 
### Winter Fire

### by Laurie Dubay

Copyright 2013 Laurie Dubay

Cover Art: Copyright 2013 Kathleen Wadiak

### License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events, or locales, is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author's imagination, and used fictitiously.

### Winter Fire

Chapter 1

I should have seen Bren for what he was right away.

I watched the red-gold glint rise over the crest of Lenape Mountain - a tiny point of flame growing larger against the snowline - and at first thought it was the sun. But I knew I was facing west. I was good with direction.

I squinted as the spark morphed into a figure, still on fire and moving fast down the slope. As it got closer, I heard the hard scrawl of a board against the untouched groom, registered the yellow jacket of a resort employee, saw the broad, relaxed shoulders and sleepy stance of a male rider, copper hair flying as he carved a fast, tight scallop into the snow. The sun was just now turning the sky to ash, paling the moon, extinguishing the stars. But it had not quite risen...except to light the rider.

He hit a swell about two-thirds of the way down and I heard his board spring off the snow as he coasted into the air. He seemed to hang there, his gloved hand gripping the board between his feet, his hair streaming out against the hill, and I had just enough time to wonder how a person could fall asleep in the sky like that before he stomped down and took what was left of his run at such high speed that I couldn't make out another detail until he plowed to a stop in the snow.

He rocked back and forth a little to plant himself, then put his hands on his hips, tilted his head back, and closed his eyes. After a minute, he dropped his head and spit.

"Ech." I said. He glanced up. I stiffened. He was far enough away so I could pretend I was staring straight ahead and see him from the corner of my eye. He didn't move, just stood there with his fists pressed into his hips and stared. I noticed now that his hair was shorter than I thought, and darker. It swung across his face in razor wedges and was the deep, rusty bark of a cinnamon stick.

_Stop looking at me_ , I thought, and closed my eyes, the way little kids do thinking it's going to make them invisible. But when I opened them, he was still staring, so I huffed out an annoyed white cloud, took too big a gulp of my coffee, and burned the roof of my mouth. When I parted my lips to suck in some cooling air, I choked instead and felt a dribble down my chin. I had to lean over the deck railing to spit out the rest. As I wiped my mouth with my sleeve, I watched the coffee melt little grooves into the ice below.

I heard him chuckle, the sound deep and sarcastic enough to make me want to throw my full cup at him, but by the time I mustered the courage to raise my head, he had already stepped out of his board and was carrying it away. Laughing.

I stormed back across the deck in a ridiculous lurch, my stomps jerky and small to avoid slippage, one hand fisted and pumping, the other gingerly balancing my coffee, my jaw half open to cool my burnt mouth. Sydney, the night manager, was bent and gathering her things behind the desk when I stumbled in, a spill of red ringlets tumbling down her narrow back the only glimpse I got of her as I bristled past.

My mother was in the shower when I returned to our room. I opened the bathroom door and called to her through the steam.

"You're going to be late. Sydney's already packing up."

"Thanks. Be right out." Her voice was different lately. Sing-songy, as if her wedding ring had been strangling her vocal cords.

In reality, it didn't matter if she was late. Since we lived in the hotel she was never really off-duty, but I wanted her to come out and get ready, drink her coffee, distract me from my humiliation. Moving over Christmas break meant I would have nothing to do until I started school, so I found myself following her around, helping her with paperwork, taking her calls. She didn't seem to mind, liked to keep me close to her lately, but I was annoyed with my own neediness.

I sat on the counter and watched her stroll back and forth between her bedroom and our little kitchenette. She had traded her track clothes and sneakers for suits and heels and was growing her hair out, but she still moved and chatted like a soccer mom. Ironic, since the last time I played soccer was the sixth grade. By the time I hit high school, I think they were actually considering euthanizing me for my lack of athletic ability.

I wasn't as talkative as I'd anticipated, so I didn't go downstairs with her when she left. Instead, I poured another cup of coffee and stared out our picture window overlooking the mountain, the snow now a harsh dazzle of jewels. But there were no more traces of red.

Chapter 2

The next time I saw him was almost a week later. My butt was freezing onto a bench outside the ski lodge as I watched a twenty-something girl pick her way down a beginner run, and I spotted him in my peripheral vision. It wasn't the bright yellow instructor's jacket that pulled my focus; there were a lot of those on the bunny hill. It was the sunset glow of him - his cinnamon hair against his coat, the coppery gleam of his mirrored shades, the scarlet bolts streaking his helmet.

He was sliding off a lift chair with a little girl in a pink coat. She was maybe six or seven, and shaky on her small board. He gripped her shoulders as they curved left toward the top of the hill and glided past a few of the lift victims flailing on the ground. Then he flattened a hand against her back, brought her to a standstill at the crest, and held onto her while she bent and fastened her boots into the bindings. Her equipment looked new and was mostly pink like the rest of her.

Once she was buckled in, she grasped at him until she was clutching both of his arms and wriggled so she had him directly in front of her. Then she bent her knees, balanced on the back edge of her board, and stared up into his face. Terrified.

"Okay," he said. His voice was deeper than I thought it would be. I wasn't sure it sounded right for him. His face was all strong angles, but his expression made him look like a twelve-year-old with a book of matches hidden behind his back. "Remember how we did it last time."

The girl glanced down the hill and back up at him. "I fell last time."

"You fell because you got scared."

"It hurt, Bren." Her voice broke like a reed and her face flushed. Bren? I hadn't thought of him as someone with a name.

"I know it did." He forced a more gentle tone and gave her a few seconds to catch her breath. Then he said, "Are you sure you want to learn?"

She peered up at him for a moment, not looking sure at all. I didn't blame her. Her little hand - snug in a puffy white glove - drifted to her knee, and I guessed that was where most of the hurt had taken place. Finally, she nodded.

He stiffened his arms and she gripped them with what looked like all of her strength, his jacket billowing out from between her fingers. As he started to slide backward down the hill, she bent her knees and followed.

"Don't look at the ground," he told her. "Look at me."

When she couldn't seem to raise her eyes, he stopped, hooked a gloved finger under her chin, and tugged until he had eye contact.

"Now keep your eyes on me," he said, "and think. Think about the edge of your board in the snow. Think about what you want it to do, and it will happen."

The girl was too afraid to get a word out, but she gave him a frantic nod and stared at him so hard I thought her eyes might shoot from their sockets.

As they drifted away, his voice trailed off and I couldn't make out his words, but the little girl looked like she was relaxing. Her board stopped stuttering on the snow and began to move smoothly, and by the time they were halfway down the hill, they were sliding back and forth, their boards curving up one way and then the other like falling leaves.

On their next trip up the lift, she was laughing as he talked. It looked like he said something especially funny just before they rose off their chair, and she didn't even notice when they slid down the little ramp past the unfortunate fallen. On this run, she was much braver. She held onto him for a little while, swinging back and forth with him in that falling leaf pattern, then lifted her shaking hands off his arms and held her fingers stiff and splayed, bending her knees and leaning further back into her board. He mirrored her every move and kept his arms exactly where she had left them, but she made it all the way down on her own.

For some reason, I felt like crying.

I stood and strode back to the main hotel deck and in through the reception area, looking around for my mother, but I didn't see her anywhere. The resort was busy, and her new job meant she had to deal with things besides my dismal moods and scheduling power walks with her friends. The influx of people who liked to check in when school vacation was over were usually either older, didn't have kids, or both, and had all kinds of special requests about their rooms. It was part of my mother's job to take care of them without looking irritated. When I asked her how she was going to put up with that, she said she'd had sixteen years of experience. I imagined her telling that to Mr. Neil during her interview. He must've thought she was a riot.

She wasn't in her office or the kitchen, and I didn't feel like scouring the place for her, so I went back up to the suite, grabbed a book, and waited for dark.

Night was when I liked the mountain best. The evergreens sparkled with snow, and diamond bright lights dotted the runs all the way to the summit. I had never been up there. I probably could have gotten somebody to take me up on the lift and back down again, but it seemed like cheating. Anyone who rode up was supposed to come down on his or her own, teetering on strips of waxed planks just like everybody else, and there was no way I could do that. I had been fearless when I was a kid. My mother used to send my father to pull me down from tree limbs and pluck me from rocky outcroppings and yank me out of waves that crashed way over my head, but I couldn't remember the last time I had pulled something like that. In fact, I had clamped one of the rental snowboards on a few days after we moved into the hotel - just to try it out on the flats - and found that I could either coast in whatever direction the board wanted to go until I crashed, or fall and have to take the board off to get back up. My mother suggested I take a lesson, but some of the instructors lived at the resort, and I did not want to have to face any of them after a disaster like that.

Tonight, snowflakes dropped plump and fast beneath the glow of the lights, concealing the last of the footprints as Yew Dales emptied out. It was almost nine, and as I stood on the lodge deck listening to the snow land on the wood, on my coat, on the nearby trees, I wondered why I didn't hear the rev of the groomers. Then I caught a group of familiar faces congregating to my left and realized it was an employee night. It wasn't going to be quite as peaceful out here as I had hoped.

As soon as the mountain closed, the yellow jackets hit the lifts. They went up in a swarm and came down in a swarm, but in the lingering lulls between their runs I could almost pretend I was alone. During one of these, when things had just quieted and I could no longer hear them yelling to each other over their lift chairs or see their colors flashing through the trees, I glanced to my right and saw them all together for the first time.

Bren walked a little ahead of the rest. His head was down, his damp hair hanging in his face. He held his board in front of him like a shield and stalked through the snow as if he had a long way to go and didn't want to think about it. The bottom of his board was the color of old bone and had black symbols scattered across it that I didn't recognize. Instead of a jacket, he wore a black hoodie, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. I shivered and shrunk into my coat as I pulled my eyes away to scan the others.

A few feet behind him, a boy and girl about his age - maybe seventeen - walked close together, knocking into each other and away again. The boy was tall and thin, his floppy brown hair shot through with blond streaks, his long bangs sweeping his forehead. He carried his board low and away, like he was ready to fling it, and his expression suggested he might. He, too, was jacketless, and wore varying shades of browns and golds as though he had a natural sense of what looked good on him. Or maybe the girl did. Her long, copper-fire hair hung in braids over the quilted shoulders of a white jacket trimmed with feathers around the hood. She wore an emerald green hat and matching gloves, and although I wasn't close, I could see that her huge eyes were green as well. And not an ambiguous hazel green like mine. They were as dazzling as her grin. Her board bobbed against her side with each step she took. As I watched her, she laughed and tossed a glance over her shoulder.

I followed her gaze to the boy behind her. He was shorter than the others, but solid and muscular, and he kind of sauntered along with his arms draped over the board behind his back. An orange sun sporting dark shades grinned on the t-shirt pulled over his thick thermal. Short, dirty-blonde dreadlocks bounced around his face, and he had a hint of stubble, but his smile was a child's smirk and his eyes arced into happy half-moons as he laughed.

Trailing the group was a man who looked to be in his mid-thirties. He peered out from the hood of a thick blue jacket, his expression grave, and in my mind, I saw a brief impression of The Ghost of Christmas Future and shivered again. His scruff was dark, and thicker than Dreadlocks's, but it looked like the product of grooming, not laziness. He carried his board the same way Bren did, like a shield, and had the same stubborn gait. His eyes moved back and forth like radar, never quite resting on anything, as though he were trying to remember something, or could see things around them that no one else could see.

When I pulled my focus back, letting them come together as a group again, I noticed that their footsteps were strangely in sync. I watched Bren laugh a moment before Dreadlocks said something, anticipating the joke, and felt myself smile a little as I realized what I was seeing. I thought of my best friend Emily, who used to finish my sentences and sometimes even start them. I remembered how we would laugh when we caught ourselves walking at the same pace, and how, when we were younger, we had even made a game out of trying to see how long we could keep our footsteps exactly matched.

For the second time today, I felt like crying.

As they got closer, I studied the girl with the braids again, my head turned slightly away so that she wouldn't notice. She was hopelessly pretty, and her eyes were even more vivid than I'd thought. They glowed out from her pink, heart-shaped face like tiny drops of lime Jell-O. Tucking a tuft of soggy hair behind my ear, I glanced down at the railing. When I looked up again, Bren was stomping past me in huge, heavy strides.

His eyes shifted to mine and locked.

I froze. I felt heat flush into my cheeks and knew that I had turned bright red, but I didn't break eye contact. I wanted to. Wanted to look away, turn around, transfer my attention to one of the others, but instead, I just stared. And so did he, until he was too far ahead to hold my gaze and let his eyes slide forward again.

At the lift, he let Jello girl and the tall kid take the first chair and rode up with Dreadlocks and Christmas Future on the second. I watched until they were all out of sight, but he never looked back.

Inside, Sydney was already at her post at the reception desk. I slowed when I saw her.

"You're a little early," I said.

She looked up and smiled. "Ellen asked me to come in. Her son's sick. Just a cold or something."

"Oh. Good. That it's just a cold, I mean."

We continued to smile at each other for a moment.

"So it's a late night tonight?" I gestured to the French doors and the mountain beyond.

"Yep. Employee night." She rolled a pen beneath her freckled fingers.

I slipped my hands into my pockets. "I wish I skied or boarded or something. Looks like fun." I hesitated, then went on. "I saw a group of kids going up just now."

She didn't say anything, but her smile suddenly looked forced. She abandoned the pen and folded her hands on the desk.

"One girl had braids?" I tried. "And I think there was a guy with dreadlocks."

She raised her brows at me and let the silence roll out for a few seconds, then dropped her expression and sighed a big, airy sigh. "Let me guess," she said with the last of her breath, "Bren Bergan."

"Who?" I kept my voice even, but she wasn't buying it.

"The Scandinavians?" She said, ignoring my attempt at ignorance.

My exaggerated shrug probably looked more like a cringe. "I don't know them. Anyway, have a good night, Sydney." I gave the desk a flat smack and spun toward the elevator.

"Hey listen," she called. I turned, my brows arched with drama. She seemed to struggle for a minute.

"I started working here a few years ago, right out of high school. And Mr. Neil - you've met him, right? Operations Manager?"

I nodded.

"Well, he gave me some advice then that was pretty good, so I'm going to give it to you."

"Okay." I felt a crease forming between my brows. I did not like advice. It usually meant someone had screwed up and was now assuming that you would, too.

"The guys who work here...not the locals, but the ones who live here and work...they used to call them ski bums. Mr. Neil calls them transients, because you never know how long they're going to stay or what. They go wherever they can get a roof over their heads and a place to ski or ride, and that's all they're concerned with. Do you know what I'm saying?"

"I think so," I said. No, not really.

"So what Mr. Neil said to me was, 'it's best not to get involved with them, because there's no future in it. By nature, they're people who've learned not to get attached.' "

I frowned. "They just live here? They don't go to school at Little Woods?"

"Nope. Maybe they've graduated. I don't know when kids finish school in Norway." She said _Norway_ like it was The North Pole and waved a dismissive hand. "They go wherever they can work and ride, and this year they ended up here. They probably won't even stay to work the water park this summer."

"Hm," I said.

"And I can tell you one thing," she went on. "The guys? Not so much the uncle or the tall one with the girlfriend, but the other two? I have seen quite a few girls with them already. Especially over break. But I haven't seen the same girls with them twice. Do you get me?" She lowered her head but kept her eyes on mine, waiting to be sure.

I got it. She was saying that the same guy who took the fear out of a little girl who wanted to snowboard, who made her laugh and held her so she wouldn't fall, who was ignited by the sun and slept in the sky, was just a homeless slut.

Image crushed. Thank you Sydney.

"Thank you, Sydney," I said sweetly.

"Sorry," she said. And I knew she meant it.

Chapter 3

The sun's gleam felt sarcastic this morning. It was too bright a day to be starting a new school. My stomach was jittery so I skipped the coffee, but munched on half a dry bagel hoping it would sop up some of the acid. It worked until we stopped in front of the building. I squinted against the morning light streaming in through the windshield. Kids were everywhere...getting out of their parents' cars, weaving through the student parking lot with backpacks hoisted onto their shoulders, laughing and stumbling into each other as they unloaded from the buses. I wondered why teenagers always looked and sounded drunk. Maybe for the same reason people actually got drunk.

"Do you remember where all your classes are?" My mother asked. She slid her huge brown sunglasses up onto her head and fixed her worried eyes on mine.

"Yeah." We took a tour just after we moved into the resort, but she had slipped a map into one of my folders just in case. I reached into my sweatshirt pocket and curled my hand around the schedule they gave me. "Don't worry."

"I know it's different," she said, "but you'll get used to things quickly."

The familiar, heartbroken apology in her expression made my chest ache, so I reached out and shook her forearm, tried to smile. "I just wish I could drive myself."

"A few more months."

"And no car."

My mother sighed. "We'll see if we can work something out. Listen," she curled her hand around mine, her nails pearly in the sunlight, "everything's going to be fine today. Try to make some friends. Be agreeable. People are generally decent if you give them a chance."

"I didn't say I wouldn't give them a chance."

"No, but I know you'd rather be with your friends in Hope."

At this, the energy I had mustered dimmed.

"Well," I sighed, heaving my backpack off the floor and opening the door, "we don't live in Hope anymore."

Lunch came too quickly, but I was relieved when a pretty girl with dirty blond hair broke from a crowd of kids and made a bee line toward me while I was paying for my salad. The others stood by their table and waited.

"Hi," she said, the word short and chipper. Her smile was determined. "You're new, right?"

"Yeah." I said.

"Wow, you're tall." She craned her neck in an exaggerated way, then shrugged, apparently willing to accept any Amazon genealogy I might possess. "I wish I was taller." I was on the tall side, 5'6'', but it was mostly that she was short. I did not point this out.

"I'm Brianna." She put her right hand over her heart, pledging allegiance to herself, the good deed doer of Little Woods High, but I didn't blame her for it. I'd done it myself, back in New Jersey, when I was secure in my place and could afford to take opportunities to feel good about myself.

"Do you want to sit with us?" She motioned behind her to the rest of her group. Some of them were settling into the table now.

"Sure."

The truth was, Brianna could have been a toothless hunchback and I would have agreed to sit with her. I had discovered that there were few things more potentially lonely than lunch on the first day of a new school. Maybe Gym. But that was next period.

"Jenna right?" She asked.

I nodded and let her lead me forward.

The seats were almost full. I sat across from Brianna at the end, and next to a girl with glasses and chestnut hair only slightly lighter than mine. Sitting very close to Brianna was a tall blonde kid, cute, with shaggy hair. Further down were three girls in soccer jerseys, and beyond them, four boys in varsity jackets who capped the far end. The boys were loud, and I glanced over to see that one had just finished throwing something at the next table, his hand still hanging in the air as he waited for a response.

"Stop it, Tyler," I heard a girl whine just before a cherry tomato went sailing over his head. Tyler ducked in a flash, then gave a short, mocking laugh and stuffed a bunch of fries in his mouth. When he turned and focused his attention on me, his fingers groping absently for more fries, I slouched in horror. He redirected his hand through his spiky brown hair and arranged a confused look on his face. I glanced down at my tray.

"Who are you?" I heard him ask.

"She's Jenna," Brianna said. I felt everyone at the table turn toward me and briefly considered sliding onto the floor.

"Jen-na," Tyler repeated, like a talking ape trying to pronounce a civilized word. "Where did you come from?"

There was no getting away from it. Best just to get it over with. I raised my head and looked at him. "New Jersey."

"Joisey. Do you have that accent? You know, do you to-ahk on the phone and swim in the wo-ahta?"

"Nope." I said, hoping the simple would satisfy him. It did not.

"Like, do you drink co-ahffee?"

"Just ignore him," Brianna said, and I was grateful that this would be considered an acceptable response.

"Anyway," she said, "this is Laura." She gestured to the girl on my left, who smiled and gave me a tiny wave. "And this is Dillon." She leaned into the boy on her right and he leaned back. They pretended to struggle for a minute and then he picked a cucumber out of her salad. She named the soccer girls, one after the other - Julie, Lexi, Eileen - all of them waving quickly and turning their attention back to each other before I had a chance to respond, and lastly motioned to the guys at the end.

"You've met Tyler," she said rolling her eyes. "The one next to him is Kevin, and the two on the other side are Brian and Matt." Tyler and Kevin were bigger than average, but Brian and Matt were refrigerators. They barely fit next to each other, and I was suddenly surprised that our end of the table was on the floor. Since there was only one soccer girl on their side and two on the other, I had to wonder if Brian and Matt had eaten one at some point to make room on the bench.

It was an odd mix. Four jocks, three soccer girls, three...I didn't know what. And me. I threw a few glances down the table while I ate, trying to figure out what this group could have in common, and after a few moments, I realized that they had all been in my classes throughout the day. They were all honors kids. It made sense. They were together all day long, and if they had lived here their whole lives, it had probably always been that way. They would've gotten to know each other, felt comfortable together.

"So where do you live?" Dillon asked. I turned to him and took a minute to register his words.

"Yew Dales Resort."

"Really? You actually live at the resort?"

I nodded, gulping a sip of iced tea. "My parents split up, so my mother got a job as the hotel manager there. We live in a suite upstairs."

"Oh. My God. You. Are. So. Lucky." Brianna said, her hand on her heart once more.

Dillon stared at her. "She just said her parents split up."

"Oh." Now her hand was fluttering against her chest. "No, I didn't mean that. I am so sorry. I just meant I would love to live there. We all ride and ski there. Hey," she said, her eyes popping as she worked herself up further, "you should join Ski Club."

"She doesn't have to," Laura said, speaking up for the first time since I'd sat down. "She lives there. She can meet us."

"Then you have to meet us," Brianna said. "Thursdays after school. Do you get to ski and ride free?"

"I would," I said, poking at my salad with my plastic fork. "But I don't do either."

"Seriously?" Dillon asked. "That's ironic."

"Dillon likes the big words." Brianna cast her eyes upward. "It doesn't matter, you can learn."

"We'll see," I said, planning to set aside some time later to think up excuses.

"I wish I needed lessons." Brianna grinned at Laura. "Those guys are so freaking hot this year."

I watched for Dillon's reaction to that one.

He tore a bite from his pizza. "They're weird."

Jealous?

"But," he went on, pointing his crust at us, "definitely hot."

Oh.

My mother was idling in the same place where she had dropped me off when the day ended. I hurried to the car, the weight of my backpack causing the sprained-ankle limp that seemed to plague students everywhere. Squinting against the sun, I fished my sunglasses from my pocket and slid them on.

"Jen-na." I heard from behind me. I made a choked sound as I walked around the front of our SUV and grabbed the passenger side handle, standing on my tiptoes to peer over the roof. It was Tyler. He had already turned his attention to the kid next to him. He pushed the kid, watched him stumble, took the kid's weak attempt to retaliate with a shrug, then turned back to me.

"Jen-na," he yelled again. This time he threw in a Jersey Shore fist pump. _Yep_ , I thought, _that looks about right_. I opened the door, tossed my backpack on the floor, and slid in.

"I see you've met some kids," my mother said, throwing me an anxious glance as she pulled out into the creep of traffic.

"I did. But that one's an idiot. He sits at the end of the lunch table I was recruited to."

"See?" My mother said. "I knew it would work out. Tell me about the other kids."

"There's nothing to tell really. They're just normal kids."

"Girls? Guys?"

"Both."

"Well, today probably felt long. Maybe you'll feel like talking later."

"Um hm." I said. I closed my eyes behind my sunglasses. The day was just too bright.

That night, after my mother had gone to bed, I sat in our little living room, staring out the picture window and watching the groomers comb out the choppy snow beneath the lights. I hadn't seen Bren or any of the others since the night I watched them ride the lift up the mountain. Sydney had said that they didn't go to Little Woods, but I admitted to myself now that I had been hoping to see at least one of them there.

As I watched one of the groomers amble over a steep at an impossible angle, I noticed a flickering light deep in the woods beyond. I thought of the resort's bonfire, but the light was too far up on the mountain for that, and it was too late at night. I knew from the trail maps I had seen that the area I was looking at was mostly woods, some too dense to ski, so there would be no groomers there. Opening one of the smaller windows flanking the large one, I stuck my head out into the cold, narrowing my eyes to sharpen my view. I was convinced that it was a fire. And then, something else. A scrawling sound. I shifted my gaze. Below the light, a white steep swelled amidst the evergreens. After a moment, a shadowy rider rose fast over the top, her hair fanning out around her shoulders as she soared into the air above the peak. She landed hard and crouched, dragging enough snow under one hand to create a small spray, then curved off in the direction of the flickering light and was gone behind the trees.

I don't know how long I watched the fire, but when my mother woke me at three-thirty in the morning, my neck stiff from craning over the back of the couch, the woods were dark again.

Chapter 4

I ate lunch with Brianna and the others all week, but when Thursday finally came, I still hadn't concocted any good excuses for sitting out of Ski Club. They grilled me about it all through lunch - why had I never learned to ski, why didn't I want to learn now, why wouldn't I even take a lesson. Brianna asked if I'd had some traumatic childhood event with skis or boards or maybe just snow. Then Dillon challenged her to come up with a traumatic snow event and she had proposed several, including being buried, caved in on, avalanched, and plowed. I had never heard of a plowing tragedy, but I almost agreed to that one. How could you argue with the victim of a plow?

We arranged to meet on the lodge deck at the top of the bunny hill as soon as they got off the bus. I was watching people spill off the lift when Brianna, Laura, and Dillon came clopping out to my perch on one of the picnic tables and surrounded me.

"I hate that lift," Brianna said. "It doesn't make sense that the hardest lift to get off of is the bunny lift."

"Looks horrible," I said.

"So you coming with us?" Dillon asked, one eye crushed shut against the sun.

"Not today. I really haven't had time for a lesson, and my Mom would ban me from the mountain for good if I tried it without one." This was probably not true, but I was only willing to look so pathetic to these people if I was going to hang out with them. Then, before they could protest, I shuddered dramatically and wrapped my arms around myself. "I still have nightmares about that plow."

They all laughed. Then, little by little, Brianna's face changed, her smile fading, her eyes turning hard as she gazed over my head toward the bunny hill. The others looked up and I turned, searching the top of the hill for a moment before I saw Bren. He was on one knee buckling his boot into his board, his staff jacket open, his hair a russet curtain obscuring his face.

"You know him?" Brianna said in my ear. I jumped. She had bent so that her head was level with mine.

"No," I said. I opened my mouth to say that I'd seen him around, then thought twice.

"Bren Bergan." She said, and waited for my response.

"I don't know anyone who works here yet. Weird name." I tried for an amused tone.

She turned toward me with a cynical smile, the kind that said that I wasn't now, nor was I ever going to, fool her with the dumb act, but that she'd give me a pass because I couldn't be blamed. "Weird guy," she said.

"Brianna's been sweating him for weeks," Dillon said.

"That's disgusting. I do not _sweat_ people." She put a hand on her hip and raised her eyebrows at him. "Can't I just be friends with a guy?"

"Yeah, me," Dillon said.

She rolled her eyes. "That's not the same thing."

"All I know," he continued, ignoring her, "is that you went on for centuries about what freaks he and his friends were, then came back giddy after having coffee with him before vacation." He air quoted coffee. I cringed. It looked like Sydney wasn't kidding. I hated how disappointed I felt, and the fact that I'd slumped and rested my chin in my hands without noticing. I straightened up.

"Giddy is a stupid word." Brianna said, turning to me. "Dillon loves stupid words. I was not giddy." She glanced back in Dillon's direction. "And they are freaks."

"No argument there." He gave my arm a shake. "So I guess you can have him, Jenna. Apparently Brianna's finished with him."

"Jenna doesn't want him." She snapped. She was smiling at him but her expression was intense, her eyes narrow. "She's just made new friends here. Normal friends. Why would she want to ruin it by hanging out with them?"

Dillon grinned at the warning in her eyes, but her smile did not falter. As he opened his mouth to provoke her further, I started to feel like bait.

"Sorry Dillon," I said. "But I have more important things than guys on my mind right now. You guys can have them all."

This seemed to calm Brianna. She leaned on the railing and gave me a playful glance. "Are there more important things? Like what?"

I shrugged. "School? I want to get into a good college. I've been working my butt off all this time and I'm not going to let some guy come along and ruin it." It was something my father would say. Did say, in fact, every time I mentioned a boy. How ironic that he was the one who ruined things for me and my mother.

Brianna stared at me for a few seconds, then reached out with both hands and shook my shoulders. "We have to loosen you up, girl."

I glanced over at Laura. She laughed, but she was rocking her skis back and forth and bouncing on her heels as she threw glances out over the mountain.

"You guys had better go," I said. "I don't want to hold you up."

"Meet us in the lodge later?" Laura asked.

"Sure. Just text me when you're coming in."

"I still think you should get a lesson," Brianna called over her shoulder as they plodded back across the deck.

I smiled and waved, then turned back toward the bunny hill. Bren was gone, a shadowy curve in a patch of sunlight marking the snow where he had knelt.

Two hours later, Brianna texted that they were coming in for a break. I crunched over to the lodge in my snow boots and heavy jacket, hugging myself against the chill. Yew Dales turned glacial at night, the wind hardening the snow to an icy grain and stinging any inch of exposed skin. I huffed out a sigh of relief when the lodge door closed behind me.

They were all huddled around the big stone fireplace in the middle of the room - Brianna, Laura, Dillon, Tyler, Brian, Matt, and a few kids I didn't recognize.

"The soccer girls don't do Ski Club?" I asked Brianna, realizing too late that I probably shouldn't have called them that.

"They do," she said, "but there was a lacrosse meeting today so they had to miss." She settled back into one of the chairs across from the fire and laced her hands across her stomach.

"They all do lacrosse?"

She rolled her eyes. I was becoming accustomed to the expression. "They're like a cult," she said.

"What about us?" Tyler called from the hearth. He flattened his wet gloves in front of the fire before he turned to her. "Is the football team a cult, too?"

"More like a herd," she said.

He threw his hat at her and it landed in her lap.

"Ew, Tyler this is soaked." She tossed it back at him, then looked at me. "Unfortunately for you, Tyler is always here. He's on the racing team. But don't worry, their run is on the other side of the mountain where he can't harass you."

A moment later, a twenty-something man wearing an employee tag with the name 'Ryan' on it brought Brianna a cup of hot chocolate with a huge dollop of whipped cream.

"Thanks Ryan." Her voice was dramatically sweet.

"Slave." Tyler muttered as Ryan walked away.

Brianna fluttered her lashes and smiled around her first sip, then frowned as Tyler pointed at her, grinned, and peered around at his friends. "Rudolph." He said.

I glanced at Brianna. She was swiping white foam from the tip of her nose.

"Rudolph has a _red_ nose, dumbass," she said.

When they all left again, I sat by the fire for a moment, the quiet ringing in my ears. The crowds tended to roll in and out of the lodge in waves, everybody seeming to take breaks and return to the slopes at once. I promised them I would go out onto the deck in a few minutes to watch them come down. They were determined to show me how positively amusing it could be to clamp your feet onto waxed, sharpened boards and propel yourself down icy crags.

Though I was nearly on top of the fire, I felt a chill. I pulled my jacket tighter around me and pivoted toward the flame. A chunk had fallen from a piece of wood and lay to one side, glowing red-gold in the ash. I stared for a moment, then stood up, zipped my jacket, and went out into the cold. The air stung when it hit my face, but as I walked out to the far rail of the deck and gazed up at Mount Lenape, bejeweled all the way to the top with those diamond lights, the chill seemed to fade.

It was only a moment before they came speeding down, Laura on her skis first, then Brian and Matt on theirs, and finally Tyler, Brianna, and Dillon on their boards. Laura raised a pole and waved it at me about halfway down the final hill. I waved back and watched them gather at the lift, one after the other.

"Come on Jenna, you can't just sit there all night," Brianna yelled.

"You're right," I yelled back. "I'm going in soon."

They called to me for a little while as they filed into the lift line. Once they had settled into their chairs and started up, Brianna and Laura waved over their shoulders a final time and I waved back again.

As they disappeared over the crest, things seemed to darken a bit in the space around me. I let the smile fall from my face and plunked down on the end of a bench. A remake of an eighties song I didn't know the name of straggled through the speakers, and a couple with a little boy between them slid by, the mom singing along. A moment later, they reached the top of the bunny hill and dropped out of sight.

I pushed at a pile of snow with one gray, furry boot. Then I heard a crunch, saw a shadow in my peripheral vision, and he was there, leaning on the rail as he surveyed the mountain. I didn't turn my head, just watched him from the corner of my eye. He was only a few feet from me. I could have reached out and touched him.

First, just a flake or two tumbled through the space between us. One landed on the knee of my jeans and I stared, momentarily awed by that impossible combination of sharp and soft that belongs exclusively to winter. By the time I raised my head again, the world was a slow, shifting tide of white confetti. I watched it settle in his hair.

His broad shoulders rose, then fell heavily beneath his jacket.

"Are you going to learn?" He asked, his voice almost too soft to hear.

I jumped, mostly inside. My body felt like it had no bones. I cleared my throat.

"What?"

"You spend a lot of time watching," he said, staring ahead. "Are you going to learn?"

"Uh, no. I don't think so." My heart was beating fast and shallow in my chest, so I took a deep breath. I looked up into the sky to orient myself, the way my father had taught me to do when I was little, but there were no constellations, only white, blinding snow.

"Why not?"

"It's just not my thing." I shrugged even though he wasn't looking.

"How do you know?"

"I just know." But I didn't want him to think I was afraid, so I added, "I've tried it."

"Oh," he said, finally turning toward me. His face didn't look real. The angles were perfect and symmetrical, every feature – his mouth, his eyes, his cheekbones - slightly exaggerated, as if he had strolled out of a comic book. "So you've put on a board, or skis maybe, and ridden the lift, and made it all the way down the hill, and you hated it?"

I had the urge to roll my eyes and stopped myself, an image of Brianna flashing in my mind.

"Not exactly," I said. "But I've been on a board, and believe me, the only way I can control one is by throwing myself to the ground."

"That's letting _it_ control _you_ ," he said. He tilted his head and a chunk of hair fell into his eyes – a perfectly chopped anime tuft. The snow fell faster between us, but his eyes were bright through the blur. They had the clear amber gleam of maple syrup.

"I didn't have much of a choice."

He laughed. It was a deep, hollow sound. Everything about him seemed young when he was still, but when he moved or spoke a strange maturity broke through.

"That's a lie people like to tell themselves." He said. "A safety net."

I raised my brows, annoyed by the condescension. "A safety net isn't a bad thing."

"Not if you're doing something that warrants it."

"Maybe I'm enjoying just sitting here." I heard the anger in my voice and turned back to the mountain to avoid his stare. "Or at least I was. Maybe I just don't want to learn."

"Doesn't look that way to me," he said.

After a long pause, I felt him walk away. I sensed when he was gone, and hated that he was gone. And then I hated that I hated it.

Chapter 5

"Your friends seem very nice," my mother said from behind the reception desk. The snow had already thrown down a couple of inches on the roads and Sydney was late.

"Yeah," I said, wondering how she'd gotten a glimpse of everyone without my noticing.

"I don't suppose you've changed your mind about taking lessons?"

"Can I just not hear any more about it?" The irritation in my voice surprised both of us. I glanced down at the counter. "Sorry. It's just that everybody's really on me about it, and I feel stupid enough that they were all out there having a good time and I was just sitting there."

"Well, you have a choice to make then, don't you?" Her tone was gentle, but she sounded more like my father than herself. "It's all right if you don't want to, as long as you're not letting anything stop you."

I shrugged one shoulder, my classic stonewall, and she smiled and turned back to her paperwork.

It was employee night again, but there were fewer of them on the slopes than usual. The snow had sent the townies home early, leaving the mountain to the live-ins. I brought a cup of steaming tea onto the deck to watch them for a while. I didn't see Bren or any of the others at first, but just as I was about to go in, I spotted the girl with the copper braids and her boyfriend walking hand in hand toward the lift. She was smiling, peering up at the falling snow, but he had that same intense look on his face, his eyes dark and far away. I glanced behind them as far as I could see. They were the only two. They settled into a lift chair, their boards dangling as they started up. After a moment, she rested her head on his shoulder.

It hurt in a way I could not quite understand, watching them. It was like knowing you had lost or forgotten something, and not being able to remember what it was. I was suddenly sad that I could not ride to the very top of a mountain, look down on the whole world as if it was a small and insignificant dream, and then, at my whim, descend upon it until it rushed back into reality around me. That I could not rest my head on someone's shoulder.

I made a decision then. It changed everything.

I slid the board back and forth with one foot at the top of the bunny hill. The employees pretty much had run of the rental shop on these nights - 'unless the privilege is abused,' the sign behind the counter read – and I had managed for the second time to find some boots that fit and a board that looked right. Now all I had to do was clamp my other foot in and find some courage. I hobbled to the edge of the hill and plopped down on my butt. Neither my snow pants, nor the freshly fallen flakes, provided much cushioning.

I had made sure before I went to the rental shop that the lift was running and the booth was unoccupied. It was 'strictly forbidden' to run the lifts without an operator, but none of the employees wanted to miss out on the ride, and as far as I could gather, no one ever checked. I knew it was stupid, what I was doing, and that I would have no excuse if I got badly hurt, but I thought the embarrassment of someone watching me kill myself would be worse than if I was just found that way after the fact.

I bent my knees and let the board's back edge dig into the snow. Then I buckled my other foot in and scanned the hill. It was empty. Everybody was on the big mountain, which was exactly how I wanted it.

A few flakes settled on my pants. White on white. Then one on my eyelashes. I'd thought the snow had let up a little. Maybe this was a bad idea. _No Jenna_ , I told myself, _you're just looking for an excuse_. Then I remembered the chant I used to use when my father was teaching me to do something new - to dive into the deep end of a pool, or freeclimb rocks on a difficult hiking trail. _No fear_. _No fear_. I didn't know if it denied fear or banished it, but it always got me moving. I said it under my breath now until it changed from a hysterical plea to a focused demand, then planted my hands behind me and pushed as hard as I could. I rose a foot or two off the ground and fell back down. I shimmed downhill a few feet and tried again, this time pulling my arms closer to my body, and managed to hoist myself all the way up. Teetering on my back edge I bent my knees to keep my balance, and raised my arms out to the sides. The board started to scrape the hill in little stutters...stop, go, stop, go... then began a smoother glide to the right. As I picked up speed, I looked down, watching the board wobble in the snow. My legs shook and I resisted the urge to relax them in some way, straighten them out or let the muscles soften, and when I glanced up again, I was heading fast toward the trees at the edge of the hill. Panicking, I threw my hands behind me and reclined until I skidded onto my back. My head bounced off the packed powder and a pile of snow plowed underneath my shirt between my pants and jacket. I didn't even sit up to scoop it out. I just stared up at the charcoal sky, swirling with ashy flakes. There were stars now, but not the real kind. My head ached. I closed my eyes.

A moment later, I heard a scrape just above me.

_No_ , I thought. That one word like a desperate prayer.

"So you're ready now?" He asked.

Desperate prayer unanswered.

"Clearly not," I said, my eyes still closed.

"Now you need a safety net." I heard a _thunk_ by my head.

"What's that?"

"My helmet. You're crazy not to have one."

"I'm not doing this again."

"You have to get down to get back up."

"I'll walk."

"Quitter."

I opened my eyes. He could see me either way, it seemed.

He slid down a few feet and sat next to me, resting his forearms on his knees. His cheeks were flushed from the cold. He wasn't wearing a jacket, just his snow pants and a hoodie, red this time.

I sat up and looked at him. "Why do you care if I learn to ride, anyway?"

He shrugged. "You live here."

"So?"

"So you shouldn't take it for granted."

Here was that condescension again.

"Take it for granted? I am not here by choice."

"I know that. But you know what? You could have said that as soon as you were born. Why don't you take advantage of what you have?"

"I'm sorry, did I pay for a counseling session?"

He smiled while I fumed, and then I thought of something else. "And what do you mean, 'I know that.' How do you know why I'm here?"

"Small place," he said.

"Nice." I shook my head, imagining strangers talking about my mother and me, wondering how much they knew.

"So do you want to sit here and argue with me, or do you want to get down the hill?" He asked, staring ahead.

Frankly, I didn't know. I suspected that I was arguing with him to avoid moving. But he was right. I had to get down. Walking back up would have been twice as humiliating now.

"Good," he said, even though I hadn't answered him. He handed me the helmet. "So you need to get back up onto your edge like you were before."

Great. He had seen it all. He pushed himself up first, put his hands on his hips like he could have hovered there for years, and waited.

Reluctantly, I put on the helmet, glad I couldn't see how ridiculous I looked with red lightning attacking my head. I sucked in a big gulp of air and one snowflake, planted my hands behind me, and pushed off as hard as I could. I made it up, nearly toppling forward, and felt his hand on my arm. His grip was strong and warm.

"I'm okay," I lied.

He let go and hopped back until he was a few feet away from me.

"Now don't lean forward," he said, "just bend your knees and look where you want to go."

"I can't see my bed from here." My voice was shaky. He laughed, and I felt myself relax a little.

"Just let the board slide," he said, "and when you feel like you're going too far in one direction, turn your waist and kind of point in the direction you want to go. Like this."

He slid down ahead of me and let his board follow a wide curve up to the right, then pivoted left, his arms like those on a weathervane, and curved the other way. Then he stopped, nearly vertical against the hill, and looked up at me.

When I tried it, I forgot his instructions for a minute and went farther to the right than I wanted, but then I turned at the last second and the board started the other way underneath me. It was working. I was so shocked that I nearly fell on my face.

"Now when you get a little further this way," he called, "turn again and your board will go back."

I didn't dare look at him, just kept my eyes in the right direction and my body turning, and my board kept swinging back and forth across the hill - just like a falling leaf. I didn't know how long it was before I lost momentum, but eventually, my back edge cut firmly into the snow and I stopped. Caught off guard, I fell backward and sat down hard. When I looked up, I saw that I was at the bottom of the hill.

"I did it," I whispered to myself, a white puff rising from my lips.

"I did it." I said again, not quite believing it.

Bren came skidding up beside me.

"See?" He said. "You made it. You can quit now, if you want to."

But I didn't want to. I had made it down. A few minutes before, I couldn't do it. Now I could. It felt like a bolt sliding open on a heavy door.

"I didn't even fall," I said.

"You will." He said this as if it were something to look forward to.

"Or not," I laughed out nervously.

He smiled. "Time for the lift."

When he reached out a hand to help me up, I hesitated.

"What?"

I opened my mouth to say Brianna's name and changed my mind. "A friend of mine said this was the worst lift to get off of."

He smiled again, this time with a little self-satisfaction. "Obviously, your friend wasn't with me."

I didn't know how to answer that one. He reached his hand out again.

"I can do it," I said.

"It's harder on the flats."

I raised my arm, imagining disaster as I slid around trying to heave myself to standing, but he pulled me up without any effort at all and held onto me while I unbuckled my back foot. At the lift, he told me to wait until a chair had turned the corner and was just in front of us, then move forward quickly for the next one. He held my arm until we sat. As we started up the hill, I let out a relieved sigh and reached up for the bar.

"We don't need that," he said, waving it off.

I didn't want to seem like a snow geek, if there was such a thing, so I left the bar up and gripped the side of the chair. I didn't like watching the ground fall away with nothing in front of me.

"Don't worry," he said. He leaned back and closed his eyes.

And then the next horrible thought came.

"I don't know how to get off this thing."

"When I tell you, just slide your board onto the snow and put your back foot on your stomp pad."

"Stomp pad."

"The rubber thing in front of your back binding."

I looked down, trying not to see the hill far beneath us.

"Oh." I turned to him. "But most people fall. I've seen it. It's a mess."

"You won't."

After a second, he opened his eyes and looked at me, the snow whipping between us. He smiled. "Don't worry so much."

I smiled back, and worried.

As the booth at the top came into view, I started to panic. I took a deep breath and held it. _No Fear_. The ground got closer, and just as I found a measure of relief in the fact that I wouldn't die if I fell from our current height, the back side of the ramp passed underneath us and it was time to get off.

I froze for a moment and felt Bren grab my arm with the hand furthest away from me. Wondering that he was still on the chair at that angle, I let the front of my board land on the snow and glide forward. When he pulled me to standing, I found the stomp pad with my back foot and started down the ramp. The tip caught in the snow and I whimpered, sure I was going to crash, but then he pressed his hand into my back and the ride felt smooth again.

"You're okay," he said from behind me. "Just lean on your front edge until we stop."

And we did, just a few feet from the lift. Still standing.

He bent and unbuckled his bindings, and then did mine. When he stood, his hair was disheveled and his cheeks were even redder.

"So?" He said.

Snow danced all around him, sticking to him and dissolving on his skin. He looked at home in the cold, like he'd melt anywhere else.

