Chapter 5
Eyvor groaned as her phone went off. She slapped at it blindly before answering. “Hallo?”
“I’m in fuckin’ Giza,” Jake’s angry voice grumbled at her over the phone. He carried on in more angry nonsense that she didn’t understand (she really needed him to teach her whatever language he was speaking in) while she sat up, rubbing at her eyes and trying to wake up.
“Where?” she asked blearily.
“Fuckin’ Egypt.” Again, he began spewing angry rambles as she stretched and stumbled out of bed, going to splash cold water on her face to wake up.
“Where?”
“A whole different continent, gotita! I’m in the fuckin’ desert!”
“I don’t know what that is! You woke me up! Stop yelling at me!” She heard him sigh, and she turned after washing her face to get dressed, the phone cradled against her shoulder.
“Ya remember when I taught ya about the oceans? And the seas?”
“Yeah.” She yawned.
“And the continents?”
“Mhm.”
“I said we’re in Europe, right?”
“Uh huh.”
“What’s the one under Europe?” Eyvor took a moment to think, absentmindedly throwing on some clothes and tying her shoes.
“Not Antarctica. That’s on the very bottom. It’s another ‘A’.” She paused to think. “Africa?”
“Yeah, that one. Up in the northern part. By the Mediterranean Sea. You remember where that is?”
She thought again, biting into an apple for breakfast.
“No.” She hated to admit it, but he had thrown a bunch of facts at her at once that day, and not all of them had stuck.
“Just underneath Europe, gotita. I’m southeast of you. Thousands of miles away.” Mentally, she followed the vague outline of the map she remembered him showing her to where he said he was. She blinked.
“How in the Nine Realms did you get there?!” she exclaimed as she opened her window and sat out on the fire escape. She put her phone on speaker (Jake had shown her how to do that) and tried to find out exactly how far away Jake was.
“Remember that scarab?”
“Yeah? You were gone for a few days over it. That was right before the thing at the museum, right?”
“They lost it.” She paused, both because she figured out exactly where Jake was right then and how far away he was and at the news.
“They what?! After you went to all that trouble with the truck?”
“So I woke up in Giza. Don’t know when I’ll be back.” For what felt like the tenth time in their conversation, Eyvor had to stop and reevaluate.
“Jake, did you call me because you need to rant or so I wouldn’t worry if you didn’t come back to London in a few days?”
Silence.
Eyvor grinned.
“That was sweet of you, Jake. Okay. I know where you are now. I’ll be there by tomorrow.”
“What? No, rosa de sangre, stay there. Someone’s gotta feed Gus.”
“I’ll leave him a weekend feeder, don’t worry.” She was already grabbing her jacket, closing her window, and heading across the rooftops to Steven’s apartment. “I’m not a fish killer like Marc.” Jake huffed a laugh before he was back to being serious.
“Don’t get caught up in this, rose de sangre. Those two are already in over their heads.”
“And what happens when you get in over yours?” Eyvor replied, starting to run in order to make it to Steven’s faster.
“I’ll handle it.”
“I know you will. I’m not doubting you, Jake. I’m worried about all of you.”
“Lo siento, rosa de sangre.” She sighed, hurdling a gap between buildings.
“You don’t have to apologize to me. I know you’ll protect them. I wouldn’t want you to do anything else. But if I’m not there to protect you while you do that, you have to do it for me, okay?” She landed with a thud on Steven’s roof.
“Prometo.” Eyvor swung her legs into Steven’s apartment through the window she’d opened.
“Du er en savnet del av meg, tvillingsjel.” Jake chuckled, the tension draining out of his voice with it.
“Translation?”
“No. Stay alive until I get there, Lockley,” she said as she dropped a cube of food into Gus 2.0’s tank.
“Stay in London, gota de sangre.”
“You know I won’t.”
“Lo sé. Hasta pronto, rosa de sangre.” He hung up the phone, and Eyvor climbed back out the window, closing it behind her and climbing down the fire escape before she figured out which way was south and started running.
