

Nordic Fairies
Part 1

By Saga Berg

Disclaimers and Copyright

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places or incidents are product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons is entirely coincidental.

5th Edition

Copyright 2016 by Saga Berg

All rights reserved

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing by the author Saga Berg, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

www.sagaberg.com

Smashwords Edition

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Chapter 1

Svala froze. This was it.

Viggo Storm sat between his two co-stars, behind a desk at the end of the mall. The line of fans waiting to get their pictures autographed stretched so far it would take hours for the end of the line to reach him.

Despite the multiple no pictures signs placed along the line, the herd of teenage girls snapped pictures every chance they got. Svala observed the young actors up front. Viggo's female co-star, Amanda Jones, was beautiful with her raven black hair and spotless complexion. The other male co-star with his crew-cut anonymous hair color and predictable good looks made no lasting impression next to Viggo. Then again, it wasn't a fair comparison. The boy was undoubtedly a mortal.

"I can't believe we finally get to meet Viggo Storm." Megan shifted her feet and glanced past the crowd. "Do you think they'll throw me out if I try to kiss him?"

"So worth it if they do," said Sarah with a mischievous smile.

At his movie premiere the night before, Viggo had been impossible to get close to as he was constantly surrounded by security guards and journalists. One girl tried. She managed to get past two dark suits, but as she was about to throw her arms around the handsome young actor she was caught and escorted her out of the theatre. After her stunt, no one dared to get close to him.

"Oh God, there he is!" Sarah clasped the glossy promotional picture in her hand so hard it wrinkled. It looked like she would pass out. Megan stared at Viggo and gasped.

Svala clutched her picture with both hands, no longer sure she wanted to know what she had come to find out.

Viggo offered the girl in front of him a half-hearted smile and handed her the signed picture. His clear blue eyes, typical of all the Nordic Fairies, flickered over the mall. Svala ducked behind the girl in front of her while Megan, Jen and Sarah stepped out from the line and tip-toed for a better view. A girl in front of them wore eight inch heels and wobbled to the side while attempting to peek over the crowd.

Viggo continued scanning the mall area. His eyes narrowed as he peered over the crowd until his male co-star nudged him. He ran a hand through his chestnut-colored hair and forced a smile to the girl standing in front of him. She handed him a picture.

Sarah consulted her watch. "I'll absolutely die if I don't get up there before they close the line. I've already practiced what to say. Do you want to hear?"

The girls nodded with enthusiasm and moved forward as the line progressed. Sarah presented her speech, Svala tried to focus on her words, but her thoughts drifted to the consequences of failure. She glanced at the entrance. There was still time to leave, but if she did, it might be years before she found out what was going on, and by then it might be too late.

"Amanda Jones is so lucky." Sarah studied Viggo's female co-star with a pout. "It's unfair. She's not even that pretty."

"Oh, really?" Jen crossed her arms over her chest and lifted a single eyebrow in doubt.

Svala chose to not get involved. The thought of Amanda Jones made her insides turn, and the dark thoughts it provoked were not suitable for a Liosálfar.

"I'm entitled to my opinion, and I don't think she's pretty." Sarah tried to sound confident but fiddled with her hair, pulling a strand of her blonde bob hair cut behind her ear.

"Viggo seems to think she is," said Jen.

"That's just a rumor. They're pretending to be together. It's a publicity stunt." Sarah rolled her eyes as if they were stupid for not getting it.

Svala glanced at Amanda Jones. The actress leaned over the table and signed a picture with slow, methodic strokes. Her long, straight hair fell over her arm and onto the desk. Black and shiny it gleamed in the bright spotlight. When she handed back the photo, she tossed back her hair and smiled, exposing a row of perfect white teeth. Her delicate features made her look like a porcelain doll. She was stunning.

Eight weeks had passed since Svala "won" the tickets to the premiere of Moonlight in Venice. The movie was a success before it premiered, thanks to Viggo Storm in the leading role as Colin Hunter, the rich heir who falls in love with the wrong girl. Your standard love story. Suffice it to say it wasn't the plot which made teenage girls go into a frenzy every time someone mentioned the movie.

The seventeen-year-old wonder boy, with his intense blue eyes and contrasting dark hair, appeared out of nowhere. After a small but significant role in a prime-time TV show, his popularity had sky-rocketed overnight. Svala wasn't supposed to have any contact with him until the High Council decided she could. It was always a struggle but this was the first time she kept running into his smiling face on the front page of magazines or up on a billboards. Not to mention the Viggo Storm mania that took place on social media. Now he sat only a few feet away, behind a herd of girls who had come for the sole purpose of meeting him. In that respect, Svala was no exception.