"So." I said. "I'm Jenna, by the way. I guess you knew that."

He nodded.

"Bren?" I asked when he didn't tell me.

A smile played on his lips for a moment, then faded. His eyes slid to the side, as though he was listening for something, and his jaw tightened.

"What's the matter?"

He remained still, a crease forming between his brows. Finally, he looked at me. "I have to go. I'm sorry. Don't ride anymore tonight...it's dangerous alone." He picked up his board and held it in that shield clutch. "I'll walk you back."

I shook my head. I didn't want to go in yet, didn't want my mother to catch me with a stupid grin on my face. And I wanted time to relive things. "I'm going to stay out here for a while."

He glanced at the board by my feet and back up at me.

"Don't worry," I said, "I'm done for the night."

He pointed at me as he backed away, a hint of smirk still playing in his expression. "I hope I can trust you."

A moment later, he turned and disappeared into the flurry.

I sat at the top of the bunny hill and stared down, my perspective new and different. That someone like Bren would be interested in a girl like Brianna didn't quite make sense to me, but I supposed that if what Sydney said was true, then Brianna would be the same to him as any girl. And so would I, maybe.

Taking the helmet off, I glanced up at the lift, realizing for the first time how close I had been to him. I was too scared to be aware of it in the moment, and now I remembered how strong and warm his hands were, even through his gloves and my puffy jacket, remembered the sound of his voice when he first found me lying in the snow, and the way he had pointed and smiled at me as the distance grew between us. But this was the kind of gushing and obsessing girls like Brianna did over guys who didn't even care about them, and now that I had indulged in a few minutes of weakness, I would go back to my room and forget these things. Bury them in a book or homework. I had not come out here for help. I would learn on my own or not at all. And the next time I saw Bren, the first thing I would do is give him his helmet back.

Chapter 6

I looked for Bren all weekend, helmet in hand, but couldn't find him anywhere. I could have bought my own helmet in the meantime -- I had a ton of babysitting money saved up and my own debit card -- but I decided that his worked just fine to keep my brain in, at least temporarily.

I could now make my way down the bunny hill on my front and back edges, but not without a lot of falling. Things weren't as easy as they had been that first night, but I had become a bit obsessed, and as a result, bruises covered both my knees as well as my arms and shoulders. I had also twisted my right ankle at some point, and since I had injured it over and over again in my childhood adventures, starting with a bad sprain I got jumping off my neighbor's second floor porch into a pile of leaves, I knew it wasn't really going to heal as long as I was learning, so I tried to ignore it. On Monday morning, I woke up with my muscles screaming. I got ready for school in slow motion as I waited to loosen up.

My mother frowned at me from her post at the counter as I lowered myself into a chair at our little kitchen table and plunged my spoon into my cereal.

"What's wrong? Why are you moving like that?" She asked.

"Because I hurt." I smiled up at her to let her know it wasn't serious. "I've been learning how to ride."

Her eyes widened, and then she grinned back. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It's just been this past weekend." I shoved a spoonful of milky flakes into my mouth.

She curled two pearl-tipped fingers through her coffee mug handle and took a sip, gazing thoughtfully into the cup. "You just started up on your own?"

"Kind of," I said, swallowing. "I started to start, but it wasn't really going that well. Then one of the instructors mercifully offered to help me."

"Really?" She raised a brow.

"Just the first night." I glanced down into my bowl. "You were right, I needed a lesson."

"From whom?"

"I told you, an instructor."

"Which one?"

"Does it matter?"

"Just curious."

"His name is Bren."

"Bren..."

"Bergan. I think."

"Ah." She took another sip of coffee. "They live here. The Bergans. Don't they?"

I shrugged. "I guess so."

"And how old is this Bren?"

I always cringed when she referred to people like that... _this_ Bren or _that_ Emily...like she was talking about something she wanted to rid us of. I have to address _this_ oil leak, or we have to deal with _that_ mold situation on the side of the house.

I shrugged again. "I don't know. My age." When she didn't answer, I looked up at her. "Why?"

"I'm so glad you decided to try it," she said. "I just think maybe it would be better if you learned from somebody with a little more experience."

"It was one night, for a few minutes. And anyway, I haven't seen anyone here ride better."

"To be fair, you're not exactly an expert on the subject."

"To be fair," I said, examining my spoon, "neither are you."

I felt her glare.

"What?" I said. "Do you want me to get some geezer to give me lessons, and hope I learn before he falls and breaks his hip?" I glanced up. She had her arms folded across her chest.

"So do we need to pay this boy?"

"No," I said, "it was a freebie."

"I see. Well, I want you to be careful." She turned to top off her coffee, then wrapped her hands around the mug and stepped away from the counter. "Let's get you to school."

By the time I got to the lunch table, Brianna was already talking at full throttle, mostly to Tyler. She had strayed from her usual seat and hovered at the far end of the bench, chattering up at him as he tore huge bites out of a sub and swallowed some of them without chewing.

"And your dad already paid, so it's definitely ours?" She asked.

He nodded. "Definitely."

"So I can tell people?"

"Yes, you can _tell people_ , as long as you _tell people_ to bring their own alcohol because they're not drinking mine. And no freaks. I don't want anyone spasing out and getting us all in trouble."

She smacked his arm. "I don't hang out with any freaks."

He gulped down another bite. "You _are_ a freak."

"Oh, so you don't want me there?" She raised her brows and grinned.

He studied the last bit of his sandwich. "You will be tolerated. I guess."

She rolled her eyes, pulled her legs out from under the table, and stood up. Then she gave him a light swat on the back of the head - which he pretended not to feel - and returned to the rest of us.

'What?" Dillon asked.

"We have the bonfire at Yew Dales on Friday." She was, as Dillon would have put it, giddy.

"Nice," Dillon said.

Laura threw us an anxious glance. "Last time we went, Tyler was too smashed to drive us home and I had to call my sister. I'm not doing that again."

"So you're not going to come?" Brianna cast a pout at her.

"No, I'm coming. I'm just going to bring my own car and a twelve pack of Brisk."

"Do I have to drink Brisk if I ride with you?" Brianna asked.

"No. I'll have room for you and a max of three additional idiots."

Satisfied, Brianna turned her attention to me.

"So...party at your house. Kind of."

"So you can, like, rent the bonfire?" I asked.

She nodded. "Tyler's parents have a ton of money. They get us the bonfire grounds a few times a year so we'll have something to do besides watch the trees grow. It's cool. You have to come. And you don't even have to worry about driving."

_Great_ , I thought as I gave her a stiff smile. She took this as my R.S.V.P. and moved on to talking time and the weather forecast and what to wear. I didn't know if I was up for standing around in the cold for hours watching people drink, but it would make my mother happy – the socializing, not the under-aged public drunkenness – so I resigned myself to going and ate my fries.

After school, I signed a board out of the rental shop and trudged out to the bunny hill. Over the weekend, I had begun to get used to avoiding other people on the slope, but I wanted to get out before the ski clubs to warm up. Standing on the crest, I saw that the hill was still mostly empty. A girl sat in the very middle about halfway down, her board attached to her outstretched legs as if she were one of those green plastic army men. Closer to the trees, a teenaged boy was teaching himself to ride switch – with his usual back foot forward – and concentrating hard to keep his balance. At the bottom, three small kids and an instructor, all on skis, were gathering at the lift.

On the way up on the lift after my sixth run, I congratulated myself on having only fallen twice. Once on my badly bruised knees, a stumble so painful that I knelt in the snow with a wince frozen on my face for what felt like at least a full minute before I could push myself up again, and once on my back, which was nearly painless due to Bren's helmet intervening on behalf of my head. My arm ached, but I couldn't remember which fall had caused it, so I shook it off as my chair cleared the top of the hill.

I had just registered that nervous feeling that came with remembering my odds of making it off the lift without falling when I spotted Bren standing off to the left, clutching his board with a bare hand and waiting for me. I felt a flutter in my stomach.

I broke eye contact and tried to push my mind onto the task of staying upright. As the chair approached the ramp, I let my board glide on the snow, careful not to catch the nose, leaned on the chair until I was standing, and let it push me forward. Once I was free and moving, I let my back edge dig in just a little so that I would curve toward him, but at the last minute, I looked up at him and my board caught on a choppy mound of slush. I wavered, my arms windmilling, my pride seeping away, and felt a yank on my jacket as he pulled me toward him.

"Thanks," I said as casually as I could. "I hate this lift."

He laughed. We were close enough so that I could feel his breath on my face, but I was on my board and couldn't back away.

"You've been practicing," he said.

"A little, over the weekend."

"You'll have to start working on your s-turns now."

I knew what he meant. I was taking runs on either my front or back edge, and not switching edges to turn because that entailed crossing over the flat of the board, which made it especially easy to catch an edge and fall hard.

"I'm not ready for that," I said. "I can barely make it down without falling."

"People stay on one edge for too long because they're afraid. It's a bad habit."

"Yeah well, it hurts to fall. Do you even remember what that's like? Or were you born on a board?"

He laughed again. "Either you want to learn or you don't."

"I do. I am." His ability to aggravate me in the space of a second was as stunning as he was. I was glad for the balance.

"Okay," he said. "And you're doing a good job. So now it's time to learn your turns."

As I looked at him, I thought of Brianna. Had she really been with him, kissed him, touched him?

"You know what?" I said. "You're pushy." I tried to smile, but I didn't feel like it.

"Because I'm trying to help you?" The sun shimmered off the top of his head and lit his face, but he didn't squint. His eyes were wide and shot through with gold. They searched mine.

"I didn't ask you to." I said. "I'm not trapped in a well or hanging out of a burning building. I'm just learning this stupid –" I slipped on my board a little and struggled to remain upright "- sport. If that's what you want to call it."

He watched me, grinning, until I steadied myself. I narrowed my eyes at him. "And why are you, anyway?"

"Why am I what?"

"Trying to help me."

"You look suspicious."

I shrugged.

"No." He shook his head. "Do not shrug at me. I want to know what you're implying."

"Nothing," I said, feeling stupid now. "I mean, people don't usually just help other people for no reason."

"They don't?" He tilted his head.

"I mean, not people our age."

He raised a brow.

"Not guys," I finally clarified.

"I see." He folded his arms and stared at me. It was the same thing my mother had done that morning. "So you think I'm trying to sleep with you."

"I didn't say that." But that was exactly what I was saying. And now I had an even worse thought. What if he wasn't? What if it had never crossed his mind?

"Well, this puts me in a losing situation, doesn't it?" He said, clearly amused. I was a tottering mess on my board, so I bent and undid my bindings, tripping as I stepped out of them. He held my arm while I righted myself.

"I'm fine," I said, yanking away. "What do you mean, 'losing situation?' " Now I was aware that I was still wearing his helmet. I unbuckled it quickly, took it off and handed it back to him.

"I don't want it back if it means you're not going to wear one," he said.

"I'll get my own. What do you mean, 'losing situation?' "

Well," he said, accepting the helmet, "if I say you're right, that I'm only helping you hoping I can talk you into sleeping with me at some point, then I'm an ass. But if I say you're wrong, that I want nothing to do with sleeping with you, then I'm basically telling you that you're unattractive to me so you don't have to worry about it."

He was actually waiting for my answer, as if I was going to admit I'd be upset if he didn't find me attractive.

"Well?"

"Well what?" I asked testily.

"Which situation would you prefer?"

"It really doesn't matter what I'd prefer. What matters is what's true. So why are you helping me?" I cringed inwardly at the hard sound of my voice. My mind often cowered when my mouth went on a rampage.

"I want you to learn your turns."

His patience caused a swell of frustration inside me. With no warning to either one of us, I blurted, "You're seeing Brianna, right?"

And here was that deep laugh again...that hollow _ha ha ha_.

"What makes you think that?" He asked. Not an answer.

"We're friends, kind of." I said.

He stared at me for a long time, his head still cocked to the side, a slight smile on his lips. Then he said, "come on." He lowered his sunglasses to his eyes and reached out for me. I looked down at his hand just as the sun glinted off of a silver ring on his right middle finger. It was thick and had a distressed, chiseled look. There was a clean gap about a centimeter wide just below his knuckle, as if a tiny slice had been taken out of it.

"Where are we going?" I hesitated, then took his hand, telling myself I was exaggerating the feverish, raw charge of his skin on mine. He began to walk, leading me past the lodge and toward the buildings beyond. As we squeezed between a row of evergreens and the deck, a branch brushed through his hair and released the scent of pine.

He glanced back at me. "You need better friends."

Chapter 7

The employee housing was a walk across three resort parking lots and over a wooden bridge that straddled a small pond. Bren and I didn't speak on the way. I knew where we were headed, and although I was pretty certain he wasn't trying to lure me into his lair for dubious reasons, his comment about my needing new friends made me nervous. I slowed on the bridge, pretending interest in the icy sheet beneath which no life moved or grew. Bren stood a few feet away and waited for me to regain my nerve.

Once we cleared the pond, I stopped and stared up at the row of white, two-story buildings in front of us.

"This is where you stay?" I asked.

He nodded and pointed to the one in the middle, then started toward it.

"Which floor is yours?" I called, sticking to my spot.

"The bottom," he said over his shoulder. "The first floor apartments have kitchens."

"Kittens?" I told myself I was trying to be funny, but he turned and looked at me like a mother whose kid was asking for a second glass of water at bedtime.

"Yes, kittens." He said. "We insist that all our rooms have kittens. They are the fastest way to lure women. Without kittens, we would have to rely solely on our charm."

"Well," I said, trying to stifle my laugh into sarcasm, "then you're lucky the kitten rooms were available."

When he reached the doors, he opened the one on the left and held it, standing to the side and making a sweeping motion with one hand. After a moment, he raised his brows. "You want to see the kittens, right?"

I laughed out loud this time, and crossed the space between us. Once I stepped over the threshold, I let him lead the way again.

His apartment was directly on the right. The door wasn't locked, and he made another sweeping motion before closing it behind us. The kitchen opened immediately to the left. The countertops, appliances and floor were white. A microwave sat next to the sink, with a coffee pot beside it. The refrigerator stood against the far wall, and directly across from it was a small wooden dinette with four chairs.

"Hey," I said dragging the word out, "This is a kitchen, not a kitten."

He pressed his hand to his forehead and grinned. "Yeah, I always get those two confused."

Across the room was the start of a dark hallway. It looked like it continued left behind the kitchen, and I assumed that was where the bathroom and bedrooms were. To our right was the living room. A set of sliding glass doors hung with long vertical blinds faced the pond, and a large T.V. flickered against the far wall. The news was on. An earthquake somewhere.

The girl with the red braids lounged on one of the tan sofas, watching T.V. The tall boy was stretched out across its length with his head in her lap. Her long fingers crept through his hair. Beneath the warm brown strands, I saw a thinner version of Bren's ring circling the middle finger of her right hand.

She looked up at us and gave me a feline grin.

"Hello." Her voice was soft. Everything about her seemed soft, right down to her fuzzy blue sweater with the brown snowflakes and her white pajama bottoms.

"Hi," I said.

The boy in her lap raised himself up on one elbow and craned his neck to peer at me. Then his gaze shifted to Bren, his brows arching high on his forehead. I threw a quick glance at his hand and saw what I expected, thick silver ring on his middle finger, gap slicing through the width.

"This is Jenna," Bren said.

"Hi Jenna." The girl purred. There was something in her smile. Not sarcasm exactly. More like satisfaction.

"Hi," I said again.

"This is Frieda, and my brother Dag," Bren told me. He tossed his helmet on the table and opened the refrigerator. I tried to keep my expression from registering the strangeness of their names.

"You want a soda or something?" Bren was crouched behind the refrigerator door. It sounded like he had shoved something in his mouth while he was searching. A few seconds later he emerged with two sodas and closed the fridge with his elbow.

I shrugged. "Sure."

He tossed me a long black can with some blue lightning scrawled across it and I cracked it open, taking care not to slurp the first sip.

"So Jenna," Frieda said, sitting up straighter, her green eyes like kryptonite. "You live here?"

I stepped forward and rested my soda on the back of the empty sofa. "Yeah. We just moved here. My mother and I."

A chunk of hair fell into Dag's face and he let himself collapse back into Frieda's lap. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them on the news once more. Frieda swept the lock from his forehead with one long, black fingernail.

"Good for you." she said. "It's nice here."

"Except I don't do any snow sports," I said.

"Oh well, you'll learn." She waved a hand at me. "Bren will teach you. He's reasonably competent." She threw him a sly glance.

He stepped up beside me and flicked his soda tab at her. She batted it away without taking her eyes from mine. It hit the T.V. screen and bounced onto the carpet.

A moment later, I heard a door open and footsteps trudging down the hall. The boy with the blonde dreadlocks rounded the corner, shirtless, his jeans unbuttoned and a white towel slung over his shoulders. Every line and muscle in his torso stood out against his pale skin. A black, spiny tattoo circled his left bicep, and at first I mistook it for branches or thorns, but then I spotted the subtle outline of a stag head and realized that they were antlers, winding their way in both directions around to the back of his arm.

As he smoothed a hand over his jaw, I noted the ring on his middle finger. Clean-shaven now, he appeared much younger than when I had first seen him. He grabbed the damp towel around his neck with both hands.

"Are you trying to make us believe you shower?" Frieda said to him.

"At least once a month." He grinned, slid the towel off his shoulders and snapped it in her direction. Then he caught a glimpse of us. He tossed his towel on the couch and stood up straight, looking from Bren to me.

"Who's this?" He asked, his eyes firmly on me now.

"Jenna," Bren said.

"Jenna," he repeated, taking three large strides across the room toward us. He was too close to me, but his grin charmed me out of my discomfort, half-naked or not. Maybe they didn't need the kittens after all.

"Frey is Frieda's brother," Bren said, pressing a hand against Frey's chest to back him off. "They're twins."

I took this as an excuse to step back, and glanced from Frieda to Frey.

"You two don't look anything alike," I said.

Frey grinned again. "That's because we're fraternal. If you look very closely, you can just about tell that Frieda's female."

She smiled sweetly at him. "Well, we can all tell that you're an ass from a mile away."

I laughed and so did she, raising her eyebrows twice at me before turning her attention back to Dag.

"Where are the quakes?" Bren asked, nodding toward the T.V.

"South America. One in California." Frieda said.

"Typical," he said, but it sounded like a question. She lifted a shoulder and let it fall. I didn't get it. I'd never met anyone my age particularly interested in things like that.

Bren turned to me. "Come on." He headed for the sliders and I followed.

There was a sort of porch beyond the doors - a concrete rectangle with a white iron railing around it. Two white, plastic chairs flanked a tiny matching table in the middle. It was chilly, but bearable with the sun. We sat down and sipped our drinks.

"So when will we work on those turns?" Bren asked.

I made a choking sound.

He laughed. "We'll talk about it later."

"So did you all go to school in Norway?" I asked him. He leaned forward with his forearms on his knees. The wind blew his hair back, turning him, for a moment, into the cover of a romance novel.

"We went in lots of places," he said.

"Did you graduate?"

He nodded once.

I tried to squash my frustration. He didn't seem to want to elaborate.

"How did you finish so early?" I asked, leaning forward until he looked at me.

"Homeschooling." He smiled, and something in his face told me that he was done talking about it. He turned and looked out over the pond.

"So what brings you all here?"

"Snow," he said, and when I lifted my hands and let them slap down in frustration, he added, "We like to travel."

"That older guy I saw you with," I said, changing course, "is he related to you?"

"My uncle Val."

"Is he, like, your guardian?"

"Something like that."

"None of you are eighteen?"

He turned to me again. "If we were, would we need a guardian?" He said it like he had just delivered the punch line of a joke.

I stared at him for a few moments, then opened my mouth to ask how long he was staying, but he jumped in first.

"When are you going to learn your turns?" Now it was a debate.

"Okay fine." I said, showing him my palms. "No more questions."

He laughed under his breath, one amused huff, and took a long gulp of soda. As he lowered the can, his eyes narrowed. I followed his gaze to where a petite blonde in a slim-cut purple jacket was moving up the walk toward the front doors. When she saw us, she veered off the path, folded her arms across her chest and picked up speed. Her strides were impossibly long for a girl her size. She didn't stop until her hips were pressed against the railing.

She glared at Bren, her hair sweeping against her shoulders, and I noticed now that there were violet streaks shot all through her white-gold locks. Her face was a small oval, her lips pink and full, and her eyes - a strange indigo - seemed to take up half her face. She was striking, and her angry brood made her appear exotic and fierce. I shifted in my chair and looked to Bren.

"This is Skye," he said, his eyes hard on hers. He nodded in my direction. "This is Jenna."

I smiled, but she didn't even glance at me.

"We need to talk," she told him. Her voice was husky, and though she was small, it suited her.

Bren nodded.

My heart fell. There was a history in their gazes, so much weight that I had to stand up to shed myself of it. This was probably his girlfriend. And I was probably not what she wanted to find here. And the worst part was, she looked as if she had found this kind of thing before.

"I have to go anyway," I said.

Bren stood up. "I'll walk you back."

"No," I put a hand up as I stepped over the rail, "it's fine. I have some things I have to do for my mom. I'll just see you later."

"Jenna..." He called after me.

"I'll see you later," I said again, now moving at a slow jog to get away from them. I headed for the bridge, feeling exactly like the girl Sydney had warned me not to become. Feeling like I didn't need new friends after all.

Chapter 8

Talk of the bonfire went on all day on Friday. By the time I got back from school, I felt like I had already been there. As had become my habit, I went up to the suite, dumped my backpack, fixed myself up and then went down to the main deck. I hadn't seen Bren since that day at his apartment, and I wasn't sure I wanted to know why. It was possible that his girlfriend had gone nuts when she saw me there and forbid him to talk to me, but I hadn't spotted any of the others, either. Then again, she'd looked mad enough to take them all out.

I looked out over the mountain. The sun was strong today and the snow was soft and slushy. I had only been on a board twice this week, and wondered if I should get out there. I liked the slush. It was a much softer fall, and since I was trying, largely unsuccessfully, to learn my turns, I could've used all the help I could get. Two days ago, I had reinjured my ankle so badly that I was still hobbling on it. I lifted my foot and rotated it to feel it out. Ouch.

After searching the faces above every yellow jacket in my view, I turned from the railing and went back inside. My mother was leaning over the reception desk with Ellen, the day manager, their heads together as they searched through the reservation book.

"It's fine if they want 214," my mother said, "but they're either going to have to check in a day later or stay in another room for one night."

"They're going to be disappointed," Ellen said. "This is the first time in five years that the room won't be free right away. It's their anniversary."

My mother sighed. "You know, they could've booked earlier."

Ellen smiled.

"Give them 312 for the first night, and tell them we will take care of moving them to 214 the following afternoon." She paused, then said, "And give them dinner on us the night of their anniversary."

"Could set a bad precedent," Ellen said.

"Better than setting the precedent of them staying somewhere else."

I stared, impressed. I knew my mother was smart, but it was different to watch her outside of our family, navigating other problems.

She closed the book and handed it to Ellen, smiling when she saw me.

"Excited about the big bonfire tonight?" She asked in a bright voice.

"It's not that big a deal," I said.

"Well I'm glad you're going. It sounds like a lot of fun."

"I guess."

She sighed, stepped around the desk and moved close enough to me so that only I could hear her.

"I really wish you would try to have a better attitude. I know things are hard for you right now, and I'm sorry. But you're young. You're supposed to be having some fun."

For the last year or so we had been the same height, and as we faced each other I saw real disappointment in her eyes.

"Sorry," I said. Then added, "I'm sure it will be fun. I'm just tired from school."

Her expression softened. "Why don't you take a nap? Maybe then you'll feel more enthusiastic about it."

I was about to protest, then realized she was right. I was exhausted.

'Maybe I should. Sleep sounds good."

"How's the snowboarding going?" She asked too casually before I could turn to go.

"Okay. I didn't get out a lot this week. Only a couple of times. By myself."

"Hmm." She glanced at her nails. "Well, go ahead upstairs. I'll make sure you're up in time."

Once I was in the suite, I pried my sneakers off, went straight into my room, and let myself fall face down on the bed. I didn't even remember falling asleep.

I woke in the dark. Pushing myself up on my elbows, I grabbed my phone off the night table next to my bed and looked at the time. Six-thirty. The bonfire started at seven. I threw my legs over the side of the bed and tried to shake off the drowse. As I was coming to, a text from my mother trilled on my phone.

_Just making sure you're up_ , it said.

_I'm up_ , I texted back, then heaved myself to standing.

I was wearing my best jeans, so I changed into a heavy purple sweater and a pair of wool socks, then pulled on my gray furry boots and coat and brushed my hair. It was dark in the living room too, and I saw the flicker immediately through the picture window. At first I thought it was the bonfire, already blazing, but it was small, and too far up the mountain as it had been the last time I had seen it. I stood in the window for a few minutes, squinting, making certain once again that it was a flicker and not a solid light, and then my view of it and the whole surrounding area was washed out by a sudden flash. The bonfire had been lit. It was time for me to go.

My mother was in her office. I told her I was leaving in the cheeriest voice I could muster, and she told me to take my phone and have fun. I thought I could manage one of those. I went out the back and headed past the hotel buildings and condos. As I got farther away, moving toward the shadows of snow-covered trees, the amber light above and beyond them like a mirage, it got colder. My breathing quickened to short puffs, and was the only sound in the night for a while.

Finally, I rounded a thick copse of dark evergreens and a glowing scene filled with firelight and warmth opened before me. Kids in heavy coats, winter hats, boots, and mittens stood around the giant blaze laughing and talking and chugging beer or soda. I recognized a lot of them. Lexi, Julie, and Eileen – the soccer girls – were huddled on the far side, each with a can of some energy drink I didn't recognize cupped in her mittened hands. There were a lot of kids I hadn't seen before, and many I had glimpsed at school. Kevin, Brian, and Matt, all in their varsity jackets, were listening to Tyler talk, his exaggerated gestures punctuating his story. Several beer cans were screwed into the snow at their feet. As I watched, Tyler's eyes flicked in my direction, and then again, lingering this time. When Brian started to turn, following his gaze, Tyler began to talk again, his first syllable loud and sharp enough to retrieve Brian's focus. I let out sigh of relief. The last thing I wanted was a fake Jersey accent shouted at me over a fire while everyone stared.

"Jenna!"

A squeal somewhere on my right. I turned, along with several other people in my vicinity, to see Brianna coming at me with Dillon and Laura a few paces behind her.

"You came." She said.

"Yeah, I said I would." I smiled at them.

"Want an iced tea?" Laura asked. She had been true to her word and was sipping a Brisk.

"Or something else?" Brianna raised her eyebrows at me and slid a small bottle of vodka out of her jacket pocket.

"Not right now, thanks." I nodded at the bottle. "You drink that straight?"

"Mostly, I mix it with Dillon's Red Bull," she said, shaking the silver can in her other hand, "but I will if I have to."

She looked like she already had a buzz. Her smile was a little dry, her eyes glassy.

I moved closer to the fire and they all took a few steps to keep the huddle tight. There were no coals yet and it was still chilly.

"You know what I just noticed?" Brianna said, staring across at Tyler and his group. We all turned to look at her.

"Brian is freaking hot. He's hot, isn't he?" She looked from one to the other of us, her grin sly.

"I guess so," Laura said. Then, "he's huge."

"Yeah, but I kind of like that. Makes you feel smaller." Brianna said. She was openly leering at Brian now.

Laura curled a hand around Brianna's upper arm and pulled her close, speaking in her ear. "You could be a little more subtle. He's going to know you're talking about him."

"That's okay." She shrugged. "In fact, maybe I'll just go talk _to_ him."

Laura opened her mouth to speak again, but Brianna was already walking away, her butt swaying a little too enthusiastically. She threw us a smirk over her shoulder about halfway around the fire and when she reached the boys, she took a long swig of her drink and stepped between Tyler and Brian. She said something to Brian and watched as he fished in his jacket pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and held it out to her. She slid one from the box with her long nails and held it to her lips while he lit it. Tyler stared at her and then glanced across at us, his eyes settling on me again. I shrugged. After all, what was I supposed to do with her? He shrugged back and rolled his eyes, but it looked like Brian was already realizing the potential. He was smirking at Brianna over the top of her vodka bottle as he took a long gulp. Handing it back to her, he ducked and said something in her ear.

"Doesn't anyone from the lodge ever come up here and check on things?" I asked.

"Tyler's father's good friends with Mr. Neil," Laura said. "They leave us alone."

"But the resort could get in a lot of trouble." I watched as Brianna and Brian strayed a few paces from their group.

"Tyler's father is good friends with just about everybody," Dillon said.

"I have to go talk to Lexi for a minute." Laura threw her can into a blue barrel nearby, and then it was just Dillon and me. We watched the fire for a few minutes.

"So," I said, the heat finally starting to seep into my outer layers. "I think I'm learning how to ride...a little."

He turned to me and smiled. "Really? That's awesome. You'll be able to come with us now."

"Soon. Maybe."

"Who taught you?" He asked. There was an odd tone in his voice.

"I mostly taught myself." I didn't need anyone telling Brianna that I had had anything to do with Bren. Girls like her were made of glass. Any tiny crack made them sharp and dangerous.

Dillon threw me a resigned grin. "Okay. You taught yourself, good for you. Just be careful." He fixed his eyes on mine. "You know, about what you're getting into."

I sighed. I was tired, and it was obvious he didn't believe me. "What are you trying to say, Dillon?"

"I'm saying the guy's as hot as they come, I get it." He paused to make sure I wasn't going to play stupid. I waited. "But he's strange," he said. "They're all strange. You should see them up there, on the mountain. Some of the things they do. It's dangerous, and some of it doesn't even look remotely normal. The uncle makes all their boards and I think he does something to them. Maybe that's why they don't compete..." His voice trailed off for a moment as he thought about this, then his eyes found mine again. "And they disappear for hours and never come down, then just show up later like they've been making runs all night." He closed his mouth, opened it, closed it again.

"What are you saying? That they're into something illegal, or..." I thought now of the first time I'd seen Bren on the mountain, how he'd seemed frozen in the air...how he'd seemed to control the seconds.

"I don't know. I..." He shook his head. "Have you noticed that when you ask Bren a question, he never really answers you? He just sort of stares, or asks one back. It's too weird."

I couldn't argue.

"How did you know?" I asked him. I didn't want to say 'how did you know I liked him' or 'how did you know I had been hanging out with him,' so I left it at that.

Dillon crushed his Red Bull can in one hand and tossed it into the barrel behind us. "The first Ski Club after break, when we were all out on the deck. The way you two were deliberately avoiding looking at each other. I didn't know if it was because Brianna was there or what. But she saw it, too. That's why she flipped out."

"I don't think she flipped out."

"That's because you don't know her that well."

"Well, it looks like she's moved on," I said, gesturing to where she stood with Brian. They were getting very friendly now. His hands were on her waist and she was gripping his collar.

"She never moves on. She collects."

Dylan nodded across the fire. I followed his gaze and saw Kevin nod back at him.

"I thought she said Bren was a freak." I said.

"Probably because everyone else thinks he is. And because he's not really the kind of guy who's going to cater to her." He shrugged and gave me a sheepish grin. "I also figured you liked him when you blew Tyler off."

"Excuse me?" I said, turning to face him. "Blew Tyler off?"

"You know he likes you."

"No," I said, feeling like I had missed a whole chapter in a book. "I don't know that. He has never done anything to..."

"First he tried picking on you, then he moved on to flat out gawking, and if you haven't noticed, he's been over there trying to get your attention since you got here. So I figure, if you're not into a guy like Tyler..."

I couldn't help glancing over at Tyler. His eyes flicked to mine again.

"It's not like he's just some dumb jock," Dillon said. "He's actually pretty smart. And he's funny as hell." He shrugged again, hand in his pocket. "Maybe you should give him a chance."

"What are you? His pimp?" I asked. He didn't hear me. He was gazing across the fire again, but it wasn't Tyler he was focused on, it was Kevin. Kevin gave him a flat, sad-eyed smile.

"Something going on there?" I didn't know how else to say it.

"Nope." He said.

"So he's not... I mean Kevin. He's not..." It was strange how comfortable I had always been with the word 'gay' until this moment.

Dillon considered, tilting his head from one side to the other. "You never really know that about a person until they say it. And that's their call, you know what I mean?"

I nodded. "And you're not seeing anyone?"

"No," he said, watching Kevin crack another beer.

"And you're picking on _me_?" I said.

That broke into his thoughts. He looked at me and laughed, hit my arm with the back of his fingers. "I'm going to get another Red Bull and maybe stop by Brianna's bar for a shot, you want to come?"

"Maybe in a few minutes."

I was glad for the chance to just stand and watch the fire. I listened to the conversations blend around me, a word or phrase breaking through here and there. The voices were louder now, and people were moving around to talk to each other or get more beer from their snowy stashes under the low boughs of the trees. I glanced around at them. A few couples were huddled in each other's arms by the fire. A girl with her head on her boyfriend's shoulder made me think of Frieda and Dag, and once again, that lonely feeling welled up inside me.

As my eyes lifted to follow a trail of hot sparks rising above the heads of Dillon and the others, I caught the pale flicker deep in the forest. It was small and high up on the hill, and barely gave off enough light to reflect against the sky. I was sure this was the fire I had seen earlier, and the one I had seen the night I fell asleep at the picture window. Someone was up there.

I thought of the girl I had glimpsed riding in the night, of the way she had curved off toward the flame. I thought of what Dillon had told me about Bren and his family disappearing for hours before they came off the mountain. Maybe they had their own bonfire of sorts, a place only they knew about where they could close the door on the world. If so, I wondered if Skye had been invited in.

"Hey."

I was startled out of my musings. Tyler. I hadn't heard his footsteps.

"Oh, hey Tyler."

"I was getting bored over there. Why are you standing here all by yourself?" His voice was quiet. He didn't seem drunk, but he held a beer in each hand, one of which hadn't been opened.

I shrugged. "I don't know. It's quieter over here."

We glanced across to the little group - Brianna, Brian, Dillon, Kevin, and Matt – all laughing hysterically at something we could only guess at - and smiled at each other.

Tyler held out the unopened beer and raised his brows.

"I don't really drink," I said. And other than wine on the holidays, that was true. My mother had always been home, and I was never allowed to go anywhere where there wasn't a parent, so I didn't even know if I would have been a drinker, if I'd had the chance.

"A beer won't kill you," he said. Then he pulled it back a couple of inches. "Not to push you. I'll drink it if you don't want it."

I studied Tyler for a moment. He didn't look much like his friends. For one thing, he wasn't a beast. From my best judgment, he was a little over six feet, and solid, but not bulky. He had a refined appearance, an angular jawline and visible cheekbones, and if he replaced the varsity jacket with a pea coat and scarf he'd be ready for the Ivy League...or Hogwarts.

He dropped his arm, let the can dangle from his fingers and glanced at the fire. The light danced on his skin. When he looked back at me, half his face was thrown into shadow.

"It's probably a little uncomfortable for you," he said. "All these people you barely know all buzzed and obnoxious."

"A little," I said.

"We could go for a walk, if you want. There's a trail near here that's usually pretty clear. Just to get away for a few minutes."

I didn't want to leave the warmth of the fire, the little comfort I took from the light and the few familiar faces. But then my eyes strayed to the flame on the hill again, winking as the wind blew through the trees, and it seemed so far away, so unreal.

"Okay," I said, nodding.

Tyler raised his brows again. "Okay?"

"Sure. As long as you're not going to get us lost."

He smiled. "Nah. I've been down this trail a hundred times." He hesitated, then held out the beer again. "Did you want this, or...."

I stared at the can. My father drank a lot of beer, but I didn't recognize the label. I reached out, meaning to get a better look, but Tyler popped the top with one finger before he handed it to me.

"My dad likes these microbrews," he said.

" _You_ were supposed to drink this." I lifted the can at him as he began to lead me away from the fire.

"I have two more in my jacket," he said over his shoulder. Then he reached back and took my hand, pulling me along.

We crunched on the packed snow for a few minutes, listening to the noise of the bonfire weaken and die out. Brianna's cackle carried on the air one more time before the night went quiet and we laughed softly, our breath white against the darkness.

"Interesting girl, Brianna," Tyler said, his voice almost a whisper. I heard him crush his can. He slid another beer out of his jacket pocket and replaced it with the empty. I took a small sip of my own beer, the cold from the can already seeping through my mitten.

"That's a good word for her," I said. "Interesting." Then I quickly added, "She was nice to me when I first got here. Letting me sit with you guys and everything."

"Yeah, very sweet." He said. "Anyway, I'm sorry about all that. You know, teasing you about New Jersey and stuff. I was just kidding around."

"I know."

He took a long guzzle of his beer and I sipped mine. A few moments later, we came to a small clearing with a few evergreens dotting the middle. The snow was a bit thicker than on the trail, but had been packed in some places by skis and boards. Moonlight shone unhindered here, dusting everything in silver.

"This is part of the glades," Tyler said. "It's a system of ski trails that leads through the trees all the way to the bottom."

"Looks dangerous." I couldn't imagine trying to navigate through a forest on a board.

"It can be," he said, leading me to a huge boulder beneath a tree. He sat on the rock and pulled me down next to him. "They're expert trails, and they're not even open at night. There's no light, and even if there was, it would be a mess."

"I can imagine." And I could. The carnage of people dangling upside down from boards, their edges stuck in trees...skiers wrapped around trunks and caught in evergreen boughs, their calls for help mere echoes in blind patches of dark. I laughed at myself and took another sip of beer. Tyler did too.

"What are you smiling about?" He asked. He reached out and smoothed a long strand of my hair between his fingers. When I turned my head to answer, he leaned over and kissed me. It was slow and wet for a closed-mouthed kiss, and as practiced as a textbook football play, and although I had kissed only two other boys in my life - short-term boyfriends during my Sophomore year - the cold, sinking feeling in my stomach told me it was wrong. That, and the image of Bren behind my closed eyes. But I hadn't seen Bren in a week, since the angry blonde had found us together on his porch, and pushing Tyler away wasn't going to change that.

Still, the clammy feeling in my stomach was too strong to ignore.

I broke away, but I couldn't seem to make eye contact, so I glanced down at my beer. Tyler brushed my neck with the back of his hand, then lifted my chin and kissed me again. This time, he tried to push his tongue into my mouth and I pulled back.

"Wait," I said.

"Sorry. You're so pretty, I just..." He sighed hard and took another long sip of beer, shaking the last drops of the can into his mouth before crushing it and cramming it into his pocket.

I raised my beer to my lips, but found I didn't want anymore and lowered it again. Tyler took this as some kind of cue. He smiled.

"Ready now?" He asked.

"Hmm?" I would have been relieved if he'd wanted to go back. In fact, I was fighting the urge to jump up and run, stopping only when I had gotten past the doors of the hotel and all the way back up to the suite. I imagined having tea with my mother and making up some harmless account of my blast of a night, but the comfort of the thought only brought a wave of panic.

"Ready?" Tyler asked again, and before I could answer he grabbed my face with both hands and kissed me hard, this time succeeding in pushing his tongue all the way into my mouth. He tasted like beer, smelled like second-hand ash and cologne. I pushed at his shoulders as he wound his fingers into the back of my hair.

"Stop it Tyler," I said. He dragged his mouth down my neck, his hand holding mine down. My beer fell to the ground. Then, unbelievably, the first day I saw Tyler grew sharp in my memory. He had thrown something at a girl and she had responded in the same way I just did. She had said, "stop it, Tyler," and then threw something back at him. She had played the game with him, and he had laughed at her.

"Stop," I said again, and then I screamed the word as loud as I could.

Tyler grabbed both my arms, his fingers biting into my flesh, and shook me. "Stop screaming," he said through his teeth.

I continued to fight him and he shook me harder. My arms numbed under his grip.

"You're hurting me. Let go."

He leaned in until his mouth was against my ear. "Then stop." He said, as if I had missed the most reasonable solution to all of this. "It doesn't have to be this way." He let his lips brush against my neck again. "Unless you want it to."

I felt the trunk of the tree against my back. I had not considered that I might be trapped between it and Tyler. Now he had his hands cuffed around my wrists and was pushing his body against mine, pinning me, the rough tree bark digging into my spine and shoulders.

"No." I said, the word occurring to me like some magical command. But it held no power. It only made things illegal, which made no difference in this moment.

I repeated the word over and over again and heard it die on my lips. I tried to yank my wrists out of his grip, fighting the weight of his body as he pushed harder against me. Finally, he released one of my hands only to run his own hand over my stomach, his skin clammy and hot as he searched for the button on my jeans. I considered that this might be a nightmare, but it was too cold, and I was too scared. Never in all my nightmares, even in those that haunted me while my parents were splitting up, had I been this terrified. I considered going limp and letting it happen, giving up and getting it over with, but I found that I couldn't. The sensation was like peering over a bridge. The urge to jump never quite overpowered the survival instinct. So I kept fighting him, kept yelling 'no' despite the bite of his fingers, kept struggling beneath his force. But I was losing.

"Just let it happen," Tyler said in my ear, as if he smelled blood in the water. "You won't regret it. Don't worry."

As he took both my wrists in one hand and clamped down so hard I thought he would break me, a guttural scream rose in my throat.

Then I heard the thud.

Tyler sat bolt upright. He stared wide-eyed into my face for a few seconds, his mouth open, then fell backward into the snow.

I was afraid to move or breathe. My wrists throbbed and my ears rang in the silence. When I was finally able to heave in a gasp and push myself up on trembling arms, the first thing I saw was Tyler lying unconscious in a drift. The second was a pair of boarding boots, purple, planted wide above his head.

Skye stood with one hand on her hip, the other arm clutching her board. She stared at me as if she hadn't noticed Tyler was there at all. While she waited for me to stop shaking, for my breath to even out, for my muscles to begin to relax, she scanned the scene around me. Her face was calm, the moonlight glinting in her wide eyes. Prodding Tyler's shoulder with one boot, she crouched down and picked my half-full beer can out of the snow, then rose and held it up to peer at it.

"If you hadn't been here..." My voice wavered.

"Is it some habit of yours to go off alone with boys you hardly know?" Her eyes shifted to mine as she dropped her arm, the can still clutched in her pale, slender hand.

I should have been angry at this, at her cold tone and her accusation, but I was still flooded with relief. I didn't know how a girl her size had managed to knock Tyler out cold – she had nothing on her but her board, and there was no way she could have brought it down with the necessary force – but at the moment I didn't care. I had been spared something unimaginable.

"No," I said, "it isn't. I know Tyler from school. This was just supposed to be a walk." I felt like I owed her something else, but wasn't sure what to say. "The other day..." I started.

"There's a trail across the clearing that leads straight back to the lodge." She pointed behind me, then dropped her board and slid her boots in. Hunkering to buckle the bindings, she glanced at me and held up the can. "Go home Jenna. You don't belong here."

She tossed the can onto Tyler's chest, spraying beer onto his jacket. Then she locked in, stood up, and pushed off toward the woods.

"What about Tyler?" I called after her. I didn't care about Tyler, but getting charged as an accessory to murder if he died of hypothermia or head trauma would be a little insulting after what he had almost done.

"He'll come to in a few minutes," she said without looking back. "He won't tell. That's up to you."

Somehow, she found enough of a slope to take off. The violet streaks in her hair seemed brighter in the dark, flashing as they whipped around her head. As she made a switchblade turn behind a copse of trees, leaning hard, her bare hand grazing the snow, I knew she was the rider I had seen coasting toward the strange fire in the middle of the night.

Chapter 9

My legs shook when I stood, but I didn't want to risk being around when Tyler woke up. Emotions boiled inside me like some botched chemistry experiment...fear, anger, embarrassment. Skye was right, I barely knew Tyler, and I had heard about these situations a million times, but he had seemed harmless in the glow of the fire. I wondered where Skye had come from that she could have heard me struggling and appeared so quickly. And then there was my mother. She'd be disappointed, and in utter disbelief that I hadn't listened to anything she'd told me. She'd call Tyler's parents, she'd call the school and the police. My life as anyone normal would be over. And yet, I still wanted so badly to run to her now, to let her hold me and tell me that she was going to take care of everything, that it would all be okay.

I glanced around the clearing, remembering the path Skye had pointed out, and at first couldn't find it. Finally, I looked up into the sky, scanning the stars, imagining what they looked like as I stood on the deck outside the lodge, and began to orient myself. I started walking.

The adrenaline still lingering in my veins kept me warm as I tried to force my breath into slow rhythm with my footsteps. I was calming a little now, my mind beginning to sort thoughts and feelings from the rubble. _Nothing happened_ , I told myself, _it could've, but it didn't_. And Skye was right. Tyler wouldn't tell anybody. He would wait to see who I would tell, what I would say. I didn't want to think about it now.

