“Well. Aren’t you interesting?”

The voice came from everywhere and nowhere, from the empty space behind me, from the walls surrounding me. It was thick and rich, and it sounded almost amused.

My head spun as I tried to remember how to breathe. The enormous eye rolled in its socket. I was dimly aware of another, larger movement. Something almost incomprehensibly huge shifted in the empty blackness of the cave. A dull, red glow came from somewhere far above me.

“And have you come to stop me, Karen, daughter of Elizabeth, granddaughter of Claire, of the line of Orleans?”

The red light pulsed and swam around me. For a moment, it seemed like I could almost see them, my mother and her mother and her mother before her, a line of women stretching away into the dark distance of the cave. I shook my head and dug my fingernails into my palms, the sharp pain clearing my vision.

“No,” I said. My voice sounded very small. “I haven’t come to stop anyone.”

The creature shifted, its massive body making a sound very much like a sigh. “Then begone.” The enormous eye began to close.

“Wait! Níðhöggr!”

The eye opened wide, once again focusing on me. The air warmed as the enormous thing stared at me.

“I’m here for—I mean, I’m looking for—” I stammered.

There was a thrashing, scraping noise somewhere far behind me. “Yes. I know why you’re here.”

It fell silent. My pulse pounded in my ears.

“Is he—Is Vali still alive?”

That shifting sigh again. The eye narrowed. “I cannot kill the bearer of Hrotti, enjoyable as that would have been.”

Relief flooded through my exhausted body. Vali was alive. Thank all the gods, Vali was alive.

“Where is he?” I whispered.

“Oh, there’s not much left of him, Karen of the line of Orleans.”

My stomach dropped. “Where is he?” I said.

The eye rolled back to focus on me, and the air between us grew even warmer. “You,” Níðhöggr said. “You, I could certainly kill.”

Well, shit. I remembered Zeke offering me a ski pole, and then I imagined myself swinging my puny little duct-tape-covered ski pole over my head before this massive flame-colored eye. It was such a stupid idea, I actually laughed.

The eye narrowed. The air in the cave was growing uncomfortably hot. I remembered Colin offering me bear spray, and I snorted another laugh. Karen McDonald, off to slay a dragon with a ski pole and grizzly bear spray.

I’m going to die wishing I had a fucking ski pole and a can of bear spray.

I lost it. I started laughing hysterically, uncontrollably, a desperate barking, coughing laugh that sounded almost like it hurt. I laughed harder than I’d laughed in years, until tears rolled down my cheeks and my sides ached.

“Most people scream,” the voice rasped, once my frantic laughter had calmed enough for me to catch my breath. “They beg me for mercy. Yet, you laugh. You are a bizarre little creature, Karen of the Orleans.”

I wiped the tears from my cheeks, my ribs aching. “Oh, I’ve been called much worse,” I said. “Now, aren’t you going to kill me?”

The eye shifted, and the air grew somewhat cooler. “Perhaps,” Níðhöggr said.

The darkness flared suddenly, becoming a blaze of red and orange, and I squeezed my eyes shut, raising my hands to cover my face. Nothing happened. After a few slow breaths, I opened my eyes.

Someone stood in front of me, a human figure dressed in dark jeans and a tight red shirt. At first, I thought it was a woman, but then he turned to face me and I realized I’d made a mistake. His chest was flat and muscular, his hips narrow.

“Or maybe we can make a deal,” Níðhöggr said.

I nodded, my mouth dry.

Níðhöggr put his finger to his lips, a gesture that gave me an odd shiver down my back. “I suppose I can give you what you want. But—” He gave me a predatory grin, full of teeth.

Then Níðhöggr spun on his heels, took a step backward, and turned to face me again. I blinked, my mind spinning. I was staring at a woman. How could I have thought she was a man? Her face was round, and her chest curved unmistakably with the swell of her breasts.

“You have to try to stop me,” she said, her voice smooth as honey.

“Okay,” I stammered. “How do I—”

She smiled, and the world went black.

****

I GASPED. AIR TORE at my throat, making me cough. Panic surged through my gut and I gagged as something hard pressed against my nose.

“Easy now,” said a deep, male voice. “Easy.”

Firm hands grabbed my shoulders, and someone rolled my body onto my back. Hospital, I thought, panic surging through my body like an electric current. Am I back in the hospital?

It took far more effort than I’d expected to force my eyes open. I took another heaving breath, my frantic heartbeat subsiding as I filled my lungs. I was staring at a pale turquoise sky streaked with high, delicate cirrus clouds. The roar and crash of waves echoed in my ears. The air was cold and heavy with a sharp, briny tang.

Was I dead? Was there an ocean in the afterlife?

“There. You’ll be fine.”

I turned toward the voice and saw a rocky beach stretching out beneath me. A man sat next to me, staring at the waves. An old man. No, wait, maybe not an old man. Perhaps he was my age, floating in that odd limbo of middle age which could be anywhere from late twenties to early fifties.

“Where—” My voice scratched at my throat, and I started to cough violently. The man ignored me until my coughing was over, and I lay shivering on the stones.

“Well, now,” he said. “I suppose you’ll be going after him.”

I pushed myself up to sitting. “What?”

The man turned to face me. I noticed with an unpleasant shock that his right eye socket was empty. “He went that-a-way,” he said, pointing over his shoulder. “I imagine he’ll stick close to the water. Do what you can. I don’t expect much, but if you can get that sword away from him, you’ll be rewarded.”

“Vali.” My heart surged like the waves. “He’s here? He’s still alive?”

The man grinned at me, his lone, pale blue eye sparkling. Then he was gone. One second, I was staring at his empty eye socket; the next, I was alone on a rocky beach, listening to the crash of waves along the shore and the lonely cries of seagulls far overhead. I shivered. I was cold, hungry, and very, very tired.

Feeling hungry convinced me that I wasn’t dead. I could understand being tired or cold if I were dead. But it was just too much of a stretch to think the dead would be hungry. After a few deep breaths, I staggered to my feet. The ocean stretched before me, gentle undulations of green and slate gray stretching to the mist-obscured horizon. A faint rainbow twinkled in the clouds skating above the waves. I turned and saw vibrant green, rolling hills climbing to meet a dark pine forest.

And there was... something. I squinted, bringing my hand to my forehead to shield my eyes. Yes, there it was again. A quick, reflective flash of light somewhere on the hillside. My heart tugged in my chest.

“Vali?” I whispered.

I shook my head and stared down the beach. He went that-a-way, the man said, and it seemed true, somehow. It felt like Vali was there, between the crashing surf and the jagged rocks.

“Vali,” I told the waves and the thick, salty air. “Hang in there. I’m coming.”

My feet hurt as I limped across the rocky beach. Every muscle in my body ached with a dull, pervasive pain, like I’d tried to run a marathon the day before. An enormous cliff loomed in the distance, severing the ocean from those emerald green hills. I appraised it silently for several minutes before deciding to stay on the beach. The sun sank toward the distant forest and, with every step, a hard knot of apprehension in my chest tightened. Níðhöggr’s words echoed in my mind.

There isn’t much left of him.