She didn’t know much about Marc other than their brief conversation yesterday, but Jake and Steven were in trouble, and she wasn’t going to let them go into whatever-this-was all alone. Tyr had taught her over and over again that even capable warriors needed people behind them, a plan of aid and retreat when needed. It wasn’t cowardice to ask for help or have a back-up plan; it was wisdom. It was wisdom to go after your ally when they were in a situation and needed help; she knew Jake was capable, willing and able to hold his own for his headmates, but she could help him, wanted to be there to cover his flank.
After all, he was hers. Steven was hers. And maybe, if she and Marc could ever actually talk, he could be hers too. And she protected. It was her purpose, her self-given drive for years.
She protected what was hers, and no one, not even whatever the boys had gotten swept up into, was going to stop her from getting to them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Eivor hadn’t run this much since she was training with Tyr, and that had been the early days of their training. She’d made it to the mainland of Europe, and had been running for hours, cutting through forests and neighborhoods and following major roads as she headed south. She just had to make it to the coast, that was all. There were many times when she was grateful to be Asgardian, and this was one of them: she ran faster than any normal person could, and she didn’t get tired as easily.
Mentally, she went through the checklist of her plan.
- Get to mainland Europe. Easily handled by the tunnel under the English Channel. Done.
- Get to the southern coast of Europe where the Mediterranean Sea was. According to the signs she was passing, she could be there within two hours. Almost done.
- Find a way across the sea. She was contemplating just swimming for it, but she wasn’t that good of a swimmer, so that was out. Probably a boat. There had to be at least one that would make the trip down to Africa, right? In progress.
- Get to Egypt. It was east, right? All she had to do was follow the coast of wherever she ended up and she’d hit it eventually.
- Get to Giza. She’d ask for directions if she could and follow signs where she couldn’t.
- Find Jake/Marc/Steven. That was easier said than done, but she figured if Marc or Jake was in charge of the body, she could just follow the trail of bodies they usually left behind them and find them that way.
Simple. No muss, no fuss. She could be part of whatever adventure they were getting themselves into and have time to fuss at Marc for getting them into this situation without help. It would be fun!
It was not, in fact, fun. She’d reached the coast by mid-afternoon, but there weren’t any boats across to Africa from the coast that she’d ended up on. She’d had to run up the coast further to find the right dock, and by the time she got there, they had already sent out the last boat for the evening. She was going to have to wait. She wanted to call Jake, if he was fronting, and ask what she should do, but her phone had died somewhere in the middle of her run, and she hadn’t expected Europe to be so big! It hadn’t looked that big on the map she’d looked at.
So, instead of taking a boat, she would just run along the coast and get closer until she could make the trip. Easy!
Wrong again. Her patience gave out right around ten o’clock, based on the clock tower in the town she was currently passing through. She was exhausted. She’d stopped for a break, walking instead of running, and Eyvor was frustrated. How in the Nine Realms did Marc/Steven/Jake get to Egypt so fast?! She was faster than any regular person, and she knew she was just as fast as they were when they were in Khonsu’s armor (she’d secretly raced Marc a few times just to see), so how did they get to Egypt in the same amount of time it took her to get just to the mainland?!
She left the small town behind her and went out into the forests before she let out a frustrated and tired shout and tipped her head back. “Heimdall!” she yelled up to the night sky. “Open the Bifrost!”
There was a roaring, a ripping, a tearing, a whirling, and she was standing in the golden sphere of the gate to the Bifrost, Heimdall standing there with his great golden sword and his gleaming armor.
“Welcome home, Eyvor,” he greeted. “Your return has been eagerly awaited.”
“Oh, I–” Eyvor started to reply.
“My little dewdrop!”
“Oh, you’re home!” Eyvor turned to see her mother and father running to her, where they scooped her up into a hug and nearly picked her up off the ground.
“We’ve missed you so much,” Bragi said, pressing kisses to her hair repeatedly. “The house itself seemed to mourn your absence.”
“We’re so glad you’re back,” Iðunn added, squeezing her tightly and then pinching her cheeks a bit and kissing them. “We want to hear about everything.”