The evergreens closed in thick around me, hiding me in their darkness. I couldn't see the lights of the resort yet, but the path was clear and worn, rounded footprints of all sizes and treads matted the trampled snow. As the wind blew, white drifts from the high branches swirled down and circled me. The flakes landed in my hair and on my clothes, and I imagined being buried in them, camouflaged, transformed into part of the wintery night. It was a peaceful thought, and in it, I found my first steady breaths.

I unzipped my jacket, stopped and closed my eyes. _Nothing happened_ , I thought.

After a moment, the crunch of footsteps broke the silence.

Tyler. My heart tripped. My eyes opened wide.

Relief.

Bren stood a few feet away, searching my face, his eyes blazing. He didn't have his board, but he was wearing his boots and a thick blue hoodie, unzipped, sleeves pushed up. His hair was windswept, his cheeks red.

I sighed and closed my eyes again, then stared back at him.

"You scared the hell out of me." I had forced a casual tone into my voice, but what I wanted more than anything was for him to hold me, to feel his sweatshirt against my face, to know what he smelled like. Maybe I shouldn't have wanted anyone to touch me after what had just happened, but there it was.

"Are you all right?" He asked.

"I'm fine. I was just at the bonfire. I'm headed back toward the lodge."

He scanned my body all the way to the ground and back up, his gaze stopping on the waist of my jeans, the collar of my sweater, my hair. Then he took a gentle step closer to me, as if he were trying not to scare a rabbit, and looked into my eyes. "What happened?"

My stomach clenched. How could he have known? How could he have gotten to me so fast?

"What are you doing out here?" I asked him. "Where's your board?"

"What happened, Jenna?" The forced softness was gone from his voice. He held my gaze.

"Nothing, it was stupid." I said.

I watched the rise of his chest as he took in a long breath. He waited.

"I was at the bonfire," I said, "and it was getting loud and a little wild, so this guy I know from school asked me if I wanted to go for a walk. To get away from the noise for a few minutes."

He was still as stone, his stare so heavy I felt like I would buckle underneath it. When he didn't speak, I continued.

"So, stupidly, I went." I shrugged, grasping for words. "I didn't think he was drunk. I mean, he didn't seem it. Anyway, we ended up in this clearing, and we were just sitting on a rock talking, and then all of a sudden , out of nowhere, he just, you know, he tried to kiss me."

I didn't want to relive what had happened, not one word or thought, but the force of Bren's gaze, the set of his jaw, the way he loomed so huge in my vision...not even my father could have commanded that kind of obedience. So I went on.

"So I said 'no' and he didn't stop. I tried every way I could to say 'no,' but he didn't stop. And then Skye was there and she...I don't know, I think she hit him with something. She knocked him out." I opened my mouth to say that Tyler was still there, for all I knew, and thought better of it. "And now here I am."

He stared at me for what seemed like a long time, every muscle frozen, then he closed his eyes and exhaled in a slow, controlled stream. When he looked at me again, his focus was still intense, but less furious. A second later he threw a glance over my shoulder. I turned to the empty path behind me.

"He's probably back at the bonfire by now," I said quickly. "There are a lot of kids up there."

His jaw tightened again as he eyed me. Then a tiny, contemptuous grin curled his lips. "He's not getting away with it."

"I don't want you to do anything."

"I didn't ask you."

"I mean it," I said, a twinge of panic in my voice. "I haven't figured out how I want to handle it yet. And nothing happened. I mean, it was stopped."

"But _he_ wasn't. Do you understand that?" He started toward me but pulled himself back.

I did understand. But my legs were shaking and I was, literally, not out of the woods yet, and this decision was mine and I needed it. I needed it to lean on, to keep me from falling face first into a breakdown.

I hadn't answered him, but he made some small gesture - not a nod, exactly, but a reluctant acceptance. Then he hissed through his teeth, put his hands on his hips and shook his head at the ground.

This small breath of control that he relinquished to me on the cold, still air seemed to rush inside me like a first gasp, as if I had almost drown in my own helplessness. For the first time, I felt what Tyler had tried to take from me. What I had almost lost. Where would I have been in this very moment, _who_ would I have been, if things had gone differently? My heart raced again and tears blurred my sight. I tilted my head to keep them from brimming and watched the stars stretch into silver streaks above me.

"Jenna." His voice was a close, rough whisper.

I lowered my gaze, a tear falling onto each cheek. He pushed his fingers into my hair. His skin was so warm, his eyes so grave as they locked onto mine. He grazed my jaw with his thumb and leaned back to search my face. His lips parted as if he was going to speak, and then he went still. His face was a sketch by moonlight - his eyes deep wells with shimmering pools, his hair slashing his forehead in dark jags, the lines of his mouth full and frozen on an unformed thought - and I imagined his arms around me, my face against his shoulder as the drifts from the trees fell white and soft around us.

He shook his head back and forth almost imperceptibly, then grasped my shoulders and pulled me into him so that I lost my breath and didn't care if I ever got it back.

I closed my eyes and let my head drop onto his chest, wound my arms around him. Beneath the soft padding of his sweatshirt he was solid and strong. I breathed him in. His scent was pine and mint, but sweet like Christmas, and then, as a tuft of his hair brushed my forehead, I caught wood smoke and something exotic and herby. He tightened his hold and I pressed my fingers into him. His heart was beating fast, mine faster. He slid a hand up my back and through my hair, his body warming me like red coals. I let myself rise and fall with his breath.

"It's okay now." His words hummed against my ear.

I nodded against him. "I know." My voice was thick. I was afraid to say anything that would make him pull away. As if he had heard my thought, he curled his arm low around my waist and tugged me closer. The gesture was instinctual. There was more than consolation in it, and my stomach fluttered. Before I could stop myself, I let out a hard, fast breath.

He took half a step back and moved his hand to my upper arm, pressed his face into my hair. "Sorry," he whispered.

I was chilled by the sudden space between us. I lifted my head to look at him. It felt like it weighed a million pounds.

"Sorry," he said again. "I..."

"No, it's okay.'

"You're shaking."

As I looked down at my hands, he laced his fingers through mine. A snowflake fell between us, then another. We glanced up at the sky, still an endless deep and full of jagged, glinting stars.

"I'll walk you back," he said. He released one of my hands and began to lead me forward. I didn't want to go back, but as cold as it was, the moment itself did not freeze.

We were quiet as we trudged along. I wondered what he was thinking, ached already with the memory of his body against mine, his breath in my hair. I wanted to walk forever, to be alone with him in the stillness of the woods, but then we rounded a curve in the path and the lights of the resort began to emerge, reflecting off the smooth field of snow unrolling before us.

I stopped before the last stand of trees. Bren took another two paces, turned toward me, and stepped back again.

"What is it?" He asked.

I shook my head. "I just don't want to go back."

He watched me struggle for an explanation.

"My mother..." I said when the silence had gone on too long. "I just don't want to see anybody right now."

"You don't have to explain anything tonight. Not if you don't want to." His voice was gentle.

"It's not that. I feel better now." And I did. Standing here with Bren, with the resort lit up and glowing just beyond us, the whole incident with Tyler could have been a bad dream.

I didn't know what to say to him. The truth was, I didn't want to contaminate my thoughts - my world - with anything ordinary right now. I wanted to burn everything I could remember about these last few moments with Bren into my mind. I knew I couldn't ask for another chance. How could I betray Skye after what she had done for me?

"Why don't you want to go home?" He asked. And before I could answer, he narrowed his eyes and peered into mine, as if trying to draw out some detail.

"What?" I matched his expression.

"How much did you drink tonight? Is that the reason you don't want to see your mother?"

I gaped at him, caught off guard. "I wasn't drinking." And then I thought of the beer I had taken from Tyler. "Not really."

He raised a brow.

I flushed, thinking of the way it had tasted and smelled on Tyler. Crude and unstable. "I only had a few sips." I sounded pathetic. "Not even half of one." Pathetic.

He stared at me. "That stuff is garbage."

"I don't drink." I shrugged a shoulder. "I never drink. I don't even like beer."

"Then why were you drinking tonight?"

I fixed him with an annoyed glare. The truth was, I was drinking because I was angry that I hadn't seen him in days...that some beautiful pixie had just strolled up and claimed him with a few sharp words and a pissed off flip of her hair. And more than any of that, that he hadn't bothered to look for me since. I had been drinking out of spite. Yes. Pathetic.

"You'll poison yourself with that stuff." He said.

And just like that he had scaled my defensive wall and was standing in the toxic garden of my temper.

I stepped toward him and glowered up into his face. "What are you, some kind of walking Losers Anonymous meeting? Aren't all you snowboarders supposed to be drinkers and potheads? I hear them talking about it all the time around here. They get stoned on the lift. They get drunk to cure their hangovers. I mean, where's your team spirit? Your whole culture is depending on you."

" _My_ culture?" When he was finished laughing, he took a step closer to me. "Jenna, I'm going to tell you something that's going to sound every bit as arrogant as it is. I'm not like them." He lifted his arms away from his sides and flipped his palms at me. "I am awesome. And my awesomeness is not fueled by alcohol and pot." He let his arms drop.

"Thank you for that public service announcement." I said. "I can see now that there is really no room in your body for illegal substances, what with the size of your ego."

He laughed again. "It's not ego if the awesomeness is available to anyone."

"Then why isn't everyone _awesome_?" I gave the word a dramatic hiss.

"Fear."

"Fear."

"Right. Look what you've been through trying to conquer your fear of one small mountain."

Immediately, the bruises on my body began to ache, the pulled muscle in my neck, the strain in my ankle.

He said, "Most people want to take the easy way out...change something outside of themselves first. Like, you might have thought the mountain was too steep, or too icy, or whatever. But if you change yourself, lose your fear, the mountain changes, too."

"You had me until 'the mountain changes.' It doesn't change. It's exactly the same."

"Not true. Because eventually, it's no longer too steep, or too icy. Right?" He grinned at me.

"Nice, Buddha." For a moment, my irritation at him began to slide away.

Then he said, "And that's why I don't help weakness and failure by poisoning myself."

And new anger burst inside me like a firework.

"I said I do not drink. I took a few sips of beer tonight and that was all. And anyway," I went on, feeling scolded and trying to keep a note of maturity in my voice to offset the pettiness of what I was about to say, "Brianna was drunk and heading for sloshed, and you don't seem to mind her at all."

This time, his laugh was hearty. I folded my arms across my chest and raised my eyebrows at him. We stared at each other like this through the lazy snow until Bren finally let his amusement wind down and shook his head back and forth, his cheeks and lips still blushed with humor.

"Don't you hold yourself to a higher standard than Brianna?"

And there it was. What Dillon had said about Bren making all of his answers questions. I cut around this one and tried another route.

"What about Skye?" I asked.

He pulled his head back and frowned, and a point of hope jabbed at me like an icepick.

"Aren't you two together?"

"Have you hooked me up with every girl in the place? I thought you said I was with Brianna."

"I thought you said you weren't."

"I did," he said. He took a step toward me and ran his hand through his hair. I watched the tufts slide between his fingers and remembered the smell of smoke and herbs. In that gesture I could have forgotten everything, but I kept my head clear.

"And Skye?" I moved on. Brianna was a mess to sort out at another time.

"Nothing," he said. "Ever."

"Then who is she?" It just seemed natural to me that they would join forces and take over the universe.

"She's like us."

"Does she live with you?"

"Sometimes. She's a bit of a free spirit. She does what she wants."

I hated the idea of Skye living in the apartment with Bren - sleeping there, showering, flaunting herself all over the place.

"So she never had a thing for you?"

He hesitated and my stomach tightened. He tilted his head to the side, seemed to consider, then made small counterclockwise circles in the air with one finger as if he were backing up a car. At first I didn't get it. I watched his hand, trying to figure out if maybe he was writing something he didn't want to say out loud, but then it dawned on me. I looked up at him.

"The other way around," I said. "You never had feelings for her."

He nodded and gave me a flat, embarrassed smile. In one moment, he had informed me without the slightest self-consciousness of his own awesomeness, and in the next, he was too humble to admit that a beautiful girl wanted him and he didn't want her back.

He slid his hands into his pockets, glanced down and then back up at me. I realized then that I was no longer angry at him, or afraid of Tyler, or worried about my mother.

"I think Skye hates me." I told him.

"She doesn't hate you," he said softly. "She just doesn't travel well."

"Well, she saved my butt either way," I said. When his expression didn't change, I went on. "I don't even know what she was doing there. The glades are closed at night, aren't they? And she was on her board. Besides," I paused until I was sure I had his attention, "I saw a fire in the woods farther up the hill, and I thought you'd all be up there together."

"Did you?" His lips curled up at the corners. "Well it's a good thing we weren't."

We stared at each other, the night growing colder, bits of white lace sailing aimlessly in the air around us. Over Bren's shoulder, the lights of the resort promised warmth and shelter and comfort. But those little hearth fires were nothing compared to the blaze in Bren's eyes, the warm, lulling whoosh of his pulse.

I felt his hand slip into mine.

"Let's go," he said.

Bren walked me all the way to the doors of the main hotel. I glanced through the glass to make sure my mother wasn't at the desk, and then turned to face him. His eyes searched mine, and I could not imagine a way to step away from this, to brace myself for the moment when the indoors would rush around me in a cruel gust.

"I'm not sure when I'll see you." I felt my cheeks flush and looked down at my feet.

I listened to him breathe, tense and waiting, until he finally reached out and pulled me against him. I closed my eyes. He buried his face in my hair.

"I'll find you tomorrow," he said, his breath warm on the top of my head. Then he released me quickly, turned, and walked away.

I watched him until he reached the bottom of the stairs, until the space he left around me froze and there was nothing left to do but go inside. I found my way to the suite, relieved to find it empty, and fell onto my bed. My last conscious thought before sleep pulled me under was of his scent. Pine and mint. And fire.

Chapter 10

Sunlight flooded our suite on Saturday morning. I was up early, anxious to get out on a board for a little while. The night with Bren seemed like a dream on this new day, and I wanted to do something to feel connected to him, to his world. I was sitting at the kitchen table in my snow pants and sweater and munching a bagel when my mother walked in.

"I didn't see you last night," she said, filling her mug with coffee. "What time did you get in?"

I shrugged. "I'm not sure, I was so tired I just came up here and went right to bed."

"Did you have fun?" She turned to face me, nodding as if she were trying to answer the question herself. She looked too hopeful to disappoint, and I had decided not to tell her about Tyler anyway. It was over.

"Yeah," I said. "Some of my friends were there. It was fun."

"Good. I'm so glad. And what are your plans for today? Anything exciting?"

I finished chewing and gulped. "First tracks start in a few minutes, and I like getting out before the place gets crazy. I'm trying to learn my turns."

She slid out the chair opposite me and sat down, warming her hands around her mug. "I hear learning to snowboard is very difficult."

"It is." I nodded, eyeing my next bite.

"And painful. I've seen you limping around this week."

I nodded again. "I'm probably the worst case though. Being athletically challenged."

She ignored this. She never agreed to any negative statement about me. "Well, I was thinking...would it be easier for you if you had your own board? One that was a good size for you and had the right bindings and boots?" I froze before my teeth hit the cream cheese. "I mean," she went on, "I can't afford anything brand new right now...I wish I could. But I told Mr. Neil that you were learning, and he signed a coupon for a very big discount at the pro shop. He said they have some slightly used equipment downstairs, and he thinks you can find something there."

I stared at her. "Really? I mean, can we afford that?" The idea of having my own stuff, of feeling like I belonged here, was something I hadn't hoped for.

"We can afford it." She smiled. "I'll give you the coupon and the credit card, and after you're finished you can go down to the shop and find Jeff – Mr. Neil said he's the best person to help you – and get yourself some equipment."

I stood up, too anxious to eat anymore, dropped my bagel and threw my arms around her neck. She laughed and patted my hands.

"Thank you, Mom. Thank you so much."

"I'm glad you're happy," she said, then turned in my arms to look up at me. "I really just want you to be happy, Jenna."

"I know." I held her gaze for a moment, and a surge of guilt passed through me...for not telling her about Bren, or about what happened with Tyler, and for getting myself into that mess in the first place.

"I love you." I kissed her on the cheek and ran to get my jacket, leaving her laughing behind me.

Jeff, of pro shop fame, was somewhere in his twenties and thoroughly ungroomed, his hair a straw nest atop his head and a matching soul patch lying like a worn bath mat on his chin. He spoke in a laid-back, surfer drawl, but his eyes were sharp, and he darted around the shop with purpose. After ascertaining my level of experience – none - and my intentions – survival - he eyed my baby blue coat and white pants, nodded once to himself, and got moving. In less than half an hour, he had rustled up a barely used board with blue and white paisley designs curled against a black background. He said it was a good size for me, and could be used on the slopes or in the terrain park. I told him I didn't anticipate doing any rails or jumps, considering that those things required an actual death wish, and he laughed and said a lot of people said that at first. He also dug up some shiny, baby blue bindings with very few scratches and slightly chewed up padding, and white boots which were new in the box, but discounted because they were left over from the previous year. He topped things off with a blue hard-shell helmet. It was pretty beat up, but I thought it looked kind of cool with all its battle scars. Before I left, he waxed and sharpened my board.

"Now it's going to feel slick because of the tune-up," he said, "but don't let the speed throw you. Just make your turns and you'll be chill."

Which meant I would not be chill. But as I walked out into the sunlight and gazed out over the snowy landscape with my own board under my arm, I felt a surge of pride overshadow my fear. I may not be chill, but I'd look good.

Jeff was right. On my first run down the bunny hill, my board felt like a blade on ice. Each time I gained momentum, I reached a speed I hadn't before, got scared, and hunkered down until I dropped safely onto my butt. I stuck to the falling leaf technique, afraid that if I tried to turn while the board was moving that fast I would catch an edge and slam to the ground, knocking myself unconscious before I had a chance to identify which bones were broken. Although I tumbled into a middle aged-guy getting off the lift – he tried to help me up and kept falling until I finally scuttled far enough away to get up on my own – the second run was better. I had to bring myself to almost a complete stop to make a turn, but I pulled it off a few times and managed to remain upright all the way to the bottom.

Sliding to a stop on the flats, I bent down and unbuckled, then pressed my gloved hands against my waist and rotated my sore ankle.

"Jenna!" It was a small voice, female, and so far away that I couldn't decide where to look. I scanned the lift chairs above me, but saw only the backs of people's heads. I glanced up the hill, my eyes roving over the line of skiers and riders preparing to take their runs, but there was no one waving or even looking in my direction.

"Jenna!"

I spun around and squinted over the wide strip of snow, flanked on both sides by evergreens, that led to the north face of the mountain and the lifts for the raceway and terrain parks. There, I saw a huddle of riders near a lift. One had her back to the others, and was waving emphatically at me with one hand while she clutched her board with the other. Her orange braids bounced on her shoulders. Frieda.

I did a fast search of the group behind her and found Bren's hair, his mirrored sunglasses, his helmet wedged between his arm and his side. Inhaling a sharp breath and holding it to control my nerves, I unbuckled my other foot, grabbed up my board and trudged my way toward them. Frieda set her board on the ground and straightened up, waiting for me.

Bren didn't even glance at me. I tried to keep my eyes on Frieda, a smile stiff on my lips, but I couldn't help watching him. He was talking to Frey and Dag, the three of them rambling in amused voices between bursts of quiet laughter. He had on a royal blue sweatshirt that made his skin and hair glow like no colors in the natural world, but today he was zipped up and his sleeves were down, so I figured they were headed to the terrain park. Frieda confirmed this as I approached, taking a few steps forward to meet me.

"We're going up to the terrain park," she said. "Come with us."

I bugged my eyes at her. "I can't. I'm just learning. I haven't even been up on the mountain."

She waved a hand at me. "I saw you. You're good enough to come up and mess around. Besides, it's really no different than the bunny hill. The runs are just longer."

"And steeper. No way."

"Only in some places. And you can control your speed and stops, so you'll be fine." She smiled at me. Over her shoulder, I saw Dag's eyes flick in our direction, his own smile faltering.

"I don't think it's a good idea, Frieda." I felt a warmth in saying her name. I liked knowing her. "I'll never be able to keep up with you guys."

"There's nothing to keep up with," she said sweetly, "the park has its own lift. It's contained. And there are wide paths down the sides where you can ride through. Please come."

And before I could figure out how to refuse, Dag's eyes flicked to us again. He turned, his long bangs falling across his forehead. "She said she doesn't want to, Free. Don't force her. What if she gets hurt?"

Frieda pivoted and regarded him with her huge green eyes, her smile still sweet. "Well, we are all instructors, so that would be pathetic, wouldn't it? She's not going to get hurt. Don't scare her. Besides, I'm tired of hanging around with the boys all the time."

"What about Skye?" Frey said with obvious humor. Bren still hadn't so much as glanced at me, and I thought I could actually feel my heart tracing a cold path into my stomach.

Frieda turned back and tossed her gaze skyward, dismissing Frey's comment. Then, focusing only on me, she said, "Don't you think she should come with us, Bren?"

I froze. Maybe he had just been doing me a favor last night, walking me home and comforting me. I kept my eyes on Frieda and watched Bren walk toward us in my peripheral vision. When he stopped beside her, I shifted my gaze to his.

"Yes, if she wants to," he said. "Do you want to?"

The space between us felt thick, slowed his words in my mind, made it hard to understand their meaning.

"I don't think I'm ready," I said. But I wanted to be with him, with them, so much so that I thought I might buckle under the weight of it.

"The only way to be ready is to do it," he said. Then, when I didn't answer, he added, "I won't let anything happen to you."

I still didn't reply, didn't know what I was waiting for until he said it.

He tilted his head. "Come with us."

The knot in my stomach loosened. I took a deep breath and nodded, and then we all walked over to the lift. I was finally heading up the mountain.

Frieda made a big show of having to sit with both Frey and Dag, letting her head fall back and making hairball noises in her throat as she complained, but I knew she was just making it clear that Bren and I should ride up together. I was humming with nerves, and he must have known it because he held my arm as we sat down, and lowered the bar for me. He slid his sunglasses up onto his head and we glanced at each other and away.

He let out a whispery laugh.

"What?"

"What is this weirdness between us?" He asked, looking at me now, his eyes soft and searching mine.

"You barely even looked at me when Frieda called me over." I sounded like a pouting kid.

He laid his arm across the back of the lift and turned to face me. "I didn't know if you'd still want to see me today."

"What? Why not?"

"You were kind of, you know, vulnerable, last night. After what you'd been through." His jaw tightened. "And I realized later that you might think I was taking advantage of that."

As I absorbed what he said, relief washed through me.

"If you hadn't been there, I probably would've had a nervous breakdown on my way back," I said. "I didn't want to go to that stupid bonfire in the first place." I glanced down at my gloved hands, curled around the bar. "You saved my night."

He waited until my eyes found his again. "I was hoping you'd say that."

I was still smiling when I caught the glint of a stream below us. I leaned over to get a better look. The flow of tumbling water, interrupted here and there by dark, jagged stones, cut through frozen snow on either side. Evergreens shadowed the banks.

"That's the raceway," Bren said, gesturing to the wide run beyond the water.

I followed it with my eyes until I felt Bren's hand on my back. When I looked over, he was pointing above the treeline to the left, where a huge expanse of ground had been cleared. Near the top were a few jumps marked with some kind of red and blue paint, and beneath them, a half-buried car surrounded by all kinds of boxes and rails hunched in the snow. In the dead center of the run, a huge hill rose above everything, the approach side a steep ramp, the launch side a cliff.

"And that's the terrain park," Bren said.

I held my breath. To me, it looked like a playground for the suicidal.

"The pipe's farther down."

"Great." I swallowed, and trained my eyes on the chairs ahead.

Brianna was right, getting off this lift was nothing compared to the one at the top of the bunny hill. I made it without help and let my board come to a stop on its own, looking out across the top of the mountain. It wasn't as intimidating as I thought it would be. We were still on solid ground, and in truth, it didn't look any different than base except that I couldn't see the end of the runs.

I followed Bren toward the terrain park, and as we cleared some trees, the view sprawled out before us. I sucked in a breath. Beyond the outer buildings of the resort were tiny houses and tendril streams, clumps of forest and long, winding roads. A miniature water tower crouched like an unlikely winter insect behind a knoll, and patchwork farmland slept under blankets of snow, broken through here and there by matchstick silos. Layers of hills in blues and grays backdropped the whole scene, ghostly and reaching back into forever.

I could never have imagined this from my timid post at the base of the mountain, but it was somehow what I had expected - to feel like I had escaped.

"Jenna."

I turned to the only view that could've pulled me from this one. Bren waved me toward him. I hobbled over to where he sat at the top of the run and fell back next to him. The others were already buckling in.

"Ready for some jumps?" He was joking, but the park looked cruelly dangerous from this perspective and I wrapped my arms around myself.

"As long as I'm not the one doing them," I said.

He laughed, the sun shooting copper streaks through his hair. I felt warmth radiating off him and it calmed the nerves in my stomach. Frieda slid over and sat down on the other side of me.

"Look," she said, pointing to the edge of one of the jumps and then gesturing across the run to the other side. "See how wide those spaces are along the sides? You'll have no problem getting down those."

They did look pretty wide, but I had learned that things were different on a moving board.

"She'll be okay," Bren said.

"You want to go first?" Frieda asked.

I let out a breathy laugh and shook my head. "No way. I'm actually just going to sit here and watch for a while, if I'm not in the way."

"You're not in the way." She said.

Bren scooted closer to me, bending his knees so that his board didn't hit mine. The dark symbols danced over the wood.

"You got new stuff," he said, nodding at my board. "Did Jeff fix you up?"

"This morning." I looked out over the world again.

"Nice," he said. He reached out and dragged my hand toward him, and I forgot about everything else.

"It's all you, bro." Dag shouted from a few yards away as Frey hopped his board into position. We turned to look at them. Frey pointed his board down the mountain, dropped his sunglasses, and gave us all a troublemaking grin. Then he let the steep take him.

He leaned back, somehow picking up speed despite being knocked left and right by the uneven terrain. His body slack, he seemed to have no interest in controlling his situation. He was like a dead man floating on the ocean as the center jump appeared in his line, his arms lifting from his sides the only sign of momentum. Clearing the height of the ramp, he coasted high into the air, the sun turning his dreadlocks into spun gold, gripped the front edge of his board, and whirled with the random carelessness of a roulette wheel. His movements seemed slow, but I lost count of the number of rotations he made. He landed backward, pressing the nose of his board into the snow to drag a white spray in his wake. When he came to a stop, he spread his arms and grinned up at Dag. A lazy challenge.

"Oh, it's like that, huh?" Dag shouted, penguin-walking his board to the far side of the run. Frey raised his palms higher and then made a sweeping motion with one hand, inviting an answer.

Dag's lips curved in a grin that took over half his face, his brows dropping in a sharp 'v,' his eyes narrow and tilted upward. It was an evil effect that only intensified as he popped into the air and landed, moving fast. He hunkered low, twisting his body so one arm pointed ahead and the other behind, and cut left, aiming at the ramp on the far side. He flung himself off the crest so quickly that I almost missed it, then reached behind him, grabbed his board and flipped in the air. He steered himself like a wild car careening out of control, plummeting until he landed, finally, on the rail below the jump. He rode the length of it, the nose of his board a full few inches off the metal, then tapped down with the board's tail before shooting off the end, turning backward, and landing solidly a few feet farther down. A fountain of snow showered Frey's legs as he skidded to a stop next to him.

"Wow," I said, staring down at them.

Bren smiled at me, then leaned forward to look at Frieda. "You gonna take that from them?"

She peered at us from the corner of her eye, grinned her feline grin, and shrugged one shoulder. Then she rose from the ground and stretched her arms above her head, closing her eyes and warming her face in the sun. When she straightened and opened her eyes again, her gaze was intense and focused ahead, but the grin still played on her lips.

She took off, coasting down toward the ramp on our side, her legs undulating as they absorbed the shock of the bumps and divots on the hill. Her arms stayed low to her sides, wavering like reeds underwater, her wrists bent so that her hands pointed outward. She seemed to negotiate the ramp, wriggling back and forth a little to achieve a perfect line, and when she seemed satisfied, she flattened her back, bent her knees and sprang, wheeling high into the air, her braids whipping around her face, her body arching into a bow as she caught the tail of her board. As she touched down, she quickly wriggled again, negotiating as she had before, and hit the half-buried car at full speed. Launching herself off the roof, she set her gaze on Frey and Dag, turned her body mid-flight to shift her path, and pounced, landing with just enough time to serpentine around Frey and halt next to Dag, her shoulder grazing his. Both of the guys flinched.

"Whoo!" I shouted.

She threw a fist in the air and wiggled her hips.

"This is amazing," I said, not sure if I was referring to them, or the view, or what. They were already calling to Bren from the bottom of the run, Frey and Dag making weird barking noises with their hands cupped around their mouths.

"You'd better go." I told him.

He smiled. "I'll follow you down the side."

"Yeah, because I love the idea of being that helpless girl who holds a guy back," I said. "Just give me some time to get used to it up here."

"Come on, bro," Dag shouted. In these last few minutes, Dag had been more animated than I'd ever seen him, and their noise just kept getting louder.

"I'll go with them next time," Bren said.

I shook my head. "You'll go with me next time. Come on, I want to see this."

"This is why I don't have a girlfriend." Frey shouted up. Girlfriend. I felt the heat in my cheeks and stared down at my knees, but I allowed myself a second of bliss at hearing the word.

In my peripheral vision, I watched Bren look out over the mountains.

"Huh." He said. "Never had one of those."

"What?" I toggled the zipper on the side of my pants.

"A girlfriend."

"Neither have I," I said. He laughed and I grinned at him.

Frey mocked something in a high voice, but I couldn't make it out.

"Don't you want to shut them up?" I asked.

"Impossible." But he let go of my hand – a chill settling into my body as he did – put on his helmet, and slid his sunglasses onto his face. Then he rose and put his hands on his hips, rocking back and forth on his board.

"Okay," he yelled, dragging the word into an exasperated warning as he shook his head. "It's on."

" _Yeah_ it is." Frey shouted. Then the three settled and shifted around on their boards. It got so quiet that I could hear their edges scratch the snow.

Bren leaned back, his arms loose by his sides, and I felt tension like low thunder rumbling into something terrible. He twisted and made a fist with his left hand, his forearm shielding his torso as he cast his full attention down the hill. Still rocking, he stared hard, weaving the next few moments into the run. It was as though he had sown a handful of future over the present, and was waiting for it to take root.

His takeoff didn't so much begin as merge into something unseen, his approach to the first jump flat and perfectly straight, his arm thrust out behind him to hold off the world. He bent his knees as he hit the ascent and vaulted, his board creeping up to meet his hand, his body pivoting, his head still as he spotted the center of the run. His legs took the landing like springs, and, barely noticing the impact, he made two sharp angles to align himself with the main jump. Again, he straightened his approach to a perfect line, and then hit the second ramp. This time, he pumped his legs and pushed down with his arms as he gained the crest, bullying the ground out of his way, and when he bounded into the air I felt a fear that nearly stopped my heart. He rose, rose, like his bond with gravity had snapped, until there was nothing but him and the blue day and no earth in my view. He grabbed the back of his board like he was simply using it to keep himself from drifting off like a helium balloon. Logic told me he was whirling – some corkscrew spiral I could only vaguely perceive, but my eyes insisted he was frozen, still, everything in the world revolving around him. Time had slowed. There was only the bite of the cold on my skin, the warmth still pulsing in the hand he had held, the awe rising in my chest, and Bren, a spinning sun against the sky, dimming his pale twin above, his hair a dark corona flaring around him.

He streaked to earth like a meteor and stomped down in a low crouch. Then, rising on his board, he arched his back and slid behind the others, heading toward the lift.

He didn't glance back.

I let out a long breath I was unaware I was holding onto and watched its white stream float up and away. I had seen competitive snowboarding before - the X-Games, the Olympics - but I had never seen anything this...unreasonable. By the time they all made it back up, I still hadn't recovered. The second runs commenced, but Bren slid over to me instead, and sat down where Frieda had been.

I stared at him with open shock and he grinned.

"That was... awesome," I said. It sounded lame.

"You sound surprised," he said. "Don't you remember what I told you last night?"

I remembered his arms around me, his scent, his fingers tangled in my hair.

"Jenna?"

I looked up at him. "I remember," I said.

"What, you didn't believe me?" He took my hand. Then he flattened his other hand against his chest and arranged on his face the most arrogant look I had ever seen. "I told you I was awesome."

"And I believe I noted your huge ego." I knocked into him with my shoulder and he pretended to fall over.

"Seriously," I said only half-seriously, nodding down the run. "For a minute there I thought you might actually die."

He leaned back on his elbows, the sun glinting off his glasses. "Nah. Don't you trust me?"

I was quiet for a while, a careful smile on my lips. "I guess."

"Good." He pushed himself up. "Because now it's your turn."

I glanced toward the others. Frey was already at the bottom of the hill again, Dag and Frieda in mid-run. When I turned back to Bren, he motioned toward a flat swatch of snow below us.

"Let's get those turns down," he said.

Pure dread. How could I wobble down this hill, desperately clinging to the only flat space available, and fall, often and unattractively, while these paranormal creatures flung themselves off of every available ledge beside me, competing for the most deadly speed and altitude? I knew I didn't belong here, but I didn't want it written across my forehead in red Sharpie.

"Jenna?"

I looked at him, wide-eyed. He had lost the smile.

"I know you're scared," he said. Then he cocked his head to the side. "But that's one of the things I like about you. It's what makes you brave."

I gave him a confused look.

"Because you aren't letting it stop you." He said.

And I didn't want it to be a lie.

He took off his sunglasses, put them in his pocket and stood up, hopping so that his board pointed down the hill.

"Come on." He put his hands out, flicking his fingers to indicate that I should stand up. I teetered to my feet and leaned on my back edge. He took my hands.

"Turn so you're facing me," he said. I did, hopping like he had done, and immediately started to slide. Before I could panic, he pulled me back.

"Now, two things." He said, his eyes firmly on mine. "One. Think about what you want the board to do. See it in your head just before you want it to happen. Your mind causes your body to act, so you have to be in control of it."

I thought about the way he had paused before he started his run, focusing on the invisible. I nodded, making no promises.

"Two." He continued. "Don't look down. Look at me. Right into my eyes." That was something I felt I could commit to. But as I fixed my gaze on his, lost in that intense, honey glow, I doubted that this would help me concentrate. When I glanced away, he ducked his head to force eye contact and grinned.

"What, I'm that ugly?" We both knew that was utterly absurd, and I was suddenly annoyed that he was confident enough to say it with such sarcasm.

"Horrible," I said, my tone a mixture of irritation and anxiety.

He laughed. "You're just nervous. Let's get moving before you hit me or something." And before I could open my mouth in protest, we were sliding down the hill.

"Don't." Bren said as I glanced down at our boards. "Look at me."

I pulled my gaze up and caught his eyes. Pressing my front edge into the snow, I felt him rock onto his back edge to match my movements. When he nodded for me to make my first turn, I tightened my grip on his hands and froze. We were still moving, and I was sure we would hit the trees behind us, but the seconds just seemed to draw out, the ground stretching to accommodate my hesitation.

"See your turn," he said, his eyes locked on mine. "Front edge, to neutral, to back."

I saw it as he said it. My board wavered in the snow, then went flat. When I eased onto my back edge, Bren leaned forward.

"Good," he said. "Again."

This time it took me even longer to find my nerve, and again I felt sure we would crash into one of the jumps, or at least ruin somebody's run, but the time and the snow just kept unraveling. By the time we hit the end of the run, I had made three or four fluent turns in a row and had gained enough momentum to ride to the lift without stopping. I was breathless when we dropped down onto the chair.

"Good job," Bren said, offering with a raised brow to lower the bar. I shook my head and he dropped his arm onto my shoulders. These tiny things - hearing the word _girlfriend_ , holding his hand, feeling the weight of his arm around me - were glimpses into what it would be like to belong with him. With them. There was no one else in the park, and I felt like they had invited me into their private world. I thought of the fire in the woods.

"What are you thinking?" He asked as we watched Frieda spiral against the trees below.

I didn't want to mention the fire - a subject that made me feel far from him - so I asked him a question instead.

"Why haven't you ever had a girlfriend? Is there something wrong with you?" I added this last part to lighten the mood, make it casual.

"Please." He pointed at himself and then flipped his palms up, an expression of disbelief at the very question. I ignored it, gave him one of Frieda's sweet smiles, and raised my brows. When he realized I was waiting for an answer, he dropped his hands. "Actually," he said, "there's something wrong with most girls."

"I see," I said with a tone of feminist disapproval.

"Honestly..." He hesitated, then shrugged. "Okay listen, you may think I'm a jerk for saying this, but I don't take teenaged girls all that seriously."

I thought about that. Maybe he was a jerk, and maybe I should have been insulted, but I didn't take many teenaged girls seriously either. "So, what, you date soccer moms?"

He laughed his deep, hearty laugh, which made me smile, then shook his head. "I just mean that sometimes girls aren't all that nice. In fact, they can be pretty mean. And you know what? They don't like themselves very much." His said this with a kind of sickened dismay, as if he had just realized that not all animals were Disney characters; that some animals actually ripped each other apart with their teeth.

I thought of Brianna. Of countless other girls I'd known. "No," I said, "I guess some of them don't."

When I looked down this time, Dag and Frieda were waiting for Frey. He was heading for the center jump. As he approached, a strange thing happened to my vision. The jump seemed to waver, grow higher from the ground, the space between Frey and the ramp stretching so that he appeared to ride toward it in an endless stream of acceleration.

"Jenna."

The jump wavered and grew taller still, Frey dissolving into a blur.

"Jenna."

A hand shook my shoulder. The arc of the jump now curled to nearly vertical. Frey zipped over it and soared like a missile into the air. I jerked back against Bren in shock, but Frey was still at eye level.

Then I blinked and he was gone.

I had heard of things like this. People hallucinating in situations where they were afraid. I thought maybe I was having some kind of panic attack.

"Hey." This time Bren tugged my shoulder hard, leaned over and peered into my face. "Are you all right?"

I stared at him.

"Yeah, sorry," I said, my voice unsteady. "I guess I'm not used to this."

"Don't worry." He sat back. "If anyone crashes, we'll clean it up."

I made a disgusted face, he laughed, and we rode smoothly off the lift.

In between watching the riders and practicing my turns, there were three other times when I had to blink my vision clear. Once when it looked like Frieda was going to hit a tree in mid-air, but then I saw that the trunk was bent and watched her skirt around it, grazing the bark with her fingers. Once on the lift, when I thought the half-buried car was actually rising out of the snow and would eventually slide down the hill and run over somebody in the half-pipe. And once during Bren's last run, when the whole vista sprawled out in the valley below seemed to disappear behind a monster swell of snow rising in my vision, until he finally coasted off the crest and vanished behind it. I knew the snow could play tricks with a person's sight, and the sun was so bright my eyes watered against its reflection, but I was glad when we decided to head down. I'd had enough of Tim Burton's perverse park for one day.

We caught the lift one more time for a simple, straight run to base – a gift from them to me, I assumed. Frey chose to take a chair by himself, and Dag and Frieda hopped on the one directly in front of Bren and me. Relieved to be facing my last ride of the day, I relaxed back against the chair, inhaling the frost and pine.

I felt Bren staring at me.

"What?" I asked.

"You're lucky."

I turned to him. "Lucky?"

"Because I'm going to let you do something I've never let anyone else do."

"What?" I stiffened. I couldn't take any more firsts today.

He paused, apprehension dimming his face for a moment like a cloud sliding across the sun. Then he grinned. "Be my girlfriend."

My stomach flipped and my heart knocked hard against my chest a few times. His statement required a sarcastic answer, but I had nothing. I grappled for some way to respond. I needed a little outrage, with a dash of consent and humor thrown in.

I gasped, widened my eyes, patted at my mouth with my fingers. "You'd allow that?"

"Yes." He averted his gaze for a second or two. I thought his cheeks might have reddened, but it could've been the cold. His eyes found mine again. "It's quite an honor. I'm sure you realize."

As I prepared to say something snarky, I was blindsided by an irrational fear. To be his girlfriend meant I would probably lose him. Breaking up and moving on always seemed like the final stage of a relationship, and I didn't know if I wanted to set myself up for that kind of hurt. To commit to it.

But then he smiled, and those thoughts were like some horror movie I'd just walked out of - far off in the darkness, and not real.

"I just don't see how I can pass up such a rare opportunity," I said.

"You can't. And since you didn't thank me, I'll assume your gratitude is implied by your acceptance."

I shrugged one shoulder. "Obviously."

Bren grinned and put his arm around me. I gazed out ahead of us, at Frey's dreads fanned out beneath his rainbow hat, his head bobbing to whatever was on his iPod, at Frieda laughing at Dag, one braid slung over the back of their chair, at the summit slowly appearing above the snowline as we ascended.

Bren pulled me closer, and I let my head drop onto his shoulder.

Chapter 11

"Come back to the apartment with us," Frieda said to me as we lifted our boards off the snow. Bren grabbed my hand.

"Yeah," Frey said. "Val will definitely want to meet _you_."

"Don't be such a –"

"Ladies!" Frey yelled over Frieda's head, cutting her off as he turned his attention to two blondes standing at the bottom of the bunny hill. They turned, one pouting, the other flashing him a lusty smile as they watched him approach.

"Where were you?" Pouty asked.

"Where was I?" Frey said incredulously, bouncing a finger off his chest. "Where were you? I've been looking for you all morning." Lusty's smile grew lustier.

"He's so full of crap," Frieda said, turning back to me. "So are you coming? Bren and I don't have to work today, and Dag doesn't start until later. I don't know what the hell dust mop over there is doing, but who cares."

Bren watched me, waiting. I wondered if I would have to tell my mother where I'd be, then glanced at my new board and felt guilt wash over me. I knew she didn't really want me with Bren, but I couldn't keep lying to her, not after what she'd done for me this morning.

"Coming?" Bren asked.

"Yeah," I said, dragging out the word while I put together a plan. "Just give me a few minutes to clean up. And I have to talk to my mom. She bought me all this stuff this morning, so I should really go say thanks and tell her what I'm doing."

"Okay," he said. "Go talk to your mom. You can meet us when you're finished."

The sun sparkled in his eyes. When he got too painful to look at, I turned to Frieda. I was surprised when she took two quick steps toward me and curled her arms around my neck, but managed to hug her back before she stepped away. "Thanks for coming with me today," she said. "See you later?"

I nodded, a happy warmth tightening my throat.

"We can get back this way." Bren pointed off behind the lower lodge. "Can you manage the bunny lift by yourself?"

"Funny." I pushed him and he let himself give until he stumbled, then he glanced over my shoulder.

"Hey!" He barked. Frey turned toward us. "Heading back." Frey waved him off and turned back to the two girls.

As they walked away, Frieda leaned close to Dag and he dipped his head so he could hear her. Suddenly, they stopped and he turned around.

"Hey...Jenna," he said. I stared at him with what I was sure was a hyper-curious expression. He hadn't addressed me directly all day. Or ever.

"You did good today." He said. "I mean, you're learning fast. So...that's good."

As he stood watching me, I realized he was waiting for something that would dismiss him, put him out of his misery.

"Oh. Thanks. Thanks for letting me come up with you guys."

He nodded, tried a flat smile, then turned back to Bren and Frieda. They waved and walked on past the lodge.

I leaned my board outside the sliders, then grabbed the door handle and stopped cold.

Through the glass I saw Tyler in his varsity jacket, balanced on crutches, and next to him a slim, bald man in a black polo shirt talking violently enough to bring the blood to his face and jabbing a finger. I followed his joust across to Mr. Neil, who was standing in front of the desk in a ski sweater and jeans – obviously attempting to take the day off – his palms raised in a calming gesture. My mother stood just behind him, a sympathetic look arranged on her face.

I heaved the door open and Tyler's eyes immediately flicked to mine. His face paled.

"Your policies don't apply here," the jouster was saying. "This is cut and dried."

"Not necessarily Richard. Now I can't just get one side of the story and –"

"One side of the story? There is no story. There is no side. There is only what happened. I am telling you and my son is telling you what happened." Tyler's father, who looked so much like Tyler that anyone who glanced at him could get a good look into Tyler's balding, angry future, slapped the back of one hand into the palm of the other.

