5. Helene
Helene
There’s no time to think.
Seconds slip away, and muscles warm, my body flowing the way it’s been trained to my whole life. No. Not the same way…
More.
I duck beneath the swing of the club, air whizzing as wood cuts through the space where my head used to be.
The world is nothing but breath and haste. I have to move. I lurch up to my feet, swiveling, ignoring the rush of heat spreading through my limbs.
Pathways connecting my brain with the rest of me have cut off. I glance to the left, the tent pole rising out of the ashes of the broken vendor space, wares reduced to rubble beneath the thing’s feet.
Is there enough time to make it?
A shout draws the creature’s attentions and like an animal trapped in a snare, it turns toward the sound.
The raven.
The massive, bread-eating raven eyeing the shiny things on our table lands and in the next beat, I immediately wish I hadn’t looked.
Not an animal but a man.
Something inside me twists, desperate to escape, but his distraction gives me the extra precious seconds I need.
Why?
My torso aches where I got a good kick in the stomach for my distraction. In fighting, there is only the target, and what to use to take it down. Years of endless lessons, classes, the only kinds I was allowed to take until I got old enough to make my own money…
But by that point, we were already on to the next town. Why bother applying to college when staying meant the difference between someone else’s starvation or a full-ish belly?
Smart people run.
Instead a wall of sound rips out of me, a terrible sound vibrating my throat as I lift a broken table leg with a ragged, sharp edge from the destroyed tent.
I scream until my throat goes raw and send the piece hurdling through the air until I’m not the only one choking on blood. It spears through the creature’s open mouth with enough force to send it backward, pinning it to the muddied ground.
Blood steams the air.
Now is my chance to get the fuck out of here.
A calling spreads from my heart across my collarbone and in the half a second it takes to wonder if Audra’s okay, my decision solidifies.
My heartbeat grows, louder with each step, an inhuman cadence.
No escape.
Where would I go?
I can’t even think.
Audra will be fine. She knows as well as I do how to protect herself. Doesn’t she? The raven-turned man with flaming strawberry hair steps up to the creature but I won’t falter now.
Shaking my head, I grab the tangled edges of the nearest banner. Welcome to has long since been torn off, and the rest of the banner is muddied by footsteps.
The creature’s nubs of teeth flash and quick as a snake, it thrusts a wide fist up at me.
But something happens. I’m not where I stood. In my next breath, I’m behind it.
I’m in the process of strangling a creature, its nose the size of a skateboard, with said banner.
And the strange thing is, this isn’t the oddest thing I’ve done today.
No. My hands clench tighter in the fabric, keeping it taut until the thing stops moving and sinks low, folding over itself. The strangest thing was dropping the runes onto Esmerelda’s table and bolting into trouble rather than away from it.
This close, the creature reeks. Whatever it is, greenish blood rolls like sap through every cut and abrasion through the holes where two eyes should have been. A moment ago, they’d locked on me, and I’d shaken with the effort of holding my ground.
Now I use both arms to choke its life away.
When it lands, still, I relinquish my grip, and there’s the man.
The horrifying giant of a man, a weapon locked in his grip.
He kicks the creature onto its side and over, sprawling on its stomach.
The axe makes no sound—Is it somehow worse?
Or better? —and I gasp when it plunges into the creature’s spine.
Thick rivulets of blood gush from the wound, and metal screeches through skin and bone now.
Gore spatters us both, and I’m wild-eyed and breathing like bellows when the man laughs.
He fucking laughs.
He drives his weapon home again, and the world shifts on its axis. An odd, rippling sensation parts what life I used to know and the one I exist in now.
Is this why Mom told us to run?
What she prepared us…me…to handle?
I slap a hand against my bruised abdomen and pain rushes everywhere with the movement, eager to show me exactly where I’ve hurt myself.
I’ve spilled this thing’s blood on the grass, leaking all the way to the Heath. And I know if I look up at this strange man, I won’t see what I expect.
“Is it dead?”
My throat croaks around the words and adrenaline, the electric cattle prod up my ass that got me into this mess, slowly leaks free.
The second it does, the pit in my stomach goes hollow, cold.
My muscles lock up, and I’m stuck in the same spot, swallowing down the little moans wanting to twist out of me.
And another part, a far more stubborn piece, is fucking proud.
I’m standing on my own two feet with my limbs intact.
