The Quest for Valhalla

Chapter 24

The fortress was almost entirely consumed by the thick veil of mist rolling in from Loch nan Cinneachan to the east. To the west, not too far off, the shoreline of Coll ran along the side of the ancient walls of the 15th Century stronghold that once belonged to a Viking Chieftain before he died in battle with a local Scottish clan for claim of Coll itself. The Inner Hebridean island was ideal for Lita to make her temporary home while she was engaged in finding the hidden location of Valhalla and the power locked away within it.

Nina’s condition deteriorated rapidly. Famished, she kept calling for anyone who could supply her with some food and a blanket. Her skin had lost all feeling as the ice sheet of cold settled upon her body. She realized by now that Sam probably had not received her text and she was puzzled by the identity of the man who answered Sam’s phone. It was cause for concern to her, not knowing where Sam really was and why, coincidentally, he was unavailable at the same time that she had been kidnapped. Had he been kidnapped too? Did Lockhart discover Sam’s whereabouts as well?

The thought terrified her. If the starvation and exposure to the cold was the way in which Lita treated her prisoners, then Sam had to be in grave danger as well. Never before, not even on that mountain in Tibet during the expedition for the Holy Lance, had she felt this close to her demise. Even there, with a gun to her head she felt some defiance, some solace in dying with others. At least Sam and Purdue had been with her if she had died there, but here, she was utterly forgotten, with only Val’s husband to save her, should he even care to. Besides, she was not really affiliated with The Brotherhood and they had no obligation to rescue her from Lita’s hand, especially in exchange for the object they protected most fiercely.

“Hello!” she screamed. “SOMEBODY BRING ME SOMETHING TO EAT!”

Before, she had called, then cried out, but now it had been three days since her incarceration and all they had left for her to drink was two-five liter containers of fresh water in her cell. No food was served, not even a bread crust, and all she had to cover her was her coat and some sheeting of the dirty bunk. Now Nina began to realize that her life truly was at stake, if not getting killed during what was bound to be a sour exchange, then here in her cage. She wanted to cry but no tears came. It was a dreadful rebellion of her body to remind her that nothing was in order anymore.

To be honest, she did not believe that there would be a trade in the first place. Lita was wicked enough to take Nina and throw her into a godforsaken hole on a forgotten castle, of which there were so many all over the north of Scotland and the Inner and Outer Hebrides. She was just taken as bargaining chip, but Lita had no intention of ever letting her go. The scheming, redhead bitch probably only used Nina’s minor significance to lure out The Brotherhood, but she felt a sickening feeling in her heart when her shadowed side reminded her that her only real friend in that utmost secret order was dead.

Nina had no worth and no advocate within their ranks and if Sam came through to bring the vial to the mansion, they would have it safely in their possession anyway. Why would they trade it for her, ever? Relieved at the warm burn in her nose and eye sockets, Nina was grateful that she finally managed to weep. Bending forward where she sat on the bunk, the petite Nina Gould sobbed bitterly at her abandonment, dying slowly in solitude and fear. And in addition to all her painful realizations, she was already mourning Sam, whom, she had decided, she would never see again. For some reason, she could not dismiss the thought of not seeing the man she had become so close to, so comfortable with, ever again. This pained her more than her fate being at the hands of the sadistic Order of the Black Sun and its baleful agent.

Another hour passed and still no-one came. Nina’s only company were the residual spirits resident within the dry-stone, recorded there in their most intense moments. With not a soul in the entire structure with her, and feeling utterly alone, Nina cried out loud. Marooned, her voice quivered in deep sorrow as she gushed her emotions until she could hardly catch her breath between whimpers.

In the embrace of the white oblivion outside, she could smell the rot of the plant matter and the still water it fermented in. Directly in conflict with the stench the fresh cold air swept across her hair from the ocean side, as if the sea stroked her head in sympathy. With every howl she uttered in lost regret, the wind would wail in turn as if to answer her plea. It was sorely cruel of nature to do such things, she thought. The gust whistled tauntingly at her, waiting patiently like a faithful servant to carry away her soul upon it when she would choose to relinquish it. Finally, it all just became too much for her and she was overwhelmed by her rage. Nina could not believe that this was how she was going to die.

