See Chapter One For Disclaimers.
Valkyrie Rising
Chapter Three
Megan stormed into the apartment, slamming the newly hung door with enough force to send a photograph flying off the wall. The protective glass shattered as it hit the floor, spraying glittering fragments everywhere. Cursing under her breath, she went in search of the broom. As if she needed to clean up any more damn broken glass. It felt like she'd already spent the whole day sweeping. It had definitely been Monday with a vengeance.
Oh, it had started out normally enough. No more rude surprises, no unwarranted tattoos, nothing at all extraordinary. She'd gotten dressed and out to the College in plenty of time for work, secure in the knowledge that things couldn't get any worse after the weekend she'd had. The false sense of security had lasted only until she got onto campus. That was when things started going crazy.
The lab had been broken into on the weekend. Somehow, they'd gotten in through one of the narrow high windows. Broken glass and splintered furniture lay everywhere. The level of destruction was absolutely unbelievable; the place was a total write-off. It was a good thing that all the artifacts had been safely locked away for the weekend, otherwise the loss would have been insurmountable. It appeared for all the world as if someone was hell-bent on stopping the Project, no matter what the cost. Not that Megan or Dr. Marshall could think of any good reason why somebody would. There was nothing about dating old Norse artifacts that should have gained the Project any enemies. It wasn't like they were a threat to the environment or anything. Even the dig site had been handled with the utmost care. Northern Labrador was still as pristine as ever.
Dr. Marshall was nearly hysterical over the senselessness of it. Megan, on the other hand, was almost incoherent with rage. It was all she could do to sit still while the police looked everything over, when what she really wanted to do was find and dismantle the culprit. Waiting was going to kill her.
Unfortunately, the police were finding very little to go on, which only incensed Megan further. It wasn't their fault really; what little they had found only raised more questions. There had been no trace of human prints anywhere in the lab, not even those that should have been there. It was as if the whole place had been scoured clean, sterilized somehow. The only clues they had were the same strange musky smell that had permeated Megan's apartment, and a tiny tuft of silver-tipped fur that had been caught on the splintered window frame. It was so small that it had somehow gone unnoticed by whatever had sanitized the lab. The odd thing was that forensics said it belonged to some rare kind of Arctic Wolf. It made no sense. What would a wolf be doing jumping through a second story window? They were in the middle of the bloody prairie, for crying out loud. There were no wolves to be found, let alone Arctic ones. The cops spent the entire morning trying fruitlessly to come up with something more logical.
Just after one, they finally gave the okay to start cleanup operations. Dr. Marshall had gone home under sedation about eleven, so the onerous chore fell squarely on Megan's shoulders. She hesitated only briefly to survey the damage, then called Custodial Services for assistance. While she waited for them to arrive, she began gathering up the shards of broken glass. That was when things had started to get truly weird.
It began as an odd whirring noise, just within her auditory range. It came from no discernible source; rather it seemed to fill the air around her, swelling until it became the unmistakable sound of wings beating. It touched a chord somewhere deep inside her, waking a vague memory of hammers and drums. From deeper still rose a feeling of quiet strength, both ancient and eldritch. Instinctively, she reached out to touch that strength. A raven's harsh cry rent the still air of the lab, startling her. The feeling of strength faded as the sound echoed through the empty room. She was filled with an indefinable sense of loss when the raven's call faded, as if a part of her had somehow been stripped away.
She stood motionless in the center of the room, lost in thought. The sound of wings enfolded her again, inexplicably warming her. She felt secure for the first time in days. Lost in wonder, she nearly jumped out of her skin when Brennan opened the lab door behind her. The instant Loken entered the room the sounds disappeared abruptly. But for the lingering touch of warmth, it was as if they had never been.
He jumped in with both feet, demanding answers about the break-in; worrying about the Project. In short, he'd been a real pain. Curiously, Brennan seemed to be merely going through the motions. Oh, he asked all the right questions, with just the right amount of concern, but his mind was very obviously not on the same topic. Megan felt an odd foreboding, almost a premonition…
A strident ringing jerked Megan's thoughts back into the present. Muttering, she dropped the broom and raced for the phone. As though her thoughts had conjured him, it was Brennan looking for Ginger.
Megan was unnecessarily abrupt. "She's still at work. I'll have her call you when she gets home." She didn't even give him a chance to answer her before she hung up. She wasn't certain anymore why she disliked him so much. At first, it had just been his general attitude. Now it appeared to be something more, something she couldn't put her finger on, some kind of uncanny intuition. Megan didn't ordinarily put a lot of faith in anything so tenuous as intuition, but this time the feeling bordered on certainty. Brennan was bad news.
She knew for a fact that she didn't want the slimy bastard anywhere near Ginger. She'd felt unaccountably protective of her roommate lately. It was ridiculous really, former lover or not. Ginger was well able to look after herself; she was ranked as a brown belt in Karate, but only because she hadn't bothered to test for the black. She still sparred on a regular basis at the local gym. There was no doubt that Ginger would blow a gasket if she knew how Megan was feeling. Muttering to herself all the while, she set about dealing with the remaining mess.
Megan had just finished cleaning up the broken glass when Ginger got home from The Black Java. She came in quietly and sank to the couch with a heavy sigh. She pinched the bridge of her nose for a moment, then looked up at Megan with tired green eyes. "So how was your day?"
"Uh uh. You first. You look bagged." Megan sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the couch and lifted Ginger's feet into her lap. Ordinarily working the occasional shift for Franny didn't leave her this strung out. It was usually a welcome break from her solitary writing, giving her a chance to interact with people outside the immediate circle of her friends.