"My son was on the raceway this morning during first tracks hour." He slapped his palm again. "This group of snowboarders, these Bergans, who had no business on the raceway in the first place if they weren't looking to cause trouble, deliberately attacked my son." Another palm slap. "They shoved him down the gully and into the ravine, and then one of them – the cretin with the red hair – came after him. These are the facts. My son came home soaked. His knee is sprained. There's a gash on the back of his head. What more evidence do you need for Christ's sake Dennis? My son is a varsity athlete, what do you expect him to do during lacrosse season, host Pampered Chef parties with his mother?"

My legs went weak. I stood there, nauseated by the idea of Bren, of all of them, hurting anyone because of me. And just as suddenly I was furious that he had gone after Tyler when I had told him not to, that he had brought this down on my mother and Mr. Neil.

"I understand your frustration," Mr. Neil said. "But I have to talk to the Bergans, get their uncle involved, see if there are any grounds..."

"You have grounds for immediate dismissal," Tyler's father said.

And just like that, my anger changed to absolute panic. It was what I had been afraid of moments ago...of losing him. The threat seemed to descend on us right away, like those birds that ate strawberries just as they turned pink, before they were even ripe enough for humans to enjoy. All you were left with were empty vines.

I folded my arms across my chest and saw my mother eye me as I took a few steps toward Tyler. I stopped a few feet away to indicate that he should hobble to where I stood, just out of earshot. He hesitated, still pale, the muscles in his neck tensing, then planted his crutches ahead of him and shuffled over. His limp looked exaggerated – he kept shifting the pressure from one leg to the other and moved too slowly – but there was a cut high on his cheekbone, and one of his knees definitely looked bigger than the other, although whether from swelling or an ace bandage I couldn't tell. The two men, still arguing, didn't even notice he had moved.

"What happened?" I asked stiffly.

"It doesn't have anything to do with you."

"How do you know it was Bren?" I asked, staring at him. He wouldn't make eye contact.

"What do you mean, 'how do I know?' I saw them."

"Riders wear helmets. It's kind of a policy here," I said. "And it's cold in the mornings, so I can't imagine that they didn't have hats and scarves and all kinds of stuff on their faces."

"So?" Tyler stared at the floor.

"So it doesn't seem like you'd know for sure. If it was them. Not for sure." It was like my words weren't my own, like I was following a script. I didn't even recognize myself.

His head jerked up, his eyes narrow. "What are you saying?"

I shrugged. "I'm just saying that, you know, you got a pretty good bump on the head last night – although you clearly told your father it happened this morning. So if you don't remember the facts surrounding that, then I'm just concerned about what else you might not be remembering clearly."

Tyler's mouth turned down in a scowl. "That's bullshit and you know it." Then his expression smoothed again. He nodded. "Ah, I get how it is. You have something going with one of those guys, right? That's why you didn't want to do anything. Probably that guy Bren, now that Brianna's moved on."

That hurt, but only for a second.

"So those guys came after me because of you." He leaned in close, his scowl returning. "My knee is sprained because of you. I miss lacrosse season because of you, you little bitch."

"Jenna," my mother said, casting a vigilant glance in our direction. "What's going on over there?"

I held up a hand. "One sec, Mom."

Tyler's father was still jabbering at Mr. Neil.

I glared at Tyler, my eyes slits, my jaw clenched even as I kept a smile on my face to make the discussion appear friendly. "Listen, Tyler." I said. "People make mistakes all the time when they're trying to remember things. I thought that I may have made a mistake in remembering what you did to me last night, for example. But if you're saying that your memory is that good, even with that giant bump on your head and getting attacked this morning and all, well then, I guess my memory about last night has to be at least that good." I smiled wider. "That's nice to know, that I can recount every detail of what happened last night to the proper authorities with absolute certainty."

Tyler paled again. The line of his mouth wavered, as if he couldn't decide whether to be happy or sad, then he shook his head, eyes blazing.

"You little bitch."

"You said that." I stepped around him, my mother still watching me, and went over to Mr. Neil.

"Excuse me," I said, standing between Mr. Neil and Tyler's father. They stopped talking and looked at me. "This wasn't any of my business until I heard you mention the Bergans," I said, flattening a hand against my chest, "but I've talked to Tyler and now I feel like I should speak up."

"What is it, Jenna?" Mr. Neil asked. Tyler's father was breathing heavily, his nostrils flaring.

"Well, I'm sorry to hear what happened to Tyler this morning. I don't know anyone here who would do something like that. But it definitely wasn't Bren, or any of the Bergans," I said. Tyler remained silent behind me as his father rolled one hand for me to continue. "I know first tracks are for the season pass holders and employees, but I figured since my mother manages the hotel it would be okay for me to use the hour, too." I looked at Mr. Neil, hoping to get him on board early.

"That's fine, Jenna, you're welcome to the same privileges as the employees," he said.

"Can we continue please?" Tyler's father said.

"Thanks." I smiled at Mr. Neil, then glanced at Tyler's father. "Sorry. I just want to make sure I don't leave anything out. So I ran into the Bergans as soon as I hit the lift. I was with them in the terrain park all morning. I just told Tyler, and he agreed that it had to be someone else. It's not really Tyler's fault, though. It was cold and everyone wears something on their faces...in the mornings especially. It makes everyone look alike."

Mr. Neil, Tyler's father, and my mother searched for objections in each other's faces. When my mother didn't see any, she scanned my expression, and found one. She knew I was lying. Thankfully, the other two were clueless.

Tyler's father closed his eyes and drew in a breath, gritting his teeth. "Tyler," he said, "did you allow me to come down here screaming for the heads of four innocent people, without being absolutely certain who it was on that run this morning?"

"I really thought it was them," Tyler's voice was small behind me. Relief turned my bones to paste. "Until I talked to Jenna, I was sure."

"Well," his father said, exhaling, "a pretty girl will do that to you." His expression remained grave, but he winked at me. I tried to smile, wanting only for them to leave. "Let's find out who was on that slope this morning," he said to Mr. Neil. "I'm not going to be satisfied without a pink slip, or a law suit. We can't have this kind of thing here."

"We certainly cannot," Mr. Neil said. "We'll look into it first thing."

"Good, then."

The men shook hands. Then Tyler's father nodded to us and walked out through the front lobby, Tyler hobbling behind him.

My mother stared at me.

"Well," Mr. Neil said. "That was fun."

My mother shook her head and crossed one leg over the other as she leaned against the desk, her pointy heel digging into the carpet. "That poor kid," she said.

Mr. Neil laughed, glanced behind him and turned back to her. "That poor kid is going to have a statue of himself toppled by an angry mob one day."

"That bad, huh?"

"Put it this way. When Richard came in here yelling that my employees tried to kill his son, I had to think back to be sure I hadn't hired anyone to do it."

My mother held her laugh for a second, then gave in.

Once Mr. Neil left, the reception room fell silent and my mother leveled her gaze at me.

"I don't know what worries me more," she said. "That you lied, or that you lied for him."

"You don't even know him," I said softly.

"You're right. But you knew I was concerned about your spending time with him, and yet you didn't tell me you'd be with him this morning."

"No," I said. "But I honestly didn't know I was going to run into them."

"All right then. But you also stood here and told those men that you were with the Bergans during first tracks. But I know you weren't. You were in the ski shop buying your equipment." And the guilt of taking her gift and using it to spend the morning with Bren without telling her washed over me again.

"Mom." I looked squarely at her. "What Mr. Neil said about Tyler...it's true. Whatever happened to him out there today, I'm sure it was provoked. I didn't want Bren or any of them to get blamed for...whatever it was that Tyler did."

She nodded, but she didn't ask me if Bren had done it. She stared at me for a long time, looking at me and through me, her face unreadable, then asked, "Was Tyler at that bonfire last night?"

I nodded.

Another long pause. "Was Bren there?"

I shook my head.

The seconds stretched.

Finally, she said, "Okay, Jenna. But we're going to talk more about this later. About a lot of things." She pushed herself off the counter, reached out and smoothed my hair. Then she kissed the top of my head and stood back, waiting for me to go.

"Are you mad at me?" I asked, swallowing the lump in my throat.

"No," she said. She gave me a warm smile.

I nodded, grasped her arm briefly as I passed her, and stepped back out into the cold afternoon.

Chapter 12

Still in my new boarding boots, I trudged past the lodge and toward the employee dorms, slowing over the bridge as I tried to sort my thoughts. Bren had spent all morning with me -- they all had -- after what they had done to Tyler, and none of them had mentioned a thing about it. Bren had probably laced his fingers through mine with the same hand he had used to hit Tyler. I felt sick and betrayed. But more disturbing to me was my quickening heartbeat as I neared the apartment building, the anticipation of seeing him offering to dissolve my fury. I shook it off and crossed the bridge.

Their slider was open and I heard strains of harsh, raised voices from inside the apartment, but I didn't slow to listen. Maybe Bren's uncle had found out what they'd done, but I had as much right to yell at Bren as he did. I yanked open the heavy door, pivoted to the right, and pounded. The arguing inside the apartment halted. After a moment, Bren answered, his expression solemn.

I took a deep, steadying breath as I stared at him, then glanced into the living room, where Frieda and Dag sat on one of the couches and Frey reclined on the other. Skye was perched next to him. A tiny icicle stabbed at my chest at the sight of her and I turned to the kitchen, where Bren's uncle stood over the table, working on the edge of Bren's board with a big, metal file. He was the only one not watching me.

Bren moved aside. I took a few steps into the apartment and he closed the door behind me.

"Jenna," he said, "this is my uncle Val." He glanced back at Val. "This is Jenna."

Val's ice blue gaze rose to meet mine. His face was grave, but his eyes changed enough to convey warmth. "Hi Jenna."

"Hi." I didn't seem able look away until he did, focusing, once again, on the edge of the board. I turned back to Bren.

"So," I said. "I went into the lobby just now to talk to my mother, and guess who was there?"

"Who." His tone was flat.

"Tyler. And his father. Tyler looked really messed up. His face was bruised and his knee was sprained. And his father was yelling on and on to Mr. Neil and my mother about how some snowboarders attacked his son on the raceway this morning. Isn't that horrible?"

"Horrible." Bren said. "Why don't we go talk about this in my room?" He reached for my arm and I pulled away.

"No. Why would we do that?" I wondered if he had been planning to charm me out of my anger. "This involves all of you, doesn't it?" I glanced around the room, letting my eyes stop on each one of them. None of them made eye contact except Frieda, whose green eyes glistened when she finally looked away.

"What are you, the Norwegian mafia?"

A smirk broke on Frey's face as he stared at the floor.

"I told you I didn't want you to do anything," I said to Bren. It occurred to me then that he would have had to tell them all what Tyler had done. Then I remembered that Skye had known, too. I felt like I was standing there in transparent clothes.

"Which one of you told everybody?" I asked, glaring from Bren to Skye. I studied their expressions – hers stoic, his anxious – and took a guess. "You?" I said to Bren. "So basically you completely invaded my privacy, and then went behind my back and did exactly what I asked you not to do. What you agreed not to do."

"I didn't exactly agree..." he started, holding up a hand.

"Don't give me that. I asked you to leave it alone. And then you were with me all morning," I glanced briefly around the room again before turning back to him, "and you acted like nothing happened. As if you didn't just attack somebody like a pack of freaking wolves."

"Jenna."

"No."

"In all fairness," Frey said, looking up at me, "the guy's a dick. He deserved it."

"Not helping." Bren closed his eyes.

"That's not the point," I said to Frey, stepping around Bren. "It's not about Tyler. You don't understand."

Frey leaned forward and clasped his hands between his knees. "I do. You feel invaded. You feel like you had your choices taken away." He said this softly, his sandy, seascape eyes moving over mine. "So you can sympathize with the next girl who takes a walk with Tyler."

The anger ran out of me like cold bathwater. Staring into his eyes, seeing only compassion, seeing only _right_ , I felt lost to my own sense of things. I saw Frieda watching me in my peripheral vision, saw her shaking her head back and forth, her lips parted. I couldn't look at her. The fact that she had known was a soft, tender bruise in my chest.

"I should've told you this morning." Bren said. "I just..." He let his arms fall to his sides, shook his head. "I didn't know how to tell you. After what you'd gone through last night...I didn't want you to have to think about it anymore. I was trying to protect you."

His words rose against me like a dark wave in a recurring nightmare. I felt the familiar saline prick behind my eyes, but this time bitterness corked the tears. I let my focus blur, let everything go numb.

"You know what?" I said, backing toward the door now, my hand searching for the knob behind me. "My father cheated on my mother for three years before she found out. And when she asked him how he could have lived in the house with us all that time, could have slept in their bed, could have eaten dinner with us every night, all without telling her a thing, do you know what he said?"

Bren's expression was stiff as he waited.

"'I was trying to protect you.'" I pulled the door open, heard Bren call my name, and slammed it behind me.

I regretted saying it all out loud as soon as I hit the cold air. I had been walking a precarious line, trying to fit in with them, and now they knew I was broken and crazy. The fear of losing Bren for good was seeping back into me now, but I was too angry to figure out how to forgive him.

I stopped after a few paces and let my head fall back. The day had grown dark. The sky was a roiling sea, the snow drifting down toward my face like volcanic ash.

"I can't let her go like this," I heard Bren say from the other side of the screen. Why was their door always open?

"It's for the best." Val's voice, quiet and rough.

"Best for whom?"

"For all of us," Val said. "We agreed not to get involved with them."

Them?

"And we haven't all stuck to that plan have we?" Bren said.

"You and Frey have had your share of women," Val said, and I winced, tried to squeeze the image from my mind. "But this is not the same and you know it."

"What about the woman in Colorado?" Bren asked.

"That was for a short time. I left my _wife_ behind for gods' sake." Val was just short of yelling now.

"You did that long before we left Asgard," Bren shot back.

"You're misdirecting your anger. I understand your feelings for Jenna, but you were all incredibly careless today, both on the raceway and in the park. We're lucky she didn't notice how the world yields to your brand of play."

I didn't understand this at first, but then my breath caught. I thought about the things I had seen in the terrain park that morning. The rise and fall of the hills, the bending of the trees, the ground stretching like taffy.

"Skye could have made her forget," Dag said.

This, too, was a mystery to me. What, was Skye their henchman? When I thought of what she had done to Tyler, I could almost believe it. A bump on the head like that could have given anyone amnesia.

There was a moment of quiet. Then Bren said, "I'm going to find her."

"If you stalk her, she'll feel pressured." Frey's voice, but closer to the door. "Just give her some space. She cares about you. It'll all be well."

Their speech sounded different to me now, more formal, with a touch of an accent that I hadn't heard before.

"Besides," Frieda said, "I don't know if it's such a good idea for her to be close to us now. The earthquakes..."

"It could be nothing," Dag said, "We're near a fault line, aren't we?"

"We are, but they've gotten closer and more frequent," Frey said. "I think we should speak with Sif. Just to be safe."

I remembered Bren asking Frieda about the earthquakes on the news. Why were they worried about earthquakes? Were they some secret society of seismologists? Is that what the rings with the cracks were about? Or maybe they were some extreme, tree-hugging protest group.

"We'll speak with Sif," Bren said. "But now I need to find Jenna."

"She's here."

I stiffened. It was the first time Skye had spoken.

"She's been listening."

Every muscle in my body gave. I turned away from the screen, afraid to see one of them step up to peer out at me. When I heard the apartment door open, I ran, tripping over my clunky boots, the rhythm of my own heavy breathing and the footsteps behind me mingling in fearsome counterpoint. I didn't know what I was running from, didn't know exactly what I'd heard, but the urge to escape this strange scene turned to panic as I took a long stride to make the first wooden plank of the bridge. The footsteps behind me sped, overtaking mine, and then a hand grabbed my upper arm. Bren spun me and backed me against the rail. The snow whirled around us.

"I can't let you leave like this," he said.

"I need to get out of here." My eyes shifted frantically. I tried to pull away from him.

"No." He took my face in his hands. "Look at me."

When I avoided his gaze, he tightened his grip. " _Look_ at me, Jenna."

I didn't want to. I didn't want to look into his face and see that I couldn't lose him, that I would've done anything, forgotten anything, to be with him, but his voice had taken on the imposing tone I had heard the night before, and I felt like a magnet giving in to force.

I raised my eyes to his and his face softened.

"Do you really think I wanted to hurt you?" His hair lifted with a small breeze and settled around his face again.

"No," I said, my voice no more than a whisper. Hating the weak sound of it, I cleared my throat. "But keeping something from me is as good as a lie."

"I know," he said.

"And you didn't respect what I wanted."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"And what you did to Tyler makes me sick."

"I'm sorry."

"Is that all you think you need to tell me?" It was an effort to keep the goose bumps from rising when I felt his hands on my neck. I pulled back.

"No," he said. "It looks like I'm going to have to tell you a lot more than that."

Chapter 13

I wasn't sure which one of us was waiting for the other to speak, whether this was supposed to be Q and A format, or a lecture. So we stood on the bridge and watched the snowflakes land on the frozen pond for a while.

Bren glanced over at me first. "How much did you hear?"

"Everything." I didn't want to commit to specifics, in case I had missed something. "But that doesn't mean I understood any of it."

"Look," he said, turning toward me. "I won't lie to you. But let's just start with what you heard."

I nodded. "Fine. I'll tell you what I heard. When I left, I heard Val say it was for the best." I had felt disheartened at that, only then realizing how much I had wanted Val to like me. "Then I heard something about leaving Asgard, and then a comment about Skye being able to 'make me forget,' which sounded like some kind of threat." Bren smiled a little at this, but I had the feeling I was already forgetting things, so I continued. "I heard Frieda say that I shouldn't be around you all during the earthquakes – although to be honest, all of our books and trinkets and whatnot have remained on our shelves so I'm not sure what the hell she was talking about, and I am also not sure how a quake in Japan or even California would affect any of you." I paused to see if he would answer, but he waited.

"And then there was talk about someone named Sif. And while I'm on the subject, do all Norwegians have names like that?" I watched him smirk again. "I mean, I don't think I've met any other Norwegians, but you know, I've heard of Jacques from France, and Maria from Spain, and I even had a German friend named Heidi in New Jersey whose real name was Adelheid, but aside from Frieda and Skye, it seems like your parents might have all been on crack when you were born." I stopped, sulking at my own meanness.

Bren laughed and ran his hand through his hair.

"This isn't funny."

He sighed. "I know it isn't."

"Are you stalling?" But curiously, I felt no impatience. It was as if I was trying to stall, too.

He leaned over the rail, then clasped his hands in front of him, bowed his head and glanced over at me. "Maybe. I'm a little afraid to tell you the truth."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not sure you want to hear it. And because it will change things. Everything."

"Between us?" I stared at the ice.

"Between you and everything."

"Listen," I started, unsure of how to proceed. "If you are a part of something...I mean...if you guys are doing things you shouldn't be doing out of concern for...whatever." I watched him frown, trying to keep up. "It's not like I've never heard of anything like that before. People protest all kinds of things." His brows made a deep 'v' as I continued. "Or investigate things on their own." I thought again of their talk of the earthquakes. I had heard of amateur astronomers finding things in the night sky that NASA would just as soon have kept quiet. Near earth objects and such.

Bren sighed. "I see where you're going. But I think maybe it's time for me to talk." He raised his brows, waiting for my consent. I gave him a wary nod.

"How much do you know about Norse mythology?" He asked.

"Norse Mythology? Not a lot. I had a mythology class, but they didn't really go into the Norse stuff. Thor." I blurted the name as the only specific that came to mind.

He gave me a rueful smile. "Right. Thor."

"Hammer of the gods - that was his." It was the only other thing I could think of.

"Actually, that was Led Zepplin's," he said.

My mother still had a Led Zeppelin tee-shirt that my aunt had brought her back from a concert she had been too young to go to, but I didn't get the connection.

"The Band?" Bren tried.

"I know they're a band," I snapped. "What does that have to do with Thor?"

"Forget it, forget it." He waved a hand. "Thor has the hammer, right. Well, the home of the Norse gods, Thor and all the others, is Asgard."

"Asgard. Okay."

"Okay. So, there are a lot of faiths that believe that creation is a cycle. That there is a beginning, and then a certain number of events happen over a certain amount of time, and then there is some sort of destruction which wipes everything out, and then it all starts over."

The concept sounded familiar so I gestured for him to go on.

"So in Asgard, there is Ragnarok."

"Ragnarok."

"Heard of it?"

I shook my head.

"It's the end of the world, both in Asgard and on Earth. The destruction. It begins with a pretty brutal war among the gods - a fight that causes the earth to shake with natural disasters and superstorms and finally sparks an outbreak of human battles - and ends with the fall of Asgard and the surrounding worlds, including the complete annihilation of Earth. Once it's over, the cycle starts again. The gods are reborn, and the earth is renewed. So Ragnarok is said to ensure the restoration of hope when the worlds are on the brink of disaster."

"Okay," I said. I watched a flake fall between us, Bren's face only slightly less pale. He opened his hand and the flake shifted and floated into his palm.

"It's a little known fact," he said, "- very little known - that there was a small group of gods who were opposed to Ragnarok. Who wanted to see the cycle end."

"Why?"

"Different reasons. Some were tired of watching their friends and families die in battle over and over. Some suffered worse fates than death during Ragnarok. And there were a few who believed that the earthly annihilation clipped the wings of humans - stopped their progress before they could make something truly great of themselves."

"You said it only happened when things were on the brink of destruction."

"But how would they know if humans were on the brink of destruction? Humans had never been allowed to continue beyond the cycle, had they? They'd never been allowed to push themselves past their obstacles."

"Maybe it was the gods who were on the brink of destruction, then." I said.

Bren smiled and nodded, like I had just caught on to some conspiracy. It was the way my father used to look at me when we talked politics or history and I had made some realization about the fix being in.

"Right." He said. "Because it's _people_ who stop praying to and worshipping and wanting connection with gods, not the other way around. So maybe once the gods lose all their power with humans, Ragnarok doesn't look so bad. Then there'd be a whole new set of humans to impress."

"And there was this group of liberals who wanted to stop the madness." I said.

He laughed, the tension lifting from his face for a moment. He closed his fist on the flake in his palm. "Yeah. So this group of gods had the idea that if they could find the god Ullur, they could get some good advice on how to do that."

"Who's Ullur?" I asked. The names were getting stranger, and my hopes that a "Zeus" or an "Athena" would be thrown in were waning.

"Ullur was an ancient and very powerful god who had existed before the first cycle of Ragnarok. His vision wasn't bound by time, so these 'liberals,' as you put it, thought he might know how to get around it. When they finally tracked him down and made their case for wanting to end Ragnarok, they found that Ullur had grown tired of watching the events of the cycle unfold over and over to no avail - and had maybe gotten a little bored-" he smirked at this, "and that he was willing to shake things up a little."

I raised my eyebrows at him. "Uh, that's not reckless or anything, messing around with human fate because there's nothing good on TV."

He laughed and held up a hand. "It wasn't like that. He liked humans. It was just that up until that point he had seen so much of human nature - and god nature for that matter - that he had become too frustrated and disheartened to intervene. Nothing ever changed, you know?"

"So what made him suddenly care?"

He shrugged. "There was a passion about this group of gods. The liberals." He gestured toward me to give me credit for the phrase. "They meant it. They were ready to do something. Change things. I guess he was inspired."

"So what happened?" I said it like I was indulging a kid who had just seen an action film, but I found that I wanted to know the ending.

"Ullur told them what to do. He said that the cycle would be broken if even one of them who had played a part in Ragnarok left Asgard, because each time the battle occurred, each individual would have to fulfill his role for the cycle to be completed." He paused and gazed out across the hills in the distance. They were no more than chalky shadows, the snow falling hard now. "But there was a small catch. If they wanted to leave, they had to make it across Bifrost, the bridge connecting Asgard to Earth. Crossing the bridge was forbidden, and if they made it, their powers would be weakened, meaning that any of them, individually, could be caught and hauled back by an older or stronger god."

"Did they make it?" I nearly broke into his last word.

He threw me an amused glance. "Ullur knew the only way they'd make it for sure was if he went with them. He was more powerful than any of the gods in Asgard. He couldn't be taken alone if he was found, and he could protect the others if they stayed close to him. Also, Heimdall, the guardian of the bridge, was a good friend of his, and Ullur knew that if it came down to it, he would let them pass. So they waited for a time when they knew there would be a lot of commotion in Asgard, and they escaped over Bifrost to Earth."

He paused again and a gust of wind rushed in my ears.

"They didn't get caught?" I asked.

He laced his fingers together and looked down at them. "No."

"So, what? They just ended up roaming around the Earth?"

"Pretty much."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"So then why haven't I heard of them?"

He glanced up at me. "Maybe because you have an intolerance for bizarre names."

I stared, confused.

"Volundur, Svipdag, Freyr and Freyja. Ring any bells?"

I shook my head. His gaze was heavy on mine. I felt a tense pressure, as though a teacher had asked a question I couldn't answer and then let the class go silent, determined to wait until I got it.

"I've never heard of any of them," I said.

He continued to watch me. I focused on his eyes, the amber irises, the slightly lighter coronas ringing the pupils. They seemed to shrink and flare, pulsing. I heard the names in my head again. Volundur. Svipdag. Freyr and Freyja. A mental blink. Val. Dag. Frey and Frieda. The names of the gods, just changed a bit to sound more pronounceable. More human.

"So." I said. "You guys are like, a cult or something? You've picked the names of your favorite Norse rebels and worship them?" I couldn't figure out if it was a gaming thing, or some spin-off religion.

Bren's expression was so intense I nearly turned away.

"We don't worship rebel gods." His body went still. It was as if he had turned to marble. "We are the gods."

Chapter 14

I never, even for a second, thought he was kidding. The look on his face was as serious as that of a nuthouse inmate who shuffles around in his hospital gown and slippers telling people he's been sent from the future, or that he's Napoleon. My first, my only thought was that they were, indeed, a devout gaming sect...a group of role-players who had worked each other up to the point where they'd fallen off the edge of reality. Maybe their game even involved GPS, which could have been why they traveled. I wondered how many more of them there were, and in how many other parts of the world.

And then disappointment deflated my chest and filled it back up with a dull ache.

Everything else about him was perfect. I might have even gotten over what had happened with Tyler. Or, maybe in the face of this craziness, their attack on Tyler just seemed more acceptable. But this last sentence - a thing he could not unsay - was not something I could ignore.

He was watching me, motionless and pale, a ghost.

"You don't believe me," he finally said, nodding to himself with a wry smile.

I huffed and let my numb hand drop from the railing. "You meant that literally."

He nodded again.

"Then no, obviously not."

"Obviously." His tone was condescending. It made me feel common. Beneath him.

"Look," I said, my voice wavering, "maybe you're some gamehead who walks around in character and messes with people's heads just because you can afford to live outside the box with your action figure friends, but that doesn't mean that everyone has to play along with you." I pushed myself off the rail, folded my arms and brushed past him.

"Jenna."

I stopped and stared into the snow. It was falling so hard that I could barely see the outline of the lodge ahead. When I didn't turn around, I heard him take a step.

"Do you want to see for yourself?" He asked. And although it took me a moment to admit it to myself, I knew that I did... that I wanted, more than anything, for there to be some real explanation for what he was saying to me.

"What? Are you going to outride everyone on the mountain? I've already seen that. It doesn't make you supernatural."

I heard him walk toward me, his footsteps muffled by the new layer of snow on the bridge. He stopped at my shoulder and I listened to him breathe. After a moment, he said, "Are you going to come with me? Or run away?"

I shook my head, incredulous that he had gotten the upper hand. He had just given me enough lunacy to have a man in white come and scoop him up with a huge butterfly net, and yet now, somehow, I was the flight risk.

"What could you possibly show me?" I asked in a long, white sigh, feeling the heat of him warm my back.

"Only one way to find out."

I waited for him on the bridge while he went back into the apartment. I wouldn't have gone with him and he didn't ask me to. He came out carrying his board and wearing a white jacket I had never seen before.

"What are you planning to do with that?" I nodded toward his board.

"Nothing yet," he said. "We have to get yours first."

I shook my head at him. "You know I'm not good enough to ride with you."

He grinned and walked past me, heading to the hotel. "Let's go."

It wasn't the command that got me moving this time. It was his expression. Confident, patient, expecting me to trust him. I had learned in these last few months not to believe in words, but I was still conditioned to rise to expectation.

Bren waited at the bottom of the stairs while I plucked my board from beside the doors where I had left it. I glanced through the glass, but my mother was nowhere in sight. When I returned to where Bren was standing, he turned again and started walking. I followed him.

We rode down the bunny hill - Bren swiveling at a graceful creep behind my choppy, angled run - then picked our boards up at the bottom and walked past the lifts for the terrain park and the raceway. The lines were long, and loose groups of skiers and riders milled around at the bottom of the runs, but nobody even glanced at us as we passed. Finally, we came to the very last lift on the north face. It was closed, its empty chairs rocking in the drift. As we moved toward the hill, a row of towering evergreens obscured us from the other runs and the bunny slope beyond.

Bren looked at the sky for a moment, then bent to buckle in, his snow-laced hair hanging in his face. We seemed to be playing a little silence game, so as he stood upright, I crouched and buckled my own boots in. As I rose, I felt a momentary flutter of terror at the thought of getting off the lift with both feet trapped.

The seconds formed and overfilled like drips from a faucet.

Finally, I broke.

"I'm not riding up that lift with you." I said. "I know you guys play with the lifts after hours and you don't ever seem to get caught, but I'm not doing that in the middle of a busy day. My mother works here." I folded my arms. It was a good excuse. My father always said you never messed with a person's livelihood. Although, taking advice from my father about messing with someone's livelihood was just about as stupid as following a snowboarder with a god complex onto an abandoned run.

Bren waited. When my eyes found his, he said, "We're not taking the lift."

This should have calmed me, but instead, I felt another shot of terror. I stiffened to hide the panic and he waited again, but I hung on. We stared into each other's eyes, one mirror gazing into another.

Finally, Bren took a long, deep breath, held it for a moment, and said, "Do you want to change your mind?"

_No fear_ , I thought. But I was afraid. That I would not be the same when this was over. That nothing would.

I shook my head. Bren nodded, then hopped until he was directly behind me, the front edge of his board nearly touching the back edge of mine. His voice was low in my ear.

"No matter what happens, no matter what you see, just listen to what I tell you. And trust me."

My stomach trembled.

"Okay?"

I nodded once, sucked in a ragged breath as he coiled one arm around my waist, and closed my eyes. As I imagined him trying to slip me some mind-altering drug - Special K or Tussin, or some other health class warning - in the hopes that my eyes would roll back in my head and I'd start screaming that he was right, he was a god, and that I wanted to join his cult, the ground began to vibrate.

Bren pointed up the mountain. It was rippling, first slightly, the way things do when you try on someone else's glasses, and then more intensely, forming perfect white waves which continued from our feet all the way to the visible crest. I clutched his arm.

"Easy." He said in my ear, dragging out the word in his smooth voice.

I started a to utter a word - _what_ or _how_ \- but lost it as the peak of the hill began to sink with increasing speed toward its own center, as though a pole had been pulled from the middle of a tent. I had one last thought that this was some roofie-related hoax before the ground heaved toward us in a tidal wave and I was sure I was going to die.

But instead, the swell met us in a gentle roll and lifted us onto its back.

I grabbed Bren's arm with both hands, my gloved fingers clutching at his sleeve. He made a shushing sound as a breeze blew back my hair and sent a burst of snow into my face to cool my flushed skin. Rising on this new peak, I saw that the former crest had become a valley, and that the terrain on the other side was uncertain, still wavering, as if waiting for our focus. He tightened his grip around my waist and rocked me back, our edges carving twin arcs into the newly churned powder as we glided down into his world.

Bren made every move, pulling my board with his like a kid doodling with two crayons in one hand. He took us down the first valley and around newly formed curves, the snow whipping at our faces, the ground rippling, the trees and rocks riding the shifts as if they were rootless, floating. I was trembling, and as we approached the stream that ran alongside the raceway, Bren said, "don't freak," and tightened his hold on me again. We vaulted off a small rise that appeared out of nowhere and soared high into the air, the stream tumbling beneath us. I was terrified to look down and couldn't help it, the scene too fascinating, and for a moment I just stared, inhaling the frosty pine scent of the air and feeling the sting of the cold.

As I glanced farther upstream I saw a giant tree looming before us, getting larger in my vision as we neared it. When it was so huge that it blocked out almost everything else in view, I finally found my voice.

"Stop!" I screamed, transfixed, unable to close my eyes against the impending crash. But all at once the tree arched to one side, its green, conical head bowing low as we sailed past.

"Okay?" Bren asked. I closed my eyes and swallowed hard.

When I opened them again, we were headed for another pine, but this time Bren tapped the trunk with the tail of his board to send us in a new direction and we cleared the forest and landed on more rippling snow. As the peaks grew larger, we gained speed until we finally reached what I had, this morning, considered the summit. Here things settled. The ground flattened and we scudded along for a while, heading away from the lifts where we wouldn't be seen.

We stopped on a ledge overlooking the valley on the far side of the mountain. Endless hills rolled back into the sky like a thousand scoops of vanilla ice cream. We dropped down on the snow just below a ridge and I sat in silence, watching my hands shake. Minutes crept by.

"Okay?" He asked again.

I looked at him like he had spoken another language. In my mind, I was turning in a circle, my hands rooted in my hair, searching for bits and pieces of anything I could hold onto. I grabbed at the first thought that came to me.

"I thought I was hallucinating."

He waited for me to go on.

"This morning," I said, my voice weak. "I thought I was hallucinating while I was watching you all at the terrain park. But I wasn't. It was real."

"It was real."

"I saw it," I said, sounding hysterical even to myself. "I saw the trees move. I saw the hill change. I saw you..." I shook my head. "I was sitting right in the middle of it all this morning, and I didn't believe it."

"No one does." He said.

"What you told me back there on the bridge," I went on, freezing more thoughts into words before they escaped. "It was true?"

He nodded and looked down at his board.

I stared out at the hills, trying to remember everything he'd told me from beginning to end. About Asgard and Ragnarok. About the cycle of destruction. About gods fleeing their home to inhabit a strange place where they were no longer who they were before. And what I found, to my utter amazement, was that I believed him.

I glanced at Bren, sure, at first, that I had convinced myself of a lie because I wanted to be with him so badly. But what beliefs did I have that I couldn't stand to part with? The truth was, I could think of no other explanation for what he had just shown me. And more than that. The story he told me on the bridge was really nothing I hadn't heard before. In one form or another.

"Okay," I said, watching the snow fall around us.

"Okay?"

I turned to him. He raised a brow.

"Okay. It is what it is." I took in a long breath and sighed. "I'll have questions once I recover."

Bren stared at me for a moment longer, then nodded and gazed out over the valley. "I want to show you something."

Chapter 15

This time, I was ready for the world to change. As we took off again, heading away from the north face, I tried to pay attention to the details...to the radius of Bren's influence, which depended on where he aimed his focus and how far ahead...to the flexibility of the trees as we wove our way through glades and over small ridges...to the way jumps seemed to spring up before us whenever Bren wanted air. I never wanted air. The loss of solid ground knocked the wind out of me. It was worse, in some ways, than losing my view of reality. These seemed to be Bren's favorite moments though, carving through the voids with perfect control, creating our future on the ground below second by second, with razor precision. He was at home in the sky.

As we left a stand of trees, a huge swell rose and once again we launched, crossing a run at an altitude that made the skiers and snowboarders cruising their way down the mountain look small. The thought turned to stone and dropped into my stomach.

"They're going to see us," I said, leaning back against Bren to make sure he heard me. I had lowered my voice instinctively.

His hair brushed against my face as he spoke. "They can't."

Impossibly, we were still in the air, the trees on the far side of the run too distant yet for me to spot our landing. I started to turn toward him and stopped when I realized how close his face was to mine. "If one of them even looks up..."

"We're moving too fast," he said.

At first I didn't understand. Bren was fast. I had seen him all but leave flames in his wake. But I did see him. Everyone did. Then I remembered Frey's run that morning...watching from the lift as he turned to a blur in my vision. I looked down. There were lots of people on the run, but they were the same people I had just seen - a man skiing behind a little boy, three teenaged girls in colorful hats with pom-poms, a guy in a blue jacket cutting a sharp turn on his board, his arm stretched out behind him. They were not moving.

"Oh God," I said. Then I caught my breath and said it again.

"It's okay," Bren said in my ear. "Just physics. Everything will be in sync again when we stop."

"When will that be?" My voice rose sharply on the last syllable as we avoided a small oak by inches and stomped down. His laugh was a whisper in my hair.

I figured we were about two-thirds of the way up the mountain, and cutting a horizontal path along the face. We had passed all the trails for the raceway and terrain parks, the trails leading to the bunny hill, and those heading down to the base lodge. Now I saw that the last of the hotel buildings and condos were streaming by in small glimpses through the trees, and knew that the bonfire site and the glades were nearly beneath us. I stiffened with the memory of the night before, though it seemed impossibly long ago now.

Bren's arm tightened around me once again, his other hand cuffing my upper arm for a moment as he pulled me against him. "Almost there," he said, so close that I shivered.

Once we passed all the landmarks I knew, we began to glide up the mountain at what felt like a leisurely pace and I wondered if we were still outrunning time. We wove in and out of trees and avoided rocks, firmly on the ground now despite its shifting intermittently to allow our progress. There was a stream somewhere to our right - I heard the water bubbling - and ahead, a copse of unusually tall evergreens so densely cropped that there appeared no way to get through. Naturally, this was where we were headed.

As we approached the two tallest trees directly in front of us, their bottom branches folded up, umbrella-style, and we slid through the opening. I heard rustling behind us and turned to see the boughs settling back into place. Bren kept his hold on me as we slowed to a stop, but remained silent as I gazed around.

We stood in a snow-covered clearing surrounded by looming evergreens, taller than the largest pines I had seen on the mountain. Their boughs were dusted with frost and glittered even in the ashy day. The stream I had heard ran in ahead of us - at about two o'clock - and ran out again at about five, its black water jumping over stones scattered on the bed and banks. Also on the banks, and in several places throughout the clearing, were little shrubs with tough-looking leaves, their flowers vivid colors - blue, white, yellow, violet, pink. They reminded me of the earliest spring blooms.

A little off to the left, about halfway between us and the far side, was a stone fire ring. It was roughly the size of our kitchen table in the suite and was surrounded by wooden stumps and short, thick logs that served, I guessed, as seats. A few charred bits of wood lay in the center and I assumed they had been pulled from the pile of logs stacked against the trees behind it.

Directly across from me, one tree stood out. It was a bit off line, as though it had taken a step forward, and its needles were dusted blue and shimmered like they were lit from within. I gazed up at the sky, still dim and spitting snow, then back at the tree. As I scanned its length, I noticed a snow-capped boulder behind it. It was as though a piece of the mountain had jutted out to make a small cliff, pushing the tree forward.

I let my eyes roam around the perimeter of the circle again, craning my head to see behind me and taking in the details of the stream and shrubs and snow once more. Everything had a little sparkle here - even my own breath as it escaped in a warm rush.

"Wow," I said.

Bren smiled, gazing into my eyes for a moment, then bent and yanked us out of our bindings. I left my board behind and crept into the middle of the circle, rotating in place, my eyes lighting from sight to sight.

"This is..." I had no words.

"Ringsaker." Bren said from behind me. "That's what we call it. Kind of a code name."

A code name. And then I remembered the fires I had seen in the night. Last night. I glanced down at the charred wood in the fire ring and back at Bren.

"The fires were yours." I said.

"You knew that." He took a few steps toward me. His expression challenged me to argue, but I just looked down at the snow. "We need somewhere to talk and check up on things." He said. "Without being seen."

"Check up on what?"

"Things in Asgard." This time he looked down. He put hands on his hips and shifted his weight from one side to the other.

I watched him for a while, and then the sound of the brook caught my attention. It was an almost ordinary sound, with only the faintest bell-like trill above the chatter of the water. And it was an almost ordinary sight, with just a bit too much gleam in the small surges rushing over the stones. I walked over to the bank and dropped down on a huge rock, pulling my gloves off and stuffing them into my pockets. The stone wasn't cold beneath me, as I had expected it to be, and I wondered if it was enchantment or shock. After a moment, Bren came and sat beside me.

"I feel like I'm in a dream," I said, watching the swirl of a tiny whirlpool that had formed behind a stone.

"I knew you'd think I was crazy when I told you. This was the only way to make you believe me." He looked to the pines on the far bank. "I've never told anyone."

I looked up at him. "Never? Not anyone?"

"No one human."

The way he said _human_ turned something over inside me. I was looking at someone _other_ than human, and I supposed that somewhere in my subconscious, I had known that from the first morning I'd seen him riding over the crest of the mountain. But now he was regarding me with the most human expression I had ever seen, soft and motionless except for the wide eyes moving over my face.

"What is it?"

He didn't answer right away, and instead reached out and touched the back of my fingers. I flipped my hand and slid it into his.

"I wasn't sure if you were...you know...going to want to deal with this." He said.

I thought about that. I didn't know what being a god meant, in physical terms, or in any terms, but the warmth of his skin against mine, the amber gleam in his eyes, the way tufts of his hair shifted in the breeze still stopped my breath. When he saw this, he smiled an awkward half-smile I hadn't seen before - his usual arrogance mixed with relief - and I knew I didn't feel any differently. Not about him.

He squeezed my hand and I felt the hard press of his ring against my fingers. I stared down at it.

"So, what are these rings all about?"

He watched me run my thumb over the metal. It was as warm as his hand.

"Val forged them from Asgardian silver, right before we left. Since we're not as strong on Earth as we are there, we have to stay together to keep from being hauled back. We swore an oath on them here at Ringsaker when we arrived. We do it everywhere we go. It's a sort of a pact that binds us. Allows us to use the rings to communicate when we're not in direct contact."

"Communicate how?" I imagined some holographic Skype session.

He sighed. "The best I can explain it is that it's like vibrations...like energy. In my head I can see images of where someone is and what they're trying to show me."

"Hmm." I tried to absorb that, letting my thumbnail fall into the tiny break in the silver. "Why this little gap here?"

"It's sort of symbolic," he said, but he didn't explain. Instead, he looked at me as though I would come to the answer on my own. I pictured the ring with its tiny gap. A circle with a rift...a break.

"The break in the cycle." I said.

He nodded. "Ragnarok."

I paused to think again. "You said Skye is a free spirit. This is how you know what she's up to?" I tapped his ring.

He nodded again. I spun the ring on his finger until it looked whole.

"Is this how you found out what happened with Tyler?" I asked.

He looked at me for a long time, but didn't answer.

"Did you see what Skye saw?" I asked. His jaw tightened. I drew into my jacket and looked away, but when I began to pull my hand back, he tightened his grip. I remembered the sight of Tyler on crutches with the reddish-blue gash in his cheek. His father screaming at my mother and Mr. Neil.

"You know, it wasn't exactly fair." I met his gaze again.

"What?"

"What you did to Tyler. I mean, did you really need a bunch of...you... to beat up one kid? Doesn't that seem a little...I don't know...bullyish?"

"What he did to you was bullyish."

He was right, but it seemed different in some way I was struggling to voice.

"He got off easy." He said.

"Yeah, I guess you guys could've killed him if you'd wanted to. Really, he should be grateful he was only pushed down into the ravine and mauled."

Bren laughed his deep laugh and I shrank at the coldness of it. "Even if he deserved it," I said, "I'm not sure it's that funny."

"No," he said, "Nothing about Tyler is funny. But you know what is? Frieda actually saved him - all of us, really."

"Frieda?" I pushed back a long strand of hair that had blown across my face and stared at him. "How?"

"It's true that we went after him." He glanced at the water to avoid my gaze. "The four of us. We chased him down the raceway."

"At normal speed?" I cut in, a sprinkle of sarcasm in my words.

He nodded. "I wanted him to see me coming."

This gave me a chill, but I kept quiet and waited.

"So he saw us, and he kept looking back. Probably trying to figure out what we were doing on the raceway. When he realized we were there for him, he tried to outrun us and he got sloppy. I was still a few feet away from him when he went off the side and rolled down into the ravine."

"He _fell_?" I said, leaning toward him. "He said you pushed him."

"Of course he did." He glanced up at me. "Anyway, I took my board off and went down the bank after him." He shook his head and paused for a moment. "I'm not going to lie to you, I had every intention of..." but he caught me watching his face, cringing, and spared me. I was instantly aware of our intertwined fingers. Strange to hold his hand while he was talking about this.

"At first, when he looked up at me, he was scared," he continued, "but before I could decide whether or not I cared, he changed. He pointed at me and he said, 'I didn't touch her.'"

"But he didn't know you and I knew each other." I said. "Not until this morning."