The stranger, his hair still a violent reddish color and not the same hue as when I ran him over earlier, shakes his head. “Not yet.”
A few more swings and finally the beast’s head pulls free and spins so both empty eye sockets are now staring at me, the thing unmoving.
I can’t speak.
I can’t make my body move one way or another and suddenly I’m sick to my stomach. The field, dotted with gore and trampled tents, abandoned carts and cider dripping somewhere near, spins and goes liquid.
Oh, god. What’s happened?
He laughs again, louder, alive and well when my insides have turned into a wasp’s nest. Sweat plasters the stupid polyester costume to places it doesn’t need to touch and I have no idea how I’ve survived any of this.
The stranger swings the ax over his shoulder and kicks at the head until it circles between ruined tents like they’re goalposts.
My arms stick to my sides, and spots dance in front of my vision.
Staying conscious takes more energy than I’ve got. It’s a miracle I’m here when everything in me is screaming.
I stumble away from him with a groan. Air refuses to make it to the bottom of my lungs, and the sun at last completes its descent.
Rather than the Longship Festival roaring to life, an eerie silence falls over the grounds, casing the destruction in a final reddish orange glow.
“Are you okay?”
I glance up in time to watch the strike of his hand in the space between us, a lifeline, or an anchor damning me further.
Okay? No. A thousand whispered curses come to mind, plentiful excuses as to why I am the exact opposite of okay.
I don’t take his hand.
Not when my muscles contract and an odd tingling sensation creeps up my spine.
This world is upside down.
Audra and I were already doomed. Life needed to make extra sure of it, apparently. “You saved me.”
The bastard stares at me, still clutching his ax. “No, woman. You did. I just decapitated it.”
This isn’t real. I need something strong to anchor me. If I had enough energy to get to the collapsed tent where the adults wore their wrists to show they were old enough to get shitfaced, I would.
Get it together.
But how the fuck did I get it together in the first place? Where did I find the strength to do what I did? This is a far cry from any of the racked blue mats at a gym or a YMCA, with an instructor yelling pause to correct your form.
Or fighting up against any of the fake dummies.
I heave myself up to better posture and swallow down a groan.
“Helene?”
Blood leaches from my face, and my vision flickers black and white. “Audra? Shit. What are you doing here? I told you to run.”
The words string together right and hold firm. “You could have gotten crushed.”
“But I didn’t. I wasn’t going to leave you no matter what you said.”
She is not supposed to be here.
Numbness washes through me, and my focus slips off the pools of greenish blood soaking into the ground to Audra leaving twin tire marks in her wake.
My laboring heart manages to get me close to her. Fuck, she’s taking it much better than I am.
Her gaze snags on the creature and I can’t remember the steps that brought us here.
“Please tell me it’s not getting up again,” Audra asks, as calmly as asking what flavors of ice cream are on a menu.
I’m a panicky mess, rushing toward her on uncooperative legs with a stomach prepared to toss up every bite of meatball.
“Death spasm,” the Viking explains. “One last jolt of electricity. It will settle. Then begins the process of decay.”
“What is this thing? How do you know—” I pinch my nose, squeezing my eyes shut.
Please. Please let this not be real. Maybe I’ve got a stomach bug or a fever and this is all a bit of a hallucination.
But when I open my eyes, nope. A headless beast and Audra craning her head to get a better look.
“Thank you.”
That’s what people say when someone steps in to make sure your ass stays in one piece. Right?
I try again. “Thank you for decapitating it.”
Nope, repeating it doesn’t make it real, either. Although the thing kinda deserved some decapitation after what it did.
“I accept your thanks. You fought as bravely as I did.”
Is he…laughing again?
Get Audra and run.
My body still refuses to listen. Muscles can’t contract properly anymore, and my mind…fuck. It’s shutting down, the rings of black across my vision are slowly tightening, darkening everything.
I rock back onto my heels and twist my wrists until something pops. Don’t puke, Helene.
“Does it matter what the thing is? It destroyed the Longship festival. There’s nothing but downed tents and splintered poles.” Audra stares across the field, marking the way the crowd trampled more mud in their haste to get the fuck out. “At least no one died. Except this thing. And good riddance.”
I gag. The thing rose out of nowhere, like a mound separating from the ground, and she’s happy to send it off with a good riddance?
Electricity zaps through me, and at last I’m free to lift both arms from my side and move to Audra.
