Midnight Burning: The Norse Chronicles, #1

Chapter One

My brother, Mani, once told me Alaska was the first place he had ever travelled where he knew he was somewhere different—somewhere decidedly not home—before he ever set foot on the ground. I didn’t understand what he meant until now. Outside my airplane window, the glassy waters of Cook Inlet reflected a bright blue late-summer sky. Dark and looming, the Chugach Mountains encroached from the east. Far to the north, the ghostly, snow-crusted visage of Mount McKinley rose above the landscape, an ancient king, high on his dais, surveying his kingdom.

By comparison, Mani and I had been raised somewhere a little more commonplace. Home was a small town in the foothills of North Carolina, over three thousand miles away. And this was the first time I had ever left it. I probably should have eased into long-distance travel in the same way I eased into a cold swimming pool—one toe at a time. A trip over the border into Gatlinburg. A weekend visit to D.C. But no, I had taken a plunge from the high dive instead, and boy, was I in over my head.

The captain’s calm and assuring voice spilled across the cabin, announcing our approach and descent into Anchorage. Seatbelt signs chimed and flashed. A pair of flight attendants swept down the aisles, collecting trash and reminding passengers to raise seat backs and lock away tray tables. I closed my eyes, drew in a deep breath, and urged my heart to return to its regular pitter-patter pace, but it refused to obey.

I breathed in again and trapped the breath in my lungs. Chill, Solina, I told myself. It’s only a week. I could survive anything for one week, right? And I wouldn’t be on my own. My brother’s best friend, Val Wotan, was at the airport waiting for me. Val had texted me a dozen times to make sure I hadn’t missed my connecting flights or fallen out of the plane somewhere over Canada. Val was expecting me, and I was a glutton for fulfilling others’ expectations. I also owed this trip to my brother, to the honor of his memory. How could I ever look myself in the eye again if I gave in to my doubts? If I didn’t give Mani my absolute commitment?

Val deserved my loyalty, too. In the few years I’d known him, Val had risen from casual acquaintance to something I wasn’t quite ready to label, but just thinking of him made my heart beat a little faster, my breath come a little quicker. Val had earned my regard by being the sibling I couldn’t be for Mani after he’d left home. He had watched Mani’s back, made him welcome and comfortable in a strange and foreign place. He had even saved my brother’s life once.

I chuckled, remembering how Mani had loved to recount the story of the raging bull moose—deep in a rutting frenzy and crazed by the need to mate with anything female and fight anything that wasn’t. Not long after Mani had first arrived in Alaska, he and Val had gone off on a backpacking trip. They came upon the moose on the edge of a meadow and caught it off guard. The moose turned its hostile gaze on Mani, lowered its rack, and charged. Stunned and uncertain how to react, Mani stood frozen in place and watched his life pass before his eyes. Meanwhile, Val calmly drew a .44 Magnum from the side pocket of his backpack and fired off a warning shot. The moose reconsidered his challenge and lumbered away into the woods.

If only Val and his gun had been there the night my brother died. Then I might be coming to Alaska for an entirely different set of reasons.

After an uneventful landing and a short taxi to our gate, the other passengers filtered out from the rows of seating and disappeared through the exit doors. The cabin emptied, and still I sat. My presence drew the attention of a flight attendant passing through on his way to the back of the jet. His sudden halt and surprised expression woke me from my daze. Is something wrong, miss? he asked. Can I help you with anything?

I blinked and shook my head. No. Sorry. I’m just… just…

He patted my shoulder. First time flying?

It was a convenient excuse, and not a lie, so I took it. Nerves got the best of me, I guess. I rose and stumbled out of my seat. The attendant helped me collect my luggage from the overhead bin. I smiled and thanked him.

It’s no trouble, he said. And it was my pleasure.

When Val met me at baggage claim, he swept me into a crushing bear hug, and I sank into the comfort of his strength. God, Solina, he said. It’s so good to see you.

Val Wotan was a towering mass of rough-and-ready Alaskan adventure. A shaggy mop of auburn hair swept over his brow, and a day-old beard shadowed his jaw. He looked as though he could withstand any challenge the wilds of nature could throw at him. Broad shouldered, workman’s hands, ruggedly capable—he inspired my confidence.

It’s good to see you, too, I said. A lot better than the last time, right? The last time Val and I had seen each other was at my brother’s funeral, four months ago. Since then Val and I had e-mailed or spoken on the phone weekly. Sometimes more. There were few others with whom we could share our common pain.