"God, look at him." Sarah gaped. "I didn't think it possible to be that gorgeous."

Svala studied Viggo in silence. Her heart pounded. Viggo searched the room again and most of the girls stretched and tried to catch his attention. He lowered his gaze, a line crossing his forehead. Svala's heart continued to race, and her nausea intensified. Maybe not knowing was better after all.

"I honestly thought they'd tampered with his pictures. I didn't think his eyes were actually that blue. Like, where did he come from?" Jen said.

"I've read he's Swedish," Megan said.

"He's said that?" Svala asked too quickly.

"Yeah, in an interview ... In Cosmo, I think." Megan pondered.

"Your family is Swedish too, aren't they?" Sarah asked.

"Yeah, way back though," Svala said.

"Maybe you're related then. Like a hundred years back in time or so." Jen grinned.

"Yeah. Maybe."

A hundred years back in time equaled an eternity for her friends but was only a fraction of her life. She smiled to herself and glanced at Viggo. The temptation to tell mortals the truth never arose, but she sometimes wondered how they would react if she did.

Chapter 2

10th Century

Birka, Sweden

Svala was fourteen years of age when Trym, her Liosálfar mentor, came to her the first time in the 10th century. It was a warm summer day in July, she sat on a large rock by the surf in the Swedish village of Birka, crying. Her long blonde hair covered her face. The sun had warmed the earth for weeks and the hard rocks almost burned her delicate skin. She endured the pain as this was the only place where no one would look for her.

Her father had left for another long trip out at sea, but not before he forbade her to meet that boy ever again. That boy who was only one year older and perfect for her.

"You cry because you are honest."

Trym's voice had been unexpected, his words even more so. Svala wiped her face with the back of her hand, a cool and salty wind breezed through her hair as she looked up. A stranger stood on a rock a few feet away. The waves lulled gently against the rocks by the surf with a low whisking sound. Svala eased back and pursed her lips together, not sure of the stranger's intentions.

"Your father would never know if you met the boy while he's gone, and yet you cry because you know you won't disobey."

His strange insight into her life made her tears subside. She opened her mouth to speak but not a sound came out. Instead, she stared at him. Something about him made her calm. He was tall, wearing the traditional brown Viking attire but with a long silvery cloak over his shoulders. It was out of place, almost regal. She should be terrified. Strange men approaching young women like this usually meant trouble, yet she felt perfectly safe in his presence.

Behind him in the distance, sailed her father's symmetrical ship with the impressive white sail raised to the wind and the dragon shaped bow and stern perfectly visible against the blue sky. It would be months, possibly even years before it returned, before her father would be able to check in on her.

"I've been looking for you, Svala."

"How do you know my name?"

Trym squinted at the sun before he knelt beside her. When he studied her the light reflected off the water and onto his face. His skin was smooth and perfect; his blond hair fell like silk over his intense blue eyes.

"Do you want to be with this boy for eternity?"

She frowned.

"Do you love this boy?" He rephrased.

She nodded.

"You're only fourteen. How do you know this?"

She studied her hands and thought about it. How could you put words to something which could not be described?

"I don't know. I just feel it."

Trym smiled, like her answer pleased him. "I have an offer for you, Svala. I think you'll like it."

Svala never hesitated nor did she ever regret her decision. Trym told her what he was and what she would become if she agreed to his terms. She hadn't grasped the whole concept at first, only the simplified version. Nordic Fairies divided into light and dark; Liosálfar and Döckálfar. Trym recruited her on behalf of the Liosálfar, the light fairies. Given her honesty and pure heart, he considered her the perfect candidate. She was to help keep the balance in the mortal world; do good and uphold a sense of honesty.

Her incentive was Viggo. He had gone through the test and agreed to the same deal. His Liosálfar mentor was a fae named Alva.

From that day, Svala's life always started at the age of fourteen, Viggo's at fifteen, and continued for as long as the High Council decided. They aged, like any other mortal, but rarely reached old age before their lives started over. In the beginning of each life, Viggo and Svala were kept apart, forbidden to meet. They were driven by a need to unite, but if they initiated their relationship before they finalized their assignments there would be consequences, maybe even punishment. Only when they had proven themselves worthy, could they be together for whatever period of time the High Council decided.