Bren nodded, and I realized that Tyler had just assumed that they were there because of me. He knew what he had done, and it seemed he was used to defending it.

"So what happened?" I asked.

"So, his skis were in the ravine, and he was hauling himself up off the ground, trying to stare me down, but I was coming at him pretty fast. Then his face dropped." Now he smiled a little. "And I see this blur fly past me, and in the next second Frieda throws a right hook and he goes back down. Hard."

"What? Frieda did this?" I stared.

He nodded. "So she's standing there glaring down at him and he's completely stunned, trying to get back on his feet...and I just stopped dead in my tracks. I didn't know what to do." His smile was brighter now as he ran his hand over the top of his head. "So Tyler gets up, and he looks at me - doesn't even glance at Frieda - and he says, 'so you let the girls do your fighting for you?' And I start to walk toward him again, and he realizes he has no choice but to fight. I can see it in his face. So without even looking at her, he says to Frieda, 'move, bitch.' "

I sucked in a breath and he laughed. "Yeah, that was the wrong thing to say to Frieda. She kicked him."

I threw him a puzzled expression. "Kicked him?" I pictured a little girl kicking a man in the shin.

"No. _Kicked_ him." He said.

I stared at him for a moment longer and then got it. "Oh," I said, wincing. "Well. If there was ever a reason for that..."

"Nah, it's not her style. She did it to get me out of trouble."

I thought about how that would work, about the difference between what she did to Tyler and what Bren had planned.

"She knew you wouldn't go after him when he was down like that." I guessed.

"Not like that. It wouldn't have been...honorable." I loved the way he said the word, or maybe just that he had said it at all. "She knew if I'd gotten hold of Tyler, we would've been thrown out of here and who knows what else. So by doing what she did, she shut us down. She also figured Tyler wouldn't tell his dad he was attacked by a girl."

"But he lied."

"Yeah." He waved a dismissive hand. "But if they asked us about it, Frieda would've told them everything and he would have looked like an idiot."

I imagined Frieda outrunning Bren just to get to Tyler, and laughed. "Why didn't you just tell me the truth at your place?"

He scratched at his forehead and gave me a flat, apologetic smile. "Frieda doesn't really have any girlfriends. Skye isn't exactly - you know - the tea and shopping type. Frieda likes you. She was afraid you'd be mad at her for getting involved at all. So when you came in yelling at me and I saw her face, I couldn't rat her out. I figured it didn't matter anyway since I started the whole thing."

Poor Frieda, sitting there with tears in her eyes while I refused to even look at her. "So Skye wasn't involved in any of it."

He shook his head.

"She still shouldn't have gotten you involved in the first place."

"I would've killed her if she didn't." He said. And then another thought occurred to me.

"Who is she?"

"What?" His eyes flicked to mine, his brow creased.

"When you told me about the gods, you mentioned Frey and Frieda, Val and Dag. So who is Skye?"

He smiled. "Skadi. She's known as the Goddess of the hunt. Of winter and the mountains. You heard us say that she can make people forget. But it's not a threat like you said. We all have certain talents, just like people. Skye can affect thoughts and memory."

"That's scary."

He laughed. "She doesn't use it for anything bad."

I watched the river flow and lather around the slick stones, smelled the crisp tang of the water. I knew the air was cold but didn't feel it next to Bren, here in his magic circle, even with the heavy snow blowing around us. I tried to savor the peace of it all, to take a long breath and clear my head, but my thoughts crowded in.

"Bren?" I said into the silence. My voice sounded strange to my own ears.

"Hmm?"

"Who are you?" I realized I had been avoiding the question as soon as I asked it. "You didn't mention it on the bridge."

He was quiet for a few seconds, then he said, "I did."

"I don't remember."

"I told you. I came here with them to keep them from being taken back."

His eyes were closed now, his chest rising with his breath.

I thought back. "You're. Him. What was his name?" I tried to keep my hand from trembling against his.

"Ullur." He exhaled the word. "People here call me the god of snow." He opened his eyes and stared into the trees. "But it's a little more complicated than that."

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

"I don't know," he said quietly. "It was easier for me to tell you about them. I haven't had to think about it for a long time. Not since we got here."

I steeled myself for another blow. "When was that?"

"1850s. Not here at Yew Dales," he gestured vaguely behind us. "We've moved around a lot."

1850s. The words wouldn't sink in, just bounced off me. Bren's shoulders were tense, as if he was waiting for this to finally break me. I took advantage of my numbness to ease his mind. "It doesn't really matter, does it?" I said. "From what you told me, you're older than dirt anyway."

He relaxed a little. "I said I was older than time, not dirt."

"Right, sorry." I smiled, pretended I was over it and changed the subject. "So why is your name here so different than what it was there? Ullur?"

He shrugged. "Don't you ever get tired of the same thing, over and over again?"

I nodded. That feeling was as comfortable as my oldest pair of ripped sweats.

"Well imagine what it was like for me after all that time. Power or no power, it gets old and tired, and you get sick of yourself. I wanted to be different in this form. I like humans." The way he said 'humans' still gave me a jolt. "I love how they change, how creative they are, how they're always fighting the impossible. It's like they have this unlimited supply of hope." He looked up at the sky. "It's not like that in Asgard. I guess I chose a name that sounded different because I didn't want to remember my past every time someone spoke to me."

"Why Bren?" I watched a snowflake land on his eyelashes.

"Frieda picked it. It's a shortened form of an old Norse word. It means burning."

I thought again of the first day I had seen him. "Because of your hair."

He lowered his gaze to mine. His smile faded and his eyes held mine for so long that I almost forgot my last words. "She says it's because of my temper."

He let go of my hand, reached up and pushed a strand of my hair behind my ear. "You don't say much, Jenna." As he let his hand rest against the side of my neck, I suppressed a shiver. "It's hard to know how you feel."

I couldn't imagine how he could have missed the way I looked at him, already a habit because the rush of it set off some crazy adrenaline flood that muted the warning underneath...couldn't understand how he had managed to ignore the way I struggled for breath whenever he smiled at me. And how could he not feel the goose bumps that had risen just now where he pressed his fingers into my skin?

"You don't say much either," I told him, not knowing whether I was buying time or fishing.

"I've just given you my whole world." He let his head fall to the side as he looked into my eyes. "Don't you think you could trust me a little?"

"What do you want me to say?" The truth was, I didn't know if I could trust anybody. It had been a while since I'd tried.

"I want you to say, 'Bren, I don't care about any of this god stuff. I want to be with you.' " He waited, his shoulders once again stiff with tension.

"Bren," I said. "I'm totally freaked out by all this god stuff." His shoulders dropped, but I continued. "But I really want to be with you." I let all of my feelings loose for just a moment in these last words, and they sounded like they came from the bottom of a well.

He took my hand again.

We talked until the ashy day closed its eyes, the flakes now stark and ghostly against the twilight. Bren asked me about my new life at Little Woods High, and though I couldn't imagine why such small, ordinary things could be of interest to him, it felt good to talk without a filter on my words. I asked him about Ringsaker, why it glittered the way it did, and he told me that once the oath was sworn on the rings, it became a place of solace and protection, a place where they could speak to those in Asgard, gods they'd had a connection with there. For Bren, this meant he could talk to his mother, Sif, who kept them apprised of the events in Asgard, and warned them of any plans to try to bring them back. The gods couldn't take Bren alone because he was too strong, even here, but if they took one of the others, the oath would be broken, and the rest of them would be left without the protection of the group. Bren was the strongest link, but they needed every link to hold their position. I didn't want to think about what would happen if something went wrong, so I asked him about the earthquakes instead.

"It's probably nothing," he said as the stream began to glisten under the rising moon. "It's not unusual for quakes to happen one after another. But sometimes earthquakes here on Earth are a sign that something's happening back home, so we always check in."

"What could be happening there?" I wrapped my arms around my knees against a chilly breeze. Across the brook, the pines leaned and whispered to each other, the moon caught low in their boughs.

Bren's gaze turned inward as he thought. "Could be anything, but the quakes are getting closer to us. It's probably just coincidence, but Frey and Frieda want to be sure."

"Why Frey and Frieda?"

"They're best with the elements. Weather, geology, earth stuff."

"They really are twins?"

He nodded.

"So there are families in Asgard. Gods get married, have kids. Like it is here."

"Not exactly," he said. "Nothing changes there. Everything happens the same way over and over. The future is set. There's nothing new, no challenges. Can you imagine living like that?" He was still looking into the water, the moonlight scribbling over the ripples.

"It doesn't really sound like living." I said.

"That's my point." He looked up at me. "You know, I watched you on that deck so many times, watching the skiers and riders on the mountain. I could feel how much you wanted it. I saw it in your face, in the way you stood. Everything about you was just poised on the brink. And what I kept thinking was, 'all she has to do is decide, and then everything will change. Everything in her world will change.' " He sat back a little, picked up a pebble by his feet and tossed it into the stream. "That could never happen where I'm from."

I wondered if he knew that he had caused me to want like that, to watch the mountain the way I did, day after day, hoping to see him there. To finally go out into the freezing cold night, buckle into a board, and throw myself down the hill.

He watched me, silver light in his eyes.

"I never would have done it if you hadn't been there," I told him.

As he stared, I felt tension rising in my body, like that in the quiet space between the colorful burst of a firework and its deafening boom. Bren reached up and touched the side of my face, ran his thumb over my mouth. When I froze, he leaned over and kissed me. He gave me no time to be afraid, as I thought I would be, wondering if things would be awkward, or if I would be too clueless and amateur for him to feel anything. He just touched his lips to mine, pressed his hand against the small of my back, and pulled me close to him. Then he kissed me again and lingered, waiting.

Every muscle in my body trembled. I was scared that it would end, scared that I might forget even one detail later, when I was home without him and needing to recreate the feel of him in my mind. I let the smell of pine and the sharpness of the cold burn my nose, reached up and caught the smooth, soft tufts of his hair between my fingers, focused on the feel of the strands against my skin. He tasted like his scent – wintergreen – and I ran my tongue over his lower lip, slowly, desperate to trap the sensation. He sighed in a hard, fast rush and cinched his arm around my waist.

I was losing control of my body, the feeling electric and draining all at once. I grabbed his shoulders, meaning to push myself away to take a breath, but then I felt the warm strength of him beneath my hands, felt him tug me even closer, and for one moment I thought I'd do anything to keep this. And this was the thought that scared me enough to pull away.

I kept my eyes closed, breathing hard as I listened to him gain control of his own breath. Then I looked up at him. His expression was all concern - not what I expected.

"I'm sorry," he said, his arms loosening around me.

I searched his face. "What? Why?"

"I should never have done that after what happened to you last night." He shook his head. "I wasn't thinking."

I let my gaze trail off. It was hard to believe that it had been just last night when Tyler and I had been in the woods near here, sitting on a rock very similar to this one.

"It's okay," I said. He shook his head again, and I knew it would do no good to try to tell him how different it was. So I said, "Please don't let him ruin this."

I watched him, waiting to see if it had worked. After a moment, he grinned.

The ride back to the base was a little more peaceful than the one we had taken to Ringsaker. The trees still bowed to Bren's wishes, and the hills still arched and rolled under his silent command, but he seemed content to coast along under the moon, his arm around my waist as I leaned back against him, his head close to mine. We passed the main lift and glided to a stop, then unzipped our jackets and carried our boards the rest of the way to the hotel.

Once we had secured our boards in a nearby rack, I took off my gloves, walked over to the base of the deck and leaned against it, exhausted. Bren stepped in front of me, his stance wide to allow space for my legs.

"Is your mom going to be mad that you were gone so long?" He asked.

"I don't know."

"With me?" He added.

"She doesn't know you," I said.

"I don't think knowing me would help." He brushed a snowflake from my eyebrow.

"That's not what I meant. She doesn't know _you_. Who you are, not what you are."

He pressed a hand against the deck on either side of me and looked into my eyes. "I'm afraid you're going to go inside, fall asleep and wake up wishing this whole thing never happened. Hoping it was a nightmare."

My laugh was airy and full of nerves. "I'm afraid I'm going to wake up and realize it was just a dream."

He stared, then leaned in close and kissed me. "Jenna," he said against my lips. He pulled away just enough to look at me, a new reluctance in his voice. "I don't think I'll see you tomorrow."

It was just a few words, but it knocked the wind out of me a little. I closed my eyes, tried to hide my reaction.

His laugh was edgy. "Please say that's disappointment and not relief."

"I'm beyond disappointed," I said too casually. "Why won't I see you?"

"We're going up to talk to my mother, see if these quakes are anything to worry about. I never know how long it will take to contact her, or when she'll come. We have to stay until she does."

"Do you have to spend all night there?"

"Possibly. She has to be careful about communicating with us. In Asgard, we're no better than criminals." He pressed his forehead against mine.

I knew it was late, that my mother was probably wondering where I was. I also knew that I had to go in sometime, to go upstairs and get ready for bed and let this day and night with Bren become a memory. I thought about spending Sunday, the saddest day of the week, missing him.

"If I don't see you tomorrow..." I said, distracted as I ran my hands up over his chest, his cotton t-shirt a soft contrast against the muscle underneath.

"What?" He looked down at my hands, then glanced back up at me.

"I'll watch for the fire. At least I'll know you're there."

"It's funny you saw it in the first place," he said.

"Why?"

"No one ever does."

"Why not?"

His head fell to the side. "I don't know. I guess people see what they want to see."

"Well," I said, letting my hands slip around to his back as he took a step closer, "maybe I was looking for you."

We stood there for a long time, oblivious to the guests and staff around us as they lined up at the lifts and traipsed up and down the stairs to the deck. Bren held me, his face buried in my hair while I listened to his heartbeat. When he finally let me go, it was bittersweet, because although I wouldn't see him for a while, we were together.

Chapter 16

Saturday had been the best day of my life, and Sunday was the slowest. My mother wasn't happy that I'd spent an entire day and night with Bren, but it had only been eight-thirty when I came in, and I'd told her the truth - some of it - so she backed off a little. I promised to spend all of Sunday catching up on homework and what she ambiguously called "down time."

I had been up until almost four o'clock, playing everything in my head over and over...the morning at the terrain park, the argument with Bren on the bridge, the crazy ride to Ringsaker, his voice...his kiss...his heartbeat. When I finally fell asleep, it was a restless tangle of hours that left me breathless and edgy in the morning, the sunsplashed Sunday stretching out ahead of me like an endless parade of seconds.

I spent the morning at a picnic table on the deck, hunched over an open History book while I thought about the feel of Bren's t-shirt under my hands. During the afternoon, I draped myself over the couch and stared out the big picture window in our suite, waiting for dark. As I gazed at the copse of evergreens beyond the bonfire site, I tasted wintergreen, realized it was my toothpaste, and remembered that I hadn't eaten, so I texted my mother to ask what she wanted to do for dinner. She came up to the suite and made us tacos. I was distracted for a moment, laughing while she talked about a funny older couple who had checked in that morning, but as she shook the chili powder into the frying pan I was reminded of Bren's hair, and my smile turned hollow. I may have made fun of myself for it - chili powder, really? - but my mother's mere presence made me feel self-conscious, as if she could hear my thoughts. I was still surprised though, when she looked up from the stove and reached out to squeeze my shoulder.

"I guess I wasn't ready for this, Jen." Her voice was kind, and a little sad.

"What?" I gave her a blank look.

She smiled. "For the way you feel about this boy. Bren."

"I..." I didn't know what to say. It felt too personal to talk about now, too raw. She let her arm drop but kept the smile.

"We're going to have to talk about this." She poked at the ground beef with her wooden spoon. "You're not a kid anymore, and I know I can't make all of your decisions for you. But I have to know that you're going to put yourself first. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"I do." I felt my cheeks flush. I knew she was going to want to talk to me about all of it...emotions, birth control, sex...but I just didn't want to do it tonight. And not over tacos. They were my favorite, and I wanted to be able to stomach them in the future.

"Not tonight, though, okay?" I begged her with my eyes.

She stared at me for a long moment. "Okay. But soon."

I let out a sigh of relief as she banged the spoon on the side of the pan and then lifted it between us. "But tonight, it's you, me, and tacos."

After she went back down to the lobby, I spent the evening staring out the window at the tiny fire that had sparked to life way up on the mountain, my breath fogging and defogging a small circle of glass. It settled something in me to know Bren was there, made me feel connected to him somehow, and I found I couldn't turn away to go to bed. My mother woke me at two-thirty. When I glanced out into the darkness and saw that the fire no longer flickered on the hill, I allowed her to guide me to my room to fall into another restless sleep.

Chapter 17

I nearly overslept on Monday morning. My mother drove fifteen miles over the speed limit to get me to school before the bell rang, and I had to run to my first class. Laura and Dillon waved as I sprinted past them to my desk, but when I looked toward Brianna, she was staring back at me with an icy expression. I wondered if she could already know about Bren somehow. I kept my gaze shallow to avoid Tyler in the back of the room, dropped my backpack, and slid into my seat.

I felt Brianna's glare all through Math, and in every class afterward. I didn't try to talk to her between periods, figuring it was better to let her tell me what her problem was than to assume anything and give her new information. It turned out that I only had to wait until lunch.

I bought a bag of pretzels and a Diet Coke, then went to the table and sat in my usual spot. Brianna was standing at the other end, talking to Brian and Tyler, but she straightened up quickly when she saw me. She swished over to us, stopped at the very end of the table, between Dillon and me, and leaned on her hands.

"So Jenna," she said, her voice sharp. She flung her hair behind her shoulder with one finger. "What's your problem?"

"I don't have a problem." I cracked open my soda and took a sip, staring straight ahead over Dillon's shoulder.

"Well Tyler says you do," she said. "Apparently you have something going with Bren?" She hunkered down lower when she said this, trying to get my attention. When I didn't argue, she continued. "And when he found out you fooled around with Tyler at the bonfire, he and his stupid, trashy friends jumped him on the raceway. And then," she slammed a hand down on the table. We all jumped a little and I cringed inside, wishing we hadn't. "If that isn't all bad enough, you told Tyler that if he didn't lie to get Bren out of trouble, you'd tell everyone he tried to rape you?"

"Brianna keep your voice down," Dillon said. "That's not funny."

"No it isn't," I said quietly, raising my eyes to Brianna's. "It wasn't funny on Friday either."

Dillon's face paled. Brianna's mouth opened and closed before she regained control of herself. "You're a liar," she said. "That was really trashy, what you did to Tyler."

"You seem to have a preoccupation with that word." I took another sip of soda.

She slammed her hand down again, harder, but none of us reacted this time. "You just wanted to get your boyfriend out of trouble. And what's worse...what is so, sooo much worse, is that you knew I liked him. What a crappy friend."

"You said you and Bren were just friends."

"Please," Brianna said, one hand over her heart, her tone incredulous. "Everyone knew I liked him. Everyone."

"You did say you didn't," Dillon said.

Brianna's nostrils flared. "You're defending her now? How long have you known me? And you're defending her?"

"I think you just pled my case," Dillon said, pumping his eyebrows to lighten the mood.

Brianna looked like a spider as she dropped her head between her elbows and narrowed her eyes. "Fuck off, Dillon," she whispered into his face.

"Come on Brie," Laura said, twisting her hands together. "You're with Brian now anyway. You don't even..."

"That's not the point." I watched a tiny droplet of Brianna's spit fly past Laura's head. She turned her attention back to me. "And don't even think about telling anybody that story you made up about Tyler, because I'll tell everybody the truth."

The truth. I jerked my head up and gave Brianna a hard look. "I'm not worried about what you'll tell people. It doesn't seem like honesty is the thing you're known for around here."

Brianna's expression froze for a few seconds, her eyes staring right through mine into some reflection of herself, and then her smile began to waver, to warp until it became something bitter and cruel. She leaned back a little and I thought she was going to go, but instead she said, "I slept with him you know. Bren."

I heard Dillon sigh, but couldn't take my eyes from hers. My heart raced as I absorbed what she had said. She searched my face and then a satisfied smile broke on her lips. She walked around Dillon, her hand grazing his shoulders as she passed, and picked up an apple half-wrapped in a napkin on the far side of him. "And he was good." She dragged the phrase out obscenely, and I felt a jab in my stomach. She ripped a tiny, vicious bite from the apple, and, still chewing, said, "I didn't think you were that kind of girl, Jenna. Guess I was wrong."

"Do you want to go sit somewhere else?" Dillon asked as the blood drained from my face. I heard a pang and looked down at the dent my thumb had made in my soda can.

"Don't bother," Brianna said, "I'll go sit with the boys." She tore another bite from her apple, pivoted, and sashayed back to the other end of the table, skirting around Brian to perch on his knee. I caught a brief glimpse of Tyler staring down at his food before I looked away.

Laura put her hand on my back. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, not sure if I trusted my voice.

"Bitch." Dillon said.

Tyler caught me at my locker after the last bell.

"Get away from me Tyler," I said. I rummaged around on the shelf, unnerved and forgetting what I needed.

"Please just listen to me for one second."

"Go away, Tyler."

"I didn't mean for that to happen. With Brianna. It's just...everyone was asking what happened to me and I didn't know what to say."

I dropped my Science notebook and he bent with me to pick it up. "Don't touch it." My voice was a ragged hiss. I snatched the notebook out of his grasp. "Just get away from me."

"I didn't know what else to say," he said again.

"What do you usually say?" I turned back to my rummaging.

He was quiet for a moment and I thought he was gone, but then he said, "I was afraid you were going to tell people what happened. I know you said you wouldn't if I went along with you at the lodge...but I wasn't sure."

"So you lied to everyone first?" I said.

"Just Brianna. And Brian and Matt, but I don't think they believed me."

I slammed my locker and spun on him. "Stay away from me Tyler. Don't talk to me, don't talk about me, don't even think about me. Pretend I don't exist." I grabbed up my backpack and left him behind, wishing, as I heaved open the doors on the sunny afternoon, that I could pretend the same about Brianna.

Chapter 18

On the way home, my mother asked me about my day, but I could think of nothing but Bren...and Brianna. I didn't know why it mattered, it was in the past, but some part of me hoped he would tell me it was a lie. And the fear of something else stirred in me as well. What if, in the light of day, after almost two days of homework and tacos and school, I looked at him and saw that it wasn't true, that everything he told me and showed me was some fantasy we'd played out, or worse, that I'd invented it alone.

We hadn't made plans to meet at any specific time or place, so I ran up to the suite to drop off my backpack, then threw on my jacket and went down to the deck.

The mountain wasn't as crowded as it would have been in an hour or two, when the ski clubs arrived and the locals got out of work, so it was easy to check each rider, scan each yellow jacket for his hair, his stance, his expression. Finally, I caught him coasting down a green trail to my left, watching backward over his shoulder to monitor three kids making wide, slow s-turns behind him. He didn't glance forward once, yet carved perfect, even curves for the kids to follow, his voice rising in encouraging tones, the sun catching his hair as they emerged from a tree lined narrow and descended toward the flats at base. He waited for all three of the boys to stop and unbuckle before he lifted his own board.

"That was really good," I heard him say. "You guys will be okay on the green trails by yourselves now."

Two of the boys said goodbye and started to head toward the lodge, but the third lingered. He stared up at Bren, his eyes wide, his arm slack around his board. Bren considered him, then hunkered down so they were eye to eye.

"I know that no matter what I tell you," Bren said, "I'm going to see you in places you shouldn't be. So you're going to promise me something."

The kid nodded, a broom of yellow bangs sweeping his brow.

"Wear a helmet. All the time." Bren tapped the kid's helmet twice, the hollow thump just reaching my ears, then extended a black-gloved fist. The kid stared for a moment, then nodded again and bumped Bren's fist with his own. When Bren rose and tilted his head toward the lodge, the kid turned reluctantly and began to tramp my way, an awed half-smile lighting his face.

I knew how he felt, because in the next moment, as Bren lifted his eyes to me, I felt illuminated by him, singled out. He grinned and my body warmed even as a cold breeze blew back my coat. How could I have thought, even for a moment, that I had imagined it? In fact, I was astonished that not everyone could see him as I did now, brilliant as the sun on new snow, too bright to look at and too beautiful to ignore.

He stared at me for another moment, then took a few steps forward. His motion prompting mine, I pried my hands from the rail, fluttered down the stairs and walked toward him, stopping a pace or two away to look into his face.

"Hi." He said.

"Hi." I said back.

"Feels like it's been forever."

I nodded. It had.

He smiled and reached for my hand. "Then what are you doing over there?"

I laced my fingers through his. He stepped closer, pulled me hard against him and kissed the top of my head. I wrapped my arms around him and pressed my face into his chest, inhaling his scent, my heart already crazy as his hand slid inside my jacket and around to the small of my back.

"I missed you," he said, his breath warm in my hair.

"Me too."

He held me for a while, then pulled away and looked down into my face. I felt the doubt, the sense of unreality seeping in again and struggled for some words to anchor us.

"How did things go? With your mother?" There. If it was all some strange delusion, I'd know in a second.

He took in a long breath, held it for a moment, let it go. "Not sure," he said. "It took a long time to get in touch with her. She seemed uneasy when we told her about the quakes, but she didn't know anything. If something was happening, it would be strange for her not to know."

I nodded, relieved that I was not in a padded cell somewhere living this out in my head. "So what does that mean?"

He shrugged. "We'll have to wait and see."

I felt the muscles in his back through the warm cotton of his shirt. As I let myself wonder what his skin felt like underneath, a sudden flash of Brianna's hateful face surfaced in my mind. I closed my eyes to banish it. When it didn't work, I glanced past Bren's shoulder and let my vision blur into the white.

"Hey," he said, moving his hand to my chin.

I swallowed, then dragged my eyes up to his.

"What is it?" He asked.

I shook my head.

"Tell me." He searched my face.

I shook my head again, smiled. "It's just been a really long day."

He stared at me for a few seconds, then smiled back. "Later, then." He pulled off his gloves, stuffed them into his pockets and took my hand. "Come back to the apartment with me. That was my last group."

I followed him, registering the heat of his hand in mine, the sound of his breathing, the crunch of his boots on the snow - my own crunching lighter and faster beside him. As we crossed the wooden bridge, I hesitated, wondering who would be at his place, and what would happen if no one was. It was easy to want to be close to him with people around, but being alone might mean something more to him. Bren felt my hesitation and glanced at me. He slowed, allowing me to set our pace.

"You okay?"

"Fine," I said too quickly. "Is Frieda here? I want to talk to her."

"Maybe."

I lingered. "Wouldn't your ring tell you where she was?"

He smiled. "That takes a little concentration. We don't just use them to see if the bathroom's free, you know?"

"Hmm," I said, meandering along.

My pace was slower than cold molasses, but eventually, we reached the door. I couldn't contain my sigh of relief when Bren opened it on Frieda and Dag, engaged in a butter knife fight over the kitchen table. Bren heard me and gave me a strange look, but I was already focused on Frieda, the guilt of not speaking to her on Saturday welling up as she stiffened, knife poised in the air.

"Jenna," she said. She tossed the knife onto the table. Dag lowered his and gingerly placed it next to hers. As his sleeve slid down his bicep, I caught the flash of a tattoo - a black dragon with red eyes - just before it disappeared under the hem. I wondered if Bren had ink anywhere.

"Hey," I said, hesitating for a moment. "I'm so sorry about Saturday. The way I acted."

She came around the table and peered at me. "You're not mad at me? Bren told you what I did, right?"

I nodded. "It's okay. It's over. Besides, you got Bren out of a lot of trouble. That fact that you got to kick Tyler was just a bonus."

She smiled a bright, eye-moist smile and curled her arms around my neck. I hugged her back, the end of her braid making my nose twitch. Dag grinned as I made faces to avoid scratching.

"How was seeing Tyler at school?" Frieda asked as she pulled away. "Did he try to talk to you or anything?" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bren step closer.

I paused, considering how much to tell. "He said some things to Brianna - a girl I know," I said, avoiding Bren's gaze, "but that's about it. I think he'll leave me alone."

"Good." Her expression changed back to worry. "And you're...okay with us? I mean, with our...situation?" Dag was watching me closely.

"I'm okay," I sighed out the words. "I feel like I'm living in a video game, but whatever. I've had to adapt to a lot of things recently, so you caught me at a good time."

She smiled. "Well, at least we don't have to lie about it. I'm glad you know."

"Me too." I smiled back.

Behind us, Val slipped in through the open door and strode straight to the closet in the hallway. Fishing around inside, he came up with his yellow jacket and turned to us as he shrugged into it.

"Hi Jenna," he said, his menthol eyes locking on mine. "How are you?"

I realized that I had tensed up, ready to feel unwelcome. "Hi. I'm good, how are you?"

"I'm well." He nodded once, then asked, "Jenna, do you know why I wasn't approached by Mr. Neil about what happened to Tyler? Tyler and his father were here on Saturday, weren't they?"

I felt Bren watching me with the others, but I couldn't take my eyes from Val's. There was no reason not to tell him the truth, especially after the trust they had placed in me.

I cleared my throat. "I told Tyler that he had better rethink what he saw on the raceway, or I would tell what he did to me at the bonfire. Then I told his father and Mr. Neil that I was with you guys all morning in the terrain park, so it couldn't have been you. Tyler backed me up."

The four of them stared at me for a long moment, then Val nodded. "You saved us a lot of grief," he said. "But if you decide to talk to someone about what happened between you and Tyler - and I urge you to do that - we will all be fine. You understand that now, don't you?"

"I do," I said. "But I'd rather leave it."

He was quiet for a few seconds, then nodded again. "It's your call." He looked from Frieda to Dag. "You two better get moving. Our shift starts in five minutes."

They gave each other comical, wide-eyed looks and scrambled around the corner toward the bedrooms. After a few seconds of rustling, the hiss of hair spray, and an invisible parade of stomping, they trampled back down the hall and pulled their jackets from the closet.

"Later," Dag said as he passed us.

"Bye guys." Frieda grabbed my arm on her way out. Val stepped over the threshold last, closing the door behind them.

Their echoes lingered in the hall for a moment, then they were out on the snow, their footsteps fading with their voices. Bren stared at me in the new silence.

"You didn't tell me what happened with Tyler's dad," he said.

"I didn't want to talk about it anymore. I still don't." But I felt the need to talk about something, or do something, to take the questions out of the air. Shifting back and forth in place was awkward, so I took a tentative step toward the living room. Bren's hand shot out and grabbed mine, pulled me back.

"Don't you want to see my room?"

"Uh." I felt the urge to pull my hand away but he tightened his grasp, as if he had anticipated this.

"What?" He asked, his brows knit together. It felt silly and pointless, trying to will my body to become as heavy as an anchor. When I didn't answer, he tugged at me again. I let him lead me down the hall to the very last door on the right. He knocked and opened it.

"I didn't think Frey was here, but you never know," he said, flipping on the light. "He sleeps a lot."

There were two twin beds under the windows on the left wall, one with the covers hastily pulled up, the other with a tangle of sheets in the middle. The blinds on the windows were closed, the surrounding walls hung with posters of rock bands \- Led Zeppelin, Guns -N- Roses, The Doors. Beside the closet on the wall to our right stood a stereo system with a huge collection of CDs. I stepped over to them, away from the beds, and began to scan the titles. I saw everything from alt to techno to reggae to hip hop to rock. Some of it I recognized, but a lot of it I'd never heard of. I couldn't tell which was old and which was new.

"Wow," I said, keeping my eyes focused on the tower of music. "Which stuff is yours?"

"It's all mixed up," he said from close behind me. I jumped at the sound of his voice, then closed my eyes to steady myself.

"Do you like any of it?" He asked.

"I don't recognize a lot of this. I guess my tastes are kind of shallow."

"There's nothing shallow about you." He reached up and tugged at the collar of my coat, and I let him slide it off and toss it onto Frey's ravaged bed. Then he took his own coat off and threw it on top of mine. I turned back to the CDs.

"You want to play one of those?"

"Just looking."

I stood there for a long time, too long for him to believe that I hadn't seen every CD in the stack.

"Jenna?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

I dropped my gaze to the carpet, contemplating what to say. I assumed he was used to being alone in his bedroom with girls. Maybe they had all been grateful to be there. But I didn't want to be one of them. I wasn't one of them. And I felt a surge of anger that he didn't know that.

"Hasn't anyone ever said 'no' to you?" I asked, my voice a little too hard.

"What?" He tugged at my shoulder until I faced him.

I folded my arms. "Has any girl ever said 'no' to you?"

He stared for a moment. "What is this about?"

"I just...I don't know what you want."

"What I want?"

"What you expect."

"I don't -"

"I mean, like now, we're here and I don't -"

"I don't expect anything. Jenna, I just -"

"I just don't want you to think -"

"Think what?"

I paused, then said, "That I'm like them. That I'm -"

"Like who?"

"Like her."

"Who?"

"Brianna."

He stared.

I sighed. "I don't want you to think that I'm like her."

"Why would I think that? You have nothing in common."

"You."

"What?"

"We have you in common."

"What?" He scrubbed at his hair.

"You slept with her, didn't you?"

He froze with his hand on top of his head. After a few seconds, he closed his eyes and exhaled. "Did she tell you that today?"

"I was hoping she was lying."

His jaw tightened. "Sweet girl."

"You must have thought so at some point."

"Don't do that." He opened his eyes. "It wasn't like that. It didn't mean anything."

"Did any of them?" I said to the carpet. "How many Briannas have there been?"

He didn't answer.

"Well?" I said.

"Please don't ask me that."

"That many?"

"It doesn't matter. I wasn't the same person then."

"You're different now than you were a few weeks ago?"

"Yes."

I lifted my arms and dropped them, looked up at him.

"I've been different since the day I met you, Jenna," he said. "That's not my life anymore. So it doesn't matter how many Briannas there were. What matters is that there's only one you. I don't want to lose you."

The idea of this somehow made everything else seem insignificant, which was exactly the kind of pitfall my mother was so determined that I avoid. Stepping around him, I went to his bed and dropped down, let my hands fall into my lap. He followed and sat beside me, careful to leave a space between us.

"I don't expect anything of you," he said quietly.

I looked at my hands, feeling stupid in the wake of my pettiness and insecurity. "This is exactly what she wanted."

"Yep." He reached over and wove his fingers into mine. When I glanced up at him, he smirked. "Please don't let her ruin this."

At first I didn't understand his expression, then I realized he was using my own words. It was what I had said about Tyler at Ringsaker. I laughed and pushed him backward. He pulled me down with him, wrapped his arms around me and looked into my eyes.

"You know what?" He said.

"What?"

"I'd trade every single day I've lived for just one day with you."

"Every day you've lived on Earth?" I asked, baiting him.

"Every day." He said. "Ever."

Chapter 19

I heard the rumbling in my sleep before I felt it, but even then, the warmth of Bren's body next to mine, the safety of his arms around me, the sound of his heartbeat as I lie against his chest kept me firmly tethered to my dream world. He must have ignored it too, because only after the stack of CDs against the wall crashed to the floor did we push ourselves up, gaze around, and realize we were looking at an earthquake.

The door swung open. Frey stood on the threshold, staring at Bren with wide eyes.

"Not cool." He said.

"Is it natural?" Bren yelled over the clatter.

"Doubt it."

"Come on." Bren grabbed my hand and pulled me off the bed, and the three of us ran through the apartment and out the door. Outside, Bren and Frey paused to look around, but there was no one in sight, so we ran over the bridge and past the lodge, Bren with a steady hold on my arm to keep me from falling. We stopped at the base of the deck, where the last few people were still running for cover as the ground shook on.

It was only a moment before three yellow jackets appeared from the right, getting brighter much too fast, even from my vibrating perspective. Then Frieda, Dag, and Val surrounded us, scanning in every direction.

"Are you all right?" Frieda reached behind her and gave my hand a brief squeeze as she swept her eyes over the top of the bunny hill.

"Fine," I said. "My mother..."

"She's fine." But the voice was not Frieda's. I turned to face Skye, her gaze brewing with blue-violet thunderheads. "She's underneath a conference table with Mr. Neil and some others."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded once and moved behind Frey, turning her back to him so that she faced out toward Ringsaker.

"Let's go up," Frey said, motioning toward Skye's watch. "Find out what the hell's going on."

"It may not be safe now," Val said.

"If it isn't, then it's not safe anywhere." Frey's impatience carried over the noise. "Let's go."

"We've just come from there, nothing has changed," Dag said.

"Things have escalated." Frey's eyes were wild. Dag lifted a hand to his shoulder, but he shook it off. "Perhaps now Sif will be more forthcoming..."

"Forthcoming?" Bren spun on him, his fingers pressing into my arm. "Are you saying she lied to us?"

"Stop it," Frieda yelled. "This is not the time." But they were fuming, their gazes locked. I stepped toward Bren, but before I could speak, my eye caught motion on the abandoned mountain. On top of a rocky cliff between two black diamond trails, a plume of snow was sweeping through a stand of evergreens, rolling toward us at avalanche speed. As the churning cloud hit the edge of the bluff, it ran over in a rushing fall and crashed against the ground below, kicking up a white fog.

Out from behind a tall, dark pine slid a metallic brown figure, a matching motorcycle helmet obscuring his face. He skirted the last two trees in a perfect Z, his poles sweeping the air like divining rods, and headed toward the edifice. My breath caught in my throat as he bent, braced one quick hand on the ledge and flipped in the air, his body still, his skis crossed as he tumbled over himself to straighten again and ride the fall to its misty bottom.

He disappeared for a few seconds before emerging again. He was gliding by us now, his skis hissing on the snow, his jacket unzipped a few inches to reveal a triangle of smooth chest. He flipped his visor, turned backward and set his dark eyes on each one of us. He regarded me last, holding my gaze as he receded fast toward the condos beyond the lodge. As I watched, he raised a pole and pointed it at me. Then he threw a glance at Bren, pivoted, and disappeared behind the first building.

The earth settled.

When I looked to Bren in the new quiet, he was still staring, jaw clenched and violence in his eyes.

"Loki." He said.

Chapter 20

"Son of a bitch." Frey said, breaking out from the center of our loose circle to survey the fresh ski tracks in the snow.

"Who was that?" I rubbed at my arms. I'd left my coat back at the apartment and hadn't noticed the cold until now. Val wrenched his jacket off and handed it to me. I pulled it on, sinking into its oversized warmth.

"Thanks." I turned back to Bren. "What's going on?"

They were all silent, but Bren's expression was brooding, hateful. I took a step back, taking in his tense shoulders, his balled fists, his shallow, rapid breath.

"Bren?" I tried to make my voice soft, unsure if I wanted to be heard. After a moment, he turned and regarded me with a blank stare. My blood went cold. Slowly, the storm cleared from his face and he stepped toward me. I flinched without meaning to and he hesitated for an instant, then pulled me against him.

"It's okay," he said. "Everything's okay."

Skye folded her arms across her chest and turned away.

I wanted to see their expressions, to know what was happening, but the look on Bren's face had filled me with fear. I let him hold me for a few moments before I stepped back.

"Why is he here?" Frieda said.

Dag glanced around at all of us. His eyes narrowed and a fiendish smile curled his lips. "What are we waiting for? Let's go find out."

"Let's do it." Frey stuck out a fist and Dag pounded it.

Frieda reached out to grab their arms, but Val moved in front of them first. He held up a hand. "It's what he wants."

"It's an attack," Dag said. "We'd be fools to think otherwise."

Val's gaze was steady. "Yes. And we'd be fools to react so quickly. Let him come to us."

Frey bristled. "He already -"

"He's right." The resolve in Bren's voice made them all turn. "We'll go back to the apartment. Discuss our options. No one wanders far until we know what's happening." At this, he gave Skye a pointed look and did not continue until she made eye contact and surrendered a tiny nod. Then he turned to Val. "Talk to Neil. Find out what he's doing about the quake."

"He's shutting down for the night," Skye told him.

"Fine," Bren said. "The three of you on shift should check in with him and meet us at home." He motioned for Skye and Frey to walk ahead of him, then tugged at my hand.

I pulled back. "I can't. My mother is probably freaking out right now wondering where I am." As if to confirm this, my phone beeped to let me know I had a text. Then it started to ring.

"I can't let you stay here," he said. "He saw you. It's not safe."

I answered my phone. "I'm okay," I said, not waiting for my mother to speak. "On my way there now." I hung up.

Bren shook his head. "No. I'm not leaving you here."

"I can't tell my mother that I'm ignoring an earthquake to be with you." I waved the phone at him. "She'll never let me see you again."

"This is more serious than that." His fingers crushed mine. I flinched and he loosened his grip.

"I have to go. She's my mother."

"I'll go with her." Frieda stepped up next to me. "I won't let anything happen to her, I promise. We'll figure out something to tell her mom."

Bren was quiet for a long time looking from one to the other of us. Finally he nodded. "Don't let her out of your sight. And if you even _think_ there's something wrong..."

"Don't worry, you'll know." She glanced over her shoulder at Frey. "What about him?"

"I can hear you, you know," Frey said.

She ignored him and turned back to Bren, her eyes pleading.

"He stays with me." Bren said. "All the time."

Frey scratched at his temple. "Well, my next piss should be interesting."

"Promise." Frieda said. Bren pulled in a deep breath, peered around Frieda, and gave Frey a hard glare.

"Promise."

Frieda turned her attention to Frey. Frey stared at her for a few seconds, then lifted his hands like he was being robbed. "No screwing around," he said.

Bren grabbed me and held onto me for a moment. "Be careful," he said. When he kissed me, I felt only the helplessness of knowing he wasn't safe.

They watched us until we were inside. I looked back from the other side of the glass to meet his gaze once more, and then we went to find my mother.

She was in the office behind reception with Mr. Neil. She was righting a small, overturned file cabinet while he talked into the phone. They both straightened when we stepped in.

"Jenna." My mother crossed the room in a few long strides and took my shoulders, peering down at me. "Are you all right?" She hugged me before I answered.

"Fine," I said. "You?"

"I'm fine. Just a bit of a mess and some scared guests."

"This is my friend Frieda," I said. "She's an instructor here."

"I can see that," my mother said, gesturing to her jacket. "Hi Frieda. Are you all right?"

"Yes, thank you." Frieda smiled.

Mr. Neil hung up the phone. "No injuries reported yet. Maybe we'll get lucky."

"My uncle is looking to check in with you Mr. Neil," Frieda said. "We were on our shift. Should I text him to come here?"

"No, no." Mr. Neil thought a minute. "Better tell him to meet me in the employee lounge. I think it's best to direct everybody there. They can check in so we know they're all right, and then go home for the evening."

"I'll let him know." Frieda slid her phone out and started pecking at it.

"Where did you get the jacket?" My mother asked.

I looked down at myself. I had forgotten I was swimming in Val's coat. "Oh. I went to see Frieda before her shift and I forgot my coat there. When I got caught outside during the quake, her uncle Val gave me his."

"That was nice of him. He works here too, doesn't he?" I knew the look on my mother's face. It was the one that read: I'll give you two seconds to tell me what I already know.

"Frieda's Bren's cousin." I said.

My mother nodded and looked at Frieda. "Well, maybe now that you can vouch for the fact that I don't bite, Bren will come by and say hello."

"He will," Frieda said. "I'll make sure of it."

This time, my mother's smile was genuine. "Jenna, I don't mind if Frieda stays for a while, if it's all right with her uncle, but I don't want you to leave again tonight. Earthquakes can be followed by aftershocks and I want to know where you are."

I knew I'd find a way out, but I didn't want to argue with her while we were both still shaken. I changed course instead. "So is Mr. Neil going to close up?"

She nodded. "But there's a lot of cleaning up to do and we have to check on each guest and employee. It's going to be a long night."

Frieda and I exchanged a look.

"Okay," I said. "I guess we'll go up to the suite and hang out for a while then."

"That's fine. Frieda, just make sure you let your uncle know where you are."

"I will. I'll tell him now." Frieda held up her phone.

"And if there's an aftershock," my mother said, "get under the table and hold on."

Upstairs, Frieda and I sat peering over the back of the couch as twilight darkened into night on the other side of the window. The slopes were empty except for a few members of ski patrol, meticulously hunting the trees and bushes and banks beneath the lights.

"Frieda," I said.

Her green eyes slid to mine.

"Who is he?"

She stared at me for a moment, then lifted her head off of her outstretched arm and sat up.

"Loki is a lot of things," she said. "But mostly he's a criminal. A dangerous one. He's been imprisoned in Asgard for a long time. He's never gained his freedom before the onset of the battle."

"The battle. Ragnarok."

She nodded.

"And he's never been free before then?"

"Not once he's been confined. Never."

"So what does that mean? Does it mean it's happening? Could it be happening without you?"

She shook her head. "Everybody who has a role in the battle has to take part. Each fate affects the others." She seemed to draw into herself then, and I wondered what she had seen of Ragnarok. What it was like for her.

