Rose frowned. “It’s a bunch of crap.”
Landvik smiled. “Why?”
Rose laughed, shook her head. “You’re serious? It’s simple mathematics. The human race has grown exponentially. There aren’t enough people in human history for everyone today to have been someone else in the past. It’s just the kind of nonsense that people who think the stars have some relevance to their lives like to believe in to make themselves feel better. To feel less small and insignificant.”
Landvik smiled again, but it was cool, condescending. “You’re correct, of course. Not everyone has a past life. As you say, how could they? But some very special people are reborn. Again and again. And you, Rose Black, whether you believe it or not, were once someone incredibly special.”
Despite her fear, Rose rolled her eyes and made a noise of disdain. “Really? And who am I supposed to be? And don’t say Tokyo Rose. I’m Chinese, not Japanese.” She narrowed her eyes at him, challenging.
Landvik chuckled. “I don’t believe Tokyo Rose was a single person.”
Rose shrugged. “You’re smarter than you look.”
Landvik inclined his head slightly, like he was accepting the compliment instead of seeing the sarcastic barbs Rose tried to throw. The man was infuriatingly calm and superior in his attitude. He was clearly someone used to getting everything he ever wanted and always having his butt kissed.
“You asked who you once were,” Landvik said. “Perhaps you have heard of my ancestor, Ragnar Lodbrok?”
Rose surprised herself with a genuine laugh. “Great. You think I’m the guy from the television show?”
“No. I said Ragnar Lodbrok was my ancestor. You were once King Aella, the man who tortured and killed Ragnar Lodbrok.” Landvik’s calm demeanor hardened, anger flitting around the edges of his eyes. This was history that he seemed to take rather personally.
Rose was baffled. “And how do you know this?”
“When the person we once were suffers a grievous injury, or dies a particularly painful death, we are often born bearing marks which reflect that pain.”
“Marks?” Rose’s thoughts immediately returned to her birthmark, the trigger for all of this. It seemed suddenly powerfully relevant that she herself regularly thought of it as a blood eagle, ever since she’d learned of that hideous torture. “And what do my marks tell you?” she asked, nervous once more.
“The sons of Ragnar Lodbrok put King Aella to the blood eagle torture, partly for revenge, and partly to extract information from him. But they failed.”
It all came crashing together in Rose’s mind. She remembered her excitement in the hotel in Rome, not long before those men had attacked her and dragged her away while Crowley showered. She had researched the strange text beneath the newly discovered sketch of the squatting devil, in the back of the real copy of the Codex Gigas they had discovered. She recalled animatedly telling Crowley about the ancient Akkadian language, and what the ritual seemed to be. She heard her own words echo in her mind.
According to this, if I’m right, it not only extracts memories, but causes a person to actually revisit past lives.
A ritual for extracting past life memories. For revisiting past lives. And this Landvik lunatic thought that she used to be some King Aella, who had killed Ragnar Lodbrok?
“The information these sons of Lodbrok were trying to extract from this King Aella. You think I can give it to you?”
“You actually helped us enormously,” Landvik said. “I’ve been reconstructing the ritual for years, finding whatever information I could. Then you run off and, while I’m getting angry with you for being so elusive, you’re finding the original Codex Gigas. And you find the original text of the ritual, take photographs of it and bring those photographs to us when we finally catch up to you.”
The weight of it sank onto Rose. “Well, isn’t that just the most ironic course of events?”
“You’ve made it easier on yourself, in fact. I might have got the ritual wrong otherwise. Now I know it’s right.”
“And you think I’ll be able to tell you what this King Aella knew?”
Landvik nodded, smiling once more. “We will soon find out.”
Chapter 38
Crowley crept along darkened streets, fueled by anger and a desperate desire to see Rose unharmed. Part of him balked at being her knight in shining armor, coming to save her. If she had proven anything, it was that she was pretty capable of taking care of herself. But against these odds, neither of them had done well alone. If not for her, he’d still be in an oubliette in Prague. So now it was his turn.
Cameron’s intel had narrowed it down to several buildings on the tiny island. The town was more like a village anyway, but even a few dozen buildings could take hours to check and Crowley was under no illusion that time was not on his side. Time, in fact, was like a tightening noose, slowly closing.
But he was glad to have Cameron along. The man had met him at the airport, a wide smile in his olive-skinned face, jet black hair a little longer than Crowley remembered, tousled. They were of a height, around six feet, but Cameron was broader, solid in a way that a person could never build in a gym, but only gain from genetics. He had waved as Crowley emerged into the arrivals hall and had got straight to business, detailing the area they needed to cover, the variety of places they would have to check, which buildings Landvik owned, and he had reiterated the strength of the Sons of Ragnar operation.
“These are some bad guys, Jake. And they’re connected in all kinds of high places. You get caught here and you could be disappeared very easily.”
“As could you,” Crowley said. “You’re taking a risk coming along on this ride for fun.”
Cameron smiled crookedly. “It’s not only for the skit, my friend. When you said Rose had been abducted, I got worried. You two had been doing well so far, it seemed. I had no idea what kind of muppets you were up against and figured you were coping. Then when you had me look into these SOR guys, and you said they’d got Rose, well…”
“The balance has kinda shifted, huh?”
“That’s what I thought. And I figured you could use my help.”
“You were right.” Crowley grasped Cameron’s forearm, and Cam returned the gesture, his wide, strong hand closing over Crowley’s arm. “It’s good to see you again, man.”
Cameron grinned. “You too. Like the old days, eh? Come on, I have transport already arranged.”
But once they reached Björkö they had to split up. They could cover all the places they needed to check in half the time if they did it alone. A text lit up Crowley’s phone.
I’m at the offices. People here, but going to sneak by and look around.
Crowley nodded, sent back a reply.
Be careful. I’m just approaching the storage complex now.
He knew Cameron was more than capable of breaking stealthily into the offices Halvdan Landvik used on the island. He might have been at an intel desk for a lot of years now, but Cameron had a solid history of field work and was a professional in every way.
Crowley concentrated on his own situation. A storage facility which consisted of one large metal warehouse and two smaller buildings, white with red tile roofs like most of the surrounding town. The town was incredible, postcard beautiful, and would have been a great place to come as a tourist. But that applied to pretty much everywhere Crowley had been thus far, and none of it had felt like a holiday.
A white panel van was parked against the side of the large warehouse, right next to a small wooden door. A big roller door filled the front of the building, currently closed. The two smaller buildings were also closed up, and the windows all blank, black squares in the quickly darkening night. It was late, already nearing midnight, but the dusk had only just passed into darkness. This far north, this time of year, the days were long and the hours of shadows very short. But in the gloom, Crowley saw a bead of light beneath the side door of the warehouse.