Leif fucking Erikson holsters his ax and I breathe easier. “I like the way this one thinks. And she’s right. The troll is slow and stupid compared to other creatures but it’s big enough to cause chaos. This one showing up today...”
He trails off.
This could have been worse. My mind quiets at last, and I latch on to the thought like a lifeline. My reactions aside, the size of the thing coupled with the mass hysteria could have landed us in a much larger heap of trouble.
But why me?
Why had I stayed?
Why had Thurisaz warned me?
My hands lift, unsure what to do, before they drop. “This is a mess.”
“It’s not our mess," Audra insists like the crab she is. “It’s the Founding Father’s mess. Let Barnes and his buddies handle it. You took care of the problem. They need to get down on their hands and knees with a big fat raise.”
A tremor ripples through me, twisting my insides. My teeth chatter before I ground my jaw. “No one is going to believe this.”
“Who needs them to believe?”
Audra and I will need a serious talk after this. How the hell is she so calm?
My chest caves in and I’m sinking, shivering. Surviving.
“It’s the drain on your system after battle,” he says in an undertone “The force driving you through the fight always wanes. Shaking is normal.”
Muscles twitch outside of my control. “Good to know.”
It will pass, my dove. It always does. But better to know what kind of person you are than to know what you aren’t. You’re my strongest girl.
Mom’s voice, the memory softened by time, fractures the trembling. I move to him and press my fingertips to his wrist.
Unlike mine, his heartbeat is steady. Grounded.
I stare at him and for the first time, really look at him. Imagining him as a raven turning into a man splits my head into what’s possible and what isn’t. In the middle of them is one truth…
I’d needed his help.
The fight showed me what kind of man he is, too. One with answers.
“Thank you. Let us make you dinner. It’s nothing much, but you look like you could use a home cooked meal. And we’d be happy to do it for you.”
Normalcy, or something like it.
We have to get out of here, and the best way to do it is with calm, rational, ordered footsteps.
In the order of operations, getting Audra home is priority. Then food. Food will help with the adrenaline drain and headache blooming across my temples.
Food, more than anything else, has the ability to lower walls.
“A full belly is a good way to end a battle.”
I nod, decision made before there’s space to regret. “Good. Come on, Audra, let’s get our stuff—”
She wheels around and finally tears her attention off the creature. “Our stuff? We have no stuff, Helene. Our booth was destroyed.”
Yeah, it was. The first swing of that thing’s club pounded everything into dust. All those beautiful artifacts, treasures salvaged from estate sales, books…
How hard will it be to replace them all?
Barnes has insurance, right? Because we sure don’t.
I glance around again. “Um. I need to get my keys. Otherwise we'll be breaking and entering our own house. And you should shower. Why don’t you meet us at our place in an hour? The address is—”
“Helene! Look.”
Audra’s voice cracks and I whip around, braced for something worse.
But no, the beast has moved, hardened, crumbled. Bits of stone and rock grind together where flesh had been until I blink and nothing but a small hill of rubble remains.
“There. Your problems have taken care of themselves. Now, where are we heading?”
His voice steadies me. The authority in it, the confidence, does something miraculous to my insides and for a tender moment, the shaking subsides.
“You sure you don’t want to shower?”
“Having the blood of your enemy on you is an honor. I’m alive. It is not.”
“Okay, fine. We’ll all stink up the house. Well, follow me.” Audra spins, going up on two wheels, and guns it through the obstacle course.
“Unbelievable.” I shake my head and pause, glancing behind me to where the man stands. He hasn’t budged an inch. “I guess she’s right. Are you coming?”
Shower. Food. Choices.
Answers.
The order rearranges itself to fit the moment and each step, like a stone skipping over water, casts ripples.
I’m better with a plan. Yet none will come together until I wring some information out of this Viking.
He drags dirtied fingernails across his jawline. “Yes, I am coming.”
“I don’t even know your name.” I wince, scratching my head and finding the one sore spot.
I’ll have a goose egg there later. “I’m inviting a stranger into my house.
A stranger with intimate knowledge of how to actually use an ax.
You’re built like a lumberjack. Do you work in forestry or something? ”
For a second, neither one of us breathes.
Then, “That’s my name. Forest. Now you know it, as well.”
“Forest.” Something inside me goes soft at the name. It’s a label. A way to classify him. “I’m Helene Blake. And that’s my sister Audra. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”