Val leaned back and peered at me. We were all in a bad place then.

To say the least.

The sympathetic look on Val’s face stirred up my grief.

I’m so sorry, he said. I miss him, too.

I swallowed my tears and swatted Val’s shoulder. Don’t get me weepy in the middle of the airport.

Look around, Solina. Val gestured around the airport. Everyone gets emotional at a homecoming.

This isn’t home.

They don’t have to know that. A smile crept onto my lips. In return, Val rewarded me with a blazing bright one of his own, and it warmed my heart. The brotherhood Val bestowed on Mani had passed to me, like an inheritance. He told me when I started planning this trip that he’d be there for me in any way I needed. Before my brother’s death, I would have known exactly what to do with that offer, but now? Now my heart was bruised, raw, and full of grief. I didn’t know if there was room in it for anything, or anyone, else. It was so damaged and fragile. How could I risk causing it more harm?

Someone cleared his throat nearby, and Val released me from the hug. He motioned to a man standing a few feet away, watching us with eyes narrowed and arms folded over his chest in an austere stance. Solina, let me introduce you to Aleksander Thorin. Mani’s boss… and mine. Val grimaced at that last bit.

Modern-day Viking—that was my first impression of the man who had employed my brother for the past three years. Aleksander Thorin embodied the stereotype: icy blond coloring, an imposing physique, a subtle air of menace and threat. All he needed was a couple of braids woven through his long hair and a bearskin cloak instead of his blue flannel button-up. His dark eyes evaluated and dismissed me in one blink. Not much of a welcoming party, is he?

My Jeep is in the shop, Val said. Thorin offered to give us a lift.

I nodded by way of greeting. I didn’t mean to impose, Mr. Thorin.

It’s no trouble, Miss Mundy, he said in a deep and rumbling voice. Although I’m not convinced your coming here was the best idea. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s only going to stir up trouble.

His unsolicited opinion raised my hackles. What did this man, this stranger, presume to know about me or my situation? I came here to close out Mani’s affairs. See to his personal things. My parents and I have put this off long enough.

Thorin, Val said, stepping between us. Don’t give her a hard time. She’s not one of your tour guides.

Of course. Thorin relaxed his severe posture, unfolded his arms, and shoved his hands into his pockets. I apologize, Miss Mundy. Let me make it up to you. Dinner and drinks—my treat.

Before I could misunderstand Thorin’s intentions, Val explained. Boss Man’s hosting a get-together tonight. He does it every once in a while. Employee appreciation, you know?

Part of me wanted to refuse because I suspected Aleksander Thorin rarely heard the word no and I liked the idea of ruffling his cool demeanor. But doing so might have denied me the chance to meet my brother’s friends and co-workers, and that was one of my many reasons for making this trip. I curved my lips into what I hoped was an agreeable smile. Sure. Sounds great.

My brother had lived in the harborside village of Siqiniq, a good two hours’ drive from Anchorage along a highway that wound among evergreen forests, snowcapped mountains, and the gray-green waters of Turnagain Arm, Kenai Lake, and Resurrection Bay. Aleksander Thorin drove with single-minded focus and only spoke if directly addressed, but Val talked about inane things along the way and pointed out local attractions: a forlorn and solitary roadside moose, the Alaska Railroad (but no train), and Beluga Point (sadly lacking signs of habitation).

Once we reached Mani’s apartment complex, Thorin eased his Range Rover into a space beside my brother’s old 4-Runner. He shifted into neutral but stayed behind the wheel, letting his SUV idle while Val helped me unload and tote my bags up to my brother’s apartment.

Someone had shoved Mani’s things into haphazard piles when they painted and installed new carpet in his living room. The reek of fresh latex and acrylic burned my nose and obliterated any scent of my brother that might have lingered.

You okay here by yourself? Val asked. You’re probably going to run into a few ghosts.

I inhaled a shallow breath. I’ll be okay. It’ll be nice to be in Mani’s place with his stuff. It’ll feel like he’s around somewhere, waiting to come home.

Val arched an eyebrow. And you honestly think you can clean out his apartment, box up his stuff, and move on?

It’ll be cathartic.

He frowned. Or masochistic.

Val pulled out his wallet and rifled through the contents until he found a business card for Thorin Adventure Outfitters. He handed it to me. I’m going to the store with Thorin. That card has the number on it. Call me there around seven, and I’ll come pick you up for the party. My Jeep should be out of the shop by then.

The card displayed Val’s name in tiny print beneath the larger, bolder letters that spelled out M. Aleksander Thorin, CEO. Chief Ego Officer, I muttered.

