Master of Miasma (The Valhalla Series) (15 page)

Inclining his head at me his long silver hair falls forward, his face surprisingly gentle, his eyes two glowing orbs of magnificence. I'm ready to have another aneurism.

“I am Kake, and you are Emma.”

It's a statement.

Or maybe it was a rhetorical question... or–

“
You need space away from Macala, he is pressing all the wrong stimulants in your body, so for now you will be in my care,” he continues.

“
Uhm...” my voice is a hiss, rasping in devilish atrophy.

“
Do not speak, you screamed loud enough to bring this mountain down. We all heard you bellowing hysterically for him not to touch you, and you have my word that I will personally ensure he does no such thing.”

He gestures to the tall glass of water next to my chair.

Darting my paranoid focus back and forth I decide to not watch him and grab the water. Lord knows I'm thirstier than Mojave soil.

“
I am the chief of the Raven clan. Macala is my grandson and third in command. I apologize for his lack of compassion, I thought he was up to the task.”

“
What task?” I manage to scrape through my raw throat.

Surveying me from my naked feet to the puffy black gown Mac wrapped me in, I'm suddenly aware that I must look a complete mess.

“Opening your mind to the truth. Your father was Lars, his dormant genes within you are now wakened with the libation of Valhalla. But today you exhibited the antithesis of a Raven. You exposed your owl heritage, Emma. What most folks forget about Skadi is that she was both commander of the dark
and
owner of the light. You do not command shadows, you do not call darkness down to shroud you, instead you call on the clouds of Asgard. You are a white shadow, destined for the land of eternal sun, where white shadows command and protect.”

“
Tell me about my father,” I insist, really not giving a flying fart about the rest of their mythology.

“
It is not mythology, Emma. Look at my eyes, I see everything. Speak out of turn again and I will escort you to the door and out of my hospitality. Show me the respect as the one man who can turn your night into everlasting hell, or turn your day into light so bright it'll burn the eyes out of your head. Don't disrespect my heritage because of your ignorance.”

Jeez!

“Right, thanks for the drink. Where's the way out?”

He laughs at me. It's so hearty and exuberant it's messing with my stubborn shield.

“Aaah, now I see Macala's challenge. Good for you Emma.”

“
Whatever,” I grumble, already standing, looking for the exit.

“
Emma, sit down.”

And just like that my legs fold and plop me right back in the chair I was in. “Hey!”

“Stop being a fool. You are willing to challenge me? Are you sure?”

“
Burn my eyes out, what the fuck do I care? I'm not afraid of you or your magic!”

A voice clears a throat and the shadows fall away from the wall, exposing Mac inside his camouflage. “Emma please, stop being so angry.”

I lift up my palm and jut my hand at him, “You did this! I hate it! It's horrid and you … you... you damn man!”

Kake sits down opposite me, chuckling, his amusement pretty obvious, “Aah, lust and love are a torturous cocktail. You want him but don't. You love him but wish you didn't. You need him and that scares the sense out of you. Now I see the dilemma here.”

“When I need a shrink I'll find my own, thanks,” I snap sarcastically.

“
Pain is such a familiar bulwark isn't it? You pretend to be brave and fearless when inside all you are is afraid, there's nothing else in there. That's why love scares the heck out of you. You don't know what to do with it because for you it's unpredictable.”

I open my mouth to tell him to keep his pseudo-psycho snark to himself when he holds up his hand, staying me.

“You will hear me out little raven. You will not interrupt when a sage offers you pearls of wisdom with insolent belligerence.”

That does it. I refuse to have a man tell me what to do again. I am not a child no matter how old he is, I'm an adult with my own car, my own money, my own home. 

Read my lips Kake, I don't need this
shit
!

Turning his back on me, exposing the back of his head which is surprisingly covered in long ebony dark straight hair, he says to Mac, “Go. When she's over her issues I'll review the situation.”

“No!” he shouts at the old man. “I will not just abandon her. She's got my mark on her hand, she's
my
responsibility!”

“
Well she doesn't want you anywhere near her, Macala. Do not unleash what you don't understand and what she clearly can't yet control.”

“
Exactly! She pulled down bright mist instead of shadows. It scared the fuck out of her and when I helped her to release it, it frightened her. She's just in shock, come on Afi, let me help her. I'm the only one here who understands her,” pleads Mac.

“
If you understood her this wouldn't have happened. My decision is final grandson, go help in the kitchens or something, make yourself useful–”

“
But eagle is coming! We don't have time!”

“
Do I strike you as a novice? I will choose another to train her until she has forgiven you.”

And with that poisoning the air in his elaborate cave, the old guy points at the tunnel leading away from his chambers, “Out.”

I can see his eyes shining a glow of warning at Mac, and now I'm second guessing the wisdom of clashing wills with him.

Mac stalks past me, his expression a dark brooding sufferance, glancing at me once on his way out, the look saturated with recrimination.

My heart sinks, my fight dissipating. I hurt him. This should be
our
business to slug out between us in private, not made a public affair where the judge and jury executes us for having a disagreement.

Okay, maybe I overreacted, but when he took my hand and blasted that energy up my arm it napalmed my heart, and it freaking hurt! My reaction was justified. But now that he's gone and I'm alone with Sir Strange I feel too vulnerable. I'm a foreigner in my own home.

*

Macala:

I gave her my eiðr and now Kake has stolen her right out from under my nose. What the hell is he thinking?

