were walking towards one of the cars in the lot. They'd be gone soon.
I could follow and hope one of them was her.
But the town car wasn't making any move to leave.
I cursed the name of every god I could think of and smacked the steering wheel again.
I hesitated, eyes darting from the girls to the black town car. Take the risk and follow them? Wait to see what the town car was waiting for?
They'd be following them if it was Megan, wouldn't they? That would depend on if they'd seen more or not.
I didn't think they'd seen me.
More students flood the parking lot, and I grip the steering wheel, frustrated, trying to scan the crowd and pick out more blond girls. It has to be one of them.
There, I caught sight of one, two girls actually...more fake outs or the real deal this time?
I wished I'd thought to bring binoculars with me, so I could see their faces better as they came down the stairs. But even I would feel creepy if I sat there in a school parking lot with binoculars.
Not that I wasn't already creepy sitting here, wondering which high school student I was supposed to kill.
This was the most screwed up, god's-damned mission in our history. It had to be.
In the seat next to me my cell phone pinged, and I glanced down at it, annoyed. A text message from Jared, father's captain. The man is insufferable, and he hates me.
I do my best to make his life miserable.
She's right there. Get it done.
I almost drop the phone.
Instantly I'm sitting up straight in my seat, yanking myself upright, staring around the parking lot. It's full of huge dirty trucks. The only obvious standout is the town car. I'd thought that was the frosties. But maybe it's Jared.
I'm practically shaking with anger, but I can't let on. It's important to keep him in his place, let him know that nothing he does bothers me. I'm in charge of this mission, not him.
I text him back.
Aaaw, you big creeper. Are you watching me? That's sort of sexy.
There's a pause while dots crawl across the screen. He's texting back. I curl my lip at the phone. I dislike using them, cell phones and cars, TVs and satellites, they all feel toxic. Impure.
The jotun all feel that way, it's in our blood to reject these things. But the minute the other team starts using it and you don't adapt is the minute you become the loser.
Words flow across the tiny screen. She's right in front of you. The taller girl leaning against the wall.
I text back quickly. Thanks. Hey, where are you. More importantly, what are you wearing? Is it something sexy?
I lean forward, peering out the windshield. I ignore the phone when it pings, since it's probably just Jared foaming at the mouth because I'm not taking this seriously.
The girl leaning against the wall. She's the one I was looking at before, but in the time Jared and I were texting she moved a bit closer. I could make out her features better. She was talking to the shorter girl beside her, who was bouncing on the balls of her feet, blowing clouds of steam into the air each time she answered.
The taller girl, Amora, she didn't seem cold. She didn't even breathe out steam clouds the way the other girl did. I frowned. Was she more than half jotun then? Most half-bloods had higher body temperature, their breath sent up silvery clouds, though less than the regular human did.
They didn't seem to be going anywhere for the moment, so I checked the messages again.
Going now. Following the other girls. Trail Amora when she leaves.
I cursed, throwing down the phone. Regardless of why the frosties had clumped all their little experimental humans together in one place, it seemed my father had planned ahead. We were going to take out all of them before they got to their destination.
So now it wasn't just the death of one human girl I had to prevent.
I groaned and tipped my head back against the headrest. This kept getting more and more complicated.
A wheeze and a pop from outside made me sit up again. There was an old minivan rattling into the parking lot. One that looked like it had seen better days, if better days had been about a hundred years ago.
The shorter blond girl waved, and they both stepped forward.
I started my engine.
The girls passed my car, walked right by it on the way to the van, which was a little weird. But Amora wasn't looking at me, she had her eyes fixed on the black town car.
Even if she hadn't been told anything, she knew when something was up.
Smart girl.
She turned her head just as she was almost by my windshield, and I flinched, sure she was about to look at me. But she didn't, she was looking at the van, brows shooting up. I could almost hear her thoughts, her expression were so transparent. She wasn't sure she would survive a ride in that van.
I've always loved those types of people. The open book types, where they couldn't hide their inner thoughts from you if they wanted to. She was like that. Her face open and honest, and cute, if it were my turn to be honest.
It was hard to tell when she was bundled up from head to toe in winter gear, but I was pretty sure she was cute.