What?

I waved in a never-mind gesture. I’ll see you later.

Tonight, Val said as he stepped past me into the breezeway.

I pressed the door closed behind him and went into Mani’s bedroom. In his closet I found his dirty clothes stuffed into a bulging hamper. After gathering a bundle of denim and cotton in my arms, I buried my face in the fabric. The organic odors of Mani’s skin filled my nose. Still breathing him in, I sank cross-legged to the floor and let the shade of my brother envelop me in its memories.

Chapter Two

Val opened the passenger door of his rust-encrusted CJ-7 and motioned for me to climb in. It’s not much of a carriage, but we aren’t exactly going to a ball.

"So, where are we going?" I asked.

Just a place where the locals like to hang. It’s more of a dive than anything, but they have cold beer and good food. Best of all, Thorin’s paying for it.

I hope I didn’t overdress.

Val chuckled as he appraised my scruffy knee boots and fleece jacket. He fingered the tail of the blond braid straggling over my shoulder and said, You’ll fit in fine.

The bar was so close we could have walked and saved the gas, but Val insisted on playing chivalrous knight. He parked in front of a building constructed from a hodgepodge of tin sheeting and cinderblocks. A hand-painted sign tacked to the wall by the front entrance welcomed us to The Pits. Val helped me from the Jeep and eased a hand to the small of my back. He held the door open and ushered me into the dark, crowded quarters, where the tang of old beer, fried food, and warm bodies slinked up close and curled itself around me.

With his hand still hovering near my tailbone, Val stopped us and shouted into the crowd of rowdy patrons. Hey, everybody! Listen up! The room fell silent. All eyes turned to us, and I blushed under the scrutiny. This is Solina Mundy, Mani’s sister. She’s going to be in town for a while, so show her a good time, all right?

Someone hollered from across the room, Bring her over here and I’ll show her a good time right now. The crowd hooted and whistled.

Val waved for quiet. She’s a Southern belle, so she’s used to good manners. He pointed toward the back of the crowd. Hugh, that means you don’t stand a chance. Everyone laughed again and returned to their drinks and conversations. Thank God. I hated being the center of attention.

A dark, curly-haired woman, tattooed and pierced, parted from the crowd. She slapped my shoulder and said, Welcome to Alaska. She offered her hand, so I shook it. Skyla Ramirez. I was friends with Mani. He was a good guy. The best.

You worked with him? I asked.

Most of us did. Skyla motioned around the room. Almost all of us are Thorin’s employees or loyal customers.

You do adventure tours?

Skyla nodded. Kayaking is my specialty.

I’ve always wanted to try that.

Anytime, Mundy. Just give me a call.

In a short time, I met more people than I ever hoped to remember. And they gave me more beers than I ever hoped to drink, although I tried my best to keep up. Someone stuffed the ancient jukebox full of quarters, and several people took turns dancing me around the room. For a while I managed to forget about Mani, or at least about the bad stuff. With all of his friends around, I remembered my brother as the fun-loving life of the party, and his spirit lingered in us all.

The jukebox went quiet, and conversation compensated for the silence until David Gilmour’s voice ghosted from the speakers, haunting in a way that gave me goose bumps when he crooned about being comfortably numb. I had added the song to my favorite playlist several months ago and often fell asleep to it playing on repeat. Val pushed his way through the crowd and pulled me into his arms. Dance with me, he said.

Did you pick this song? I asked as he swayed against me.

Yes, why?

It’s one of my favorites.

Mm-hmm. Val nodded. Mani was a big Pink Floyd fan.

This jukebox has a very familiar collection of music.

Probably because your brother donated most of the records in it.

Why does that not surprise me?

Val smiled. He said that since he spent so much time and money here, the least they could do was play some decent music. Before Mani’s donations, they only had Willie, Johnny, and Waylon, the trifecta of country.

Mani was never a fan of the status quo. He had to put his personal touch on everything.

Val shook his head with the heed of the inebriated, and I wondered how much he’d had to drink. Not on you, though.

What do you mean? Drunk people so rarely made sense.

You’re nothing like your brother.

I pulled back, uncertain whether to take offense or not. Val fingered a tendril of hair that had come loose from my braid. You’re all golden, he said. Molten sunlight. But Mani, he was…

Darkness and moonlight, I said, sticking to the analogy Val had started. I took after my father—honey-blond hair, gold eyes, a complexion that bronzed in the sun. Mani’s looks mirrored those of our father’s brother. They shared the same black hair, olive skin, and silver eyes. People often pointed out our differences as if they were offended by our lack of similarities.

