“It’s Alva. She’s been taken,” Aleksandra answered in a tight voice.
His gaze moved from the young Night Witch to Freyja’s best friend, who stared back, worry darkening her blue eyes. “How?”
Idunn swallowed, her hands nervously clasping and unclasping in front of her. “Freyja just received a message from the Huldra queen, who is Alva’s mother. It seems a small group of Huldra has turned mercenary, and they are demanding changes. The queen was unwilling to give more information in a missive. Freyja wants you to join her and will meet us at the Bifröst. With your skill of negotiation from the war and because you worked closely with Alva, Freyja believes you may be able to help with whoever is holding her and possibly with her mother, who can be a bit difficult.”
Bernard frowned. “I don’t understand. Alva and I barely know one another. She rarely talked, and I was focused on completing each mission. I really don’t know much about her.”
As Idunn studied him, her dark-blue gaze lightened to a pretty shade of topaz the longer she stared. His unease grew, and he wished the goddess would look away or, better yet, leave. Willing his body to remain still grew more difficult, until she finally released his gaze and glanced at Aleksandra, who looked very uncomfortable herself.
Over the past year, he’d gotten to know all four of the amazing Russian Night Witches, but this poor girl was the most timid of the group and tended to keep to herself or stay with her man. He liked Jakob. The German had nerves of steel and, like his wife, was one of the best sharpshooters he had ever seen. Jakob simply didn’t miss.
Idunn cleared her throat, drawing his attention once more. “I think you know more about Alva than you let on. You are an amazing soldier, Bernard. English intelligence would not have chosen you for MI6 otherwise. Like Freyja, I believe there is more to your story—more to you and what you are capable of doing—but right now, a very young Huldra needs your help. She needs you.”
Clenching his jaws, he forced away the frustration of having to stop trying to figure out how to reverse the deaths of his precious family at Pearl Harbor. Not to mention, the last being he wanted to see at the moment, or any other time, for that matter, was the Bifröst’s gatekeeper. Steeling himself, he forced out a long breath, then nodded. “I’ll go. Alva is a good person and always had my back during the war. Now, it’s my time to have hers.”
Aleksandra sent him a small smile. “That’s what I’d hoped you would say. She works tirelessly for Freyja and us. We all owe her our gratitude and our help.”
He followed the two women through the maze of tunnels and wondered for the dozenth time since his arrival in Asgard…why was there a maze of tunnels? Why did no one in this awe-inspiring and confounding world trust one another?
As they exited the tunnels and walked along the cobblestone street leading toward what he’d grown up calling the Rainbow Bridge, he couldn’t help but feel he didn’t belong here. From the moment he’d joined the military, he had felt at home. The men and women he’d fought alongside grew to be more than just friends. They had become brothers and sisters. It had been the first time he’d felt part of a family.
Glancing to the end of the street, he squinted as a ray of sunlight reflected off the gold-domed gatehouse. Shading his eyes, he noticed the building was larger than he’d first thought and spread outward, away from the mountain.
Before he could ask Idunn what the other part of the structure was, they reached the massive golden door. The goddess raised the heavy gold ring above her head and let it fall, hitting the door with a resounding, higher-pitched ping. He studied the intricate designs etched into the brilliant metal sheeting but didn’t recognize a single symbol. Even without understanding their meaning, the variety of symbols were tiny pieces of art and seemed to tell a story.
They didn’t have to wait long until the door opened, showing the formidable gatekeeper. Heimdall was back to his normal self, or at least the self that Bernard was familiar with.
Staring at the large Asgardian, he noticed Heimdall’s skin wasn’t as dark as usual. His hair was black without a single strand of the white he had seen at Lilyann’s wedding. Tiny braids framed his face and were woven into the thick plait that hung down to the god’s waist. The god’s swirling gold eyes, however, would always give him the creeps.
“Welcome to Himinbjörg, my friends. Come in.” Heimdall’s voice boomed at them. He turned to his left and led them a few feet along a wide hallway. He waved his hand in an arc across the wall and another golden door appeared. Unlike the front door, this one was without design. There wasn’t even a doorknob. Instead, Heimdall laid his palm in the center of the door. Silently, it swung open. Bernard and the two women followed the gatekeeper into the Bifröst’s control room.
No sooner had he stepped across the invisible threshold than an immediate heaviness settled over him like a weighty coat...or the flu. He couldn’t decide which. Either way, his breathing grew more uncomfortable, and his head began to pound.
“Heimdall, what does Himinbjörgmean?” Aleksandra asked, her gaze focused on the impressive sword sticking up from the top of what looked like a golden ball anchored to the floor.
“It means sky cliffs, or you could say ‘heaven’s castle.’ It is where the Bifröst meets the heavens,” Heimdall smiled. “Sort of.” Freyja appeared in the hall beside him, and his smile disappeared. He met her amethyst gaze. “You seek your Huldra?”
She nodded, her lips pressed together. “I am very worried about her. Her mother sent a missive stating she had been taken hostage. It’s not that I don’t trust Queen Isabel...well, I don’t, but that’s neither here nor there. Is what she said true? Has Alva really been captured?”
“Now that you’re here, Freyja, I must take my leave,” Idunn said, giving the other goddess a pointed stare. Without speaking, Freyja clutched the pendant around her neck and waved her other hand, transporting Idunn to wherever she needed to go.
The gatekeeper lowered his head a moment, as if deep in thought, then met Freyja’s gaze once more. “What Queen Isabel said is, indeed, true. There has been a faction of Huldra who rail against the queen’s rulings. Nothing has swayed Queen Isabel to hear their concerns, much less take them seriously. It is a bad time to be a Huldra.”
“Is there ever a good time?” Aleksandra muttered, drawing Heimdall’s gaze.
“Every species is important,” he counseled. “And, at the least, deserves your appreciation, if not an educated understanding, don’t you think?”
A pink flush spread over Aleksandra’s cheeks, and she hung her head. “I am sorry, Heimdall. I was judging the entire race and I apologize. I wasn’t thinking…well, I was thinking, but more about their very deadly habit of killing men who fall in love with them.”
Heimdall’s lips twitched. “Yes, that is unfortunate. If the Huldra causing this internal insurrection have their way, their ‘habit,’ as you put it, will also include women.”
“That’s horrible!” Freyja exclaimed.
“No more so than killing men,” Bernard said. “I think the whole damn thing is wrong.”
“Who are we to judge others?” Heimdall’s eerie gaze pierced his.
Bernard’s eyes narrowed, returning the gatekeeper’s glare. Strangely, the god’s light-brown skin darkened more as his expression morphed into a deep scowl. “Heimdall, do you have a problem with me?”