Valkyrie Rising by Ingrid Paulson Page B

town, Ellie, but we don’t worship ancient pagan gods, if that’s what you mean.” He paused. “Look, I don’t want to frighten you, but some guys from the area have disappeared. At first, everyone thought it was no big deal. Kids run away, get into drugs, whatever. But lately it’s gotten worse. Boys being taken away. In public, right under everyone’s nose. Like what almost happened to me tonight.” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “When things start happening that can’t be explained, even rational people, who should know better, fall back on old superstitions. They’re scared. And there’s no logical explanation for what’s happening.”
    While part of me was grappling with what he was saying, the rest of me was half expecting the hidden cameraman to pop out any minute.
    I must have been quiet way too long, because Kjell sounded defensive when he added, “You know there was something weird about those girls.”
    “Even if I accept that those girls were, um, special, they weren’t the only strange thing tonight. Why does Margit hate my grandmother?” I paused, because for some reason the next part made me unfathomably sad. “And me?”
    Kjell was quiet again, as if he wasn’t sure where to start. “She doesn’t,” he said. “She’s just looking for someone to blame. Ever since her brother disappeared, she’s been different.”
    Hardly a complete answer, as much as I sympathized with what she must be going through. But given the grim frown on Kjell’s face, it was the best I was going to get.
    “Okay, then who were those guys in the trucks?” I pressed on. “Lemme guess. Leprechauns?”
    “Don’t worry about them,” Kjell said, reaching over and covering my hand with his in a way that should have made my heart flutter but instead just made my stomach churn. “I’ll handle them.”
    “What’s to handle?” I asked, sliding my hand out from underneath his and crossing my arms. The universal signal to back off. “Who were they?”
    “The holy inquisition,” he muttered, “on a modern-day witch hunt, apparently.”
    The word witch carried me back to the bizarre things Margit had said about my grandmother. And about me. And the whispered conversation between Grandmother and Kjell in the entryway. Either it was all tying together or Margit’s paranoia was as contagious as the plague. A symptom of the epidemic sweeping the town. “Is all of this why you were talking about Odin with my grandmother?” I demanded. “Why she told you to be careful?”
    “Your grandmother knows everything,” he said. “I just wondered what she thought about the rumors. And what has been happening.”
    “And what did she say?”
    “She didn’t seem to want to talk about it,” he said softly. “So she just laughed. I was surprised. I’ve never known her to be anything but blunt. I believe you overheard the rest.” He glanced at me from the corner of his eye.
    “Then I’ll ask her myself,” I said, my resolve hardening like amber. “I’ll tell her what happened tonight. I can promise she’ll have an opinion when it comes to my safety.”
    “No,” he said, suddenly way too loud for his cramped car. “I mean, you’ll get in trouble. We both will. We weren’t supposed to leave Skavøpoll tonight. She laughed about the Odin stuff, but at the same time she said to stay in town. She’ll kill us both if she finds out.”
    “Great,” I muttered. “Maybe you should have told me that before you dragged me into that den of lunatics.” I was furious that Kjell had led me into breaking pretty much the only rule Grandmother had ever set for me. But more than anything, I was absolutely steaming that my grandmother had set that rule with someone other than me. Just like how my mother always counted on Graham to enforce my curfew when she worked late. Like I was some sort of simpleton who couldn’t tell time.
    “I’m really sorry,” he said. “I thought—I thought it would be okay. The