It’s not just your looks, Val said. Your personalities were opposite, too. Mani was always restless, driven, like he was never quite satisfied. Like he thought there was more that he was supposed to be doing or finding. But you… Val didn’t have to finish his thought. I knew what he meant. I was everything Mani hadn’t been – staid, subdued, complacent – and I had been content to live vicariously through my brother.

He adored you, you know, said Val. Talked about you so much, I was half in love with you before we ever met the first time. That first time was when Mani brought Val home for a long weekend near the end of his first summer in Alaska. Mom and Dad gave me a precious day off, and I spent it with Val and Mani at the lake near our house. Val had flirted and teased and made me feel like the most beautiful and brilliant woman on the planet. Then he and Mani went back to Alaska, and I went back to work.

Val whirled me around and slipped his hand up my back, then to my shoulder, finally curling warm fingers around my neck. The aphrodisiac of alcohol and Pink Floyd made Val’s attentions feel so very nice when, for the last few months, I had put all my effort into feeling nothing at all. How did we get so morbid? I asked. This is supposed to be a party.

You know what? You’re completely right. He pulled me close, buried his face in my neck, and blew a raspberry. I shrieked, fell into a fit of giggles, and struggled halfheartedly to push him away.

Having a good time, Miss Mundy? Aleksander Thorin appeared before us as though he had materialized from the bar’s hazy shadows. His eyes flickered over Val before returning to me. His mouth stretched into a knowing grin.

Yes, Mr. Thorin, I said, pushing at Val until he relaxed his grip. Thanks for inviting me.

Thorin winked at Val. Oh, one way or another, I think you would have ended up right where you are.

I broke from Val’s grasp, miffed at Thorin’s insinuation, but my mother raised me to use my manners, even in the presence of those who lacked them. In this case, that meant biting my tongue and keeping my sharp reply to myself. I liked Val fine, more than fine, but I didn’t like anyone assuming he and I were a foregone conclusion, especially when I wasn’t certain of that myself.

Someone called to Thorin, and he excused himself and turned away.

I turned to Val. Is he like that all the time?

Like what?

A jerk.

He’s intense, but he takes care of his people.

Like he took care of my brother? That was an unfair judgment. Mani’s death was not Thorin’s fault. At least I didn’t think so. But he had rubbed me the wrong way, and I was feeling a bit chafed.

As much as Mani would let him, yeah.

Independent Mani wouldn’t accept coddling from anyone. I understood what Val meant.

The long drive from Anchorage, jet lag, and a limitless supply of beer left me swaying on my feet long before the party ended. Even though Val had a fresh drink in hand and had started a new round of cricket, he offered to take me back to Mani’s apartment. I don’t think I’m in any state to drive, he said, but I could handle walking you home.

I believed the sincerity of his offer, but his eyes kept shifting to the dartboard in a way that indicated he wasn’t ready to go. When I urged him to stay and have fun, he gave in with little protest. You have a D.D.? I asked.

Val nodded as he led me to the exit. Thorin will make sure we all get home in one piece. I’ll call you in the morning to check on you.

At the rate you’re going, I have a feeling you won’t be up for doing much of anything in the morning.

Then I’ll call you in the afternoon.

You don’t have to check on me.

Val scowled. I’m not going to let anything happen to Mani’s sister. Not on my watch.

Lacking the energy to argue, I merely nodded and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. Val snatched my wrist. Wait a minute. If you’re giving out kisses, I’ll be more than happy to take you home.

Don’t get the wrong idea.

"You give me all kinds of ideas."

Hormones and alcohol often gave me ideas, too, but letting Val have his way seemed like the wrong one at the wrong time. I pulled my wrist free from his grip. Good night, Val.

He exhaled a defeated sigh and pushed the door open for me. ‘Night, Solina.

I stepped out into the cool evening. A glacial breeze from Resurrection Bay caught the loose strands of my hair and sent them dancing. I stopped and inhaled a deep breath of briny sea air, an antidote to the tipsy side effects of the beer. The door closed behind me, and the bar noise fell to a dull thunder, leaving me alone to relish the nighttime quiet.

Leaving so soon?

Startled, I spun around to find Aleksander Thorin standing in the shadows at the corner of the bar. You scared me, I said and laid a hand over my skittering heart.

