How Beauty Loved the Beast

chapter Twenty



The sizzle and crack of a dying fire woke Jolie from unsettling dreams. A corpse-strewn battlefield. A reckless feast. Ravens circling a dangerous crowd.

And Hauk.

“Wesley?” she asked, voice cracking around a sore throat and parched lips.

The brazier’s bonfire had slackened to glowing embers beneath a blackened skeleton. She sat up and rested her head on her knees. Her joints were stiff from sleeping on marble in the cold, her eyes sore from crying.

The scent of wine drifted with the breeze. Two men stood on a ledge around the brazier, pouring liquid onto the fire’s remains to finish it off. Ananke performed their Grecian funeral rites correctly. She buried her forehead tighter against her legs. More useless trivia from the daughter of a newsman. Completely and utterly useless.

The fires inside the temple behind her kept the pre-dawn from utter blackness, but Hauk’s bones were near invisible in the dark. She rattled her chain—still firm—and debated what to do. If she pretended to give in, they’d surely have a test for her. Probably to reveal the Underlight’s location. She couldn’t do that. Unless Travis already had. Or Ananke’s plans had succeeded last night. Could Mercy really have kept all of them secure the entire night? And if so, how were they going to jail that many crazed people until LaRoche came up with a solution?

In all likelihood, Ananke already knew where the Underlight was, and refusing to tell was simply asking to be Ric’s bed slave. And yet she wanted to believe they’d made it, that something she cared about had survived the night.

She clutched her knees, trying to think of some way out. The men with empty wine jugs walked back into the temple as dawn light seeped across the horizon. The sky’s deep violet melted to rose as the first sun of spring appeared over the horizon.

Last night had been the equinox. She’d almost forgotten.

The smoke of Hauk’s pyre gathered and spiraled up, as if caught in a whirlwind. Her eyes were drawn to the brightness in the center of his grave, where the wine bearers couldn’t reach to fully quench the coals. Their yellow glow echoed the rising sun in a mockery of hope. In a trick of morning light the glow seemed to spread, widening under Hauk’s bones until his remains luminesced.

She stood and stretched to the end of the chain, trying to find words of farewell that could encompass some small part of what he meant to her. Heat still surged from the brazier, warming her chilled skin.

“Wesley...” She knocked tears from her cheek. How was it possible she still had any?

It wasn’t a trick of light; the fire was growing again, reigniting from those central embers. The smoke thickened, burning her nose. She stayed close as she could anyway.

“Oh, Wesley.”

The flames re-kissed his bones, burning the soot away and cleaning them white. The fire built quickly, unnaturally so, claiming the space Hauk’s broad frame took up and heating the air to blistering. She took a step back as the brightness flared, momentarily blinding her.

Bird caws. Two enormous ravens flew low over the temple and toward the sun. They wheeled about and back over the fire, basking in the smoke, diving toward the flame and rising just before the brightness engulfed them.

Shadows moved inside the glowing brazier. A scream pierced the morning and was echoed by the birds. The fire abated, dying as quickly as it had burst back to life. The ravens flew off into the sunrise.

Hauk lay whole upon his bier.

Perfect, unscarred skin, two muscular legs, short hair the color of wave-kissed sand, a hint of stubble on his surprisingly boyish features. This fire had rebuilt the damage the first had wrecked.

Jolie gasped and ran toward the brazier. The chain yanked at her shoulder painfully, nearly dropping her to the ground. “Hauk! Hauk!” she yelled.

It didn’t make sense. She didn’t care. If he was there, whole and handsome, then maybe he wasn’t dead.

“Hauk!”

His eyes jerked open, blue as the lighting sky, and he gasped in a deep breath. His broad, naked chest filled and collapsed. Filled again.

“Hauk!” her voice squeaked as she cried his name over and over.

He turned to her, eyes and mouth open in shock. She reached for him. His perfect mouth curved into a smile so warm and comforting she wanted it touching her now.

“Jolie.” He unclenched his fingers and with small movements tested the rest of his muscles. That done, he examined his hands. With a sigh of relief, he raised them to the sky and mouthed something that looked like, “Thank you.”

He pushed himself to sitting as if he’d risen from sleep, not the dead, and rolled his neck. Smile somber, he hopped off the pyre and jogged to her.

She threw her arms around him. The first solid feel of him made her weak all over, and she fell against him. He caught her, engulfing her in his strong arms. He was warm, nearly hot to the touch. But he was solid and he was real. Gratitude for the miracle consumed her.

He groaned. His fingers cupped her chin, tipping her face up so he could kiss her.

His kiss was solid and needy, and she kissed him back with all the night’s heartache in her touch. He released her mouth. She rubbed her face against his torso, still trying to convince herself he was real. Her heart felt so full she couldn’t speak meaningful words. Sniffing back tears against the unfamiliar smooth skin and soft hair of his chest, she managed, “You’re naked. And you’re pretty.”

He chuckled; the sound reverberated through his body, calming her. “I’ll thank them for that soon.”

She scrutinized his face, trying to understand. “Who? For what? How did this happen?”

He wiped a thumb across her cheek, softening the crusted blood with her tears. His smile was sad. “I’m still dead, sweetheart. I’m not here for good. But I died too soon. I have one more job to do.”

The words stabbed at her already beaten heart, and she clutched at him madly. “No! You can’t go back. I need you. Here. You can’t—”

“Shh, honey.” He took her hands gently in one of his and brushed the other through her hair in a soothing motion. “I’m sorry, but we have to move. The priests could be back any moment, and who knows what we’ll find in the Underlight when we get there. I know where the antidote is. We’re going to get it and bring it home. I have until sunset.”

She took a deep breath to quell her rioting emotions and focus. They had to save the Underlight. She could figure out a way to keep him when that was done. One problem at a time.

