Odin's Murder

“Tyr,” Anders says. He points to Memory’s wrist.

“Don’t touch me,” she whispers, to me, not him.

The anger surges under my skin, hardening my muscles, my resolve. I hurl the marble across the cave. It smashes against the stones with the crack of a bullet, exploding into shards of glass. “That’s not what you said last night, is it?” I say, words hissing between clenched teeth. Ten-nine-eight-seven-six-five, five, five--I step behind Memory, and unlock the cuffs without touching her skin, shaking with fury. She spins, fist raised, but she’s off balance, her feet still bound.

“Women are fickle, are they not?” Anders says, catching the loose cuff and snapping it to her brother’s wrist. He unlocks her feet, and I move out of range.

“Are we ready, Mimir?” he calls.

“Yes, Yvengvr. Bring them in.”

Sonja moves forward, obedient, and Faye takes a step, but Julian holds her back, pulling the first girl to a halt.

Memory grabs at the iron ring cemented into the wall with her free hand. “Do you think I’m stupid? There is no way I’m standing around a well so a psycho can push me in!”

Anders narrows his eyes and raises his hand back, but before he can slap her, I wrap my fingers around her wrist. I blink, and my sight is filled with my own face, jaw hard, and eyes cold. Another image, overlaid, Anders, pulling a bird apart by the wings with his bare hands. I blink again, to clear her out of my head.

She’s staring at me, and for the first time since I met her, her eyes are dulled with fear. My chest feels like I’ve been punched in the sternum, but I tug her hand from the ring, and pull her into the larger room, toward the well.

Five-four-three-two-one.

Like prisoners of war, they follow behind.

26.

Mimir

Ethan’s hand is warm on my wrist, and I want to shake it off, but he’s anchoring me, and I’m afraid I’ll fall down if he lets go.

His mind is a mess of images. Anders, smiling in the dark, showing too many teeth; Miriam in a business suit, standing before a judge in robes, wearing a bracelet I’ve seen before; my face drawn in profile in pencil on plaster; my mouth now, lips thin with anger. Through all the chaos in his head, a symbol flies though his thoughts with an arrow’s speed.

He has the rune charm; it was missing from the bracelet before he got here. Ethan is a thief, a good one, pocketing his shiny things before anyone sees his hands have moved. I want to trust him. He didn’t let Anders hit me, and his touch is still gentle on my skin but I’m chained to the others and he’s not, he’s obeying the commands of this crazy man and this, this witch, and I can’t see which side he’s on.

He pulls me, leading us all between the fire and the hole that the water pours through, not looking back. Julian follows, the chain lax between our cuffs, tugging Faye by the hand. Sonja circles around the other way, obedient and resolute.

The others step forward, take their place at the edge of the well, but I haven’t moved farther. Since when do I let anyone make my choices for me? No one, not even my twin brother, and especially not some madman. I twist my wrist against Ethan’s thumb, and he lets go, face darkening with something I can’t read, since we’re not touching anymore.

“Mem?” Julian asks. His eyes are dead. He’s pretending this is a dream, a hallucination, counting on me to sketch it when we wake up, so we can say ‘How strange!’. He reaches to me, palm up, chains dragging my hand up, too.

“Don’t you think someone will notice all five of us missing, if none of us show up for class or dinner?” I ask, in my best bored tone. “They’re already looking for us.”

“Zoe will assure everyone you are fine. She’s quite good with the texting.” Anders smiles at me, and then Julian. “As I think you have suspected? And Jeremy’s police report will divert attention for a while.”

“They’re in on all this?” My voice cracks up an octave.

“A student’s blind devotion to a teacher is quite useful.” He touches the scratch Faye cut on his cheek. “If only all my pupils were so agreeable.”

“Were you?” I ask Ethan. “In on all this from the beginning?” He glares at me. I’ve managed to hurt him. Good.

Dr. Anders motions me forward. I shake my head. “Your spirit is to be commended, Memory, and I’m sure my father would appreciate your loyalty, but you really have no choice.”

I don’t move. “I’m not doing this.”

“Make her,” Anders commands.

Ethan turns to me and I see a flash in his eyes, of feather wings and the reflection of light off a sharp beak. He wants me to join them—but to what end? His jaw is clenched hard, like he’s fighting for control. “Don’t fight,” he begs.

“Since when am I not going to fight?”