"Did you fight in the battle?" I asked quietly.

"No." She said. "I was responsible for the slain. Quieting their souls, reuniting them with others." Her expression grew sad and I had a terrible thought.

"Dag? Did he..." I let the word hang between us.

Her smile had an ache in it. "Dag was one of the greatest warriors in Asgard. But he is always taken away from me before the battle." She swallowed and turned back toward the window. When she didn't elaborate, I left it alone. It hurt to see the pain in her eyes, and I wondered if she and Dag had run away so that they could stay together. I thought again of all that Bren had told me about Ragnarok.

"Bren said you only needed one god to withdraw from the battle in order to stop the cycle. How many of you were a part of it?"

"We were all a part of it, in a way. I greeted and guided the dead. Skye judged and sentenced the criminals. Val was forbidden from fighting," she said, grinning, "because he's the most gifted smith in all the worlds. Every great warrior has a weapon or chainmail fashioned by his hand. And if he fought with one of his own? He would be a terror." Her eyes flashed.

I felt the smile fall from my face as I wondered about Bren's role in the battle. She hadn't mentioned him and I wasn't sure I wanted to hear what she knew, but she caught my expression and eyed me with gentle regard.

"Bren's power runs deep." She said. "Almost everything else in Asgard is shallow by comparison. If he had taken sides in a battle, there would have been no battle, so the gods didn't engage him in such things." She paused and grew tense. "It made him angry to watch ego and vanity destroy us over and over. Sometimes, all of Asgard and beyond shook with his temper."

I thought of his reaction to Loki, the hostility in his eyes. Of how my body had run cold at the sight of it.

"He's better here," she said quickly. "But he's seen so much, so many mistakes repeated over and over. So much needless death and destruction. It would be enough to make anyone crazy. If we hadn't all been so desperate, I might have been afraid to ask for his help."

I shook my head, tried to imagine Bren in this light. Finally, I returned my gaze to hers. "I can't believe he was so..."

"Scary." She finished. Then she waved a hand at me. "But he's different now. That's the great thing about being here. You can have a past. In Asgard, we talk in the present...He fights in the battle, she marries this guy, I receive the dead...because it's happening over and over. Here, I can say, 'I tried anchovies on my pizza. I won't eat them again. And I can rest assured that anchovies are in my past. How great is that?"

I smiled again. Maybe I had taken some things for granted, but I wondered if Frieda understood how much we had in common with Asgardians. It was a mistake to get drunk, to date rape someone, to cheat on your wife, but people did these things over and over. I suddenly understood Bren's frustration.

"Is it really so different here? Even after all this time?" But before she could answer, I had another thought. "Have you always been teenagers here? Can you choose that?"

She nodded. "There's no physical aging in Asgard. Not as you know it here. Your outside sort of reflects your inside. We could change, if we wanted to, but this is how we've always felt."

"What about Val? He looks almost my mom's age."

Her expression faded a bit. "He's had a hard life. I think it's difficult for him to leave it behind him. The memories." She shrugged. "He's never shown an interest in changing his appearance, and it quickly became apparent that we'd need a guardian, so it worked out."

"Hmm."

We gazed out the window again. Two men in red patrol jackets had just arrived at the base of the mountain. They skied over to the lift and boarded it together, heading back to the summit. The snow on the pines lining the trails sparkled, reminding me of the huge evergreen at Ringsaker. As I listened to Frieda sigh, something nagged at me, some question I had meant to ask. I frowned and stared at my reflection in the window, filing through our conversation.

A sound like a handful of sand hitting the glass made us jerk away. We glanced at each other, then back out the window, and realized it was hailing.

Frieda hissed. "He's a piece of work."

"So, this won't be on the local weather report?" I asked, watching marble-sized ice balls ricochet off the window and back out into the night.

"The quake either." She said. "Except maybe as some weird fluke they can't explain." She was restless now, biting on her pinky, her eyes shifting around the room. "I hope they're okay. I guess I'd know." She twisted her ring and as I watched her fingers worrying over the silver, my lost thought began to surface. I didn't dare move as I reeled it in.

"Frieda," I said carefully. Her eyes flicked up to mine. "You and Skye, Dag and Val, Bren...none of you fought in the battle. Bren said you only needed one."

I watched her face soften.

"It's Frey?"

She nodded almost imperceptibly, her eyes wet, and I remembered how had she made Bren promise to stay with Frey, the agonized way she had looked at him. I couldn't bring myself to ask what I already knew.

"Like Dag," she said, a waver in her voice, "Frey is a great warrior. No one would choose to face him in battle. He's smart, and so brave...but when he's on the warpath he's as stubborn as a boar. You cannot tear him away until he has done what he has set out to do. Until it's over. Even if it means..."

"Frieda I'm so sorry," I interrupted. I didn't want her to have to say these things out loud. I wondered how many times she had watched her brother die in battle. It seemed like torture to me, to live knowing how much you would lose. This was why she had wanted to insure Frey's protection, why they had all surrounded Frey and Bren during the quake. Frey was the break in the cycle, and Bren was braced in the gap, holding the two worlds apart.

Frieda dropped her head back down on her arm. I rested my chin on my hands and watched the hail, the apartment quiet except for the stiff, icy patter.

When the door opened, we both stirred and sat upright, our eyes drowsy with sleep. My mother stepped over the threshold, closed the door behind her and leaned against it, a thick wisp of hair hanging in her face. She sighed and gave us a weary smile.

"Hi girls."

"Hi," I said. "What are you doing back so early?"

"Early? It's eleven o'clock." She motioned toward the display on the microwave, but it was too far away for any of us to see.

"What? It can't be." I gave Frieda a pointed look and she widened her eyes at me.

"It is." My mother lifted a foot, pried off her high heel, then did the same with the other. "Frieda honey, you'd better get home. Your uncle is probably wondering where you are."

Frieda and I stared at my mother, then back at each other.

"Okay," I said slowly, "I'll just walk Frieda downstairs."

My mother let her head fall to the side, gave me an impatient smile. "Come right back up. I'm wiped and I need some sleep."

"I'll be right back," I said.

I avoided Frieda's frantic stare as we rose from the couch and walked toward the door.

"Bye, Mrs. Dewitt," Frieda said as we stepped past my mom.

"Night, Frieda. And Jenna?"

I turned, my hand on the knob.

"Come say goodnight before you go to bed."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm just walking her to the lobby. I'll be right back up."

"Okay."

I stared at her back for a moment as she walked into her bedroom, shoes dangling from one hand. Then we left the suite and headed downstairs.

As soon as we boarded the elevator and the door closed, Frieda turned to me, her eyes glittering with panic. "I didn't think of this. I can't leave you here. What are we going to do?"

"It's okay," I said. "Don't worry about me. I'll go back up and wait until she goes to sleep, then I'll meet you at the apartment."

"No. I'll be freaking out the whole time. And Bren will kill me." She spun around in place like a cat trapped in a box.

I grabbed her arms. "Listen to me. I am going to be fine. This is a public place. Tell Bren we had no choice, that there was nothing we could do, and that I'll be there as soon as I can. My mother looked asleep on her feet so it shouldn't be long."

The elevator doors opened and we stepped out.

"I'll wait for you here." She said.

"You can't. If anyone sees you hanging around this late it's going to look suspicious. I'm going to have to have an excuse ready as it is, in case someone sees me." I forced a smile. "It's going to be fine."

At the sliders, she punched her cell number into my phone and gave me a brief, fierce hug. "Just text when you're coming and we'll meet you." She whispered. "I'll die if anything happens."

"It won't. I'll see you soon," I whispered back.

My mother was already in bed when I poked my head into her room.

"Sleeping?"

"No," she said. But her eyes were closed.

"Okay. Well, I'm going to bed. See you in the morning."

"Homework?"

"Done." I lied.

I hung on the knob for another minute, listening as her breathing grew heavy and deep, then closed the door without a sound.

I sat at the kitchen table and watched the digital clock on the microwave for twenty minutes, my book in my hand in case my mother stirred. Then I pulled on my new boots, grabbed Val's jacket from the back of the chair and my snowboard from the wall by the door, and snuck out for the first time in my life.

Inevitably, Sydney looked up the minute I stepped back into the lobby. She gave me a confused smile.

"Weren't you just here?"

I smiled back and looked her straight in the eye. "Yep. But I'm brain dead today. I told Jeff I'd leave my board in the rack so he could tune it up tomorrow morning, which I forgot to do. And I was supposed to return a coat I borrowed from an instructor, which I also forgot to do.

"Can't it wait?" She asked. "It's late."

"He has a shift tomorrow morning." I slowed and changed the subject, hoping to avoid any further lies. "I thought Mr. Neil sent everyone home. What are you doing here?"

"I'm like a postman. I have to be here in all kinds of weather."

I wondered what she'd think when I didn't come back right away, but I couldn't worry about that now. They were waiting for me.

Outside, the wind stung my face. The hail had slowed a little, but I felt it ping off Val's jacket and the top of my head as I cleared the stairs. I slid my board into the nearest rack and stopped for a moment, staring up at the outcropping where Loki had appeared just hours before. The snow was churned up all through the trees and at the bottom below the drop. When the wind blew again I turned, the hail hissing all around me, and started toward Bren's apartment.

The firs beside the lodge provided shelter for a while, but when I broke into the clearing I was spattered once again. The night had an eerie glow beneath the jagged sheets of purple cloud surrounding the moon. Tiny ice pellets jumped on the hard surface of the snow, and made a hollow, rhythmic instrument of the wooden bridge just beyond. I listened to my footsteps, thinking how Bren's would sound just a little slower, a little heavier next to mine, and then heard quicker, lighter steps from somewhere behind me.

I stopped and listened. Nothing. I pivoted, slowly, scanning the trees behind the lodge as I moved, until I had made a complete circle. I let a few beats of silence play out, then started to walk again.

Soft, rapid crunches followed.

I froze, held my breath and waited. Nothing. I spun again and stared into the evergreens. After a moment, I huffed out an exasperated fog, inhaled, and smelled something cold and musky, wild. Before I could identify it, a wave of sparkle began to ripple toward me from the pines. It was about waist high, and I narrowed my eyes to grasp what I was seeing. A glittering, undulating sheet of...something. I swept my gaze over the shadow beginning to take shape around it, and fear flooded my veins as I stopped on a pair of bright, yellow eyes. An animal. My heart pounded. It had to be huge, and I could only think of a bear. But even in my panic I knew that bears usually hibernated in winter. Worse for me if there was something wrong with it.

Bren's apartment was too far to make a run for it.

As I watched, one wide paw stepped over the line of shadow and into the moonlight, and then a giant dog emerged. He was white with a gray mask and ruff, and easily the biggest dog I had ever seen. He made a low, grizzly sound in his throat, and I averted my eyes. I tried to remember if I was supposed to make eye contact or not, if I was supposed to stay still or back away, and thought of something I'd heard about dogs responding to confidence. It was the only thing I could think of.

I straightened up and faced the dog. The yellow eyes glared, a jag of white teeth flashing in his grin.

"Hey," I said, my voice high and shaky. I tried again, forcing a sturdy tone. "Hey there. What are you doing out here in a hail storm? Where's your person?"

The dog cocked his head to the side, took a step forward. I curled my fingers into my palms.

"I'm Jenna." I said. "You're huge, buddy. What the heck do you eat?" I shuddered. _Rhetorical question_ , I thought at the dog, _please don't answer_.

He took a few more steps. His fur was dusted with hail and shone in the moonlight. This was the shimmer I had seen moving in the dark.

"Are you cold?" I asked stupidly. "Probably not. You look like you belong out here." This time, the dog closed the distance between us and my knees went weak with fear. He nudged my stomach with his muzzle once, twice, staring up at me impatiently. I reached out my curled hand, waiting until I made contact with his ruff to extend my fingers. His fur was as soft as down, and thick. I buried my hand in it and scratched the muscular shoulder beneath. Unbelievably, the dog closed his eyes and leaned against my legs, and I had to readjust my stance to keep from falling over. "I've never seen anything like you," I said. "What's your name?"

"Fenrir."

I jerked my head up. A tall blonde stood before me in a white wool coat, collar turned up against the weather. Despite the angles of his face, he had a boyish look, his skin pale. His hair fell in long locks which stopped just above his shoulders, one white gold wisp slashing his forehead and curving back to bluntly graze his jaw. His eyes were denim blue, and familiar.

He slid his hands into his pockets, pulling his coat open to reveal a black silk shirt with half the buttons undone. The trim, defined muscles of his chest suggested he was probably in his twenties, but as I lifted my eyes to look into his face again, I guessed he was about eighteen.

"Fenrir," I said. "Never heard that one. Is he friendly?" My fright had already begun to evaporate with the presence of the owner.

"Apparently." He stared down at Fenrir. The dog opened his eyes and stared back for a moment, then let his lids slide closed again. The blue eyes lifted once again to mine. "Are you?"

"That depends." I knew him from somewhere, tried to picture him in one of my classes, or wearing an instructor's jacket.

He pressed two fingers to his temple and extended them toward me in a gesture that looked like an apology. "Forgive me for terrorizing you in the middle of the night." He grinned, his eyes gleaming. "It would've been more impressive if I'd done it in the day."

I let out a nervous laugh. "You didn't terrorize me. I just wasn't expecting..."

"Beauty and the Beast?"

I jumped as Fenrir grumbled and glared over his shoulder. The blonde glanced at him. "I didn't say who was who," he said to the dog.

I laughed again, unable to figure it out myself. I pushed my other hand into the dog's ruff. "What kind of dog is he?"

The blonde paused for a moment, watching me, then said, "Alaskan Malamute." He pronounced the words slowly and punctuated each syllable, as if he was reading it aloud.

"He's beautiful."

"Thank you," he said, not taking his eyes from mine. "It seems the feeling is mutual." His voice was smooth and gritty at the same time, like fine sandpaper.

I glanced away, willing my face to stay pale and cool as I concentrated on sifting through the dog's fur. He didn't smell like a dog, smelled more like the outdoors...tree sap and firewood and pine. My fingers froze in the pelt. The scent was familiar. I forced my gaze upward, straightening as I did so, and met the cool blue eyes once again. They were not nearly as dark as they were the first time I had seen them, but I knew them now.

I swallowed his name, didn't want him to see that I'd recognized him, but the way his eyes had hardened and his grin had contracted into a tiny smirk told me that it was too late.

"Jenna, isn't it?" As I watched my name form on his lips I felt marked. Ice glazed my bones.

"How do you know my name?" I could not keep the waver from my voice.

"How do you know mine?"

There it was. The Asgardian way of questions for answers.

"What makes you think I do?"

His laugh was a deep, menacing rumble in his throat. The last of the hail shivered on the snow and fell silent.

"Because I can smell fear." His voice was just above a whisper. He stepped toward me. Fenrir gave a small growl and shifted his body between us. "Easy boy." He slid one hand out of his pocket, reached down and patted the dog's side. "I've not forgotten my manners."

His eyes moved over me, took in my stance, searched my expression, and when they met mine again, his irises were the color of a hazy summer sky.

"At the risk of distressing you further..." He pressed his right fist against his heart and bowed his head, holding my gaze, "I am Loki of Asgard."

After a moment, he let his arm drop. "And now there are no answers to be questioned."

He took another step toward me, his thighs connecting with Fenrir's flank. When the dog growled, he gave a little hiss to quiet him. One of my hands moved nervously in Fenrir's fur, the other clenching and unclenching at my side. Loki leaned in, his breath licorice sweet.

"So perhaps we can talk of other things," he said.

I stared, transfixed as I watched his gaze go dark again, hazy blue wisps swirling in his eyes like clouds across a black moon. The shadows of his lashes drew down, iron bars over twin night skies, and I was instantly peering out from a dank cell, imprisoned, longing to breathe the cold night air, run under the moon, stir the clouds into chaos. Despair choked the space around me and I was afraid to draw it into my lungs. So I held my breath, my pulse rocking my body, and felt a hot tear brim.

Before it had the chance to spill, I was jerked backward and spun around, hands grasping my arms and shaking me. "Jenna." Bren's voice, and then his face, and then the tear was a smear on a perfect view. I wiped it away.

He pressed his hands to the sides of my head. "Are you all right?"

I nodded, Fenrir's anxious growls clearing my head. As I turned to look down at him, Frieda and Dag stepped up on either side of me. Frieda grasped my hand and pulled me behind them. Bren pivoted toward Loki, slowly, his expression murderous. He took two steps, bringing them within a foot of each other, and glared into Loki's midnight eyes.

Fenrir bristled by Loki's side, his head low, his snarl an unbroken roll through the quiet.

"What are you doing here?" Bren's voice was thunder.

I heard an icy crush and then Val was over Bren's shoulder. When I turned back, Frey was there, Dag's arm held out across his chest to restrain him.

Loki remained still for a moment, then his lips curved into a devious grin. He spread his arms, glancing around him.

"Can't a guy go on vacation?" He said.

"Who released you?" Bren lowered his head, his eyes fixed.

"Why don't you return and find out? Exact your terrible wrath upon the offender."

Bren leaned forward and Loki took a brisk step back, holding his grin. Fenrir tensed. Val reached out and pressed his fingers into Bren's shoulder.

Loki glanced around again. "I like this place. It's less ...ostentatious... than I imagined. Cozier. Although I can't see how these hills could possibly satisfy you. Or perhaps you've developed new appetites." His eyes flicked to me and I held back a shudder.

"Look at her again," Bren said, "and I will destroy you." There was a sharp eagerness in his voice now. A last crack of thunder before the torrent.

"What are you waiting for? Do it." It was Frey. He pushed against Dag's arm like a bull in a pen.

Loki's focus was firm on Bren, but his smile was gone. "That would make you a monster, wouldn't it? A criminal. A murderer." He said this last word in a long, rough whisper, his eyes widening for a moment and narrowing again. I felt tension hit my body from the outside, smacking into me like waves. It had Bren's mark on it, his scent, the way he felt when he was close to me, and was mixed with a restrained rage that was not my own. I gasped under the weight of it.

Loki took another step back. He touched his fingers to his temple the way he had before and twirled his hand twice in a graceful tumble. He swept his eyes over the group - all but me - and then turned and walked back into the shadows. Fenrir stalked behind him, his huge, muscular shoulders rolling.

Chapter 21

"We should've nailed that bastard," Dag said, dropping down onto the couch.

"And found out nothing about his release. Nothing about his presence here." Val said.

I walked to the closet to hang Val's jacket. He nodded his thanks when I returned.

"We can't just let him roam around here loose." Frieda said. "It's not safe." She turned to me. "Why the heck didn't you text one of us that you were coming?"

Bren glared at me and waited for an answer.

I closed my eyes. I had been so busy sneaking out and thinking up excuses for Sydney that I'd forgotten to let them know I was leaving.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I forgot."

Bren opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again and shook his head. After a long pause, he pressed his hands into his hips. "Where's Skye?" He glanced at the sliders.

"Here." Skye stepped into the apartment and closed the door behind her. Her cheeks were rosy against her pale skin.

Bren spun on her. "Where have you been? I told you I don't want you..."

"And I told you," she broke in, "that I will not be ordered around like some minion. It's bad enough to have to work wherever we go..."

"This is not about authority. You're putting everyone in jeopardy."

"I knew the second he was here."

"And arrived too late."

She did not answer back. Instead, she threw herself down on the couch, crossed her legs and folded her arms over her chest.

Frey dragged a chair out from under the kitchen table and sat down, slumping, his legs stretched out wide in front of him. "Hell, why don't we just go get him? Make him tell us what's up?"

"If we give it some thought," Val said, pulling out a second chair and leaning on the back of it, "we may be able to find a way to do that without tearing up the place."

"There's six of us and one of him."

"That's not the point," Val said. "He'll know we're coming. And he'll be prepared. He doesn't care for this place as we do, and we know what he's capable of."

Bren nodded. "We'll wait."

He put his hand on the small of my back and motioned toward the hallway. I stared up at him, my stomach clenching. At first I thought it was embarrassment at the thought of everyone watching us walk up to his bedroom together, but when they started to talk to each other, speculating, ignoring us completely, I realized that I was seeing him differently. I had felt his overwhelming anger at Loki, watched everyone in his family defer to him instantly, heard him threaten to destroy a dangerous criminal with no hesitation. I could not imagine being alone with him. He would fill the room, crush me.

His expression softened and in that moment, I was sure he knew my thoughts. He let his hand drop and motioned up the hall again. "Come on," he said. "Let's talk."

I kept my breath even as I made my way up toward his room and cleared the threshold. He closed the door behind us. The window was open, the icy breeze rattling the blinds. Bren quickly stepped around me to close it.

"Frey's big on fresh air," he said. "Your coat is still here if you need it." He motioned to my coat, hanging on the corner of the closet door. I shook my head. He took a step toward me and stopped at arm's length.

"I don't want you to be afraid of me."

"I didn't say I was..." But when he smiled, I let my words go.

"I know none of this has been easy for you. I'm sorry if I scared you. There's no other way to deal with Loki."

"He just didn't seem that...threatening. He seemed so..."

"Charming? Polite?"

"Sad."

"What?"

"When I looked at him. Into his eyes. I felt ...sad."

Bren sighed. "It's a trick. He'll manipulate you if you let him." He took a step closer and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "What did he say to you?"

I tried to remember. Somehow, my whole experience of Loki seemed foggy. "I think we just talked about the dog, mostly. And then you came."

"That's no dog."

"What do you mean?"

"Fenrir is an Asgardian wolf."

"A wolf? But he was so sweet."

"Fenrir is a monster. He mauls and maims and kills. During Ragnarok, he attacks one of the most powerful gods in Asgard and swallows him like a scrap of meat."

I felt the blood drain from my face as I thought of Fenrir's muzzle against me, my hands in his fur.

"Why didn't he hurt me?"

Bren shook his head.

We stood like that for a moment, the silence filling in around us. I stared at the black fleece of his sweatshirt, letting its soft comfort envelop my imagination and blur the events of the evening in my mind. Finally, he stepped close to me and grasped my shoulders. His hands were warm, and warmer still as they slipped down the bare skin of my arms.

"I'm sorry I scared you," he said again. "When I saw him so close to you, looking at you like that, like he..." he closed his eyes and took a deep breath before returning his gaze to mine.

I touched his hair, then pressed my palms into his chest. He peeled his sweatshirt off, letting it fall to the floor as he pulled me against him.

"You have to stay. I can't let you go back. Not after this."

"You know I have to be back before my mother wakes up," I said, and part of me wished that I was like the rest of them, so that he could order me to stay and I could plop down on the bed and pout.

"Jenna this is serious."

"I know it is." I let my hands move up over his collarbone, traced the lines of muscle in his shoulders. "But you have to understand that I live in a world outside of all this. I can't just decide what I think is best and then do it. My mother doesn't know - and wouldn't understand - what's going on here, and I still have to follow her rules. If I don't, things will get so much worse."

"We can take care of all that. Skye can..."

"No." I said. "I won't let her be manipulated like that."

He stared down at me for a long time and I wondered if he was angry.

Finally, he said, "It's too soon. Isn't it?"

"Too soon for what?" My imagination ran to the worst. Too soon to have a fight. Too soon to break up. Too soon to realize he'd made a mistake with a stupid girl.

"Too soon to say I love you."

I stared back at him, sure he must be joking, and when I saw the honesty in his face I let out a long sigh that was part relief, part amazement at my own luck.

"I've lived with myself a long time," he went on. "So I don't have to contemplate much. But if it's too soon..."

"No." I said, not knowing if it was or not, and not caring. "Not if I say it, too."

He grinned. "So, now do I have the right to tell you that you aren't going anywhere?"

"No. Do you want to take it back?"

"No. I want to hold you while you go to sleep, and figure out how I am going to protect you while you're at school and when I'm at work."

"I could say I'm sick and stay home," I suggested.

"No. He's staying here. You're probably safer off the property. And I'll know if he leaves."

"Aren't you usually on shift when I get home from school?"

Instead of answering, he broke away from me, strode over to the door, opened it and stuck his head out.

"Skye." He called. The talking in the living room stopped.

"Yes." She said.

"Please let us know about half an hour before Jenna's mother wakes up."

"Whatever."

He came back and threw himself onto his bed, flicking his fingers for me to follow. I sat on the edge and looked down at him.

"Yeah, but we won't all be on shift at once." He finally said in answer to my last question.

"I'm not getting babysat every free minute of my day."

"Jenna, I'm not playing around here." He sat up again.

"I'm not going to let this guy rule my life."

He raked his fingers through his hair. "I know you're a smart girl. But you aren't grasping this situation."

I stared at him. He stared back for a moment, then let himself fall onto the pillow and flung his gaze to the ceiling. "Just make sure to stay around people when you get home," he said. "I don't think he'll try anything in a public place. There's a reason he's here, and he won't want to screw things up by making a freak of himself. Stick to the lodge or the deck, anyplace busy. Wait for one of us if you need to go up to your place. And for gods' sake..." he stretched his hand toward me. "Come here."

I grinned through my irritation and let myself fall into him. He wrapped his arms around me and sighed.

Chapter 22

Bren walked me home in the dusky hours of morning, when the air was still and cold and the moon hung bright in the sky. I was reminded of a dawn not long ago when I had crept out onto the deck and lifted my eyes to a false sun rising over the mountain. Now it warmed my hand as we walked together, the boughs of the evergreens whispering as we brushed them on our way past.

We stopped before rounding the corner of the deck.

I gazed up at Bren, my eyelids still heavy from sleep, and he kissed me before I could speak. My blood stirred as he pulled me closer. I was desperate to hold onto him, panicked now that the time had come to walk away. When he released me, I saw the same panic in his own eyes.

"Out here, or in the lodge," he said. "Nowhere else."

"I know. It's going to be fine."

"My shift ends at six. I'll see you right after."

I nodded. I didn't want to wait that long.

"I'll have my phone if you need me. Keep yours on. I don't care about school policies. If I call and you don't answer I'm going to come looking for you."

I smiled. "Don't worry."

He kissed me once more, and then I turned to face a day in a world where I was slowly losing my balance. It was like stepping out onto solid ground from the spinning barrel of a funhouse.

The school day went by in a slow blur. I stared at my teachers as they lectured, my focus on mental images of Loki's calm blue gaze as he stood in the hail, Fenrir's glittering coat and razor teeth, Bren's eyes blazing in the night. Brianna glowered at me all through lunch from her new perch on Brian's knee, but Tyler didn't glance at me once, or try to speak to me again. By the time the day was over, I was buzzing with the need to get home, to catch a glimpse of Bren on the trails and make sure that he was okay.

My mother drove maddeningly slow, and as she stopped at a yellow light I scratched at my head in frustration.

"I know you don't want to discuss this," she said as the light turned red, "but I just...I feel I have to say something and we don't seem to get the time to talk anymore."

"What?" I turned to her, momentarily pulled from my mania. "What is it?"

"Well. Your relationship with Bren. I don't know how far it's gone, but..."

"Mom."

"No, Jenna. We need to do this."

"Now?"

"Yes, now." Her voice was firm, so I waited for her to continue. The light turned green and she pressed the gas, still creeping along at the speed limit.

"As I said, I don't know how far things have gone, but given your age, I can imagine you've considered having sex with this boy."

"God," I whispered, propping my elbow on the edge of the window and dropping my head into my hand.

"And I want you to know that I don't want you to do that. You're not ready, and it can complicate your life in ways you can't imagine."

"I know."

"No, I don't think you do, Jenna. I don't think anyone your age knows until they get pregnant or end up hurt in some other way. But regardless..."

"I get it."

"Regardless. If you choose to have sex with this boy despite my feelings on the subject, I want you to be safe. I want you to see a doctor, and I want you to use birth control."

"It's not like that. Okay?"

We were silent for a moment. I watched her inhale and then pause, her breath suspended.

"You're wearing your jacket." She said in a gust.

I lifted my head. "What?"

"Last night, you told me you left your jacket at Frieda's. But you're wearing it today."

My body went cold. I'd told her about my jacket before Frieda and I went upstairs to the suite, and then, as far as she knew, I'd been in for the night. I thought about telling her Bren had run it over while I was walking Frieda downstairs, but it would have seemed too contrived, too convenient. Neither of us spoke until she pulled into her space at the hotel.

"I'll make you an appointment," she said. And then we opened our doors and went our separate ways.

I dropped my backpack behind the reception desk and went out onto the deck, surveying the mountain for Bren. After about fifteen minutes, I gave up and broke the rules, running up to the suite to grab my boots. My board was still in the rack where I'd left it, and I thought I'd practice a little to kill some time. For one moment, I considered taking the lift up the big mountain. I'd been to the summit with Bren and had made my way down just fine, turns and all, but the thought of going alone drew all kinds of crazy 'what ifs' into my head - like breaking my leg as I tried to get off the lift, falling against a rock and knocking myself unconscious, getting lost on a trail or stuck on a black diamond. So instead, I trudged to the top of the bunny hill, scanned down and back up for a glimpse of red, then buckled in and took my first run.

It was better than I thought it would be. My turns were improving and I was able to accumulate some speed, skirting and coasting past most of the beginners on the hill. I was still afraid of falling every second, but it felt good to be ignored a little instead of gawked at by seasoned skiers and boarders, who, I imagined, took bets on how many seconds would lapse before I crashed, and in which direction I would bounce. After my fourth tumble-free run, I stopped at the bottom to unbuckle my boot and rotate my ankle. It was almost healed from the pull, but I still felt a twinge of weakness every now and then.

The sun brightened as a thin cloud cleared its surface, and I tilted my head and closed my eyes, allowing it to infuse me with a false sense of normality. I knew it couldn't last, but I let that and every other thought drift away as the rays warmed my face.

"The days are short, the sun a spark, hung thin between the dark and dark."

The voice was rough and smooth, a beach of white sand. I opened my eyes.

"John Updike," Loki said, his irises Caribbean blue now, and sparkling. His hair was combed back off his face, his skin like porcelain in the sunlight. I looked down at his skis. They were a metallic chocolate that matched his clothes, but tattooed over the surfaces with bright yellow dots and swirls.

As I slid back a little, he pointed to my board with his pole. "Didn't take you for a boarder."

"Why not?" I glanced at the skiers and riders rushing past us on both sides, making their way to the lift. Bren told me Loki probably wouldn't cause trouble in public, but I found it hard to believe anyway, in the light of day, that he could be so terrible.

"Skiing's more graceful. Don't you think? Riding is so aggressive...all that stomping around and tearing everything up like Godzilla attacking the city. Besides," he said, gazing down at me with a smirk that was mostly in his eyes. "Skiing is easier to learn. They say."

"I doubt that," I said, motioning to his skis. "There are two planks to control instead of just one. Your legs could snap like twigs."

"Horrible image."

"And what makes you think I'd choose the easiest thing?"

"Doesn't everybody?"

"Do you?"

I felt a jolt of fear run through me as his eyes steadied on mine, the amusement in them freezing over. I fought to be still, to hold my expression as I had the night before when Fenrir loomed in the shadows, but the air grew thick and heavy between us, and my gaze finally dropped under the weight of it. I stared at the white collar of his t-shirt, focusing on the necklace hovering just above - a round, blue stone fastened close around his neck by a leather strap. The stone was the same color as his eyes. He reached up and touched it, his fingers moving over the surface.

"Don't you see how you've chosen what's easy, Jenna?" He asked. I lifted my eyes again. His expression was softer now. "Easy to be afraid of me. Easy to believe what they've told you."

"Are you saying it's not true?" I would never have taken his word over Bren's, but my mind craved an explanation, some way to balance what I knew with what I saw.

"There is no truth." He said. "Only perspective."

"Sounds like you're avoiding my question."

He laughed. "That is the way of the gods."

And I knew at least that much was true.

I squinted against the sun as I peered up at him. "Where's Fenrir?"

"Resting. He'll be sorry to have missed you."

"I thought he was going to eat me last night."

"So did I."

"And you would have let him?"

He shrugged. "How do you think he got so big?"

I thought I detected humor in his tone and wondered if it was wishful thinking.

"You lied to me," I said, as if to make an argument for heeding Bren's warnings. "You said he was an Alaskan Malamute."

"I told you what you wanted to hear. What would you have done if I'd told you what he really was?"

_Peed my pants_ , I thought.

"Exactly," he said. I slid back further. He dropped his hand from his necklace. The stone looked darker now and I checked his eyes. Darker.

"You're honest," he said as if he was conceding a point. "That's rarer than you'd think."

"How do you know I'm honest?"

"You're easy to read."

"I have a feeling it wouldn't matter." My voice was shaky.

He stepped closer to me and grinned. "No, it wouldn't."

I leaned back, moving my eyes over his face. I felt as if I couldn't see him whole, as if I were playing the game where you are given a close up of one part of something and have to guess the entire image.

"Why are you here?" I asked.

We stared at each other for a long time, the lift and the hill and the noise around us a faded backdrop hung behind the sharp, bright moment.

Before I even registered his turn, I was watching him ski off toward the terrain park. He did not propel himself, but rode his skis like blades, his body still, his poles pointing stiffly behind him. And no one noticed.

I took the lift back up to base, agonized. There was no doubt in my mind that I should not keep this from Bren. They'd want to know everything, but it was such a quick conversation. Nothing, really. And Bren would freak out, insist on the babysitting thing, and basically imprison me in my own life. Trying to deal with my mother under those conditions would be nearly impossible, and it wouldn't be worth it. I decided that their attention would be best focused on finding out what Loki wanted.

I slipped my board into the rack, unzipped my jacket and climbed the stairs to the deck, meaning to get my backpack and catch up on my homework in the lodge, but as I reached for the door handle, I caught Skye in my peripheral vision, standing against the far rail. Her stare was pointed, so I dropped my hand and walked over, stopping a few feet away. She was wearing her instructor's jacket, which hung halfway down her thighs and looked a bit awkward on her, and a purple hat that matched her streaks. Her legs were pressed together, her arms in a knot across her chest.

"Make a new friend?" She asked in her emotionless tone.

"Not exactly."

"Are you going to tell Bren?"

"Are you?" I watched her violet eyes.

She shrugged. "Your call."

We were quiet for a moment.

"I don't think it's a big deal," I said. "He has enough to worry about." I gestured toward the bunny hill. "That was nothing. Stupid. I don't want to upset him for no reason."

"So it has nothing to do with your not wanting a bodyguard?" She straightened to face me squarely. "Unless it's Bren, of course. And just to let you know, if you think you can walk around here completely clueless as long as there are people around, then you do not understand things." She leaned forward. "Loki does not care about anyone. Not us, not you, not your mother, not hundreds of vacationers. No one."

"I'm not walking around here completely clueless."

"Really?" She raised a brow. "Then why didn't you see him coming?"

"Because I do not have supernatural vision," I snapped.

"Exactly." She let herself fall back against the rail with a satisfied smile.

I threw a glance at the sky. "Look. Just tell me if you're going to tell Bren or not."

She lifted a shoulder, let it fall. "He'd know if he wanted to."

"What does that mean?"

She hissed out a chuckle, her way of punctuating my ignorance. "Bren can see people's thoughts better than I can. He's not in your head because he chooses not to be. He thinks it's disrespectful." She rolled her eyes. "The two of you are going to get us all killed with this 'I'm such a good person' crap. It makes me want to throw up."

"The bathrooms are inside to the right." I said coldly. "So are you going to tell him or not?"

"Do what you want. I'm out." She skirted around me and stomped away, her footsteps too thunderous for her wispy build.

Chapter 23

Just as I was finishing my homework in the lodge, I got a text from my mother. She wanted us to have dinner together. I called Bren to let him know.

"I just got off my shift," he said. My pulse raced at the sound of his voice. "How long do you need?"

"I'm not sure. Not long. I think she's just feeling like we need quality time or something. I can text you when we're done."

"Yeah, okay. And listen, do not. Do. Not. Walk over here without me. I will come there when you're finished. Understand?"

"Got it."

My mother and I made spaghetti and meatballs and pretended our earlier conversation never happened. I told her about Brianna and how we weren't speaking because of Bren, leaving out the part about Tyler, and she said there was a Brianna in every class in every school, and that they usually ended up closing small bars in small towns every night while their kids ate fast food and put themselves to bed. It was supposed to make me feel better, but it was sad, and I dropped my last forkful of meatball back onto my plate.

After we cleaned up, my mother watched me text Bren and then we went down to the lobby together.

"Why don't you ask him to come say hello before you go?" She said.

"Now?" My chest tightened. I didn't know how he'd react to being asked to meet my mother. It was probably on his bucket list right after 'have eyes gouged out with hot pokers.'

"Yes," my mother said. "That would be nice."

"For who?"

I thought my mother would correct my grammar, but she just stared, so I went out to fetch Bren.

I caught him at the top of the stairs and he grabbed me right away, crushing me so tightly that I couldn't take a breath. I closed my eyes and waited for him to relax.

"My mom wants to meet you," I said, my voice muffled against his shoulder.

"Now?"

I nodded. "Sorry."

"No, it's okay. I showered and everything." When I glanced up at him, he grinned. "Let's do it."

We walked back into the lobby, holding hands, and stepped around the reception desk.

"Mom?" I peered into the office from the threshold. She was standing there holding her coffee, waiting. She turned and put the mug on top of a file cabinet and waved us in.

"This is Bren," I said. "This is my mother." I made an awkward sweeping motion back and forth between them with one hand.

"Do you prefer Mrs. Dewitt, or..." Bren left his question open and extended his hand. My mother took it, a tiny smile of surprise on her lips. Her eyes shifted to the side as she tilted her head back and forth, considering the use of her married name.

"For the moment, yes, but thank you for asking. It's nice to meet you, Bren."

"Same here. Jenna talks about you all the time."

"I'll leave that one alone," she said, and they both laughed.

"No, it's all good."

I watched them, amazed at how easy things were between them. Bren was so genuine, and my mother responded to him as though he were an actual human being, and not some creature who was trying to ruin my future with his rabid sex cravings.

"What are your plans for tonight?" My mother asked.

"Well," Bren said, "I guess that's up to Jenna." He glanced at me and took my hand again. "We can ride for a while, or hang out and watch a movie." He turned back to my mother. "My uncle's home now."

"I'm too tired to ride anymore today," I said.

"Well," my mother said, "call if you're going to be late."

"I will."

"Nice meeting you, Bren."

"Same here, Mrs. Dewitt. Hope to see you soon."

I looked at him as we cleared the stairs and stepped onto the snow. "You were really good with her."

He laughed his deep, hollow laugh.

I gave him a confused smile. "What?"

"You make it sound like she's a toddler or an unruly dog."

"No. Because then I could buy a book on how to deal with her."

He stared at me for a moment, then leaned over and kissed me, pulling me close to him. An involuntary, breathy sound rose in my throat and he pressed in harder, one hand sliding underneath my jacket and stopping low on my back. I felt his fingers grasp my shirt and lift it just slightly, dragging along my skin above the waistline of my jeans. Goose bumps rose all over my body and I shivered.

His laugh was whispery and warm. "Let's go. I don't want your mother to catch me mauling you." He took my hand and we walked to his apartment under a crisp, starry sky.

In the middle of the night, Bren and I lay awake on his bed, illuminated by the green glow from Frey's lava lamp. He had walked me home at ten, and I hung around the lobby reading until my mother was ready to come up to the suite. She seemed to like the idea, brought me a cup of tea and a few cookies from the reception table, and I felt guilty when I snuck out again once she fell asleep. Adding to my shame was Frey's insistence upon sleeping on the couch, although none of them ever really slept. Even now, their muffled conversation was anxious and heated through the closed door. It was strange how Bren was sometimes separate from them. Not just physically, but in his mind, as though he saw things from a different place.

We faced each other, me with my head on my arm, Bren propped on his elbow as he twisted a lock of my hair around his finger.

"Bren?"

"Hm?"

"When will we know?"

"What?" He glanced down at me.

"Why he's here." More guilt as I thought of my conversation with Loki at the base of the bunny hill. I imagined telling him, just blurting the words, but held back.

"Soon." He said. "If we don't find out from him, we'll go to Ringsaker and try to contact my mother again."

"Why don't you just do that now?"

"I can't..." he shook his head, his eyes straying to the side, "I can't feel her. When she's close by, when I'm able to speak to her, I can feel her near. But lately she's..." he shook his head again. "Loki's escape has Asgard in complete chaos, I'm sure. I don't know why they haven't come after him already. She may not be able to risk talking to me now."

"How do you do that? Talk to her?"

He grinned down at me. "Maybe you'll see for yourself."

The thought scared me and I closed my eyes, shook it off. When I opened them again it was as if he was looking into me, as if he saw my fear. I thought of what Skye said about him choosing not to be in my head.

I reached up and hooked the collar of his shirt with one finger. "Could you know what I was thinking? If you wanted to?"

After a long moment, he took a deep breath and let it go.

"Is that a yes?" I asked.

He let my hair escape his fingers, watched the strands fall before turning his gaze back to me. "Do you have something to tell me?"

"Why do you ask that?" I stared down at the bed.

He leaned in close and waited for me to look up at him. His eyes were hard now, and I thought he might be angry. My stomach fluttered. "Yes," he said, "if I wanted to know what you were thinking, I would know."

I sucked in a ragged breath, and as I looked into his eyes, I decided that whether it was possible to lie to him or not, I didn't want to. "I saw Loki today on the hill," I said. "He talked to me."

His face softened and a tiny smile played at the corners of his mouth. He let himself fall back against the bed and put his hands behind his head.

"You knew," I said.

He was quiet.

"Did Skye tell you?"

His eyes shifted to mine, the smile fading. "No. But she should have."

"How did you know, then?" I pushed myself up on my elbow and stared down at him.

"I don't dig around in your head," he said. "But I'm always listening now, with him here. Your energy didn't match your behavior."

"So you rifled through me to find out what was wrong?"

"Don't say it like that. And anyway, you lied to me."

"I didn't lie."

"And I didn't lie to you about what happened to Tyler, but you said not telling you was the same thing."

I pressed my lips together and fell back on his pillow. Either we both had an argument or neither of us did.

"Right," he said. When I glared at him, he laughed. I smacked him on the shoulder twice before he pulled me toward him. After a few seconds, he rolled so that he was above me, his hands braced on either side of my head. He looked down into my eyes.

"You know, I don't really need the others to talk to my mother. Sometimes I go alone. I went by myself not too long ago...and I told her about you."

"You did? What did she say?"

"She said that if I wouldn't come home, then she wanted me to be happy here. She said I sounded happy."

I let my hand trail up the back of his neck, pushed my fingers into his hair. "I hate that he's ruining it for you."

Bren kissed the inside of my arm. "It's not me I'm worried about. It's true that Loki is his own unique brand of hell..." I thought of the blackness I had seen in Loki's eyes, remembered the hopeless feeling of suffocation and pain I had so easily forgotten today on the hill. "...but there's nothing he could do to ruin what I feel for you," he said.

This time, when Bren kissed me, when I felt the weight of his body against mine, I didn't even try to hold back my small gasp. I knew he could sense how I felt, and I didn't care. I was caught up in him, in the way the muscles of his back felt under my hands, in the soft, shiny fall of his hair around his face. I pressed my fingers into his shoulders and he straightened his arms, hovering over me, watching as my eyes traveled over his face, his collarbone, his chest. I touched the hollow at the base of his throat and he closed his eyes, his moan a quiet rumble under my fingertips. Lowering himself again, he kissed my neck, once, twice, and then grazed my skin with his teeth. My breath caught again, my blood racing. I felt weak, confused by my own wanting.

"Bren." My voice was barely a whisper.

"Hm." His tongue slid along my lower lip. I kissed him back, the taste of him drawing me in deeper for a moment, and then turned my head to break the spell. His mouth brushed my throat again.

"Bren."

"What," he mumbled against my skin.

"Stop." I breathed.

He inhaled, froze for a moment, then let out a tense, hot sigh. "I'm sorry." He pressed his forehead against mine.

"I just -"

"No," he said, his voice still a little gruff. "It's my fault. I know you're not ready for this."

He rolled on his back and pulled me against him. I closed my eyes, listened to the hammering of his heart.

"I shouldn't have even..." I started, unsure how to continue. "It's just that you're so..."

He looked down at me from the corner of his eye. "So...what?"

Lately, I'd developed a habit of speaking before I knew what I was going to say. I buried my face in his shirt and felt him laugh softly.

"Did you look like this in Asgard?" I asked him.

He paused for a moment. "Kind of. Did you look like this in New Jersey?"

"No, I had bigger hair and fake nails." We both laughed this time. I tilted my head to see his face. "What's different about you now?"

"Well," he said, "I guess you could say I've toned it down a little."

I couldn't imagine what that meant, how he could have been any more beautiful.