Their time together usually lasted for years, on rare occasions months, once only a few weeks. They always remembered their past lives and experiences, but no mortal ever remembered them.

"Everything needs to be earned and should never be taken for granted," Trym often reminded her.

She lived with Trym until she fulfilled her assignments. He took orders from the High Council, and made sure Svala didn't connect with Viggo before it was time.

"Why would we be punished for our love, and what would happen if we failed?"

"You must focus on the assignments. That is what's most important. If we don't try to make this world a better place, the balance is lost. The Döckálfar might take over," Trym explained.

"And what will happen if we disobey?"

"Then you risk losing each other forever." He must have picked up on her terrified expression because he put a hand on her shoulder and added. "Don't worry. You'll soon find the time apart a small price to pay for eternal love."

Today, it had been two years since Svala had last seen Viggo. Their previous assignment took over six years to accomplish, yet their union had lasted only three weeks before they'd been torn apart. It felt like they'd been apart for a decade.

***

A few months back, in present time

Washington D.C.

Several months before Svala stood in line at the mall waiting to meet Viggo, she slouched on the beige Lawson style couch in their living room back in Washington D.C. She dug her spoon into an almost empty container of Haägen Dazs Cookies and Cream while zapping through channels. She was just about to give and turn off the TV when Viggo appeared on the screen. Svala froze with her hand clutching the remote control. For a moment she forgot how to breathe. The blob of ice cream she'd scooped up slowly slid off the spoon and back into the box.

Her gaze fixed on the screen while she shouted out in a high-pitched, panicked voice, "Trym!"

Trym emerged from the kitchen, wearing a blue apron and clutching two potholders in his hands. He opened his mouth to speak but as he saw Viggo on the screen the words got stuck in his throat. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped while the color drained from his face. He sat down on the couch, his gaze never leaving the TV screen.

Together they watched in tense silence as Viggo walked over a tiled Italian terrace and up to a large swimming pool. The turquoise water glimmered in the sun and in the background stood an impressive white mansion fronted by several cast stone balconies with balustrade and newel piers.

"My God, what is he doing?" Trym asked.

Svala stared at the screen, her lips still parted. "I don't understand. What's he doing? What does this mean?"

Trym let his fingers linger over his lips as Viggo removed his white cotton shirt. The tattoo on his tanned left shoulder blade confirmed it was indeed Viggo. The wind caught hold of his short brown hair, and something deep inside Svala ached to reach out and run her hands through the soft strands. She eased closer to the TV.

"I don't know what this means," Trym said. "He has to know we'll see this. I can't imagine the High Council have approved it. They would have informed me."

"Shouldn't we do something?"

The remains of the ice cream had turned into a slow moving liquid at the bottom of the carton, and the cold box left her hand numb. Svala placed it on the coffee table but never lost sight of the screen.

"We have to find out what this means," Trym said, a worried frown on his face. "And we have to be careful while doing so. If he's not trying to get your attention someone else is."

"The Döckálfar?" Svala tore her gaze from Viggo and her eyes widened in fear. "You think they've gotten to him?"

"I don't know." Trym observed the screen, lips pressed tightly together. "Let's hope not."

They waited patiently for Viggo's next public appearance, the movie premiere. Once the release date was announced, Trym made the necessary arrangements and bought them tickets to attend. No one would suspect four sixteen-year-old girls going to the premiere of a movie most teenage girls were dying to see.

***

Svala packed for their trip. A red suitcase lay open on her bed, clothes spread all over the room, on the bed, over the armchair and hanging from the closet door.

"I know it's difficult, but try to stay out of his sight. The more you find out without contacting him, the better," Trym said.

She ran her fingers over a red dress with a low back she planned to wear to the premiere. Feeling the smooth fabric under her hand, she sighed. "That's asking a lot."

"I know, but you must."

"Would you? I mean if it was..." She trailed off, feeling bad for bringing it up.

Trym said nothing. He pressed his lips together, avoided her gaze and reached for her dress. "I would suggest you wear something less... eye catching." He moved the red dress to the side and pulled out a black Filippa K with clean straight lines, typical of Scandinavian design. "And dye your hair. Dark."

"How dark?" She didn't want to meet his gaze again, too upset with him for pointing out what she already knew.

"Just dark."

