I heard the rumbling in my sleep before I felt it, but even then, the warmth of Bren’s body next to mine, the safety of his arms around me, the sound of his heartbeat as I lie against his chest kept me firmly tethered to my dream world. He must have ignored it too, because only after the stack of CDs against the wall crashed to the floor did we push ourselves up, gaze around, and realize we were looking at an earthquake.
The door swung open. Frey stood on the threshold, staring at Bren with wide eyes.
“Not cool.” He said.
“Is it natural?” Bren yelled over the clatter.
“Doubt it.”
“Come on.” Bren grabbed my hand and pulled me off the bed, and the three of us ran through the apartment and out the door. Outside, Bren and Frey paused to look around, but there was no one in sight, so we ran over the bridge and past the lodge, Bren with a steady hold on my arm to keep me from falling. We stopped at the base of the deck, where the last few people were still running for cover as the ground shook on.
It was only a moment before three yellow jackets appeared from the right, getting brighter much too fast, even from my vibrating perspective. Then Frieda, Dag, and Val surrounded us, scanning in every direction.
“Are you all right?” Frieda reached behind her and gave my hand a brief squeeze as she swept her eyes over the top of the bunny hill.
“Fine,” I said. “My mother…”
“She’s fine.” But the voice was not Frieda’s. I turned to face Skye, her gaze brewing with blue-violet thunderheads. “She’s underneath a conference table with Mr. Neil and some others.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded once and moved behind Frey, turning her back to him so that she faced out toward Ringsaker.
“Let’s go up,” Frey said, motioning toward Skye’s watch. “Find out what the hell’s going on.”
“It may not be safe now,” Val said.
“If it isn’t, then it’s not safe anywhere.” Frey’s impatience carried over the noise. “Let’s go.”
“We’ve just come from there, nothing has changed,” Dag said.
“Things have escalated.” Frey’s eyes were wild. Dag lifted a hand to his shoulder, but he shook it off. “Perhaps now Sif will be more forthcoming…”
“Forthcoming?” Bren spun on him, his fingers pressing into my arm. “Are you saying she lied to us?”
“Stop it,” Frieda yelled. “This is not the time.” But they were fuming, their gazes locked. I stepped toward Bren, but before I could speak, my eye caught motion on the abandoned mountain. On top of a rocky cliff between two black diamond trails, a plume of snow was sweeping through a stand of evergreens, rolling toward us at avalanche speed. As the churning cloud hit the edge of the bluff, it ran over in a rushing fall and crashed against the ground below, kicking up a white fog.
Out from behind a tall, dark pine slid a metallic brown figure, a matching motorcycle helmet obscuring his face. He skirted the last two trees in a perfect Z, his poles sweeping the air like divining rods, and headed toward the edifice. My breath caught in my throat as he bent, braced one quick hand on the ledge and flipped in the air, his body still, his skis crossed as he tumbled over himself to straighten again and ride the fall to its misty bottom.
He disappeared for a few seconds before emerging again. He was gliding by us now, his skis hissing on the snow, his jacket unzipped a few inches to reveal a triangle of smooth chest. He flipped his visor, turned backward and set his dark eyes on each one of us. He regarded me last, holding my gaze as he receded fast toward the condos beyond the lodge. As I watched, he raised a pole and pointed it at me. Then he threw a glance at Bren, pivoted, and disappeared behind the first building.
The earth settled.
When I looked to Bren in the new quiet, he was still staring, jaw clenched and violence in his eyes.
“Loki.” He said.
Chapter 20