3
Heimdall, the Asgardian gatekeeper, annoyed Bernard, for reasons he couldn’t quite fathom. He stopped pacing, his gaze rising to the God’s Glass before dropping back to the stone floor. Surprisingly, listening to his boots tapping on the stones eased the anxiety running rampant through his body.
He jerked his fingers through his hair and realized how much it had grown out. His wavy, blond-streaked brown hair hadn’t touched his shoulders since childhood. Agitation once more rising, he crossed to Freyja’s sofa in two long strides and fell onto the soft cushions. Dropping his head into his hands, he massaged his pounding temples.
His thoughts turned back to Heimdall. Those two simple words ate at him, churning in his gut like a bad piece of meat. “Do not,” Heimdall had said, although why was beyond Bernard. Do not what? When he’d tried to ask the gatekeeper what he’d meant, the god turned cryptic and refused to answer.
Dropping his arms, a hand dangling one over each knee, his gaze rose again to the Glass. Scene after bloody scene sped by as the war in Europe progressed, the worst of the battles taking place in the countries bordering Russia. The war there was more than just basic skirmishes. German soldiers marched into Russia and committed atrocities in every town they laid waste to. Rapes, mutilations, and outright murder. No one had been safe. In the Wehrmacht’s eyes, Russians were subhuman, much like their views about the Jews and other minorities they’d deemed unfit to live.
He recognized the next scene, which showed a vast expanse of water with spits of land, resembling islands, separating the water and the sea beyond. The Syvash lagoons in the Crimea. The battle had been back and forth with both the Russians and the Germans losing and regaining control of the Crimea, from Kerch to Sevastopol. So many men had died—thirty thousand, at last count. So many men...
The anger, always simmering deep in his gut, grew. His jaws clenched as the scene changed again, this time showing a field of what remained of a troop of Resistance soldiers, their bodies ravaged and tossed about like trash, left to rot in the heat of the summer sun.
A fluttering white piece of material caught his eye, and the Glass zoomed in. He could not pull his gaze from the slight lift and fall of the torn fabric, the bright blue-and-yellow crest splattered with blood.
He knew that crest—knew it well. Jonathan Appleby had signed up with the Resistance the same day he had. Until this battle, they had fought side by side for three years, almost since the beginning of the war.
England’s MI6 had known Hitler was up to something as early as 1935 and had sent out spies to find out what it was. It was during that reconnaissance that Bernard had become separated from his men and left behind. It was at that same time he’d befriended Jonathan and realized a better way he could fight against the Wehrmacht.
Forcing his gaze higher, he took in his friend’s serene face, thankful he wasn’t seeing the horror of war in his frozen expression. Jonathan looked almost peaceful as he lay staring with sightless eyes at the cloud-filled sky overhead. The fact that he was missing one arm and half his left leg didn’t immediately register.
Heavy sorrow threaded through the anger. His jaws ached as he clenched them together. Sadness for his friend intensified. Pushing his fist against the ache in his heart, he growled in the empty room and stood. Marching across the stone floor, he slammed his fist into the wall, unmindful that Freyja would likely take him to task for ruining her pristine decor. It didn’t matter.
He had lost so much to this war. His parents’ home had been occupied by German soldiers and all but destroyed. Numerous friends he had considered close to brothers had all been killed in this godforsaken conflict.
Weary, his head fell forward, his chin almost touching his chest. Breathing deeply, he pushed back the anger and grief down to a more controllable level, then ran his fingers through his hair again, uncaring about the bloody knuckles. Taking a few more deep breaths, he forced his feet to move back to the sofa but remained standing, and his gaze refocused on the Glass.
American battleships rocked in their harbor berths on the brilliant summer morning. Midshipmen lounged on the decks without a care in the world. Nearby, he watched several couples stroll arm in arm, and a young Hawaiian couple rested on the grass, laughing at the antics of their two young children as they chased each other around their parents.
Glancing up, the brilliant blue sky was cloudless, but he knew the empty expanse would be short-lived. As if he had conjured them, small dots appeared, growing larger as the Japanese planes advanced on the main island.
He couldn’t watch what was about to happen. It had been hard enough to live through it, but to see the events unfold—taking away everything he held dear. His gaze dropped back to the young family and noticed someone else had joined them.
A woman dressed in a nurse’s outfit, her familiar black hair twisted into a knot at the base of her head. She turned and waved her hand toward the large hospital across the street, where two young children appeared in an open doorway, a boy and girl.
His vision blurred. Blinking furiously, he tried to clear the obstruction away, so he could see them as they were on that fateful day...one last time. His son, Bishop, was three minutes older than his twin sister, Brianna. His light-brown hair was longer than Bernard remembered, the blond-streaked strands flying around his cute face as he raced toward his mother.
His beautiful daughter was the spitting image of his wife, Savannah. That day, Brianna wore her medium-brown hair on the top of her head in a long ponytail. Chasing her brother with a wide smile, she waved at the two other children standing near her mother.
He willed his wife to turn around. He had seen her beautiful face in his mind so many times since that horrific day. She turned and stared directly at him. His eyes traced the delicate lines of her face, from her almond-shaped brown eyes to her kissable pink lips. Suddenly, her eyes widened as her expression changed to one of horror.
A brilliant flash of light appeared, momentarily blinding him. His fingernails dug into his palms as he willed his family to reappear. The Glass finally cleared to show the island erupting in chaos as medical personnel and naval crews ran toward the harbor.
He watched as Savannah dropped to her knees and pulled the twins to her in a tight embrace. Brianna shook her head and both children had tears on their perfect little faces.
As his wife struggled to stand, everything around them exploded. Bernard let out a cry of agony, his heart breaking all over again as he watched the bomb explode where his family stood. Whirling around, he leaned forward and pressed his fists onto the sofa’s seat, trying to breathe as he gulped in air that never seemed to reach his lungs.
The room swirled as he dropped to his knees, burying his face in the cushions as years of pent-up anger and pain let loose. Drowning in waves of heavy sorrow, he shuddered as sobs wracked his body, and something inside him snapped. Using the backs of his hands, he swiped the tears from his face and stood. He closed his eyes and calmed his breathing until all hint of emotion was gone before turning back to the Glass.
He stared at the devastation, the black smoke billowing skyward as flames shot out from the tops of the listing ships. Fire spread over the top of the water as what looked like hundreds of snakes slithered just below the surface.
He knew better, though. Oil and gas from the damaged ships poured into the water, spreading the inferno. Although incredibly difficult to watch as the men who had jumped into the water caught on fire, he used the overwhelming emotions coursing through him as fuel for his own rage.
He crossed his arms over his chest and focused on the decimated harbor and surrounding buildings. How could Freyja believe the devastation in this one battle mattered so much, she was unwilling to change the outcome? The goddess had meddled in many other events throughout the war, so why leave this one untouched?
Hearing the frantic pace of footsteps behind him, he turned in time to see Aleksandra and Idunn rush into the room. From their worried expressions, he knew whatever it was couldn’t be good.
“What’s happened?” he asked and stepped around the sofa.