“But–why are you here?” Eyvor asked. “I–how–”
“Heimdall said we should come, that you would be coming home.”
“But how did you–” Eyvor started to ask, turning to meet his golden gaze, where he was watching her with a hint of a smirk on his lips.
“I thought it was time for a reunion, of sorts.”
“But–” She couldn’t stay here; she had missed her parents, it was true, and Asgard was her home, but–
As much as Jake pretended otherwise, he needed someone, anyone to support him, to protect him when he was busy protecting others. She desperately wanted to be that person for him.
He protected Steven and Marc, and she protected him. It was what they did. She couldn’t leave them alone, not with whatever was going on with that scarab. She couldn’t stay.
“Mother, Father,” Eyvor said, turning back to look at them and feeling very sheepish and ashamed for what she was about to say, in light of how excited they were to see her, “I’ve missed you so much, and I have so much to tell you, but I’m not coming home. Not yet anyway. I–really, I only wanted Heimdall to help me get somewhere. I didn’t even expect to see you.”
“But you just got here,” Iðunn said, her eyes wide as she hugged her daughter again.
“You won’t stay? Not even for supper?” Bragi continued.
“I want to,” Eyvor assured them, “but–I’ve met someone, and I made a promise to myself. I have to protect him. No one else will do it, and he won’t let anyone else try. I can’t stay and eat and talk with you when he’s back there with no one to help him.”
“Who is it, dewdrop?” Bragi asked. “Surely it can wait a little while?” Eyvor took a moment to think, to put it into words that her parents would understand. She’d forgotten how hard it was sometimes to talk to people. She and Jake understood each other so well, were so similar in their mannerisms and thinking that they rarely needed to fully say their thoughts before the other had picked up on it, and she and Steven had their own form of talking that was free of proper wording or anything other than spontaneity and pure joy of companionship. There was a reason Eyvor hadn’t had many friends on Asgard, and it was only in part because she spent so much time training with Tyr or learning from Mimir.
“You told me that when you first saw Mother, it was like figuring out the last part of a song before you wrote it down,” Eyvor said to her father, staring up at him earnestly. “He’s my last part of a song.” Her mother gasped, tears springing into her eyes. “He understands me, Father, more than anyone, and he’s got others that get me too, and I can’t stay here and talk and enjoy myself when they’re down there getting into trouble without me there to get them out of it or cause it with them.” Her father smiled at her with shining eyes.
“Bring him home to visit sometime, dewdrop,” he said, kissing her hair again. “Go finish your song.” Her mother wrapped her up in another hug.
“I want to hear all about him next time,” Iðunn whispered, pressing more apples into the bag on her hip.
“Mother, I still have plenty from last time,” Eyvor protested.
“Let me give you this, dearest. Come for a visit soon.” Eyvor kissed her mother’s cheek before stepping back and turning to Heimdall, who looked way too pleased with himself.
“You’re meddling,” she said to him with a smile.
“Forgive a gatekeeper for providing himself entertainment. Where do you wish to go, Eyvor?”
“I supposed, just this once. And to Jake Lockley, please.” Heimdall smiled.
“That I can do. See you again soon.”
“Not as soon as you think!” she called over her shoulder before stepping into the Bifrost again and finding herself sinking into soft sand that was thicker than anything she’d ever found on the coastline of Europe. There was no one around as the roar of the Bifrost disappeared, and all that was left were the runes carved into the sand and the smoldering flames of a vehicle not far from her. She grinned at the sight. “Having fun without me, Lockley?” she said into the night air. “Not fair.” She found tire tracks in the sand, and, taking a deep breath, she set off in a run.
“Time to catch up.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Running in sand was, decidedly, the worst. Her legs ached in ways they hadn’t in years, and Sol was barely beginning to warm the horizon by the time she found the abandoned vehicle she could only assumed Marc/Steven/Jake used to get here. She found the hole they must have gone down , and she dropped down to land on, surprise surprise, more sand. She was met with two giant stone statues, and she followed the footprints she found, but eventually, they started to split off, and she had no idea where she was going. This place was a maze, and mazes were not her strong suit. She didn’t dare shout out into the halls, though. If whoever Marc had been dealing with for the scarab was here, she might accidentally draw their attention where it shouldn’t be and put her boys in danger.