Svala grabbed the end of her thick, blonde hair and groaned. She didn't mind going dark, but Viggo would not be searching for a brunette.

"Can I trust you?" Trym leaned against the white bed frame and offered his most intense look.

She nodded but her gaze drifted towards the red dress, the one that would make Viggo notice her the second she stepped into the movie theatre.

Trym sighed. "You have to be stronger than this. You know that."

She managed another nod. Her eyes welled up and Trym looked helpless. His shoulders slouched, and his gaze never settled. She knew he only wanted to protect her from what he had been forced to go through. She was being unfair.

"You can trust me. I'm sorry, I..." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I just miss him so much."

***

They flew up to New York for the premiere. Trym told her friends' parents he would accompany them and make sure they returned safe. To Svala's friends, Trym was her uncle who raised her since her parents died in an accident when she was five. They'd used that version the last two hundred years so it was well rehearsed. Trym was too young to be her father and too old to be anything else.

In the taxi from La Guardia airport to their hotel in central Manhattan, Jen turned to Trym."Mr. Linné, do we have to go back to the hotel right after the movie, or can we stay out longer?"

"I'm afraid I promised your parents I'd have you back in bed by eleven. I won't be able to go with you to the premiere, so I trust you do as I say." Trym let his gaze wander over Svala. She gazed out the window, hiding her tense expression.

Trym wasn't her uncle, but until she reunited with Viggo he still decided what she was allowed to do.

"But what if there is a party after?" Sarah asked. "Could we go?"

"No." Trym eased the rejection with a smile. "I need you to come straight back to the hotel."

"But what if we get to meet Viggo Storm in person?" Sarah insisted.

Svala bit her tongue and evaded Trym's worried gaze.

"Then definitely no," he said.

Sarah's smile grew stiff, as if she tried to pretend she wasn't disappointed. Trym was usually more easygoing than the other parents; he didn't give them a hard time for coming home late or going to parties. That was only because he didn't think of Svala as a teenage girl and sometimes forgot her friends were.

Svala glanced out over the New York skyline when the cab closed in. The city held so many memories, good and bad. This was where she and Viggo first arrived when they moved to the States during World War I, and where she'd lived most of her lives. If Viggo expected her to seek him out, he'd know this was where she'd come looking for him.

***

They stayed at Park Hyatt in the balcony suite. Trym said it would make the pretense of a prize more credible if anyone was paying attention. Svala was unsure if by anyone he meant anyone from the High Council or the Döckálfar community but knew better than to ask if Trym didn't provide the information on his own.

When the other girls unpacked in their rooms, Trym took Svala aside. "Are you sure you can handle this?" he asked. "You don't seem focused."

Her mood shifted the moment they entered the city and she wasn't very good at hiding it.

"You need to find out what's going on. And you don't approach him unless it's absolutely necessary."

"I know what to do." Her response came out more annoyed than she intended.

Trym leaned closer and lowered his voice. "If he's only trying to meet you, you have to be stronger. You have to walk away. If the Döckálfar is using him as bait to have you break the rules you might never get to see him again. You understand that, don't you?"

"You don't have to keep telling me. I know."

Trym stepped back, crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. "I know you do, but I don't think you know what it actually means. If he's been compromised by the Döckálfar, and if we don't handle this right, we might not only lose him, we might lose him to them. I don't think the balance would ever be restored."

"I know. Why do you think I'm so nervous? What if I'm not strong enough to resist him and we..." She closed her eyes.

"Just try to remember what's at stake. Never let that thought out of your head. Because you will lose him forever if you break the rules, there is no question about it. Especially not after what the two of you did."

Svala held her arms crossed over her chest, her lips in a tight line, her shoulders drawn up. A light tap on the door interrupted their conversation. It was Jen.

"Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt." Her gaze flickered between the two of them.

Svala relaxed her shoulders and smiled at her friend, trying to prevent all of her fears from mirroring in her eyes. She had hundreds of years of practice trying to pretend she was a normal teenager. This should not be so difficult.

Chapter 3

With time to spare before the premiere, Svala and her friends headed out for a day in New York. After two hours of shopping, followed by a stroll down Broadway, they ended up at Dean & DeLuca. Svala ordered a tall Cappuccino and a chocolate-chip cookie, then took the seat next to Sarah by the window. Outside, people hurried past with their suit cases and Starbucks cups, missing the whole point of living. It always surprised her with how little time they had to live their lives.