He chanted something in a foreign language. The cuff fell off her, clanking against the steps. Jolie kicked it, and the cuff clattered away, chipping marble as it spun.

He scowled at the cuts on her wrist. “Did they hurt you while I was gone?”

She stretched her sore fingers and shook her head. “You didn’t kick our buddy Ric’s ass half hard enough last week. Though we already knew that.”

His eyes darkened menacingly, making the handsome face surprisingly intimidating. “If we see him again...” He cracked his knuckles and turned toward the temple.

She grabbed his hand. “What happened, Hauk? Please. I need to know. You can tell me as we move.”

He stared at her hand in his then followed the line of her arm and shoulder to her face. His expression was pained for just a moment before he shook his head. “I’m not supposed to tell, but if they wanted obedience they sent back the wrong guy.”

* * *

The hall stretched like a stadium, cavernous and filled with laughter. Tables overflowed with roasted meat and cups of drink. Couples head-banged to a metal band blaring in one corner. Leather, metal, kilts and Kevlar attired the soldiers cramming the tables.

Two giant ravens flew about the ceiling, their screeching caws piercing the sounds of the party. One dove down between the tables to peck at a wolf eating scraps from the floor. The wolf turned and snapped, but the bird was already up, flying toward a dais, where a man and woman lounged in state.

She was glorious to behold, blond hair braided into hundreds of tiny locks, brown leather dress and bustier revealing a killer figure. A stained sword rested at her side.

He was grizzled and disheveled, with a steely beard and one eye covered in a patch. His combat uniform was clean but worn. His one blue eye surveyed the crowd with the world-weariness of one who had seen too much. And yet his skin was young and smooth as a child’s. A spear stood against his chair and a violin rested on a table beside him, as if he’d just set it down.

A chant overtook the noise of the crowd as cups pounded the table in rhythm.

Chanting for Hauk.

He was carried aloft on numerous shoulders, having proven himself by downing a warrior his first time on Valhalla’s ever-changing field of war. The men he’d seen slaughtered in the fight now surrounded him in a raging party, drinking, feasting and flirting with Valkyries.

Best of all, he was whole again. No scars, no pieces missing. Completely himself.

Freyja smiled indulgently as he was placed before the thrones. “If it isn’t our phoenix,” she purred.

Valkyries, muscular and shapely women whose strong-willed smiles reminded him of Jolie, strode through the crowd and up the steps, eyeing him like a new piece of candy.

It had been a long time since he’d felt the covetous stare of a stranger.

Freyja observed him thoughtfully. “I fear you’ll have a hard time laying claim to this one, ladies. His heart flies elsewhere.” She nodded at him. “Fear not, warrior. She has caught my eye. I will bring her here when her time is passed.”

Jolie would join him in time. The afterlife just kept getting better.

Odin huffed an angry breath. “Bah. She’ll be a shell by morning. A used-up husk before you can claim her. Wesley Haukon, you died too soon.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Again.”

“Jolie?” Hauk asked, the first shadow falling over his joy at finding himself home in the hall of warriors. “What’s happening to her?”

Freyja ignored him and poked Odin with the hilt of her sword. “Come now, my friend. You like your men foolhardy. And you were ejected by Ananke’s magic.”

“Bah.”

Hauk interrupted the gods’ banter. “What about Jolie? Is something going to happen to her?” Last he remembered, she was on the steps of the temple, a few yards from his bike. If she’d run for it, she could have gotten away. If she’d stayed to watch him burn...

“Chained to the steps of the temple,” Freyja answered.

Of course she was. His heart clutched with fear for what they’d do to her. Hauk straightened. “I have to get back.”

Odin frowned. “You’re dead. Welcome to Valhalla. And you’re not supposed to care about Earthly things anymore.” He turned to Freyja. “Why does he still care?”

Freyja shrugged. “Love will do that sometimes.”

“You said I died again,” Hauk pursued. “That means you can send me back.”

“I was possessing you the other time,” Odin answered. “Idunna and I got enough cider into you to bring you back before brain damage set in.” Idunna was the goddess who tended the apple orchard of Asgard, where Valhalla was located. “It was the first time I’d fought with you, and you were too fun to let go so quickly.”

“When you killed my squad?” There was nothing fun about that, even if they had been possessed by Ananke. F*cking crazy god who shared his body.

Odin didn’t acknowledge that he’d spoken. “But this time, the ashes of your charred corpse are at the bottom of a brazier dedicated to some other god. That’s a step up from curing a few moments’ asphyxiation. Well beyond our abilities.”

Freyja clucked her tongue as if affronted. “Come now, Grey-beard, between Idunna’s healing and my magic, I’m sure we could weave something, even if you couldn’t. At least for the few hours he needs to set this right.”

“Even your magic has its limits, Freyja.”

Determination flashed in her eyes. Hauk had no doubt he would get his potion.

Odin lazily pounded his spear, but there was something cunning in his eyes. “Wesley Haukon, if they manage it and you almost die again between now and sunset, call on me so we can fix it before your body’s been burned to cinders.”

“I was shot in the throat. I couldn’t call. You could’ve just shown up like you did all those other times.”

The god merely smiled.

The doors boomed open, and a chill wind blew through the hall. A tall woman with red-streaked locks and vine tattoos covering her bare arms glanced around, gave a slight shudder and marched forward. “You seek me?”

Freyja stood. “Idunna. Welcome. Meet Wesley Haukon. He died too soon.”

“Again,” Odin added.

“Grey-beard doesn’t think we can remedy it this time.”

Idunna looked Hauk up and down. “Oh he doesn’t, does he?”

Odin leaned on his hand, single eye glittering happily. He caught Hauk’s gaze and winked.