Finally, before she got lost again, she put her hand on the wall to her left and started following it, creating a small line in the dust that she used to mark where she had gone and where she hadn’t. It was the only thing she could think of.
Eyvor found several bodies in a few of the halls, but they didn’t look like the work of Jake or Marc. She was used to the injuries those bodies held. These–it was nothing like anything she had seen before. She investigated them for a little while, but she didn’t know enough about injuries to figure out more than something had mauled them in some way. What? She didn’t know, but she wasn’t of a mind to find out. She pulled out one of her handaxes and held it in her right hand as her left stayed on the wall, and she kept walking.
She eventually found a burial chamber that was a mess, but everything was recently moved, and there was fresh blood on the ground. It didn’t bode well, especially when she heard gunshots echoing through the tomb.
“Faen.” She followed the trail of blood, and it led her to a narrow ledge running along a gaping chasm. There was a faint bit of light coming from holes in the rock above, and she could see where some of the rock had recently fallen away. “I’m coming; hold on,” she whispered, before she backed up, took a deep breath, ran, and jumped. For a horrible moment, she was in free fall and she didn’t think she’d made it far enough, but she slammed into the wall, her arms scrambling for a hold as her torso collided with the edge of the chasm. Her breath left her in a whoosh, and she pulled herself up to lay on the ground, gasping for air. Her ribs ached. It took her a long time to gather her wits and catch her breath, but she was stumbling to her feet and hurrying off as quickly as she could. It was eerily quiet, and she didn’t like it. There was a stillness that had followed those gunshots that she didn’t like, and it was slowly grasping at her, pulling her forwards. She was charging forward all on her own, but it was urging her, calling her. She had to keep going. She was going to, but–
She entered a tomb, a shining tomb filled with gold and bright light. It wasn’t like anything that she had ever seen before. Whoever had been buried here must have been important. There were dead people lying on the ground, recent deaths, judging by the still-wet pools of blood. Still, it didn’t look like Jake or Marc’s work. It looked like a bladed weapon, something closer to what she would use, not one of them.
The quiet was filled with the gentle lapping of water, and she carefully stepped around the pools and gently moving stream that was in the middle of the tomb to investigate. As she circled the large burial coffer for whoever it was, she gasped, catching sight of familiar dark curls. “No.” She knelt down, uncaring of the water that soaked through her clothes. “No, no, no, Jake? Jake, wake up. Come on.” She saw the bullet holes, but he had the suit. Or Marc did. She’d seen Jake use Marc’s suit before. Or was it Steven that had taken the bullets? Sweet Steven who didn’t have a suit, who didn’t deserve any of what was happening, who loved his fish and Ancient Egypt and books.
Steven didn’t have a suit.
Tears blurred her vision. If it had been Steven, who didn’t have a suit to keep him safe from the bullets, she had failed. She, Marc, and Jake had failed their one job: keep Steven safe. They were supposed to protect him, keep him safe from the darker parts of the world that they lived in, the evil that would snuff out the light he carried in a heartbeat.
And yet, she mourned for Jake the most. Her best friend, her missing piece, the part of her soul she didn’t know she needed. “Jake,” she whimpered, pulling the water-logged torso into her lap and running gentle fingers through curls heavy with water and hanging limply around the still face. “Come back. Please? I need you.” A sob choked her, and she bent in half over him, tears dripping down her cheeks. He had never seen her cry, not once. She didn’t have much to cry over. She wanted to know what he would say. “You can’t–I was almost here. I was right there. I’m sorry. Please. I came as quickly as I could. I’m so–come back.” Eyvor pressed a kiss to the long-cold forehead, and she whimpered again. “Ikke gå dit jeg ikke kan følge.” She sobbed, uncaring of who or what heard her.