While she listened to her friends' expectations on the upcoming evening, Svala watched a middle aged lady in a red coat rush down the street. The woman's hair was short and blonde and the tight fitting coat with a matching belt and large black buttons made her stand out in the crowd. She thought of her. She could be one of the people walking by, and Svala wouldn't even know it. Life could be so cruel.

"I wonder how close we can get to him." Jen pushed her long brown hair from her face.

The lady outside answered her cell phone as she crossed the street, then disappeared down the stairs to the subway station.

Sarah placed her blue cup on the black table and pursed her freshly glossed lips together. Her short bob hair cut framed her slender face and her brown eyes sparkled with excitement. "What if..." She bit her lip with a concentrated frown. "What if I tripped and fell on him. Then he'd have to catch me and fall desperately in love with me." She met the others' doubtful expressions. "That could happen."

"How could that happen?" Jen's tone of voice indicated Sarah was in fact an idiot.

Svala stayed silent through her friends conversation, and her thoughts drifted to the last time she had been with Viggo, two years ago. At the time, she appeared to be twenty years old, but in reality she was closer to nine hundred. Three weeks earlier they'd reunited after they'd finished a six year long assignment. Usually, their time apart was much shorter. At one time, it had taken only three months to get back together, though normally it took between one to three years. Six years was a long time to wait to be with the one you loved and three weeks not nearly enough to satisfy their need.

This time, Svala moved to Viggo's life. He lived in Los Angles during their six years apart, finishing his Masters Degree in Economics. Svala spent her six years working with environmental issues in the Antarctic, and didn't mind moving from the cold to sunny Los Angeles to be with the man she loved.

She remembered that last morning together when Viggo stepped out from the large tiled shower in their Hollywood mansion. Steam filled the room along with a fresh scent of shampoo and soap.

Svala stood by the sink, finished brushing her teeth and met Viggo's gaze in the foggy mirror in front of her. He held her gaze and reached for a white cotton towel, perfectly folded on a shelf beside the shower. He ran it swiftly over his face and hair before he wrapped it around his waist.

"Do you want to get married this time?" he asked.

Svala placed her electric toothbrush on the white marble sink, then met his reflection in the mirror again and smiled. His eyes shifted to a lighter shade of blue and his smile warmed her heart.

"What?" he asked amused.

Water dripped from his hair onto his shoulder. She admired the view, completely content just to have him there.

"Nothing."

Viggo walked up and wrapped his strong arms around her small frame. The back of her thin silk robe, turquoise with a Japanese print, clung to his wet chest. Svala closed her eyes as his lips pressed against her neck and his hands slid in underneath her robe.

"I love you," he whispered and inhaled her scent in one sharp breath.

She leaned her head against his shoulder and his unshaven cheek brushed against her smooth skin. He kissed the tip of her nose and placed a hand on her hip. She turned, tip toed, and circled his neck with both arms, locking her hands in place behind his head. The movement made her robe slide slightly ajar and Viggo glanced down with a shy smile. "I think I'm going to have to stay home today after all."

She chuckled and he pulled her closer. His body was firm, the hair in the back of his neck still wet, dripping onto her hands.

"You've been away from work for almost three weeks. If you don't go back soon, they might fire you."

He nodded and rested his forehead against hers. "I know, it's just... Six years is a long time." Clasping her face in both hands, he tilted her head back. "I'm terrified they'll make us start over too soon."

She released her hands from behind his neck to caress his face. His bristles scraped against her hand. "I'm sure they'll give us enough time to compensate. We've learned our lesson."

He pulled her into a kiss. Soft yet determined, his tongue found hers. She kissed him back, and allowed him to push her against the sink. She didn't want him to leave either, but they had to live their lives like normal people now. They had to be responsible.

She placed a hand on his chest and broke the kiss. He eased back and tucked away a blonde string of hair from her face. In this life, she had cut her hair just above her shoulders.

"Promise we'll still be here in the end of the day." he said.

She stood on her toes and planted a soft kiss on his lips. "I promise."

He lingered on her lips, then pulled away and turned to the sink. Svala tied her robe, catching him watching her with a shy smile. She tip toed to give him a last kiss then walked toward the door that lead out to the master bedroom.

"You never answered my question," Viggo said

She turned and met his gaze. "What question?"

"Will you marry me?"

She smiled and met his beautiful eyes. "Of course, honey. Always."