Suddenly, she appreciated Prof. Matlock’s mild patronizing, who was the bane of her existence for so long. She would do anything to be in his condescending presence right now. How she would give anything right now to walk the university halls again, to be subjugated by the misogynistic hand of the board members and faculty. She had so much to give still, with her extensive knowledge and her connections, a decent allowance of Purdue’s money now granted her bi-annually, not to mention the hellish situations she had barely survived to tell of. How many times had she and Sam had close calls in places not even God would bother to roam? How many sick individuals had crossed their path and yet she and Sam always managed to escape their intentions. Somehow, when she was with Sam she had an undeniable partner, an irrefutably loyal friend, an affectionate…

“My god, but you have a set of lungs on you!” Lita’s raw voice filled the cage of masonry and steel. Nina looked up in astonishment. Was this a mirage brought on by starvation or was Lita actually before her?

“Lita?”

“Yes, Dr. Gould, the one and only.”

“You came!” Nina sounded almost happy to see the vindictive harpy.

“How could I not? Christ! You whine like a little bitch all night! Even banshees will envy that godless screeching of yours!” Lita stormed at the weak woman behind the confines of her coop and with unnatural strength she slammed both her open palms against the iron bars, shaking them even into their stone foundation. Her ferocity echoed in her face, distorted in incensed hatred for the historian.

Through a foaming mouth of gritted teeth, Lita spat, “Oh, little, little thorn. I feel like eating your fucking face off your skull… even without spice or rum, just like that.” She darted her long, thin arm through the bars and pinched Nina’s cheek painfully between her talons. Her sinister change in tone and the incredible potency of her grip shocked Nina into a sober warning, Lita was completely unstable. Not only did this unsettle her, but as before, Nina could not help but detect something superhuman about Lita, although she could not put her finger on what it was.

The scarlet glow of her mane radiated against the light as she thundered out of the holding cell and Nina heard her shout at someone in the hallway, “Feed the pup, would you? For fuck’s sake, I don’t have the patience for this touchy feely shit! I’ll be with Lockhart.”

Nina gasped. Lockhart was here?

One of Lita’s men, a short and stout Italian looking fellow, waddled up to her cell with a combination probe that sported an infrared device of sorts on its tip. Like a magic wand he waved it at the edge of the bars where the wall met the steel and by some strange reaction of science and electronics the entire façade of iron shifted aside for Nina to come out.

For a moment, she was so fascinated with the workings of the system that she forgot that she had finally been freed from her isolation chamber.

“Come eat something, Doctor,” he said in a programmed cadence, emotionless. But it was not because he lacked it, it was merely an occupational hazard to have feelings when working for the red dragon of the Nazi madness.

“Oh, thank you. Thank you,” Nina said in uncharacteristically docile and she stumbled forward to keep up with the man. Weak from emotional exhaustion and hunger, Nina accidentally fell against him. When he caught her and helped her up, she could see the compassion in his eyes.

“Thank you,” she repeated.

“You are very welcome, Dr. Gould,” he replied, keeping his tone in the same robotic zone. However, she could feel the underling hook his arm under hers so that she would be supported. On her weakened legs, it had become tedious to walk and so he walked with her over the shallow flood water of the long arched corridor to the circular room where a table with food was dressed just for her.

“Why does she feed me now? If she wanted to starve me…”

“Miss Røderic did not mean to, Doctor,” he whispered as they entered the domed room. “She…” he hesitated and looked about him before continuing, “…she forgets about people, about her… guests.”

Nina frowned. He clarified the odd behavior of his employer, “Miss Røderic is very busy all the time with all kinds of things and sometimes, you see, sometimes she just forgets how quickly time goes by. It was not her intention to starve you. She is just a bit…”

“Scatterbrained,” Lita’s low husky rasp emanated from the dark corner to the left, where she sat in the shadow of an antique mahogany breakfront. Nina yelped in a start.

“Madam, that was not what I was going to say,” he started, but Lita hushed him and gestured with her hand for him to place Nina and he nodded. Leading the timid, small frame of the historian to the table, his hand trembled slightly under her leaning arm and Nina’s brown eyes looked up at his. He returned a quick, uncomfortable smile to ease her and helped her sit down.

“Please don’t tell me you are a vegan or a fruitarian or one of those insufferable limp dicks that believe that all life is sacred,” Lita purred as she brought her tall, sensual figure across the rock floor to join Nina at the table where two plates waited on red place mats with silver cutlery flanking them neatly.

“No,” Nina replied quickly, not out of respect, but purely because she hated those over-sensitive types too. “Oh, hell no. I eat just about everything, as long as it doesn’t look back at me, or I can’t tell what it is.”

“Splendid,” Lita announced in her deep voice, now purely impressed with her prisoner.