Thorin stepped closer and shoved a cell phone into his hip pocket as if he’d recently finished a call. A nearby street lamp illuminated him, and his long, pale hair was incandescent. It seems I’m stepping on your toes at every turn today.

"No. You’ve been perfectly… nice."

Thorin huffed. Nice?

What did he want me to say when the truth was that I found him intimidating and tactless? I think it’s the jet lag. I feel like I’m dead on my feet.

Val isn’t giving you a ride?

He’s having a good time. I didn’t want to interrupt. Besides, Mani’s place is just down the street. I can walk.

I’ll walk with you.

You don’t have to do that.

I would feel better knowing you got home safely. Mani would want us watching over his sister.

I held out my hands in surrender. All right. If you insist.

I do.

I shrugged and started down the sidewalk. Thorin fell into place beside me. His presence unnerved me in an inexplicable way. He exuded a quiet self-assurance most people my age didn’t possess. Of course, Thorin wasn’t quite my age. I glanced over at him. He was in his early thirties, maybe. Six or seven years older than me, if I had to guess. He was informal in jeans, work boots, and a Carhartt coat, but he wore his casualness like a disguise, a costumed attempt to convince people he was unassuming, laid-back, harmless. It was about as believable as a lion wearing bunny ears.

How long do you plan to stay in Siqiniq? Thorin asked.

Long as it takes.

Long as what takes?

I shoved my hands deep into my jean pockets and bunched my shoulders. Don’t take this the wrong way, but what business is it of yours?

Mani was one of my best people. He was with me from the beginning of my business. His death hurt us all—broke everyone’s heart, but we’ve started to recover. I’m worried your being here will be like tearing the scab off a slow-healing wound.

I stopped and crossed my arms over my chest. Exasperation buzzed through me. Do you think I came all the way up here because I was worried about maintaining the status quo?

Shadows hid Thorin’s expression, but indignation rolled off him in palpable waves. It’s more than status quo that I’m worried about. Your presence here is bound to attract attention—and not in a good way. Whatever evil found Mani is likely to come after you as well.

"That’s my problem, though, isn’t it?" I said and started down the sidewalk again. I kicked up my pace. Thorin stayed back, letting me have my distance, but he shadowed me until I reached the safety of Mani’s apartment. Thorin’s concerns about stirring up Mani’s troubles were not unique. I had worried about the same thing as I deliberated over the decision to come to Alaska, and I hoped the results would prove worth the risk.

In spite of, or possibly because of, my jet lag, I slept uneasily. Images of Mani’s murder haunted me—as they had almost every night since his death—calling for vengeance. Hokey as it sounds, a vision of my brother’s murder had come to me the same night he was attacked. In the dream, Mani’s killer hid behind a mask—a wolf panting hot, carrion breath. My brother’s blood dripped from his fangs.

I had suffered that dream countless times since that first night, especially whenever I was exhausted or frazzled. After a day of cross-country travel and Thorin’s lush party, I was both of those things, mixed with too many beers and shots of crappy tequila. And because my transition from consciousness to sleep happens like a slowly descending escalator rather than a plunge from a cliff, I can’t always discern delusion from reality. It probably happens that way for everyone, but the difference is that most of my dreams come true.

Tonight the nightmare was visceral, vivid and almost impossible to escape. I woke up screaming. The walls surrounding me were Mani’s, the same walls from my nightmare, and while some small part of me knew I was awake, my panic insisted I was still in the dream, the wolf was nearby, and he was coming for me. I rolled out of bed, clutching the bedclothes to my chest, and backed into the corner. My knees gave way, and I sank to the floor, shaking and gasping for breath.

When no blood-crazed beast lunged at me from the shadows, I allowed myself to believe it was the same bad dream as always. After a couple of deep, steadying breaths, the worst of my terror drained away. I wiped a fist across my eyes, as if the gesture might rub away the last of the lingering images. Then I rose on wobbly legs and stumbled to the kitchen. In the refrigerator, I found several bottles of water. I grabbed one, snapped the lid, and guzzled. The cold pierced my sinuses, but I ignored the pain and emptied the bottle in a few desperate gulps.

Given enough time, the words and visions in my nightmare would distill into random flickers and vague images. They always did. Maybe my subconscious dealt with debilitating terror by locking it somewhere deep down inside. Only at night, in sleep, could my nightmare fully escape.

But no matter how much I repressed the details, one thing always remained. One obsession fastened itself to my psyche and burned there no matter the time of day, whether I was awake or asleep. Mani’s killer spoke in a low, growling voice, and in his final words to my