"Aren't you going to eat that?"

Svala snapped out of her day dreaming as Jen pointed at the chocolate chip cookie on her plate. Svala held her Cappuccino clutched in both hands on the table, the cup full, the content lukewarm. She released the cup and pushed the cookie toward Jen. "No, go ahead."

Jen shook her head. "Uh-uh. I need to look gorgeous in my new dress tonight. There is simply no room for dessert."

Svala consulted her watch. Four hours until the premiere. Her heart skipped a beat.

"We should head back to the hotel, get some rest." Sarah collected her shopping bags under the table.

Jen glanced at the clock on the wall. "Yeah, we should get some sleep. There is only so much make-up can accomplish."

Out in the street a warm wind swept past her. Steam poured out from under the ground and dissolved in the sky. The humid air mixed with exhaust made it difficult to breathe.

The sun had come out from behind the clouds so the girls took off their summer jackets and tucked them into their shopping bags. After a short debate whether or not they had time for more shopping they agreed it was better to go back to the hotel and relax.

Svala lingered at the end of the group. With hours to spare, she had time to do something she'd been itching to do ever since they arrived in New York. The girls walked along Broadway Street and Svala followed behind for a few minutes before she made up her mind, and stopped.

"Listen guys, you go ahead back to the hotel. I have something I need to do."

The girls stopped short in the middle of the crowded sidewalk. Sarah's brows shot up, and the other two girls mirrored her expression. Svala wanted to kick herself for being so impatient. She should have waited and snuck out when they didn't notice.

"What?" Megan asked when Svala didn't elaborate.

Lying had never been her strong suit so she told them the truth, thinking they wouldn't be interested in coming along anyway. "I found this shop on the internet. I wanted to check it out."

"What kind of shop?"

"It's a shop that sells gemstones. You don't have to come with me. Go back. Get your beauty sleep. I don't mind going on my own."

"Gemstones?" Sarah frowned as if Svala'd suggested they'd go and buy drugs.

Svala hid her annoyance over the condescending tone in Sarah's voice with a smile. "Yeah." She shrugged, like she realized it was a stupid thing to take an interest in. "But seriously, you don't have to come with me."

Jen consulted her wristwatch. "We still have a couple of hours. You shouldn't have to go alone." She looked at the others.

"Of course. We'll come with you." Sarah agreed.

The silver bell at the top of the door chimed when the four girls entered the small shop in Brooklyn. A comforting scent of incense met them inside. Svala's friends inspected the place with forced smiles, their discomfort shining through.

Along one of the walls stood a long table with small wooden boxes filled to the brim with different gemstones. A large round table was placed in the middle of the room. It held similar boxes filled with silver ornaments. Necklaces and earrings hung from tiny wooden constructions that resembled miniature leafless trees.

The middle-aged woman behind the register read from a thick leader bound book when the girls came inside. At the sight of costumers, she removed a pair of black-framed reading glasses, and closed her book. "Welcome. Please let me know if you need any help."

Svala nodded a silent thanks, willed herself to focus her attention elsewhere, and went over to the display by the window. The woman placed her book on the counter, and studied Svala.

Fairies remembered everything from every life they lived, but the people in their lives didn't always. To them, it was sometimes as if they'd never existed. And if they did remember them, they could never be recognized. Even so, the woman kept studying Svala, like she was trying to place her.

Svala walked over to the gemstones by the window and focused on breathing calm. Her hands trembled. This had been a bad idea from the start.

Her friends remained quiet. They walked over to the table with the silver necklaces, pretending to take an interest. Svala ignored their silent ridicule as they picked up a pair of earrings and exchanged looks of amusement. In a way, it was a good thing they came along. It prevented Svala from initiating contact.

A bright amber necklace caught Svala's eye. The sun outside the window reflected against the necklace's heart and made it glimmer in a familiar way. Svala reached out and ran her finger over the smooth surface. As a child, she thought amber the prettiest thing in the world. Her mother had a necklace made of this particular gemstone, though much smaller.

She removed the jewelry from the stand and let it weigh in her hand. "How much for this?"

The woman walked out from behind the register. Her heels clicked against the wooden floor and the heavy set of necklaces around her neck clattered to the beat of her heals.

"There is something special about amber, isn't there?" The woman's blue eyes lit up. She had been stunning in her younger days, and still had an elegant charm about her. The lines on her face and the streaks of grey in her blonde hair only emphasized her beauty.