I am her friend and guardian, we have handfasted, and yet he undermines
me as if I am still a sveinn, pulling rank and royally screwing me over.

Fucking fabulous move.

Why the hell did she freak out so bad? One second the world is our pillow and the next she's all PMS over my show of respect. Why must life always be one long vig?

I am still young enough to blend into society, I'm the one they rely on for reconnaissance, I'm the one they send for supplies because I still look very human, I'm her only ally who she can relate to as familiar and they strip her of me? I understand modern lingo and slang, it's as much a part of me as it is her, and now they're going to send her into a mental spiral she's in no way prepared to handle.

Kake is an idiot! This disrespect is outrageous.

Stalking to the Book, I have to read what was going on in her head so I can understand and don't make the same mistake twice.

Arghin is walking the other way, to Kake's caverns. “Where are you going?” I ask when we're close enough.

“
Kake wants to see me.”

“
Why?” I demand, fury igniting my veins.

“
Dunno. I'll let you know when I do.”

Gripping his arm I drop my voice to confidential, “If he asks you to train Emma, say yes. I can at least trust you.”

He nods, giving me an odd look.

I watch him go, bitterness mangling my innards. Shaking off anger I storm to the study to flip through the pages.

Some of them are thick and sturdy parchment, yet other pages are fragile as onion skins, delicate as rice paper. It took me awhile to realize the old souls are the ones worn thin, the resilient pages belonging to younger Ravens.

Finding hers I lean on my elbows, reading.

It doesn't take long before I'm using the heel of my palm to pound my forehead in agitation.

Fuck! I should have known this, I should have
felt
it.

The second we clasped hands and she willingly accepted the dominion of
my
valhalla mark, the bond was forged. Prior to this she found me intriguing and I appealed to her lust, but infatuation was eradicated with the handfasting, replacing it with the kindling of a forge. The loyal until death and beyond kind.

Scanning feverishly I read her words as she thought them.

You don't get it, Mac! My own mother rejected me, dad vanished and never came back, Guy ran away with Des, the wound is still there, a weal so sore it has yet to heal despite the burgeoning of emotions I have... and then you suck me into your gravity just to change the polarity when I get a taste of what I'm craving. You rejected me! I can't take another rejection, fuck it, I'd rather be alone than play this demented game of masochistic 'love'.

It wasn't what I needed, I don't need the orgasm Mac, what I needed was you validating me as the special entity you proclaim I am.

Boosting off the table I need to punch the shit out of something for being such a class A idiot. She loves me more than even she can admit for it to hurt her like that. Love is a commodity she's seen perverted, one with an agenda when mine has none. Shit!

I just wanted to show you that you're more precious than Skadi. To me you already are half my soul, my future, my forever-after in the halls of Asgard. I've yearned, I know your patterns, I know your routines, I know your likes and dislikes, and now I pretty much know what you're feeling and thinking. I've had moons to fall stupidly in awe of you and now you're becoming jötunn and it's sexy as all hell. I want to, of course I want to, I just stupidly, in vile error, thought you needed a little bit of coddling. I thought you deserved the fucking romance! I erroneously presumed to think you needed to know what it's like to be a man's lady instead of his convenience.

But you don't want the romance, you just want me.

Fuck!

Walking through the doors to the forest I punch the first tree I reach, splitting the wood in an unholy pop, the drawn out creak as the trunk peels and the top half falls to bow under the assault instantly makes me guilty.

Shaking off regret I lose the human form, adopting the freedom of wings and Raven sharp eyesight, flapping hard to gain altitude, flying off the rage.

*

Emma
:

“I've called for Arghin. You at least know him. He'll take you to sort out your chambers and take over your training,” says Kake, interrupting my reverie.

Speak of the devil, here is the dude with the freaky eye and Viking outerwear now.

I half listen while Arghin gets his orders, the whole time I'm watching that Odin eye. It occurs belatedly that none of them can lie. They can never tell a half truth because that eye reveals the truth constantly. What they feel, see, think, it's exposed. No hidden agenda, no way to hide hurt or fake bravado. And I have the cheek to feel vulnerable?

Mac... damn it! I'm sorry! I know you told the truth now, I know you can't lie if it could save the world from doom, because if anything you are a race of folk who live and die with nothing but truth on your faces, in your eyes. The window to your soul never disrespected me. If anything when I looked in your eyes I saw gentle caring, understanding, compassion.... desire.

My eyes are filling with tears when Arghin helps me out of my chair, marching me in the guise of disapproval to my own rooms. Right next door to Mac, and three millions light years apart.

Chapter 17

Emma
:

Propped on my pillows on my old bed, it's too small after experiencing the space in Mac's bed. His made me feel like a ten year old the first time I experienced sleeping in a double bed all to myself. But that was just the once, at Sandy's house. Lucky bitch.

As a child I had an uncomfortable single bed that belonged to the Cold War, an archaic design of interlocking iron springs which had slept bodies tons heavier than mine, leaving the springs lax and distorted, forcing me to sleep on a board shoved across the metal frame to keep my mattress from slumping in hammock style when it molds to the destroyed springs.

My own bed is familiar, a slice of normal, but a normal that is now as alien as living on gas and having a thorax. I hate everything it represents because it burdens me with the weight of what I've lost, because I reacted like a drama queen.

In hindsight I have to admit I overreacted. I have anger accumulated from so long ago I just lash out, any pain to my heart at all is enough to tumble the carefully stacked breathing room and the whole barn of past transgressions come crashing down to stifle me – and then I freak out.