Megan tugged off Ginger's knee-high moccasins and started massaging the ball of one foot with her left hand. With her right, she tossed the ratty old boots in the corner. The soft boots were a holdover from their college days; tattered and worn, but Gin stubbornly refused to get rid of them. There were days when Megan was tempted to just toss them, but she knew her friend would have a canary. It was funny in a way. She wasn't like that about everything, just those disreputable boots and a ratty sleeveless guacamole-colored sweatshirt. "What's up?"
"Brennan came in today, we had a huge row." Ginger curled and flexed her toes under Megan's touch. As she leaned back and closed her eyes, a small groan slipped past her lips. "Oh yeah… that's just what I needed. My feet are killing me."
"You and Loken are fighting so soon?" Megan's voice was full of disbelief. It usually took at least a couple of months for her friend to reach that point. Gin was easy going most of the time, but her standards were sometimes impossibly high. "What do you two have to fight about already?"
Ginger took an abnormally long time to come up with an answer. Long enough that Megan knew she wasn't going to like it when it came. When she finally spoke, Megan could tell she was choosing her words very carefully. "Well, about me moving in with him and… and… about you, actually."
"About me? What the hell have I got to do with it?" Megan concentrated her attention on Ginger's other foot, fighting down panic. Her thoughts careened dangerously around inside her head, threatening to destroy her hard-won balance. Ginger couldn't move in with him, she just couldn't. It would ruin everything… It took a real effort for Megan to calm down, but she managed it somehow. It wouldn't do to think about the reasons behind her panic. That part of her life was over, it had to be. She ignored the wave of pain that washed over her at that thought.
"That's what I asked him. You wouldn't believe the stupidity of his answer." Ginger went on, totally oblivious to the battlefield in Megan's mind.
"Well? Are you going to enlighten me?"
"He said it's too dangerous for me to be around you, that weird things keep happening. He also said its going to get worse before it gets better. Then the jerk wouldn't answer me when I asked him what he knew about it. Meg, did something else happen today?"
"Mmmhmm… just some strange stuff at the lab." Megan continued working her magic on Ginger's toes while she brought her friend up to speed on the day's events. Surprisingly enough, the vociferous little writer managed to keep any comments to herself while Megan talked. At least she did until the subject of the ravens came up.
"Meg, that's as strange as the things on the weekend. Weren't you scared?"
"That's just it, this didn't scare me. Quite the opposite. It made me feel safe, and more secure than I've felt in years. The things on the weekend made me uneasy. Unfortunately though, it all has to be tied together… At least the two break-ins were obviously related, given the similarity of the events. I can't help but think it all ties in somehow." Megan had a far away look in her eyes for a moment, then with a visible effort she focused on Ginger. "You hungry?"
"Starving. I could probably eat an elephant. All I've had so far this afternoon is a sub sandwich and a couple pieces of Franny's chocolate cheesecake."
Shaking her head, Megan put Ginger's feet back on the floor. "Let's see if we can fix that, shall we?" She stood with a bone-popping stretch, then headed purposefully toward the apartment's tiny galley kitchen.
Megan had always moved with an amazing feline grace, a feral quality that had always mesmerized Ginger. She lazily watched Meg walk away before her words sunk in. "Wait a minute. You're not actually gonna cook, are you?" Megan was highly skilled in many areas, but cooking was not generally one of them.
"Why not? Must be my turn by now." Megan's voice was muffled as she rummaged around in the bottom cupboards. "Do we have an electric frying pan?" The crashing and clattering coming from the cupboard drowned out any answer Ginger might have made before Megan surfaced again. Waving the frying pan triumphantly, she said "What about eggs? Do we have eggs?"
Chuckling to herself, Ginger pointed to the fridge. While Megan was occupied with the eggs, she wandered into the kitchen. They hadn't performed this particular little comedy of errors for a couple of years; it had been that long since Megan had cooked. They had run this scenario so many times over the years that it was taking on the feel of a ritual. Megan was cooking, but Gin had to be right there so she could find things for her. The tiny walkway between the cupboards was cramped quarters for the two of them, but right now Ginger didn't care. All she wanted was to enjoy the closeness and familiarity.
As they moved around one another in the small space, their bodies frequently brushed together. A seemingly innocent reach bordered on an embrace, the slightest touch a caress. It woke a longing in Ginger that she had almost convinced herself was dead. She paid it no heed, not wanting to ruin the moment.
Between the fight with Brennan and the weirdness of the last few days, she needed the closeness more than she would ever admit to Meg. After all, she was supposed to be self-sufficient and capable. In truth she was, most of the time. It was just that for years Megan had been her haven, a safe harbor from the rest of the world. Besides she admitted, if only to herself, this was just about the only closeness Megan allowed anymore. It would have to do.
Between the two of them, they managed to make a credible meal of scrambled eggs and fried potatoes. It had taken a while, but they had both enjoyed the diversion. The sense of routine was a welcome change from the stress of the last few days. Laughing and joking, they were finally on their way to the table with their plates when Megan froze in her tracks. A laugh died in her throat and she stood stock still, a white-faced statue. Unheeded, her eggs slid slowly off the plate and onto the carpet. Ginger carefully set down her own supper, then gently took the empty plate from Megan's hand. "Meg, are you okay? Hon, can you hear me?" There was no response at all, and Ginger could feel the panic welling up inside. "C'mon baby. Answer me. What's wrong…"
Her voice trailed off to a whisper as Megan suddenly whirled around and grasped her tightly by the arms. The frightening blankness was gone, but in its place was the face of a stranger. Megan had never looked that untamed, even when they were young and wild. Icy blue eyes bored into frightened green ones with a fervor that was frightening in its intensity. "You've got to go… get out of here while you still can. They're almost here." Her voice was harsh and compelling; somehow much deeper than normal. There was no similarity to her normal tones at all. Ginger knew, beyond all logic, that Megan was gone.
(c) M.C. Sak 1999