Nina frowned.
“…Erik the Red, Nina. Lita Røderic is an esteemed member of the Order of the Black Sun…”
“Them, I know,” Nina said quickly, her expression of utter disgust briskly confirmed to Val that she had chosen the right ally.
“Then you know what they are after most of the time: breeding a new Aryan Race, experimenting with physics and science to a blasphemous point of absurdity, obtaining religious relics and scrolls to pave their way to access the powers of gods and demons and let them loose onto the modern world to bring about Ragnarök. That insane bitch, with her fanatical ideals of world domination by corruption of the old Gods’ power, has the backing of The Order along with unmatched financial resources to make it happen,” Val explained as she hastily retrieved an enormous book. It was well over 800 years old and she opened the wooden covers, entirely inscribed with mercury and copper alloys.
‘Valhöll’, it read in the tarnished metal lettering.
Val turned to face Nina and continued, “The only enforcers who can stop the Black Sun or Lita’s hordes is known as The Brotherhood, a group of Templars similar to the Knights Templar, only… not. Imagine a more murderous and ruthless version of Templar with no allegiance to Christianity. The Brotherhood has existed since the beginning of the last millennium, founded by a great Chieftain in Iceland to protect Valhalla from being discovered.”
“Why? Is Valhalla real?” Nina asked, her stomach tingling with fascination.
“Yes, it was a real place, but that is not what I have come to show you. Valhalla has to be kept obscured for the safety of the world as a whole, because inside it lives a fierce and destructive evil entombed there by Odin and his daughters. Lita and her Nazi fuckheads are after the key to the Great Hall of the Slain, of course. Only the Brotherhood can prevent them from obtaining entry, do you understand?” Val pressed and Nina nodded.
“That is what trouble I am in. That is what you are helping me with. Now you know,” the biker lady attested as she opened the massive antique book.
“Be careful with the pages,” came Nina’s automatic response, as avid protector of the frail antiquities of the world. Val’s mouth curled in what was almost a smile, impressed by the historian’s guarding nature.
“Don’t fret. The pages are made of human skin, not papyrus or paper,” Val reassured her in a disturbingly nonchalant manner, but Nina was too engrossed to bother with the human skin reference. Val went on to show Nina the etchings of the Æsir, Asgard, Fenrir, Thor, Odin, and all the well-known icons of the Norse Mythology. As she paged onward, the book became darker, more arcane, and the writings turned to different hands and various inks that Nina would not be surprised to find if it were blood.
In the middle of the book, Val stopped at a chapter marked with a roughly sketched key, one of some significance, as it boasted the rune Tiwaz upon it, the rune representative of the god Týr and the principals of justice, sacrifice, and success in battle, just to name the most prominent. Val looked at Nina for a moment, as if to prepare her for what was to be shown, then she turned the page.
There was an etching of a fierce clan of warriors, foaming at the mouth in the picture. Above the black and grey sketch read ‘Bróðurlega’, meaning ‘Brotherhood’, and Nina scrutinized the picture as Val urged her to. Nine warriors led the frontline, dressed not in armor or chainmail, but in clothing not befitting the era in which such tales were created. The Brotherhood wore leather pants that resembled cowboy chaps and their upper bodies were covered in black mesh, their backs and arms wrapped in leather and steel sleeves.
“We are ready, Val!” Erika called from outside.
Nina looked up at Val, who tried to smile while her soaked eyes dried.
“You see, the Sleipnir Motorcycle Club are our foot soldiers. Lita and her goons mistook them for The Brotherhood and that is why she took my Gunnar. I want him back, Nina,” Val said, her revelation punching the historian in the gut like a sledgehammer.
Her heart raced uncontrollably inside her chest and her skin crawled as she looked back down at the picture and saw that the raging warriors had breasts. Hearing the bikes outside starting up and revving, she peered from the tower window. She beheld The Brotherhood in the same dress as the etching, all female, awaiting their Chieftain, Val Joutsen.
Chapter 17
Sam raced to get to the address Nina had told about. He did not want her to go off half- cocked on Val with that fiery little temper of hers. What if Val and her husband decided that Nina was too smart for them, that she could pose a threat? All sorts of terrible scenarios possessed his thoughts as he sped along past The Meadows on his way to Newington. He called a friend at The Post as he drove.
“Peter! Hey, it’s Sam Cleave. I’m well, thanks… ye-yes… lis-listen… ” he tried to tolerate the obligatory formalities and pleasantries until he could ask for a favor. Then he gave Peter the names of Val and Gunnar and the address he had from Nina. He then asked Peter, who was still at the office, if he could do some less than legal searches on the couple as urgently as he could and get back to him.
“Magic, Sammy, just like the old days, hey?” Peter chuckled on the other side.
“Aye, just like the old days. Look, I really appreciate it, Peter. I’ll even out with you sometime, alright?” Sam said cordially, trying his very best not to sound as drunk as he was. He had to admit that the very strange and frightening occurrence at home sobered him up quite a bit, as well as the subsequent call from Nina, which only boosted his adrenaline. But his blood alcohol level would still get him arrested if he was to be pulled over for speeding. He lifted his foot off the accelerator and kept a close eye on his speedometer.
A text came through from Nina.
“Oh thank God you’re still okay enough to send a text message,” he said out loud in the white noise of the slightly open driver’s window that allowed the chilly night wind in and lapped his wild locks into a state of disarray. He held his phone up to the steering wheel and tried to read while he was driving, something he detested in other drivers, but this was urgent. These were special circumstances.
‘Sam, all okay.
Will explain when you get here. This is big.
Nina’
“Big? What the hell is big?” he frowned, but truthfully he was relieved that Nina was alright. After the incident with the vial, he did not want to be alone for a long time. He arrived at Denton House and saw that a window in one of the flanking towers was illuminated.
“What is big?” he said when she opened the door. He could not wait to hear what she was on about.
“Good evening, Mr. Cleave. I am fine, thank you. How have you been?” she reprimanded. Nina had always had a problem with Sam’s neglect of basic conversational skills and she never let him forget it.
“They just let you stay in their house?” he asked.
“Val trusts me,” she replied as she switched on the kitchen light to make some tea before she would go upstairs and show Sam what she had discovered.
“Oh, I see. And does Val know how much you trusted her before?” he reminded her mockingly.
“I had good reason to distrust her. And besides, you agreed with me, so stop being such a hypocrite,” Nina retorted. “So tell me why the flask is evil.” She twisted her full lips in an attempt not to laugh at him. His breath smelled faintly of beer and toothpaste and she knew that he had been drinking, so the story would be very entertaining. As the kettle labored to heat the water, she leaned against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest. Sam could still smell her skin as his eyes found the dip in her collar bone there where the ends of her hair played. Her beauty had only matured since he had met her, not in age, but in strength and appeal.