With shaking hands, she pressed her palms into his chest, taking a deep breath.
“I–I’m not a healer,” she gasped through sobs. “I can’t–” Eyvor felt uneven, off-balance, and she hated it. “Spring is life. I–” She could make flowers bloom, make a breeze blow. It was all she’d gotten from her mother. She’d never been as powerful or as impressive as her mother or father, getting weaker, mottled versions of what they could do. But maybe–
She had to try.
“If–” She sniffled, blinking through the tears running in small rivers down her cheeks. “If you can hear me, any of you. Come back. Please. I–I don’t want to be alone again.”
It wasn’t a lot, especially with the two bullet holes in his chest, but if she could get him breathing again, enough to get him to Asgard–
“Come on,” she whispered, making a breeze inside his lungs, but it flew out of his mouth with a quiet whoosh. Nothing. She tried it in reverse, forcing air in instead of out. Again, nothing changed. “I–” Another sob clawed its way out of her throat. She folded herself over and buried her face in the damp fabric of the hoodie. “I can’t. I’m–I’m so sorry. I tried. I don’t–” She whimpered. “Please, come back. I–”
She’d failed. She’d made a promise to herself, to keep him safe, no matter what. It was her job, to keep Jake Lockley safe while he kept Marc and Steven safe. He had asked her to help him protect Steven, and she’d failed that too. She–
Her heart cracked like ice over a lake.
Through her tears, she stared down at the man she held in her arms. He looked so peaceful, minus the two bullet holes in his chest.
“I’ll make this right. I promise,” Eyvor rasped, her words echoing through the somber quiet of the tomb. “I’ll make whoever did this pay. I will make them beg me to send them to Helheim. But I–” Her voice cracked, fading out, the ice in her heart cracking more at the thought of a future without him. “I can’t do it without you. I don’t even know where to start. You always knew where to start, and I don’t know how. You–you have to come back, all of you. You just have to.”
What could she do? She didn’t have anything within herself to do what she wanted. The water had stolen what warmth there had once been, and she wouldn’t have been able to do anything with that anyway.
“Khonsu,” she said, sitting up and looking around. Nothing. She was the only one here. “Hey!” she shouted, the sound bouncing off down the halls, and she didn’t care. “I’m talking to you! Khonsu! Come fix this! They’re your Avatars, aren’t they? Fix this!”
Nothing but her own voice coming back to her. She whimpered, looking down again as her tears dripped onto the damp cheeks. She gently wiped them off, even though it just smeared more liquid onto them. She was getting more desperate.
“What do I do?” she asked, her voice wavering. “I don’t know how to fix this. Tell me what to do. You always know. What do I do? You–Mother and Father want to meet you, and I know they’ll love Marc and Steven. I don’t–how can I fix this? I can’t—I don’t—”
She paused.
She took a deep breath.
“Heimdall, do not tell anyone about this. Not anyone.” Gripping tightly onto the damp jacket that was nearly see-through from all the water, Eyvor closed her eyes. “I’ve sent many to your realm. I only need to know if they are among those whose blood is on my hands. Are they in the land of the dead? Or have they found rest in Odin’s Hall?”
I have not had conversation in some time. Her voice was sweet, almost motherly, but it sent chills up Eyvor’s spine. No, child, they have not come to me.
“Did they go to Odin, then?”
No. I can send you where they are, as repayment for those you’ve sent me.
“Can I bring them back?”
Perhaps. That is up to them. I cannot say.
“It is enough. It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”
Then hold on, child. This will not be pleasant.
The coldest wind she had ever felt licked along her limbs, pulling even the memory of warmth from her for a long, breathless moment. She was pulled, yanked, tugged in every direction. It felt as if her very being was being inspected before she was dumped on something cold and hard, and when she blinked open her eyes, she was met with cold, white walls and gently swaying lamps. She sat up in confusion, shaking her head to clear it of residual disorientation, and wiped at her face to clear the traces of tears.
In all her life, she had never meant the words she said more:
“What the fuck ?”