Nina was famished, wishing there was at least some bread put out so long. Then she remembered where she was and in which capacity she dwelled: at the mercy of Lita Røderic, psycho bitch extraordinaire. The latter sentiment was the irony of the evening, as the tall captor had swung to the exact opposite persona as 20 minutes before when she salivated at the prospect of cannibalizing Nina.

The dishes were served. Roast duck with cranberry preserve, asparagus, baby potatoes, and salad. Lita, like a harmless high school pal, pointed at the salad and remarked, “I wasn’t quite sure what you eat, really, so I opted for greens. I hope that’s okay?”

Nina smiled and nodded, completely perplexed by Lita’s sudden amicable nature and her instincts urging her to play along as nicely as she could. She was desperately curious about Lita’s plans for her and equally much to know what Sam’s status was. However, between the succulent meat that painfully stilled her hunger with every bite and Lita’s tendency to shed her skin like a shape shifter, she elected to remain cordial and docile. Nina felt like an Omega wolf, cowering lower than the head of the Alpha to appease it, but she had no reservations about the peril of this woman’s company.

Lita did not eat. Instead she lit another cigarette and poured some whisky for them both. Again, Nina did not ask. Lita’s dress was stained with a few rusty blots that made her nervous. Outside, the mockery of the wind had not relented and it stirred the embroidered fabric banners on the wall of the room. Depicting ravenous wolves tearing at an elk, it swayed in the draft that haunted the bare window that sat about a story higher in the curvature of the stone wall. Like a blind eye, it shimmered from the light overcast sky that brightened the darkness.

“What is the time now? I have completely lost track,” Nina asked. Her watch broke when she was forced into the car at Warriston Graveyard.

“I don’t know,” Lita said indifferently. Nina’s eyes found the kind henchman standing on ceremony and he lifted his three fingers to indicate it was 3am. It was clear that Lita had no routine or concept of time. Perhaps it was part of her idiosyncrasies or maybe she just never slept. That was a disturbing thought, as if she was not psychotic enough. At once, Lita turned her ice blue eyes on Nina, pinning her with a stare that carried absolutely no indication of intention or mood, implying that she had heard Nina’s mental accusation somehow.

“You are going to try and stop me, aren’t you, Nina?” Lita said evenly while her face remained static in its position, moving only her lips. Her words fell from her grotesquely cavernous mouth in slow motion, leaving Nina’s food bitter on her tongue. To add to the horror of the moment, when Lita rose from her chair, Nina noticed for the first time the Black Sun insignia extending across the surface span of the convex ceiling above them.

Of course she knew very well that Lita was involved with them, but the sight of the odious emblem just affirmed the tenacity of the all-consuming, power drunk cult and its array of variously unhinged members.

“What do you mean?” Nina asked submissively.

Lita dealt her a hefty wallop across the face, propelling Nina off her chair and onto the moist stone floor. Her knees burned from the impact and within her peripheral vision she could see the subordinate man flinch, but he knew better than to come to her aid.

“What do you mean?” Lita mocked Nina in her most contemptuous little girl voice and planted a devastating kick in the small woman’s abdomen as she tried to get up from all fours. Nina’s breath left her momentarily and her swollen cheek throbbed as her mouth filled with blood.

“Get Slokin and Dr. Krantz!” she roared. Nina vomited on the floor and felt her skin grow cold as the fainting spell possessed her frail muscles. The floor she was crawling on slanted and buckled under her, the hideous Black Sun symbol enveloping her like a giant black spider, sinking from above to catch her. Many footsteps clapped in the hollow hallway and entered the chamber, but Nina could only see feet surrounding her. She felt her body being seized, lifted onto the dining table where she had a decent dinner not 10 minutes before.

Slokin’s repulsive sneer twisted and floated way too close to her face and Nina could hear her own voice, moaning in discontent and hopelessness. It sounded like someone else’s, as if another Nina stood somewhere in the room and watched, just watched and made horrible sounds to suit the pain of the victim on the table.

Too weak to fight, Nina saw an older man in his mid-60s with a white coat and military haircut lean over her. He gently took her left arm and turned her palm upward. She could not see what he was doing, but Lita walked away, pacing impatiently while Slokin’s child rapist smile sickened her.

Nina felt so alone. She felt locked out of the world with not one ally to unlock the door and let her back in. She was locked out with the wolves, naked in a snow frozen night. It started as a faint itch and gradually it grew worse, burning like acid into the tissue of her arm the skin of her arm was peeled back, flayed awake and feeling.

“S-s…” was all Nina’s numb tongue could form against her teeth. Inside her head she was screaming for him, but here at the mercy of these Nazi monsters, his name died in her lips.

But they could not reach inside her mind.

‘Sam.’