I barely slept knowing Bren was wide awake, glaring up at the ceiling and brooding. Although his heartbeat had evened out and his breathing was slow, he was tense underneath me, an arrow pulled back on a bow. I wondered how long his patience would hold out. And what would happen when it was gone.

Chapter 24

Bren and I struck a deal on the way back to the hotel the next morning. I would check in with him as soon as school was out, and then wait in the lodge for Frieda and Dag. Their shifts would be over first, and if my mother wanted to have dinner with me, they could wait for me downstairs. I wasn't crazy about being confined, but there didn't seem to be any other way. It was more difficult for Bren to tap into another god's thoughts, especially if they were being deliberately blocked as Loki's undoubtedly were.

After school, I went into the lodge through the door off the back lot and found a small table next to the fire. I slid my backpack underneath and glanced through the wall of windows that looked out over the mountain. The sky had been blue and bright when I had left school just minutes before. Now it was bruised with thick, woolen clouds, the day as dark as night. I pulled my gloves off and tossed them on the table, then walked over to the heavy doors, a soft rumble of thunder sounding in the distance as I heaved them open and went out onto the deck.

I leaned against the rail, texted Bren, and waited to see his bright yellow jacket against the gloom. This deck was much smaller than the one off the hotel, and I remembered the night Bren had found me here and stood so close to where I sat, staring out into the cold as I watched the snow land in his hair. I had been so stubborn, insisting that I would not learn to ride. I smiled as I thought of how he had changed all that, changed everything. He had taught me how to get back up when I fell, told me that the only way to the top was down, showed me that my fear was nothing more than a lack of faith. I wondered if he would say that now, with Loki so close. I wondered if he was afraid.

"Hey." His voice cut into my thoughts. I'd missed his approach. He let his board fall flat on the snow, ran up the stairs, and closed the space between us in three quick strides. I wound my arms around him and he held me as he always did, crushing the air from my lungs. Thunder rumbled again, closer now.

I gazed up at him and he kissed me until my body softened against his. I pried myself away.

"I don't want you to get in trouble," I said, glancing around.

"I'm already in trouble."

The day darkened and a few tiny grains of ice smacked the deck.

"You're going to stay in the lodge today," he said. "We agreed."

I nodded. "We agreed."

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

"I know. Don't worry. People are coming in now, so I won't be alone."

He lifted his eyes to the sky, then pushed his hands into my hair and stared down at me. "Let me know if anything happens. Anything. Don't wait."

"I won't."

He held me again for a moment, then kissed the top of my head and turned away, his face pale with worry. He looked back once as he carried his board toward the learning center and I waved, forcing a flat smile. He lifted his chin and smiled back. When I could no longer see him, I went back to my little table in the lodge. I watched the fire for a long time before I finally lifted my books from the floor.

The hail started as a slow, intermittent patter against the glass, then became loud and rhythmic, drumming the ceiling and deck. It was as fine as snow, but I heard a member of the ski patrol say that Mr. Neil had closed the terrain park lift and an older, wooden one that led to the glades on the condo side of the mountain. I finished my homework and closed my book, glancing out the windows again. The ice had collected on the deck and railing, and in the corners of the window frame. I leaned over, exchanged my math book for my Stephen King, kicked my backpack farther under the table and settled back in my chair. I stared at the cover - an image of Roland the gunslinger standing against a sunset with the dark tower rising in the distance behind him. The picture had seemed so fantastic to me once. I tried to recapture the feeling as I opened the book, gratefully sinking into another's story of world and time.

The minutes unwound, and I became vaguely aware of the rustlings around me as the ski club kids swarmed in to get dressed and buy food and complain about the hail and the closed lifts before swarming out again. Finally, quiet fell, the only sound the crackle of the fire as its light flashed against my page.

"Childe Roland to the Dark Tower came." The rough grains of his voice caught in the sift of my fragile, hourglass fantasy. I heard the chair opposite me scrape on the carpet and lifted my gaze. Loki stood before the flames in a black leather jacket and tattered jeans, looking like the son of the Grim Reaper. A platinum jag of hair sliced across his forehead as he spun the chair and straddled it, lowering himself slowly and leaning his arms on the wooden back.

"Robert Browning." He said. I was caught in his eyes, green today and as clear as stained glass. The fire snapped in a hellish halo around him. I glanced at his necklace, barely visible beneath the black collar of his shirt. The stone was green as well.

"I know," I said. I stared down at his combat boots, planted wide on either side of his chair. Where was my phone? In my backpack? What would he do if I reached for it? I hadn't been as prepared as I'd thought, and the few people in the lodge seemed so removed from me now. It was as if the world in which I found myself rested on top of theirs like a transparent overlay, two separate sheets of space and time appearing as one.

He nodded toward my book. "Like it?"

When I didn't answer, he ducked his head to pull my focus.

"I like all of King's books so far." I said.

" 'It' is my favorite," he said with a quick lift of his brows.

"The one with the evil clown. Of course it is."

He smiled. "Read it?"

"No. Clowns freak me out."

"In the story," he went on as if he hadn't heard me, "the kids are terrorized by a sewer-dwelling child-killer, which is unfortunate. But, as always, love manages to thrive amidst the horror. The hero even finds time to write a poem for his secret crush." He leaned in toward me, and as I watched, his eyes darkened from emerald to the deep color of a pine forest. "It reads: 'Your hair is winter fire. January embers. My heart burns there, too.' " He paused for a moment, let me hear it in my head. "Profound, isn't it? Kind of reminds me of our boy Bren." He said Bren's name like he was taking aim. It filled me with dread.

"That is what he's calling himself, isn't it?" He asked. "Bren? Chosen, no doubt, by an enamored poet. Skye, perhaps?"

I met his gaze with narrow eyes. "Wrong."

"Are you sure?" He leaned back into empty space. "Skye has a way of putting ideas in people's heads."

I clamped my teeth together and returned to my book, the page blurring as I searched my mind for options.

"You know, Jenna," Loki said after a moment, "you have a few embers in your own hair. And in your eyes."

I glanced up before I could stop myself.

"Little flecks burning among the green." He gazed at me.

I watched, transfixed as his eyes lightened, green tendrils swirling and springing with golden blooms until they were exactly the same color as mine. It was as if I were looking into myself, with no glass to temper the reflection. The image was brighter, stronger, more vivid than I knew myself to be.

Loki shook his head slowly. "It's no wonder he wants to keep you."

Long seconds filled the space between us, his voice echoing in my head. Then a loud smack cleared the haze. I jerked back against my chair and dropped my book into my lap. Dag was hunched over the table, his hands splayed on either side of Loki as he glared into his face. Loki gave him a small, sly smile and Dag returned it with his crazy, reckless grin. Dag had shed his jacket, and his red shirt mingled with his wild expression to make him look like the devil.

I felt a thousand static shocks under my skin and dug my nails into the arm of my chair.

"You're lucky I got here first, Bro." Dag whispered with terrible pleasantness.

Loki's smile widened to reveal a few sharp, white teeth. "And why is that?"

Dag leaned forward, his long, muscular back heaving. "Because _I'll_ give you a few seconds to get out of here."

Loki fixed his eyes on mine. They were dark again now, as black as the first day I'd seen them. "Now why would I want to do that?"

"Time's up."

We all turned toward the voice. Bren loomed behind my chair, his face like stone. Frieda, Skye, and Frey stood behind him. Val was striding toward us, the heavy glass door still closing against the hail.

"Aren't you supposed to be working?" Loki was calm, conversational.

Bren matched his tone. "That's the upside of hail. It chases away the amateurs."

As Loki's smile fell, I took one flicker of unreasonable offense to Bren's use of the word 'amateurs,' then allowed it to dissolve as a group of teenaged girls tumbled in from the cold. They stomped the ice from their boots on the way to the fire, pulling off their gloves and hats and settling down at a big table close to us. None of them could seem to help staring at the guys - even Val - and then glancing at us girls to compare themselves. A girl with long dark hair and a chlorine white smile caught Loki's eye and shot him the same kind of lewd grin I had seen girls give Frey. When Loki grinned back, she glanced around at her friends and then turned to him again.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi." He said. "Are you wondering if this is my girlfriend?" He motioned to me.

Shock passed through her expression and was gone. She smiled again and shrugged one shoulder. "Is she?"

"Well, I'd tell you," Loki said, "but it doesn't really matter to you, does it? Because you think you're prettier than she is." He watched the girl's smile fade, watched her friends' eyes drop to the table, and continued. "You figured you'd just wait for her to go to the bathroom, or get up to get a drink, and then I'd ask for your number. And after that, it would only be a matter of time until she was out of the picture."

The girl gaped, her eyes round in her pale face.

Loki leaned in. "But you were wrong on two counts. One. She's not my girlfriend." He raised his brows and waited for her reaction. Small triumph dawned in her expression. She narrowed her eyes at him. Still playing along, but barely.

"Okay." She said, dragging out the word. "What's the other?"

"Two." Loki's smile grew wider. "You're not prettier."

He straightened, enjoying the girl's shock for a moment, then turned back to me. "Is she, Jenna?"

Bren was at Loki's side before I saw him move.

"Outside." He said through clenched teeth.

When Loki lifted his eyes, they were blazing. He rose from his chair and shoved it aside with his boot. They stood face to face for a moment, then Bren pivoted and stormed toward the door, Loki strutting behind. The others followed. I was the last one to feel the sting of the hail as we cleared the threshold and trailed Bren to the far side of the lodge, just out of earshot of the largely deserted bunny hill.

Bren spun on Loki, his stance wide, his arms held back from his body in a way that made me think of a bear ready to charge. The others fell in behind him but he took no notice. Frey motioned for me to move closer to him. When I did, he put an arm around my shoulders and grinned down into my anxious face, winking before he turned back to watch.

"I don't know what you're doing here," Bren said too softly, "but you can't win."

"You don't even know the game." Loki said.

"I'm not playing games. I'm telling you. My patience is running out."

"And what are you going to do then? Tear this place to pieces? Destroy everything and then erase it from their memories? Let them think it was some natural disaster? All to wipe me off the face of the planet?"

"If I have to."

"Sounds good to me," Frey said.

"Without even knowing why?" Loki asked, his eyes fixed on Bren.

Bren stepped forward until he was just an inch from Loki's face. "I'm going to find out. And if somebody helped you escape, I'm going to find that out, too. And if what I find is that you have plans to interfere with anyone I care about, I will end you."

The amusement drained from Loki's eyes, his smile, his posture. "That's your answer to everything, isn't it? Destroy. Whenever anything becomes unpleasant. Boring. Uncomfortable. Just wipe it out. You're worse than Thor."

Bren seemed to get larger as he leaned toward Loki, fuming. Frieda sucked in a breath. Val stepped forward, but Bren's arm shot out to keep him back.

"But at least Thor lives in his own damage," Loki said, the amusement back now, but tinged with something darker. "Or cleans it up."

Bren grabbed Loki's jacket in both fists. Val got an arm around his neck and tried to heave him back, but Bren held on. It was as if Val were trying to move a mountain.

"Not yet," Val growled in Bren's ear. Dag stepped forward, but when Frey advanced as well, Dag pointed at Frey and widened his eyes in warning.

Loki spread his arms. "Do you think death here would be worse than riding around and around on our deranged carousel? Did you think you could walk away and leave me chained in that poisoned nightmare forever?" He looked manic, and I tensed to keep from imagining what kind of imprisonment he had suffered.

Bren flung Loki away from him, seething, still ready to attack.

Loki glanced around, then looked back at Bren. "You should never have come here," he said. His eyes lit on mine for just a moment, and then he turned and strode away, disappearing into the hail.

Val released Bren and stepped back. Bren was still, his blank stare fixed somewhere in the distance. A long moment passed before he spoke.

"What did you find out?" He asked without turning to the others.

"He's in number 217," Dag said. "With the wolf. He's been all over the mountain, mostly after closing, but it doesn't seem like he's caused any major trouble. Yet."

"Skye?"

"He'll know whenever one of us is reading him. Especially you," she said. "But I can see some things." Her tone was different today. She sounded anxious, eager to please, her eyes moving over Bren's back as she talked to him. It made me want to move closer to him.

"He's not afraid of being caught," she continued. "So I think he has help." She paused as Bren spun on her, her violet eyes wide and glassy, heartsick. I closed my eyes, prayed that he would not change his mind and love her back.

"What is it?" He asked her.

"He's not focused on Frey. Not ever, that I've been able to see. It's always you."

After a moment, Bren nodded. He put his hands on his hips and stared at the ground. "Has he been to the circle?"

"I don't know," Skye said.

He nodded again. "Go home. All of you. Jenna and I will meet you there in a few." Finally, he looked at them. "We can't wait anymore. We'll go up tonight."

They went, silently, Skye the last to turn away. When they were gone, Bren and I stood in the hail. I watched him as he chipped at the snow with the toe of one boot.

"He's right." He said to the ground.

"Who? Loki?"

He nodded. "I left that world and everybody in it with a future that is no more certain than ours is here. I disrupted everything by helping them escape." He gestured vaguely behind him. "We were no different than Loki, stuck in a situation and desperate for a way out."

"You are different," I said. "Your family...they aren't criminals. Frieda? She's a criminal because she couldn't stand another lifetime of losing Dag? Of watching her brother die?"

Bren stared at me for a moment. Then he took a few steps, closing the distance between us, and gazed down into my face. "I can't stand the thought of him getting anywhere near you."

"Well, you were quick. Were you spying on me today?" I kept my tone light. Given his current mood, I was willing to give him a pass.

"No," he said. "I was spying on him. And he knew it. He was provoking me."

My smile fell as I thought about this. About everything that had just happened. When I looked back at him, he tilted his head and nodded at me to speak.

"Why is Skye here?" I asked. "It is because of you?"

He brushed my hair from my shoulder and rested his hand there. "I don't know. She keeps most of her thoughts to herself."

I glanced at the snow, knowing the jealousy must be scrawled all over me, but he lifted my chin and fixed his gaze firmly on mine. "But it doesn't matter. I only see you."

He kissed me just as the hail began to slow, and we were us again, apart for a moment from the world unraveling around us.

"You'll have to come with us tonight," he said against my lips.

My stomach turned over. I wasn't sure I could take another hit today.

"I shouldn't," I said. "If we're up there too long, I'll be late in the morning, and..."

He braced his hands on the sides of my head to stop me from shaking it. "There's no choice this time. Make an excuse, lie, tell the truth. Or, if you want, we can help your mom believe whatever you need her to, but I need you with me. I'll be half crazy worrying about you if you're not, and I can't afford to be distracted."

I thought about it for a moment and decided not to argue. I didn't want to be the cause of anything else going wrong.

Chapter 25

We rode under a sky of dingy fleece, the moon no more than a faint, smothered glow. Bren's arms were firm around my waist, our boards barely touching the snow as we made our way toward Ringsaker. Ahead of us, the others spoke to the dark earth in their own way, Frey leaning with the boughs of young trees and riding the swells, Dag kicking up a fierce wake as he criss-crossed Frieda's path, endlessly provoking her despite her easy mastery of his taunts. Far in the lead, Skye preferred to cut sharply around the trunks and stones, the ground barely lifting as she gathered her speed from somewhere within. Val rode behind, artfully dodging the currents thrown by the others, righting the trees and rocks as he passed and watching behind him to ensure that only night and the last tremblings of our progress remained.

I felt the tension as we neared the circle - my own mingled with that of the others. We couldn't be sure what we would find there. I watched the boughs of the evergreens lift as Skye approached, and sucked in a nervous breath as we all entered the clearing, one after the other. Bren tightened his arms around me for a moment and pressed his lips against my temple, and then we grabbed up our boards and leaned them against a tree.

In one moment, Ringsaker was a dark, glittering circle with seven shadows moving amid the invisible hiss of a bubbling stream, and in the next, Bren raised his palm and a flame rose to raging in the stone ring, washing us all in an amber glow. The stream glittered with firelight, the stones on the banks a contrast of dark and bright.

We all unzipped our jackets as Bren stood gazing into the flames, his breath slow and even, deliberate. No one spoke, and I glanced at Frieda anxiously, unsure of what was happening. She stepped closer to me, gave me a reassuring smile, and waited. Finally, he spoke.

"He's been here." He turned to the others. Skye nodded her agreement.

"How did he find it?" Frey asked.

Val pressed his fists into his hips. "He came through this way."

"That's my guess." Bren paused, then turned to Val. "Only one way to find out."

Val nodded and walked back toward the others. When they saw Bren step toward me, they moved farther away, gathering near the looming pine that sparkled in front of the cliff.

"I just want you to sit here for a little while and wait for me. Okay?" He said, motioning to a wooden stump close to the fire. His tone was gentle.

My eyes grew wide. "Are you going somewhere?"

"No." He took my hand. "But no matter what you see, I don't want you be afraid. I won't let anything happen to you."

Somehow, these words only heightened my fear.

"Jenna," he said, kissing my palm. "Trust me."

He led me to the tree stump and held my hand until I sat, my back to the fire so that I could see him. Then he bent down and kissed me, his lips lingering for a moment on mine.

"Don't be afraid," he said again.

He walked over to the others and they arranged themselves in a loose circle, the pine at twelve o'clock. They bowed their heads and closed their eyes, then lifted their left arms toward the center, fists tight, rings shining in the wavering light. The fire cracked like a whip behind me and I jumped, but none of them even flinched. A breeze began to kick up, tossing their hair and blowing their jackets back. At first I didn't feel it, but as it tousled the flames, making the shadows leap against the trees, it rushed against me, growing stronger and more persistent until it howled, lashing my face and grabbing at my coat. I raked long wisps of hair from my eyes and glanced over my shoulder, wary of the fire. When I turned back, I stopped cold as I saw what was happening. The huge pine was shimmering - not glittering as it had before, but wavering in and out of reality, changing from solid to transparent and back again. As it settled on transparency, I expected to see the sheer stone of the cliff behind it, as though I were looking through a fir-shaped window, but instead, strange hues began to flicker in place of the boughs - first red, then purple, then green, then forming into a perfect spectrum...a rainbow Christmas tree.

Bren's eyes opened, narrowed as they slid to the side. He was listening for something.

In the next moment, a deafening crack echoed into the world, loud enough to make me believe the earth had split apart. All eyes flew open. Dag reached out and pulled Frieda behind him. Val and Skye moved close to Frey. Bren raised his head and stepped forward, staring into the spectral window, his expression transforming from alertness to fury.

"Where is my mother?" He asked, each word distinct, his voice low but barely contained.

Skye pulled at Frey's arm. When he stood his ground, she dropped her hand and stepped in front of him.

"We have had an escape." This new voice was a thunderous rumble. I winced as it throbbed in my ears. "Sif is distraught, concerned for your safety. I have sent her to rest until we have contained the problem."

"She would never have agreed to that." Bren was livid, his fists clenched at his sides.

"She will tell you herself, when it is over."

I worried that my ears could not withstand the volume and pressed my hands against them as a precaution. Frieda caught my gesture. She hurried over and crouched next to me.

"What's happening?" I asked her. "What is that thing?"

She leaned toward me, her eyes on Bren. "Bifrost. It's the bridge between the worlds. That's Thor on the other side."

"What? Thor? That's Thor?" For one moment, I was afraid I was going to lose my mind, and then it mercifully passed, leaving me trembling.

Frieda nodded, biting on the nail of her pinky. "He's not supposed to be here."

I opened my mouth to speak, but when we saw Bren cock his head to the side, we both quieted to listen. His voice was nearly sinister in its loathing. "You must be here at great risk." He stepped closer to the wavering spectrum. "Who were you expecting?"

There was quiet for a long moment. Then a rolling storm of words. "You have had your fun, but we are growing weary of your games. It is time to return."

"Who were you expecting?" Bren took another step.

"Return and appease your mother."

Bren's eyes flashed. "Do not ever speak to me of my mother." He paused, regaining his composure. "Did you release Loki? Have you sent him here to bring us home? Have you sunk so low as to conspire with a criminal?"

"I will do what is best for Asgard. Always."

"You admit it, then."

Silence.

Bren heaved with anger. "Whatever your plan," he said, "it will fail. Because if I find myself back in Asgard, my version of destruction will be very different from yours."

He glared into Bifrost for a long time, and I wondered if Thor stared back from the other side. Finally, there was another earsplitting boom and I jerked my hands up over my ears again. I waited until the noise began to fade to a tolerable rumble, then let my arms fall to my sides.

I leaned close to Frieda and she inclined her head to hear me. "Why does Bren hate him so much?" I whispered.

She shrugged. "Thor's his stepfather."

I stared at Bren. His stepfather.

Abruptly, Bren spun and spoke to the others. "He and Loki are in this together. Thor must have been spying on my mother. That's how he found the portal. He somehow arranged for Loki's release, maybe even persuaded the elders to look the other way...convinced them that Loki could bring us back. They've been using Bifrost to communicate. He was expecting Loki tonight, not us."

"How's Thor getting away with it?" Dag asked.

"He just can't be at the bridge long enough to get caught," Skye said.

I turned to Frieda again as they talked. "Why isn't Thor supposed to be at the bridge?"

I slid over on the stump so she could scoot in next to me. Her braids bobbed against her shoulders as she settled. "Thor is forbidden from Bifrost. He's not a flight risk or anything. He's actually a hero in Asgard. But he is who he is."

"What do you mean?"

She smiled. "You know him as the guy with the hammer, right?" She curled her fist and made a pounding motion on her thigh to illustrate. I nodded. "Well, that's true. But he's more than that. It's like...he _is_ the hammer. Everything he does is thunder. He moves, sleeps, eats, breathes it. The elders are afraid he'll destroy the bridge. Break it into pieces."

"But he was just here," I said, trying not to focus on how close I had been to witnessing such a thing.

She nodded. "Yeah. Well, Heimdall...have you heard of him?" I shook my head and she smiled again. "Bifrost's guardian. He's supposed to keep Thor a certain distance away, but Thor is technically his elder, so he probably wouldn't interfere unless the bridge was actually threatened."

"What would happen if Thor did destroy the bridge?" I asked. "Is it part of Asgard, or Earth?"

"Neither," she said. "That's the thing. A portal to Bifrost can be opened anywhere on Earth by a god in Asgard, or by an oath circle here. But Bifrost exists in the in-between. As far as we know, there's only a void surrounding it. Nothingness. If the bridge was destroyed, the connection would be lost forever."

I didn't know what that meant, exactly, and I wasn't sure Frieda knew either, but I reigned in my questions. There were other things to think of now.

Chapter 26

Bren stared out the sliders in his living room, his hand braced on the wall. Skye, Dag and Val sat huddled around the kitchen table, trying to come up with all the different ways Loki could catch Frey by surprise, and how to avoid them. The best theory so far was Dag's. He thought Loki would try to distract Bren while Thor captured Frey. The only problem with that, Val pointed out, was that Thor could not even try to cross the bridge without alerting the elders. So they moved on to working out the ways in which Thor might lure Frey over. Frey, his head in the refrigerator, suggested that he might use Frieda as bait, but Skye realized that it presented the same problem...Thor would have to cross the bridge to capture her. Unless, Frieda called over from our place on the couch, there were others involved in Asgard who would do it.

"No."

We all looked up. It had been a while since Bren had spoken. He turned to us. "There's no one else involved. None of the elders would let Thor near Bifrost, no matter what the potential reward. It's too risky. And I don't believe any of them would negotiate with Loki."

"Thor is a god of honor," Val said. "What makes you so sure he would?"

Bren's smile was full of contempt. "Because it's personal."

"Want to elaborate?" Frey asked.

"There's a reason Loki appealed to Thor and not somebody else." Bren said. "Loki is a master manipulator. He plays on fears, insecurities, anger, hate, any negative emotion you can think of. Thor and I have been at odds for a long time. Thor would love to win this one, yank me back home, look like a hero to the elders, to my mother." He took a steadying breath and continued. "All Loki would have to do is convince Thor that I should be taken first. Without me, the rest of you could be captured one by one."

I shifted in my seat, cold terror running through me at the thought of Bren being taken away, of what would happen if Frey was dragged back to die in battle. Of how soon that battle would be.

Frieda threw an anxious look toward Frey while he popped a soda can and pretended not to notice.

"But Loki can't take you." She said to Bren. "How could he?"

Bren shook his head.

The panic rose over my head. I didn't belong in a room full of gods who were bravely preparing for a fight. Bren was the most important thing to me, and I felt small and stupid for it. They were trying to save worlds, and the one thing I wanted to save was threatened by someone who scared me to the bone. I sprang up from the couch, headed down the hall and into the bathroom, and locked the door behind me.

I sat on the edge of the tub and dropped my face into my hands, pushing my fingers into the corners of my eyes to hold back tears. I caught a glimpse of the rug - midnight blue, the color that had swirled in Loki's eyes the night I met him - and looked away. Even in the coolness and stark light of the bathroom, I could not quiet the nerves wracking my body. I took a few deep breaths, holding them as long as I could, and told myself that it would be okay. That there was a way to win this. Bren had told me once that he could do anything. I held on to that now.

When I finally opened the door, Bren was leaning against the wall, waiting.

"Okay?" He asked. I stared at him. He took my hand, led me into his room and closed the door behind us. I walked to the windows, turned and paced back to center of the room, closed my eyes and sighed, paced back and forth again. Bren watched me.

"It'll be okay," he said. "We're going to take care of this."

"What does that mean?" There was a tremor in my voice.

"Thor needs Loki to pull off whatever they've got planned. We'll get Loki first."

"How?"

"We'll figure it out, map out exactly how it's going to go down. Then we'll take it to him." He shrugged. "He doesn't have a chance against us."

"If that's true," I said, folding my arms, "then why are you being so careful?"

He smiled, pulled me toward him. I peered up into his face and he brushed his hand against my cheek.

"I didn't say he wouldn't fight. He will. He's slick. Calculating. He sees weaknesses and anticipates perfect opportunities to exploit them. More than any of that though, he's patient, and that's what makes him so dangerous. When we go after him, it's going to have to be quick and aggressive. So our carefulness, as you put it, has to do with protecting everybody else, preventing this place from becoming a crater."

I slumped. "That's encouraging."

He laughed, held his right fist over his heart and gave me a slight nod. "That's Asgard."

"Well this is Earth." I pulled away from him, went over to the bed and dropped down on the edge. Then I grabbed his pillow and wrapped my arms around it, pushing my face into the linen to inhale his scent. "And I don't want to lose you to someone who doesn't even belong here."

He walked over and sat down next to me. "You know, if I'd stayed where _I_ belonged, you'd have nothing to lose." He ran his hand over the back of my hair. "I wonder if I could've just left you alone, if I'd known all this was going to happen."

I looked up at him. "Do you regret it?" I realized as I asked him this that I would never have chosen to go back to who I was before I knew him, no matter what happened now.

"No," he said. "I'll never regret it. I just wish I could take away your fear."

I closed my eyes, squeezed the pillow and breathed in his scent again, then felt him tug it from my grip. He slid an arm around my waist and kissed me. As I softened, he tossed the pillow behind me and pressed me down onto the bed. His mouth never left mine, and I finally gasped for breath under his weight.

"I can't lose you," I whispered against his lips. I couldn't get close enough to him to calm my dread. I grabbed handfuls of his shirt in my fists and he hovered over me until I felt small underneath him.

"You're not going to lose me." He kissed me again, harder, his tongue peppermint cool on mine.

"What if - "

"Shh." He smothered my words, lacing his fingers through mine. "You're not going to lose me." He bent his head, dragged the collar of my shirt aside with his teeth and kissed my shoulder, his tongue moving in small, slow arcs. When I sighed, I heard a low growl in his throat. He let his arms buckle so that his full weight pressed on me and I braced myself for the crush, but it made me feel safer than I'd ever felt, and I thought I'd rather suffocate than let it end.

His breath grew hot against my skin and as I shivered, he released one of my hands to run his fingers down my neck. He looked into my eyes. In just a few seconds, I'd forgotten the impact of him. I pushed my free hand against his shoulder to steady myself, but the feel of him was like a freefall.

Ignoring my halfhearted attempt at control, he grasped my hip and then ran his hand over my waist, sliding his fingers underneath my shirt to touch my skin. The muscles in my stomach jumped and when he laughed softly in my ear, I felt the first real twitch of nerves. He glided his hand around to the small of my back and tugged me against him. I stiffened, my breath quick and shallow.

"Bren."

His fingers dug into my flesh.

"Wait." I was trembling. I heard the fear in my own voice and so did he. He stopped and let his body relax.

"You're shaking," he said against my neck. "Why didn't you stop me?"

"Because I'm scared."

He lifted himself up and gave me a confused look. "You _didn't_ stop me because you're scared?"

"I don't know what's going to happen. I don't know how much time we have to..."

"No. Nothing between us should happen like that. Not because you're afraid to lose me." He pushed his fingers into my hair and gave me a fierce look. "Everything's going to be okay. I'm not going anywhere."

I wanted to believe him.

I didn't sleep at all, unwilling to waste any of my time with Bren. I watched his face, listened to him breathe, wondered what Loki could do to tear our world apart. Bren was worried that I'd fall asleep at school and walked me back a little early. I didn't argue, but not because I didn't know the worth of those last moments with him before the morning came. It was because I did know their value, and I was preparing to gamble.

Chapter 27

I snuck back into the suite, padded to my room and changed into a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt. Then I wrenched on my sneakers and threw my hair up into a loose ponytail. Grabbing my jacket, I slipped out the door.

In the lobby, Sydney peered around her book and grinned at me.

"This is new," she said. "Usually when you sneak back in it's for the night. Got two boyfriends now?"

"No," I said with a guilty smile. "But thanks for not ratting me out."

She turned up a palm. "Hey, I warned you, but I'm not going to mess with your life." Her grin widened. "My house was on a cul-de sac. Try climbing out a second story window at midnight under those conditions. There were at least three dads up gawking at internet porn at any given time, so you were bound to get caught." She slid back behind her book. I laughed and headed outside.

It would be dark for a while yet, but the clouds were breaking apart like chunks of ice in a river as they rode the night sky. I crunched across the deck and down the stairs, turning to look out over the mountain. My gaze climbed far up into the hills, where Ringsaker lay hidden in a thicket of forest green, then down to the break in the treetops that hinted at the bonfire site beneath. The blanket of snow stretching toward it reminded me of the night Bren walked me home. The night he had found me on the trail and held me while soft flakes drifted around us. I let my eyes stray to the first row of condos, the end unit the only one visible from where I stood. It was number 209. I needed 217.

I urged myself forward and cleared my mind, thought of nothing that could deter me as I crossed the clearing. My footsteps slowed when I rounded the corner of the row. The main hotel and lodge were now obscured, but I kept moving. 217 was the last unit. I stood at the bottom of the wooden steps for a moment, staring at the black numbers on the door, then braced my hand on the rail and climbed.

I paused, my fist in the air, then tapped on the door three times. There was no time for my fear to build. Instead, it exploded in my body as the door eased open and dark eyes met mine.

I staggered back a step and caught myself, taking him in. He was shirtless, white lounging pants cinched just below his hipbones and long enough to cover most of his bare feet. His hair was pushed back in shaggy tufts, the finger grooves still fresh, and his eyes were already changing from black to a cool, wet blue. He stared at me for a moment, then stepped back against the open door and waited.

I gazed into the darkness behind him, suddenly sure I had made a mistake and trying to remember what I had been thinking as I lay on Bren's chest concocting this madness.

"If you're so afraid, then why did you come?" His voice was soft.

I opened my mouth. No sound came and I tried again. "I wanted to talk to you."

He pressed his shoulder against the door and slipped a hand into his pocket. "I'm not going to stand on this threshold for long, Jenna. Either come in or don't."

I agonized, reminding myself what was at stake. I peered into the gloom again. "Can you at least turn on some lights?"

"What do you need to see?" But when he pushed himself off the door and strolled back into the darkness, I saw his silhouette reach toward a wall and a moment later a warm glow radiated in all directions. It was the light over the dining room table, and although it was dimmed, I could now make out the layout of the place. A kitchen to the right with the dining room beyond the breakfast bar. A living room farther along. To the left, a bathroom, and a staircase that I assumed led up to the bedrooms. The entire condo was done in neutral tones - beige carpet, tan furniture, light blue walls - and Loki looked strange standing in the middle of it, like a diamond ring lost in a sandbox.

He spread his arms in what had become a familiar gesture, waiting. I stepped over the threshold, pulled my hands from my pockets, and nearly hit the ceiling as the door closed behind me. My heart pounded.

"My bad," he said. "I forget. You people like to do everything manually."

"We don't have a choice," I said, using the small talk to smooth out my voice.

"So they say."

Behind him, Fenrir rose from the floor in the living room, his golden eyes glistening in the low light. I was stricken again by his size, my body growing cold as he trotted toward me. He leaned against my legs as he had the last time I'd met him, and I braced myself so that I could stroke his insistent muzzle. Now, the image of him swallowing a god whole flashed through my mind. Fenrir lifted his eyes in question, as though he had felt my tension. He licked my hand and then pushed his head underneath it. I resumed scratching his ears. Whatever his history, he did not seem to be hungry now.

Loki huffed and shook his head at Fenrir. Then he turned and walked into the living room, the lean muscles of his back flexing as he motioned to the loveseat against the wall. He watched me creep forward, Fenrir sidling me and peering up into my face, and smirked bitterly as I stepped in a wide arc around him and lowered myself on the edge of a cushion. Fenrir dropped to the carpet and rested his chin on my sneaker. Loki took the adjacent couch and reclined into the pillows, his hands laced across his stomach. He stared at me and let the minutes spin out between us.

"Did I wake you up?" I asked.

"No."

Another minute passed.

"Did you know I was coming?"

He flipped his palms and then laced his hands together again. "Why waste time tapping into you when you're supposed to be asleep? Although your dreams may be interesting."

_Not to you_ , I thought.

"Why not? Only room for Bren in the recesses of your mind?"

"Can you not do that?" I folded my arms and sat back against the cushions.

He leaned forward and clasped his hands between his knees. "You came to me. Not the other way around. Unlike your boyfriend, I don't feel some humane duty to respect your privacy. I'll do what I have to do."

"You know I'm no threat to you," I said, desperate to keep the exchange calm.

He smiled and stared at me for a long time before he spoke.

"What do you want, Jenna?"

"I want to know why you're doing this."

"You know why."

"I don't. I mean, I know you're here for Bren, for all of them. I know Thor helped you escape from...wherever." His eyes darkened and I hurried on. "But what's in it for you? If the cycle continues, won't you just end up, you know, in the same...predicament?"

Hoping my words would settle in him, I looked down and stroked the soft fur on Fenrir's back. Loki watched me for a while.

"My...predicament, did you call it? Has little to do with the battle. It's a detail. It can be altered."

I looked up at him. "So that's what happened? You made a deal with Thor that if you brought them back, you'd be free?" I scratched at my arm. "Even after you... even after all the things you've done?"

"That's the catch." He gave me a cynical smile. "Unlike your politicians, the gods have a vague sense of justice. I would still have to live...elsewhere...until the battle commences."

"Elsewhere."

He glanced down at his hands. "Hel. One L. Not where you're thinking of, but not far off. Only the elite of Asgard get to retire there." He reclined again and slung one arm over the back of the sofa. "The monstrous, the criminal...the insane." He gave me a wild grin.

I drew back and raised a brow. "You get banished to this place for being mentally unstable? Forever?"

"You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave. Hotel California. The Eagles. Before your time, I'd imagine."

"I know the song." I said testily.

He touched two fingers to his head in apology, then he fixed his eyes on mine. I stared at his irises, alive now with a red flicker.

"There are bloody scratches on the walls of Hel," he whispered. "But there are no doors."

Scarlet flared around his pupils, the fiery rings of twin eclipses. I felt suffering, death, saw the faces of tortured strangers and wanted to look away, but I was trapped. My stomach lurched with disgust, then panic, and finally with a hopeless grief that twisted miserably inside me. For a moment, I couldn't remember who held me here, in this sadness. And then it was drawing back, the black hole shrinking, the world filling in around me once again. I gasped like I had been drowning, and clutched at the arm of the loveseat. Fenrir stood at my knee, his massive head turned toward Loki, a low growl issuing from deep in his throat.

"Yes," Loki said, nodding, his eyes sharp on mine. "Hel is unkind. But it's a day at the beach compared to where I've been. Do you like the beach, Jenna?"

I grabbed at Fenrir's fur and waited to catch my breath.

"I came here to see if there was some other way," I said, my voice trembling. "This deal you made with Thor, it can't possibly be the best you can do."

"What do you suggest? That I get a good lawyer? Blame my upbringing? Plead for rehab?" He held his hands up, his voice filling with mock remorse. "I didn't mean to kill and torture all those gods. It's just that my parents were so hard on me, and I have low self-esteem."

I shook my head. "How can you joke about this? About what's going to happen to you?"

He sighed, propped his head against his palm. "Most horror is funny. Haven't you noticed?"

"Can't you stay here?" It was the question I had come to ask. The only idea I had to keep him from doing whatever it was he planned to do. I wondered if anyone from Asgard would come after him.

"Of course they would. Do you think they'd just let me roam around here, causing mayhem?" He raised his eyebrows twice and smiled. "I love that word. Mayhem. Its origins are from the Old High German for crazy. Did you know that?"

"No. What if you just...you know...lived here. Peacefully. Without causing any trouble. Would they come after you if you didn't do anything wrong?"

He leaned forward until he was just a few inches from me. I squashed the urge to pull back, tufts of Fenrir's fur springing out from between my fingers as I clenched and unclenched my hand. A hint of a smile remained on Loki's lips, but his eyes were hard.

"I have already 'done things wrong.' I would be a fugitive. I escape only at the destruction, to fight in the battle." He grinned. "For the other side of course. But this makes no difference to the elders. All must play their role, and they would drag me back in an instant." He gestured toward me. "Unlike your friends, I don't have an oath circle to protect me."

I thought of what Bren had said - that in Asgard, he and his family were no better than criminals. I wondered if there was any way they would consider harboring Loki, letting him into their circle, if it meant they could all stay.

Loki's eyes were still fixed on mine. "You're crazier than I am," he said.

"There's got to be a way." I straightened up. "I could ask them. I'd talk to Frieda first and if she -"

He grabbed my arms and glared down into my face. I heard Fenrir growl but it was far away, beyond the fear that had suddenly closed around me.

"I am not some misunderstood soul for you to pity and try to save," he said in a wicked hiss. My heart pounded hard enough to shake my body and my arms throbbed under his hands. His hair had fallen into his face. His irises were crimson now, the color of blood. He stared into me for a moment, searching, then pushed me away from him and sat back again. "Go away, Jenna. I'm tired of this game."

I didn't speak or move for a long time. When I thought I could trust my legs, I rose, using Fenrir for support, and looked out the living room windows to see if the dark had paled.

"Beautiful and strange, In her fragile bravery, Waiting for the light."

I glanced down at him. His eyes had turned the powder blue that would wash over the sky not long from now.

"Haiku," he said.

"I know. The author?"

"Anonymous." He said the words deliberately, the same way he had said 'Alaskan Malamute' the night I'd met him.

I turned back to the window. I had worn what would pass for pajamas in case my mother was up when I got home. If she was, I would tell her I wanted to have my coffee on the deck, as I had done every morning of winter vacation, before the world had spun off its axis.

"She's still asleep." Loki said. "But you are already caught."

I felt the blood drain from my face.

"Skye is listening," he said.

I had known it was a possibility, and had taken the chance anyway. It could have been worse.

"To me or to you?"

He lifted his chin at me. I knew Bren wasn't in on it, because he'd have been here by now.

"I've been blocking him."

I stared at him, the second half of my question hanging in the air between us.

"She'll tell him," he said.

I sighed and let my shoulders drop. It was not how I had wanted things to go, but I had known the risks, and as I stood there, I realized I was more afraid of Bren's anger than I was of Loki.

Loki's laugh was a whisper. He shook his head as I let myself out into the cold, dark morning.

Chapter 28

I chewed my pencils all day at school, scrolling them between my teeth as the yellow paint sunk and chipped. I brooded at lunch, answering whatever Dillon and Laura said to me with a grumble that could have meant yes or no. They asked me if I was going to ride with them during Ski Club and I shrugged and shook my head, then nodded, thinking I could decide after I saw Bren and my head was clear again. I was quiet in the car when my mother picked me up. When she asked if I was all right, I mumbled an umm-hmm and she left me alone until we pulled into her space at the hotel. Then she asked if Bren and I had had a fight.

"No. I'm just tired."

"Ski Club tonight?" She smiled, her eyebrows raised high on her forehead.

I nodded.

"You can go up with your friends now. That'll be fun."

"Yeah," I said, forcing a bright tone. "We'll see." I shoved open the door before she could say anything else. She needed to go back up to the suite for her salad, so I went to change into my snow pants and boots in case I wanted to ride later. Since Loki had found me inside, I didn't see any reason to be relegated to the indoors, and Ski Club would be a chance to get out. I would be safer with a group anyway, especially if Bren was working on the mountain.

I went down to the reception area, full of jitters as I pulled out my phone to text him. I typed 'home' and hit send, then glanced out at the deck. I froze. Bren stood against the rail, one hand shoved deep in his jacket pocket, the other holding his phone so that I could see he had gotten my message. My limbs went weak with nerves. I dropped my backpack and slipped my phone back into my jacket. Then, sucking in a deep, shaky breath, I went to the door and pushed it open, wincing against the sunlight. I paused for a moment, hoping he would look less angry, then propelled myself forward. I stopped a few feet away from him.

His eyes were harsh on mine.

"My break is in an hour," he said in a level tone. "I will meet you in the lodge." Without waiting for an answer, he spun and stalked from the deck.

My mother eyed me from the desk when I came back in, but when she opened her mouth to speak, I scooped up my backpack and cut her off.

"I'm going to the lodge to wait for Tyler and Laura. I want to try to get my homework done before they get here."

"Okay." She threw up a hand. "See you later."

I chose a table near the windows this time, not wanting to remember the scene with Loki by the fire. I felt so far from Bren, from the warmth of his smile, from the sound of his laugh, that my body ached with it. I could have cried then, just sat there and sobbed, but I was afraid one of the employees would go get my mother and I'd have to explain myself.

The hour was both long and frighteningly short, and by the time Bren finally yanked open the door and stalked into the lodge, making a bee-line for my table without even stopping to spot me, I was sick with regret.

He pulled out the chair opposite me, leaned on the back of it and glared down into my face. Then he straightened up and paced back and forth in front of the table a few times before spinning on me again. He ran a hand through his hair. I watched him, taking quiet, shallow breaths as I waited for him to speak. Finally, he sat down, flattened his hands on the table and leaned toward me, his eyes blazing.

"Why." His tone was dangerously soft.

"I couldn't just sit here waiting to lose you," I said.

"After everything I told you. You still chose to risk it. Risk everything." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then went on. "You knew if I found out I'd come after you. It would have been a war, right then and there."

"I knew you weren't in my head. You told me you'd respect my privacy and I trusted you. I knew..."

"And I trusted you."

I stared at him, felt the salty prick of tears and held them back as I searched his face. He tossed his gloves onto the table and sat back in his chair. "I don't know what to say to you, Jenna. It's like you're working against me here."

My face burned with guilt. I had wanted only to find a solution, and now he saw me as part of the problem.

"Why didn't Skye tell you before I got there?" I asked, part of me wishing now that she had.

"She thought you might be able to get something out of him." He huffed and stared out the window. "I don't know which one of you is worse."

Another stab.

"Bren, please, just..."

"No." He turned back to me, then slid his chair back and rose, resumed his pacing in front of the table. "I don't know what I have to do to make you understand what's happening here."

"I do understand." A few people began to shuffle into the lodge and mill around. He ignored them.

"Really?" He leaned down, planted a hand on either side of me.

"I..."

"Do you understand that Loki wants to bring me back first, so that the others are more vulnerable?"

I opened my mouth, but he cut me off.

"And have you thought about how he's going to do that?"

I fell silent. I hadn't thought about it. I glanced at the table and back up, waiting.

"He knows he can't take me. He's always known. They can see everything from Asgard. See where we are. What we're doing. All the time. And they've never come for us before." He paused and held my gaze, waiting for me to speak. When I didn't, he went on. "What do you think has changed, Jenna?"

He slapped the table and I jumped. Then he stood upright and laced his hands behind his neck, turning in a slow circle before leaning down to look into my face again. He raised his brows to prompt my answer.

I shook my head.

"I told my mother about you," he said. "They were listening. They know how I feel about you." He bent lower and stared into my eyes. "You are the only weakness I have. You are the reason Loki is here."