"It's always been my favorite," Svala said.

Their eyes met, and the woman tilted her head to the side. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but you aren't one of those teen celebrities, are you?" Her smile grew hesitant.

Svala bit her lower lip. Her friends caught the odd question and listened in.

"No." Svala shook her head.

The woman kept observing her, obviously not convinced. "It's so strange, I could have sworn I'd seen you somewhere. Are you from around here?"

"No."

A moment of silence passed, their eyes met again. Svala examined the necklace mostly to focus on something other than the woman's eyes and the urge to throw her arms around her. She wanted to tell her how much she missed her and how sorry she was for the life she had to live because of them.

"I'll take this." She closed her hand around the amber stone.

The woman studied her a while longer. "Good choice," she said, then walked across the room toward the register.

Svala's friends eyed each other as she followed the woman, necklace in hand. The woman reached under the counter and retrieved a small paper box. She placed the box on the counter, paused again and shook her head. "Don't you just hate it when you can't place people? You're the second one today."

A chill went through Svala.

"The last one was a boy, a very handsome boy. Must have thought I was checking him out the way I stared at him, trying to place him. He bought an amber necklace too. Isn't that funny?" She reached for Svala's hand gripping the necklace.

Svala couldn't move.

"The necklace, dear."

Svala reached out and handed her the gemstone.

The woman let the necklace fall into a paper box. "That's why I asked you if you were a celebrity. Turned out, he was some big movie star. I'd probably seen his face on TV. Now, what was his name again?" She gazed up at the ceiling trying to remember, but fell short, and turned toward a door in the back. "Emma, what was the name of the boy who came in before, the movie star?"

A girl appeared in the doorway. "Is he back?" She scanned the shop, eyes large with expectation.

The girl's raven black hair contrasted her eyes, an unnatural shade of blue, like the sky on a clear summer day. Svala couldn't tear her eyes off her.

"No sweetie, he's not back. What was his name?"

"Mom!" Emma rolled her eyes. "I told you, it was Viggo Storm."

Chapter 4

"Viggo Storm was here?" Sarah approached the register, the other two girls in tow.

"Yeah, like an hour ago." Emma beamed.

Svala couldn't breathe. She shouldn't be this surprised to find out. After all, she was here too, wasn't she?

"How was he?" Megan inspected the shop like she hoped he was still hiding out in there.

"Oh, he was ever so charming," the woman said. "Kind hearted. Not at all like I would imagine a big movie star. He seemed almost modest. And he was very interested in the neighborhood and this shop. He knew a lot about gemstones too, about their origins. Did you know for instance that amber was once used in folk medicine and thought to have healing powers?"

"He told me I was beautiful. That I reminded him of someone he knew." Emma burst with pride. "Didn't he mom?"

The woman smiled at her daughter, and nodded.

"Did he say anything else?" Svala asked, hoping he'd left some kind of message for her.

"Well, he did say something strange. Before he left, he told me to take good care of my loved ones when they needed me and then..." She trailed out like she doubted her own memory. "Then he told me to trust my heart to do the right thing." She frowned, then smiled. "I thought that a bit odd, don't you?"

Svala's friends avoided looking at each other but pursed their lips together in doubt. Svala met the woman's blue eyes again and forced a smile.

***

Later, when the girls prepared for their big night, Trym took Svala aside to talk.

"Search for Alva. If she's there, she'll be able to fill you in. I tried to get a hold of her. I don't understand why she's not responding."

Trym and Alva weren't supposed to stay in contact during Svala and Viggo's assignments either, but they had ways of contacting each other if needed. The fact that Alva didn't respond unsettled her.

"What if she's not there?"

"Then you observe. Read his face, try to determine if he's being monitored by anyone, but keep your distance. Don't let him or anyone catch you. If the Döckálfar is involved, you can't let them see who you are."

Svala fastened a pin on her black dress and studied herself in the full-length mirror. Her deep-blue eyes against the auburn colored hair was almost as eye catching as the red dress she'd left at home. She reached for her brown contact lenses.

"If you feel tempted to approach him, think of the consequences."

Svala blinked three times then studied herself in the mirror and straightened out her dress. Her heart pounded.

"If you are the slightest bit unsure, don't do anything at all. If you can't control it, leave."

Adjusting the pin again she inhaled and closed her eyes. She had to be strong, for everyone.

***

The red carpet outside the movie theatre continued onto the street. