Ailuin cleared his throat. “In all the years I have known him, and they number in the thousands, I can’t remember a single time where Heimdall disliked someone. Not even Óðinn, and that’s saying something. Most days, Óðinn tries everyone’s patience.”
He clapped a hand on Bernard’s shoulder, then stepped back and pulled Raisa closer, kissing the top of her head. “Now, though, I am supposed to be taking my wife on a tour of our new home.” His blue gaze met Bernard’s. “Think about what I said. Lamruil and I respect your opinions and truly would like to offer you a job as our advisor.” Before Bernard could comprehend what Ailuin had just proposed, the couple disappeared in a shower of golden lights.
He continued to stare at the spot where his friends had just been, amazement filling him. “Well, that was unexpected.” With a loud sigh, he turned his gaze to the horizon. The sun was almost gone. Needing to put his plan into action, he stood and, with a single thought, pictured a sunny morning on the 7th of December 1941.
Visualizing the scene he’d witnessed of his family as they played, he transported to a grove of trees on the far side of the park in Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. His son, Bishop’s, laughter was music to his ears as he watched the twins chase after their two younger friends. The joy emanating from the youth was contagious, and for the first time in years, the weight he carried on his shoulders and in his heart lightened.
Another tinkling sound filled his mind, like wind chimes singing in a light breeze. Pulling his gaze from his son and daughter, he found his wife’s beautiful face as she laughed at something the young couple said. The heavy fear returned, and he dropped he glanced at his wristwatch, which showed the time at seven thirty.
In twenty-three minutes, the sky overhead would begin to fill with Japanese planes. Seventeen minutes after that, at 8:10 a.m., a one-thousand eight-hundred-pound bomb would smash through USS Arizona’s deck, ultimately sinking the battleship and killing more than one thousand sailors trapped inside.
“I love you, Savannah,” he whispered. “I will fix this, I promise. I will save you, Brianna, and Bishop if it’s the last thing I do.” He memorized that single blissful moment with the sun shining on his wife’s angelic face and the love so evident in her almond-shaped brown eyes as she watched her happy children.
Forcing his eyes to close, he traveled back to September 24, 1941, two-and-a-half months before the attack, to Fort Shafter on the main Hawaiian island of Oahu. As he neared the temporary information center, soldiers marched in front of him.
Slowing his forward flight, he repositioned and floated toward a group of trees next to the center. Nestled in the middle of the prickly branches, hidden, he solidified and waited for them to move down the street, then casually strolled out of the trees and up the wide stairs before entering through one of the double doors.
He closed the door behind him and listened before slowly walking down the main hall. After only a few steps, someone barreled into him from an open doorway, knocking him against the far wall. He slid backward, unable to stop himself from falling, and reached out, grabbing hold of the only thing available—the person who had run into him in the first place.
His hands wrapped around a slender waist, his thumbs touching the gentle swell of breasts. With a hard thud, he hit the cement floor and pulled the woman down with him. Legs and arms tangled, he heard her muffled groan, her face pressed against his chest.
“I am so sorry,” she muttered and began disentangling herself from him.
“Are you all right?” He felt as if he had just slammed against a brick wall. He could only imagine how she felt.
Her curly black hair fell over her face, blocking him from seeing her features as she scooted backward. Still lying in the middle of the hall, he sat up and forced his aching body to a stand, then held out his hand. “Here, let me help,” he offered.
Keeping her head down, she reached out and took his hand. The first thing he noticed was the soft skin of her palm against his. The next was her strength as she stood. She didn’t need his help.
“Thank you,” she said in a low voice before darting around him and disappearing through the front door.
He stared at the door, wondering why the woman’s voice seemed familiar, but a kink in his neck forced him to turn around. After rubbing the achy spot, his discomfort faded and, as he stood there, he realized the original pain from being shoved against the wall was gone too.
He heard the slamming of a drawer in an office at the end of the hall. Several men talked at once, their voices carrying through the silent building as they discussed Japanese missives. Good, he thought. At least I’m in the right place.
Strolling into the room, the men stopped talking as they turned to stare at him. One man rose, pale and gaunt. The other, thicker around the middle, stayed seated, one hand hidden beneath the table.
“You ain’t supposed to be in here,” the gaunt man said, taking a step toward Bernard.
Bernard crossed his arms. “I think I can help you. I, too, am a soldier—from Europe. England, to be exact. I am with a special force sent out to discover things and render aid when I can.”
The dark-haired man scowled. “I haven’t heard of any special units on this island.” He glanced up at his partner, then back at Bernard. “Carter, go get the MPs.”
Bernard gazed at the man named Carter, his unblinking stare drawing the man closer until he was just a few steps away. “You do not need the MPs, my friend,” he spoke softly, each word poignant. “I really am here to help you. You have received a missive from the Japanese, not Purple, but a J-19, correct?”
The soldier nodded.
“Dammit, Carter, what in the hell do you think you’re doin’?” The other man yelled. He raised his hand from under the desk, holding a gun. “You ain’t supposed to know about those missives! How do you know what they are?”
Bernard turned to the irate soldier, took a slow breath, and used a tone both smooth and equally hard, like molten metal. “My name is Bernard Marchand. I am with MI6 and am here to make sure a certain message is decoded and sent in time to avert a disaster.” Suddenly, Alva’s face appeared in his mind, a dark scowl marring her pretty features, as if she knew what he was doing. He blinked and she was gone.
“I don’t care who you are, you’re trespassing!” The man aimed the gun a bit higher, just over Bernard’s heart. “Carter, I told you to call the MPs!”
Bernard focused, trying to mentally bend the man’s will and relax him as his agitation filled the room, not to mention made his finger jiggle on the trigger. The last thing he needed was to get shot and die. Although he’d been gifted with a second chance at life because of Freyja’s magic, he was currently in a time before that and didn’t know if dying now would negate his future. The do’s and don’ts of time travel made his brain ache.
He caught the man’s green gaze and willed him to lower his hand, praying at the same time for a positive outcome. The soldier’s hand twitched, and his arm lowered down to his side. His face held an aloof expression and his eyes had become vacant, as if he were in a trance.
“The MPs do not need to be summoned. I am not here to hurt anyone or take anything. I am only here to help.” Bernard turned to the other man.