A chill ran through me. I sat back, away from him, suddenly sure that my mere closeness to him would get him hurt. Why hadn't I seen it before? Why hadn't I asked why they were suddenly under attack after so many years? He was nodding.

"Now do you understand?" He asked. "He wants to use you somehow to get to me, and you just delivered yourself to his doorstep like frigging Fed Ex." He slammed his hand on the table again, but I was too stunned to react.

"Everything okay, Jenna?"

I jerked my head up. Tyler leaned out from behind Bren, staring down at me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Brianna standing by the fire, watching.

Bren spun on Tyler. "Problem?"

Tyler shifted his weight. "That's what I'm trying to find out. Jenna?"

Bren grabbed Tyler's jacket and I heard Brianna gasp. Tyler tried to shove Bren away, but his grip was fierce.

"Talk to her again," Bren said. "Say one more word. Do it." Their foreheads were nearly touching. Hesitation flickered in Tyler's eyes, but he planted his feet wide and stood his ground. His gaze shifted to mine once more and fear shot through me at the thought that he might say something else.

"That's enough." I shoved my chair back. "Just go away Tyler." I looked over his shoulder at Brianna. She stared for a moment, but when I widened my eyes at her, she stepped forward.

"Tyler, let's go," she said. "Before you get in trouble."

I threw my arm across Bren's chest and pushed against him. "Let go." But he pulled Tyler closer, twisting his jacket in one fist.

"Go, Tyler," I said again. Brianna stepped up to Tyler and tugged at his shoulder. He ignored her.

"You still tough when you're not hitting a guy from behind?" Tyler said to Bren.

Bren laughed, his eyes crazed. "Let's find out."

"No." I wedged myself between them. "This is over. Right now."

A long moment passed as I struggled without success to break them apart. Finally, I looked into Bren's face. "Don't do this now," I said.

His fist tightened on Tyler's jacket for another second, then he released him with a push. He pointed into Tyler's face. "I should've ended you when I had the chance."

Tyler smiled and allowed Brianna to pull him toward the door. He walked backward, his gaze locked with Bren's, until he hit the threshold, then he pivoted and went out into the cold. Bren watched him through the glass until he disappeared from view.

He turned back in my direction, fists on his hips, and stared at the floor.

I waited for his breathing to slow, for the muscles in his jaw to still. When I couldn't stand the silence for another second, I said, "I'm sorry. I was scared for you and I made a mistake. I'll be careful from now on. I promise."

"Yeah, well, let's see if you're here when I get back." His eyes touched on mine for a brief second before he spun and stalked out of the lodge, his shoulders still tense with anger.

I stood there alone, listened to the ski club kids talk and laugh, watched the fire flicker, and tried to breathe through the hurt. I sat down at the table and opened my book, straining to concentrate on the words, but they were meaningless, so I slammed it closed and shoved it in my backpack. It was stuffy in the lodge, and I suddenly felt suffocated. I sprang up from my chair and headed for the door, desperate for the cold air by the time I heaved it open.

I stood in the middle of the deck and inhaled, the sun on my face a warm contrast to the breeze, then closed my eyes and lost myself in the orange haze beneath my lids.

"Jenna." Brianna. But her tone was different. The bubbly squeak was missing. I opened my eyes as she cleared the top step and approached me in long strides.

"Look," she said, panting, her cheeks flushed. "I know you and Bren are fighting or whatever, but he doesn't have to take it out on Tyler. He already attacked him once."

"It's over," I said. "Don't worry about it."

"It's not. Bren's following Tyler to the raceway." She glanced over her shoulder. "He came out of the trees next to the lodge. I tried to yell to Tyler but he couldn't hear me."

I peered around her toward the bunny hill and searched the crowd. I saw Bren's hair gleaming in the sun as he buckled himself into his board. Tyler was just dropping over the hill.

"No," I said.

I left Brianna behind, flew down the stairs and pulled my board from the rack. I ran as fast as I could to the bunny hill and buckled in, glancing down the slope as I rose. They were at the bottom now, Tyler pumping himself over the flats past the terrain park lift, Bren just gaining the foot of the hill. I started down, concentrating on my turns to avoid a fall, and did not look up again until I hit the end of the run. Tyler had reached the raceway lift and was filing into the small line. Bren hung back, letting a few people slide in between them. I kicked my board off, picked it up and ran in a clumsy gait over the snow, calling Bren's name, but he didn't even look back.

By the time I moved into the line, they were on their way up, three chairs between them. I boarded the lift by myself and pulled the bar down, sliding from side to side to try to see them more clearly. Tyler was sitting in the middle of his seat, his poles hanging on the bar. Bren reclined to one side, his arm slung over the back of the chair. He had both feet buckled into his board. I frowned. It was not his board. It was dark wood with a bright pattern. When it caught the sun, yellow dots and swirls lit up across its surface.

Bren glanced back, caught my eye and grinned a sly, unfamiliar grin, then faced forward again. He ran a hand through his hair and shook it out, the long cinnamon locks changing to white gold as new layers fell into place. My blood ran cold. Loki.

He did not turn again but I knew he saw me, in his head where he could feel my fright and shock. He had been listening. In just a few moments he had taken everything Bren and I had said to each other, everything that had happened with Tyler, and even Brianna's misguided concern, and turned it into an irresistible trap. It was exactly what Bren said he would do. And I had fallen for it.

I was shaking when my chair hit the off ramp, and for a moment I felt the relief of concentrating on nothing but remaining upright. But when I looked around and saw that every guest was veering to the left, while the sign for the raceway pointed right, my stomach lurched. I stood near the trail map for a moment and watched the lift operator read his magazine. I knew I had to look for them. I had no love for Tyler, but if he was seriously hurt, or worse, because of me, I would not be able to live with it.

The day darkened. I glanced up and found the sun, now just a neon smear on a violent gray ocean, and watched as lacey hail began to blow in the new, cold wind. I closed my eyes and imagined oblivion, death, wondered how much pain a body could take before it shut down its own consciousness. Then I pushed off the map and headed to the crest of the raceway.

I stared down the wide, even slope. Hollow bits of ice filled the air, swirling in all directions and misleading my vision. I began to descend on my back edge, moving in slow, small arcs as I scanned back and forth, straining to hear over the howl of the wind. The trail was empty for a long time, and I guessed that I was about halfway down when I finally saw Tyler's gray racing jacket through the squall. I squinted. He was just a dim figure poised on the high bank of the stream. I angled toward him.

His image sharpened as I approached. He sat with his back toward me, his legs folded to the side, his skis still attached. I pivoted onto my front edge and scooped around him, kneeling in the snow so that I could look directly into his face. My heart skipped.

"Tyler," I said, my voice no more than a high breath.

His hair was white from roots to ends, his blank expression frozen as he stared out from wide, wet eyes. I squeezed his shoulder and shook him. "Tyler. Wake up. Tyler. Come on. Wake up." He was warm, but pale and motionless, and he didn't seem to know I was there. "Tyler," I said, shaking him again. I glanced around, then clapped my hands twice in front of his face, speaking in a loud, firm tone. "Come on Tyler." But he didn't stir. "Tyler, please," I sighed.

"Looks kind of like an ice sculpture."

I jerked my head around. Loki stood on the slope just below me. The yellow jacket he had fooled me with was now metallic brown, the board I had seen from the lift now the skis I knew to be his. His hair blew across his forehead and fell softly in his eyes as he watched me.

"What should we call him?" He asked. "Racer in Repose?" He put a finger to his lips, frowning down at Tyler. "No. No. It doesn't capture his essence." He twirled his hand in the air for a moment and then pointed at me. "I know. How about Rapist in Repose?"

I stared at him, my pulse loud in my ears. "He has nothing to do with this."

"But he does." Loki slid backward, his skis running uphill until he was just behind Tyler. "He was instrumental in bringing us together. If not for Tyler here, today may not have been our day." He gave Tyler a swat with his pole. Then his expression transformed into a sneer, his hateful gaze midnight blue. "Your boyfriend was right. He should have killed him."

I hunkered back down to Tyler, desperate now to wake him before I no longer had the chance, and shook his shoulders with both hands. "Tyler, wake up. Tyler. Dammit." I shoved him back and let my hands drop.

Loki smirked and rolled his eyes, his voice sandy smooth. "It's not like he's dead. Someone will find him soon. And with a little therapy and an hour at the hairdresser, he'll be back on the Little Woods Varsity Date Rape Team in no time."

I slumped, the snow creaking under the press of my knees. Ice coated my hair, dripping down into my eyes as it melted. I heard Loki slide forward and saw his skis cut into the snow beside me.

"It's time to go," he said.

Cold panic fluttered my pulse and before I could think I was up, turning, facing down the slope. I let the incline take my board, steering in small turns and trying to build speed as fast as I could. I imagined the lodge, people, Bren's furious expression, and wanted nothing more than to see those things now, to ride into their midst. Loki's skis scrawled on the snow somewhere behind me, his laugh no more than a faint, lazy trill. I concentrated on the rush of the stream to drown it out. I was moving faster than I ever had, my turns tighter and more vertical, but the thought of something terrible happening to Bren or to the others, because of me, outweighed any painful fall I could imagine. I steered my runaway board, pushing on.

As the path narrowed and the pines closed in on either side, the scrape of Loki's skis grew louder. My board wobbled as I registered the sound and I swayed closer to the stream. The ground was choppy here, chewed up, hail caught in the ruts and divots. I skirted around most of the icy chunks and veered left to avoid a large bump that had materialized from the gloom. Straightening out again, I focused ahead and my knees went weak. A small jump rose beside the trees a few feet away, heavily grooved by the many boards and skis that had vaulted from it.

"No," I whispered. Loki's hiss closed in on my right, giving me no room to swerve away. I hit the jump at full speed. My board quivered as it dug against the ramp and pain shot through my weak ankle. I buckled, lurching as I cleared the crest. With no ground beneath me, I had a brief moment to spot the snow and realize I was at too sharp an angle to land upright, so I closed my eyes and cringed, bracing for the spin out.

An arm coiled around my waist and snatched me backward in the air.

"Gotcha," Loki said in my ear, his sweet, licorice scent all around me.

A second later we were on the snow again. He held me against his side so the front edge of my board ran parallel with his skis and I clutched at his jacket, wincing against the sting of the hail as we gained speed. The ground rose and dipped before us, a white, turbulent sea churning against a storm, and Loki navigated with an effortless grace, his turns sharp enough to rip me apart if not for his iron grip.

I opened my eyes against the wind and ice to see if I could spy any part of the resort and caught movement close to us. Fenrir galloped at Loki's side, his fur blowing back against his swift gait, his mouth open in a fierce, jagged grimace. For a second I felt a warm burst of relief as his eyes rolled back to regard me, then couldn't pinpoint the reason why. He was Loki's wolf, running with him now, answering his silent will like the hills and trees around us.

We hit the glades at an impossible pace and Loki cut around them in hard switches, each trunk inches from us before he made his move. I heard myself scream, my voice lost in the howl of the wind.

"Easy," he said. His chilled tone sent me into violent shivers.

Fenrir, agile as a mountain lion behind us, barked once as we changed course and headed upward. Loki had stopped bothering to bend the trees, and they continued to rush at us, my body tensing with each near miss. The woods had weakened the hail, and I no longer had to close my eyes, but I could have. I knew where we were going. The path was familiar, and so I turned my head to avoid the boughs as we crashed through them, skidding to a stop in the middle of Ringsaker.

Chapter 29

Loki stepped off his skis and dropped to one knee to unbuckle my board, staring up into my face. Fenrir pressed against my side.

"You'll be warm in a minute," Loki said.

I let my hand fall to Fenrir's pelt. "So what now?"

He motioned to the giant evergreen. "We cross."

Hail swirled around the circle and the tree shimmered. I narrowed my eyes, wondering if it was the ice or something more.

"You want to bring me over so that he'll come after me." I found I couldn't say Bren's name here. I was afraid it might somehow draw him in.

He nodded, his expression grave. "He will."

"And then?"

He shrugged, put his hands in his pockets. "We'll be gone by then."

"So how would anyone keep him there? In Asgard."

"They won't have to." He nodded toward me. "You will."

I paused, thought back to his earlier words. "What do you mean, 'we'll be gone by then?' "

He stepped toward me, his gaze steady on mine. "You will await the destruction in Hel, with Fenrir and me. Bren is a noble god, and cannot enter there. It is my reward, and his punishment for the chaos he has caused.

I backed away from him, my eyes wide. "What? No. He'll come after me. He'll find a way."

Loki's smile was dry. "The rules of Asgard do not bend like the trees, even for a timeless god."

I backed away further, pulled my arms tight around me. Fenrir whined.

"After all you've been through, the horrible things you've suffered, how could you want to hurt someone else like this?" I asked.

"In your world, people have been tortured to the point where they would condemn their own children to end the pain. What makes you think that I would not end mine?"

He gazed at the tree for a moment, his eyes paling, calming. Fenrir crept over and leaned into me again as it began to waver.

"If it meant a choice between this and having you on Earth, I know Bren would let you stay." I said. "They'd let you in. You wouldn't have to go back."

The tree began to lose its color. Loki sighed and closed his eyes. "Dear child, I also by pleasant streams, Have wandered all night in the Land of Dreams; But though calm and warm the waters wide, I could not get to the other side. William Blake."

Light streamed from the tree now, its hue changing again and again. The reflection flickered in Fenrir's eyes. I hadn't been this close to the portal the last time I was here, and the electric warmth issuing from it felt like the onset of a summer storm. It reminded me of Bren, of the way it felt to be close to him when he was restless.

Loki opened his eyes. The bridge was open.

A familiar thunder rumbled from somewhere beyond, and my hands instinctively flew to my ears. I lowered them cautiously as it subsided.

"We have to hurry." Loki turned to me with quiet regard. "Thor will not stay long."

I stepped away, allowing Fenrir to push between us, but Loki's hand snapped out and closed around my arm. Fenrir growled as I yanked and struggled and Loki hissed to silence him.

"Evidence of a struggle will only anger Ullur. Make things worse for everyone." He said. "We will cross, in the end. You have only to choose how you will go."

In the next moment, a jolt almost too painful to bear shot through my arm where he held me. He pulled his hand from me and stared at it, then glanced toward the trees behind us. Skye stood just inside the boughs, her gaze locked on Loki. She took a few steps forward, but stopped when he reached out again and dragged me toward him.

"Let her go," she said.

"Sorry," Loki said. "I saw her first."

"You don't need her." Skye took another step. "We will go back without her, if that's what it takes."

"If that's what it takes?" Loki's smile went from sarcastic to gruesome as he spoke. "To spare her? To save her from the fate of an eternity by my side?"

"No." I shook my head at Skye. "I don't want any of you to do that. Not for me. Tell Bren not to come after me. That would be worse for me than this."

"Enough." Loki spun me toward the portal. "He will come for you." He pushed me forward, Fenrir falling in behind his step. Before I could decide whether to fight or comply, Loki jerked and turned toward Skye again, his expression murderous. She was standing with one arm extended, her hand splayed.

"You bitch. Do you think you can stop me alone?" But his face fell instantly. He glanced down at her ring. "No. You don't do you? They're coming." He nodded and thrust a palm toward the portal - thunder shaking the ground and his body jerking again as a charge shot through him - and then pivoted and directed his palm toward Skye. The air between them rippled. She was thrown backward and landed in the snow against the trees. Her eyes slid closed, her face pale and motionless.

"No," I screamed, struggling against Loki while Fenrir snarled behind him. "What did you do to her?"

His grip tightened as he dragged me forward into the pulsating light. I gazed back at Skye until she was no more than a still figure in a fading world.

Chapter 30

As I turned toward the light, my mind scrambled for purchase. We stood on a narrow strip of rainbow mist that swirled around our ankles like alien algae on the surface of a mystic lake. A strong scent that reminded me of cherry blossoms hit me and I glanced around. I had expected sky above and around us, but there was just an endless sea of navy blue, starless and maddening in its flat constancy. I focused ahead to break the daze and saw a transparent shimmer on the other side, a rough opening, its edges wavering so that it had no definite size. To the right of the opening stood a bulky male figure in some type of armor, his stance rigid. His back was to us and he held a spear in his left hand. Long, strawberry blonde locks spilled down his back but were unmoved by the breeze sweeping by us in a steady howl. Heimdall.

I leaned to get a better look at what lay beyond him but another hulking figure obscured my view. It was impossible to make out details in the mist, but the long, golden tresses, the huge hammer standing on its head by his feet, the thunder that exploded as he stepped forward all confirmed his identity.

I struggled against Loki's grip and shook my head. "No, I don't belong here."

Loki pulled me forward, my feet sliding on the surface beneath the fog as if I were gliding on ice.

"It's best not to fight me," he said. "The closer I am to Asgard, the better I can harness its power, and Thor's. If Bren arrives before we are across, there will be an unpleasant confrontation, and Thor wants him home in one piece."

My heart sank. There was no right action to take now. I hadn't listened to what Bren had told me, hadn't trusted him, and this is what I had caused.

"You'll have an eternity to wallow in self pity," Loki said, yanking me along. "It's a favorite pastime of those in the netherworlds."

We were at the halfway point now, and as I peered at Loki, I noticed he had changed. His coat was open and his t-shirt was ripped at the collar, the muscles of his chest bulging against the cotton. His hair had grown longer and I watched it pale to the color of straw before my eyes as it blew around his face. I felt hot breath on my neck and glanced around, strangling a scream in my throat as Fenrir stared back at me, his yellow eyes now level with mine. I gasped as his enormous pink tongue shot out and grazed my face.

"What's happening?" My voice was thin and high.

"As we get closer to Asgard, we become our true selves."

I looked down at myself. My size hadn't changed, but my skin had taken on a pale glow. I pulled a lock of my hair between my fingers and eyed it. It was just slightly longer, the color a touch more vivid.

Loki watched me. "Yes, it's fascinating. Isn't it, Toto?" He reached up and gave Fenrir a firm pat.

Thunder sounded again, this time in the form of words.

"Our time grows short." The voice was loud on the bridge, but didn't threaten my eardrums the way it had before. Loki tightened his grip on me again, but before he could take a step, we heard more rumbling. We froze, listening. The sound wasn't coming from Thor. It was behind us.

I turned and peered around Fenrir in time to see Bren bursting onto the bridge from Ringsaker.

Fenrir hunkered on his hind legs, a growl rising in his throat. Loki yanked me behind him and braced himself for a fight.

"He can't win," Loki said as Bren ran toward us at full speed. "I stand between him and the source of his power. It will be no contest."

Bren sprinted, his hoodie ripping across his chest and arms and neck. Huge muscles worked in relief against his clothes, his sleeves finally shredding up to his shoulders. His hair, long and flame red, streamed out behind him. His expression was an angry snarl. I watched as his strides grew longer, pounding the bridge.

Loki raised his palm toward Asgard's portal and waited for a surge of power. When he began to twitch, he let go of me and aimed his other hand at Bren. The air rippled between them even through the cruel wind, but Bren jerked to the side and avoided the blow.

Another surge from Loki conjured a swell on the bridge that rode toward Bren like a wave. He watched, timing it, adjusting his strides until it reached him, and hurdled it neatly.

Fenrir barked - a deep, echoing boom - and prepared to leap.

"No," Loki shouted, halting the wolf. Fenrir's haunches trembled as he held himself back, and I wondered, in the sick anxiety of the moment, if Loki was afraid Bren would hurt Fenrir. Loki turned to Thor. Thor's image became sharper in my vision as he stepped toward the threshold.

"Do something," Loki yelled.

Behind Bren, Dag and Frieda ran side by side, forcing Frey behind them as they all barreled toward us. Dag's t-shirt had already torn clean off his body under his new bulk and his hair flowed in a wide sheet behind him. Frieda's clothes were intact except for a few tears in the upper arms and shoulders of her shirt and one jagged rip in the left thigh of her jeans, but her braids hung thick to her waist, and her eyes were even larger and greener than usual, a gleam of fury in them that I had never seen before.

Frey roared as they continued to box him out, weaving to try to get through. His transformation was the most stunning. His shirt was gone as well, and I saw that he was bigger than Brian and Matt put together and had more muscle than I knew existed. His dreads coiled down past his shoulders, and his usually warm gaze had grown wild and turbulent. He raised one arm, bicep bulging, and pulled at Dag's shoulder, but Dag shook him off without glancing back.

"Do something," Loki yelled again.

I watched in horror as Thor reached down, grasped his hammer and lifted it above his head. Heimdall turned slightly and pointed his spear in warning, but Thor ignored this and brought the hammer down, smashing the ground.

The bridge began to buck. Huge swells rose and moved toward us, the slippery surface beneath our feet rocking. As the waves passed underneath us, I grabbed onto Fenrir's flank and held tight, my hands rooted in his fur as I was thrown from side to side. Loki held onto me, his agile footwork avoiding most of the blast.

Bren picked up his pace. "Jenna, hold on."

Hearing his voice again, even in this new surreal and rumbling form, after our terrible fight and all I had done to cause this disaster, was enough to make me tighten my grip and hope.

The first swell knocked them all over. First Bren, who sprang back to his feet the second he hit the ground, then Frieda and Dag, who fell back into Frey. As Frieda slid toward the edge of the bridge, Dag scampered and yanked her back, crushing her in his arms for a moment before helping her up. Then they were sprinting toward us again, Dag holding onto Frieda's wrist, Frey still weaving behind them as Bifrost tossed.

Bren was gaining on us now, and my heart pounded with fear and worry. As the waves settled, he ran up on Fenrir, lunging left and right to get around him as the dog matched his moves. I pulled at Fenrir from behind, but he ignored me as easily as he would a fly on his back. Finally, Bren faked right and skirted him, whipping by me as he lunged for Loki. The wolf turned, vaulted himself over Bren's back and landed between them. He whipped around to face Bren, the familiar snarl running like a motor.

Bren stared into Fenrir's eyes. "Back him off or I'll blind him," he said to Loki.

Loki hissed and moved in front of the wolf. Fenrir's muscles tensed but he stayed put, the rumble in his throat rising.

"We are going home." Loki said. "All of us."

"No. Only you." Bren narrowed his eyes at Loki and advanced, his chest and shoulders heaving with anger.

Loki took a step back. Bren reached out and grabbed him and Loki returned his grip, the two caught in a clench, their foreheads pressed together as they struggled.

"You harness the power of the hammer to fight us," Bren said as he strained to push Loki back. "But how much of it is your own?" Bren drew his fist back and struck Loki in the jaw. Loki reeled, but when Fenrir hunkered, Loki bounced back and hissed him off before he could spring. Loki grinned and swung at Bren, but Bren parried the blow and caught him with a right hook. Loki fell into the mist, disappearing for a moment beneath the rainbow swirl, then staggered back to his feet, his grin growing wider.

"I'll kill you before I let you have her," Bren said.

Frieda, Dag, and Frey were closing in fast. Loki glared at them. He cocked his head to the side, seemed to listen to something for a few seconds, then returned his attention to the others. "I would rather die than return alone," he said. "How about you?" He walked backward in long strides, closing half the distance between Bren and Asgard, then stopped and spread his feet wide apart. He took in a long breath, his nostrils flaring, his eyes locked on Bren. "Now."

I stared over Loki's shoulder. Thor brought his hammer down again in a resounding smash just as Heimdall thrust out his spear and drove him back. I squinted, unable to see them now except as vague shapes somewhere beyond the portal. Heimdall had managed to stall the blow so that the huge wave rose on the bridge and then hung there, its momentum teetering between forward motion and settling back.

"That power does not belong to you," Bren called. "It will drain you."

"It is the power of Asgard," Loki called back. "You're the one who chose to abandon it."

The rainbow peak quivered in place. Loki cried out in frustration and lifted his hand and the swell finally tumbled forward. Trembling, he raised his other hand toward us as he had before, his head still turned toward the oncoming surge as he drew in the last of its strength.

Bren lunged at him.

Loki had just enough time to take aim. His blow rushed toward Bren for just a moment before he lifted a palm to stop its flow. Like a gushing stream, the disturbed air buckled around Bren's hand, leaving him unharmed, and forked away on either side of him. As the currents rejoined behind him, regaining speed and force, they struck Fenrir. He skidded back into me and I clutched at his fur, both of us sent reeling. We slid over the edge of the bridge, Fenrir with his claws buried in Bifrost's slick surface, me with mine buried in Fenrir's smooth pelt.

I was dangling in gray oblivion. The vibrant mist hung above me now like a blanket of cotton candy. Numbness seeped into my feet and crept up my legs. I watched as the bridge twisted and rippled, Bren and the others struggling to stay upright. I remembered Skye, lying unconscious or worse, somewhere outside of all this. I saw Loki grab Fenrir with both hands, yanking at his ruff, his midnight eyes staring into the wolf's with panic and dread. But all this was far away now, like a childhood story, something I had known but was no longer a part of. The numbness had risen over my head, enveloped me, and I no longer remembered why I was holding on.

Panting, Loki began to raise a hand toward the portal, but quickly grasped us again when he felt us slip.

"Pull her up," Loki whispered to the wolf. "Then I'll pull you over."

Fenrir's massive head turned and he lowered his muzzle to my shoulder. I caught movement in my peripheral vision and watched Bren lurch forward and barely avoid the edge as the bridge swung in a violent arc.

"Bren," I mumbled, surprised by the flat tone of my voice, and slipped from the reach of Fenrir's jaw. But some nagging cell in my brain insisted I fight this, so I gripped the long tufts of his fur as tightly as I could, cinched my legs around him and hung on. The wolf dipped his head again, too far above me now, and whined an apology. I was not disappointed. Oblivion would be better than knowing I had done this to Bren and his family. It was good to feel nothing.

Fenrir and I dangled, my body numb, my senses nearly deadened. The clamor of the others was distant noise. Loki clutched Fenrir's neck, his shoulders flexing, his face a mask of strain as he heaved. As I stared at his anguished face, a realization hit me like a tiny sun in the graying regions of my mind. He had to pull me up first to free Fenrir, but if he had read my thoughts, then he knew I was so terrified of him that I would have dropped rather than extend my hand to him. His agony was evident as he stared into Fenrir's eyes - he would spend every last drop of energy he had trying to save the dog, but if he lost me, he would be returned to whatever nightmare he had emerged from.

All he had to do was reach for my hand, but he was so sure I would refuse that he didn't even try.

_But if you change yourself, lose your fear, the mountain changes, too._ It was Bren's voice, a bright echo in the whitewash.

"Loki," I said. His frantic eyes jerked to mine.

"Pull me up first. You'll be strong enough to save Fenrir then."

His expression changed to one of confusion as he shook with effort.

"All you have to do is send Bren and the others back," I said.

"What are you saying," he rasped. "You know I can't do that."

"I know you will," I said, forming my words with great effort. I tightened my hold on Fenrir. "Send them back. Lift the bridge so that it bucks them out. Let them go, and I'll go with you. No matter what happens, I'll go with you and I'll stay with you. You have my word."

Clatter rose around him on the quaking bridge above, but I hung in the quiet nothing below. It was like ground control speaking to a crashing plane. As the seconds passed, I glanced to Bren and the others, staggering toward us as they fought the swells. Once the bridge settled, the struggle would resume...as long as I was on it. Perhaps Thor was summoning the elders even now.

"Loki."

As he peered down into my face, Fenrir slipped a little and we swayed.

"You'll lose us both otherwise. You'll lose everything."

"Why would you offer this?" He legs trembled as he tried again to hoist Fenrir up over the edge. Fenrir whined and licked his cheek.

"Because I trust you."

His eyes locked on mine and narrowed.

"If you can take care of Fenrir," I said, indicating his hold on the wolf with my eyes, "then you can take care of me. I won't abandon you."

He shook his head and opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. "I know you don't believe that now...but if Fenrir can put up with you, don't you think I can? Just send them back, and we'll deal with whatever's waiting together."

His expression froze, his focus turned inward. I waited, my chin digging into Fenrir's back as I stared up at him. I had made the only choice I could. It was my fault they were all here, and I was their only way back. I thought I could make it in whatever horrible place we were sent if I knew Bren and the others were safe...if I held onto the love I felt for him.

Loki was watching me now and I shook off my thoughts, praying he hadn't seen them. To distract him, I reached my arm up as far as I could, my knees pressing into Fenrir's flanks, and extended my hand. As he stared at it, his whole body went still.

Fenrir slipped and dug in harder, snarling with effort.

Without warning, Loki flung an upturned hand toward Asgard. A roll of thunder sounded from the last ripple on the bridge and it rose, rushing past us. As the force washed over Loki, he pivoted and turned his palm on the receding swell, urging it toward Bren.

We slipped again.

Bren's eyes grew wide and angry as the surge reached them and connected with breathtaking force, knocking them all backward beyond my view. I heard them shout in protest, heard Bren scream a furious 'no' that faded into another world, my world, and in the next moment I was redeemed, flying up through the air, my senses engaging, the cherry blossom scent flooding my nose once more before it all went black and there was nothing.

Chapter 31

That I could feel anything at all meant that I was somewhere. I was still in my body, lying motionless against some cool, firm surface while a dull ache throbbed through my back and limbs. There was no sight or sound, and I was not disturbed by this. Any new world would be senseless to me anyway. At first, I fought against the gray, heavy consciousness rising to the surface of my mind, but it brought with it the satisfaction of knowing Bren was where he belonged, so I let it come.

There was hail in this place, cold and sharp as it pecked my skin.

I felt a wet push on the back of my hand and wiggled my fingers, lifting them toward the source. A furry head slid underneath my palm and I grasped the soft tufts, inhaling Fenrir's woody scent as gratitude swelled in me. I had never known that a canine prod in a moment of complete loss could evoke the will to simply take a breath. And so I did, realizing only then that my lungs had been empty for too long. I heard my own gasp and squeezed my eyes tight against the light, not ready to see whatever hell surrounded me.

Hands grasped my shoulders and shook me.

"Jenna."

No, it was a trick.

"Jenna, wake up."

No.

"Jenna, gods, please. Open your eyes."

His breath, wintergreen. His musky, Christmas tree scent.

I fluttered my eyelids, let them lift just slightly. Torn black cotton, a flash of russet through the shimmering line of light.

Another shake.

My eyelids slid open. Better to know.

Bren stared down at me with his maple syrup eyes, his face so close to mine that I could barely keep my vision sharp. He was pale, breathless, his hands shaking...but it was him.

I tried to smile. "I'm okay." My voice sounded rusty.

He pulled me against him and whispered into my hair. "I thought I lost you."

And in the gratitude of feeling him hold me again, of hearing his voice and smelling his hair as it brushed against my face, I needed him to understand how I could possibly have risked this.

"I thought he was you," I said into his shoulder. "I followed him up the lift. I thought..."

He pulled back, shook his head. "I know. It's okay. I know." Then he crushed me to him again.

I opened my eyes and looked over his shoulder. We were in Ringsaker. All of us.

Frieda, Dag, and Frey knelt behind Bren in the center of the circle, Frieda with tears in her eyes, Dag holding onto her and grinning his crazy grin. As Frey pushed a hand into his hair and let himself fall back to the ground, I saw Skye perched on a rock, Val crouched beside her with his hands on her shoulders. Their eyes were closed.

"Skye...she was hurt. Is she..."

"She's okay." Bren said. "Val can fix her up."

I watched them for a moment and then glanced down at Fenrir, Earth-sized now and sprawled on the ground against my legs. I scratched his ear and returned my gaze to Bren.

"What happened?"

He sighed. "I picked up what was going on when you went after Loki and Tyler. I knew you didn't want me prying, but after what happened..." When I nodded, he continued. "I knew you were chasing someone, and that somehow Tyler was involved, but beyond that everything was jumbled. I thought it was because you were upset about our fight, but it was because you thought Loki was me. I had all these images tangled in my head - you, Tyler, Loki, me - and I didn't know how to straighten them out, but I couldn't tap into Loki, because he would've used my confusion against me. But instead he used yours." He shook his head. "I should've seen it coming. I'm so sorry."

"I should never have believed you'd go after Tyler like that, just because you were mad at me. I should have trusted you."

"If I hadn't been so angry..."

"How did you figure things out?" I cut in, wincing as I shifted. He pressed his hand into the small of my back to steady me.

"I heard from Skye as soon as she figured out what was going on."

I raised my eyebrows. "Skye figured it out?"

"I was too close to things. Her perspective was better. She was already on her way toward you, but Loki's fast. Especially when he has a head start. She caught up, but by the time I got here, he'd gotten to her and pulled you through."

I thought of them all, sprinting across Bifrost, muscles rippling, hair flying out behind them like flames. Memories of the struggle began to surface in detail and I recalled hanging off the bridge, clutching at Fenrir's massive flanks as I slipped into oblivion. I frowned, and Bren smiled as though my confused expression was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"But we made a deal. Loki and I..."

"I know you did, you stupid girl." He took my face in his hands and as he kissed me, gratitude washed over me again. This was something I thought I had lost forever.

"Then why am I here?" I glanced down at Fenrir again, then around at the others. Their quiet expressions held no answers.

"I don't know. We were fighting those crazy swells on the bridge, and they kept bucking us back." He grinned mischievously for a moment and put a hand over his heart. "Things would've been different if I'd had my board."

I rolled my eyes and twirled two fingers in the air for him to continue.

"So that last time, just before we were thrown back through the portal, I saw Loki turn toward you. You had your hand out, but instead of taking it, he flicked his fingers and the bridge sort of rolled in on itself," he made a cup with his hands to illustrate, "and you and Fenrir crashed into the middle, and I guess you were catapulted out. Fenrir made it okay, but you've been unconscious for a few minutes." He brushed something from my cheek. "I thought that wolf was going to go crazy when we tried to get near you. Skye had to calm him, and she was in bad shape as it was."

I looked over his shoulder at Skye again. Her eyes were still closed, but a tiny smile had appeared on her lips. I turned back to Bren.

"Why didn't Loki just do that in the first place? Flick us up."

"Because he was using all his power to direct the surges on the bridge toward us. But once Heimdell stopped Thor, he knew he would be drained quickly, so he used what he had left to save the two of you. He couldn't stop you from getting caught in the momentum, though. He had nothing left."

"So he let me go? Deliberately?"

Bren stared. Finally, he gave me a small nod.

I looked at the ground, hunted in my mind for some reason for it, then glanced at Fenrir as he stood and shook off. I watched him scan the woods.

"He wanted to save Fenrir."

"Maybe," Bren said.

I was silent for a long time before I spoke again.

"What happened to him? Where is Loki now?"

Bren gazed into the twilight. "I don't know. I don't know how long the portal was open after you came through. I should have been watching, but you were unconscious and I.... It was closed by the time I noticed."

He paused for a few seconds, then went on. "For a minute, while I was trying to wake you, I felt...I thought I felt something. But now..." He shook his head.

We were all quiet then, our minds sorting through what had happened, choosing out the most vivid memories, carefully saving the 'what ifs' and "whys" for a brighter, warmer day. When the hail stopped, we started a fire.

We warmed ourselves by the flames until the dark fell like a velvet curtain around us, the stars finally burning through the last wisps of cloud, the breeze a gentle whisper against the pines. Bren sat on one of the huge, wooden stumps by the fire and I leaned against his legs, Fenrir settling beside me and with a small, lonely whine. I stroked his head and glanced around at the others. Beside us, Frieda balanced on Dag's knees, her legs swinging, her arm slung around his neck. They were laughing at Frey, who was making a charade of the way they had stumbled and slipped across the swells of Bifrost. He twirled his arms wildly on either side of him to illustrate, and knocked Val in the shoulder. Val swatted him away and chuckled, throwing a concerned glance at Skye, who sat perched on the log beside him. Even with the glow of the flames, she looked pallid, her eyes dark and huge in her small face.

As I stared across at her, her gaze met mine. I gave her a cautious nod and she nodded back, once, the faintest flicker on her pale lips.

I let my head fall back against Bren's knee and he bent and tightened his arms around me.

"We'll go back soon," he said in my ear. "Figure out what to tell Mr. Neil about all of us missing in action, and deal with your mom."

"I'll deal with my mom." I craned my head so that I could see his face. "What about your mom?"

"I don't know how Thor distracted her, but I don't think it will be long before I talk to her again."

"He wouldn't hurt her, would he?"

Bren shook his head, the muscles in his jaw working. "He'll lie about all of this. Probably already has. But in his own misguided way, I guess he loves her."

"Are you going to tell her what happened?"

He paused for a moment. "You know what? I don't know. I'd love to know what was going on on her end during all of this but...I guess that would be selfish. Deep down, she knows what Thor is. If she doesn't want to be with him, she should decide that on her own. Not because of me."

I smiled. "So then maybe gods can choose their own fate after all."

When he kissed me, I shivered. It was amazing how resilient we were. All of us.

Bren dropped back as we made our way down to base, and I rode on my own. He slowed while I avoided rocks and cut around trees, and coasted behind me when I picked up speed, allowing me to find my own pace. The others were far ahead, just moving shadows in the trees. Their laughter and shouts were like the call of a new time breaking through the cycle of the world I had always known.

As we cleared the glades, a wide run opened beneath the moon. I sped on, my board gliding underneath me, my turns smooth and swift. I peered up at the sky and breathed it in, the scent of pine and frozen snow filling my head, and when I glanced back down, my stomach fluttered.

A jump rose in the middle of the trail ahead. I squinted, training all of my focus on it, but couldn't make out its height or see the grade of the landing. As I listened to the scrawl of Bren's board behind me, the phantom hiss of Loki's skis ripped through my mind, and then a flash of his arm coiling around my waist as I twisted in the air. I sucked in a breath.

"Well, at least we have our boards this time," Bren called from closer behind, his voice strong and full of laughter. It filled me with courage.

I smiled, then laughed, then narrowed my eyes and aimed for the jump.

I hit the ramp at full speed, vaulted off the crest and soared into the air, the snow a glistening blanket of white beneath me. The wind whistled in my ears and bit at my face, the trees lining the slope rocking crazily in my vision, but I laughed again anyway, spotted a piece of ground a few feet down the hill, and imagined myself stomping my landing. I didn't know if I would make it, but for the first time since I had stepped onto the snow at Yew Dales, I was not afraid.

###

### About the Author:

### Laurie Dubay was born in raised in New England, and currently lives in western New Jersey with her husband and two daughters. She has published several short stories, and is the author of the Winter Fire Series.

### Read an excerpt from **Hailstorm** (Book II of the Winter Fire Series) below!

### Connect with Laurie Dubay Online:

### Facebook: <https://www.facebook.com/laurie.dubay.5>

### Twitter: <https://twitter.com/LaurieDubay>

### Website: www.lauriedubay.com

### Hailstorm

Chapter 1

I know he is here.

I haven't seen him, but when I ride alone at night, before the lights are quenched one by one along the runs, I sometimes hear a hiss beneath the bristle of the trees.

Bren knows it too, although he won't talk about him. Sometimes, as we watch Fenrir dart away from us and disappear into the dense stands of evergreen crowding the base of Lenape Mountain, Bren grows distant, his amber eyes fading until they become pale and haunted.

It was my idea, that Loki stay, but I wonder now if it was wise. Yew Dales is prepared for spring rains, but it hails almost every day.

On my third solo search of the mountain, I found him.

The hail had turned the whole world silver, and the raceway had been closed for a week because of the freeze. I skidded down on the back edge of my board and shimmied over to where he sat on a rock amidst a white stand of trees. In his black leather jacket, Loki looked like a crack in a sheet of ice. He didn't glance up as I approached, and it gave me the chance to really look at him. I let my eyes linger on his hair - a little longer now - hanging in his eyes, pushed behind one ear, jagging over the collar of his jacket. His face was scruffed with shimmering, honey blond stubble, his shoulders and chest more muscular than I remembered. Bren told me once that the way they felt, the way they saw themselves, determined their forms.

I took a few steps forward and stood in his peripheral vision, watched him stare at the snow. After a while, his hand found its way into Fen's ruff. Fen dropped his muzzle onto Loki's boots - black combats that could never have clicked into skis - and closed his eyes.

"You're here." I said.

He took a long drag on the cigarette trapped between his thumb and forefinger, blew the smoke upward, and watched as it thinned out into the canopy.

"Are there cigarettes in Asgard?"

He laughed out another puff of smoke. "What do you think?"

"They're not good for you." I said.

He let his eyes slide toward me without turning his head. A smirk curled the corners of his mouth. "Am I unaware of some cancer that plagues immortals?"

Stupid. "It's bad for the people around you."

"So am I," he said. But he crushed out the cigarette on a rock near his feet, held it up to me, and slipped it into his pocket. "Gods you're high maintenance."

I moved to fold my arms across my chest, realized it would look pouty, and dropped them. There was no getting around this. I couldn't leave with nothing but small talk.

"Are they looking for you?"

He eyed me sideways again.

"The...elders. Do they know you're here?"

"Of course they do."

I needed more than this.

"The battle can't happen without me." He said.

"It can't happen without Frey either. But they haven't stormed the mountain."

"It's different now."

I watched him stroke the fur on Fen's neck. Something about these last words made me want to change course.

"We've been looking for you. We've been to your condo, to Ringsaker. Everywhere."

"Did you bring torches and pitchforks?"

Fen sighed. It was a snorty growl that made him sound like an ordinary dog.

"It wasn't like that." I said.

"Really?" He turned on me. "Is that what he told you? That he was just going to see if I wanted to take a ride? Grab a latte?"

"Stop talking to me like I'm an idiot." This time I did fold my arms. I started to pace and looked up past the frozen canopy for some direction. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet.

"You're a teenaged girl with a hyper-crush on a god you know next to nothing about. You're not just an idiot. You're dangerous."

I marched toward him, my boots crunching on the snow, and looked down into his face. He ignored me. I was still afraid, standing this close to him. It was a trace of the fear I had felt the first night I met him, when I looked into his churning eyes and saw what I still thought of as Hell. My anger backed off and let a little common sense through.

"I'm not a threat to you." I said.

He looked up at me. His eyes were green and gold now, but darker than mine. "I said you were dangerous, and you are. This thing with him...Bren," he waved a patronizing hand at the name, "you have no idea what you're doing. If you were smart you'd walk away." He looked back into the trees lining the run. "You can start now."

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Maybe I really was an idiot, to think that he and I were beyond this. His scatting of me like I was some cat at his screen door.

"Well if I feed you," he said, "you'll never leave."

I hated him watching my thoughts, but it wasn't a fight I could win.

"I need to know what's going on. In Asgard. Bren doesn't want anyone to tap in. He thinks it might provoke the elders. And he's afraid for his mother."

Loki laughed. "And you're sure I have? Tapped in?"

"He said you'd want to know where you stand."

"And if Bren says it, it must be true."

"Is it? Do you know what's happening there? Are they planning something?"

"What do you think?"

"Why do you keep asking me that?" Anger rose in me again, tightening my chest. "How the hell am I supposed to know? I'm not an Asgardian. I don't know anything about any of this."

He stood, slowly, and stepped toward me. When he was too close, he peered down into my face. My heart hammered so fast I couldn't have counted the beats. It took everything I had to hold his gaze.

"Know then thyself, presume not god to scan."

I stared.

"Alexander Pope." He said.

"Why do you quote humans if you think we're all stupid? There are no poets in Asgard?"

He stepped back and narrowed his eyes at me. "Stupid is as stupid does." When I didn't answer, he said, "Forest Gump."

After a moment, he turned and walked toward the trees. Fen followed. With every step he took my desperation thickened, became sticky in my mouth, weakened my legs. I watched the line of his footprints growing longer in the snow, and finally blurted the last thought that came to me.

"It was his mother."

He stopped mid stride, Fen pulling up beside him. His back rose and fell a few times with his breath and then he half turned, peered over his shoulder and raised a brow.

"What?"

"It was his mother. Forest Gump's mother said 'stupid is as stupid does.' He was quoting her."

The moment froze, the hail the only evidence that clocks, everywhere, were still ticking, and then he spun and strode toward me. Again, too close, his eyes heavy on mine. It seemed a long time before he spoke.

"The elders will come," he said. "They will do whatever they have to do. Hunt us all down. They will never let this stand." He paused, and then went on. "Sif was detained as soon as Thor was caught plotting to lure your friends across the bridge, but he confessed to everything and convinced them that Sif was innocent of any knowledge of it. She has been released, but they are watching her closely. And they will not hesitate to use her to get to the others." Another pause. "Like I used you."

These last words were a stab. The hail pummeled my head and shoulders, heavier by the second. I had practically begged him to stay, risked everything for him that day on Bifrost. Now, I couldn't remember why.

"Go away, Jenna." He said.

My focus returned, but he was already disappearing through the evergreens. The last thing I saw was the gray flick of Fen's tail as they vanished into the shadows.

### Get your copy of Hailstorm now!
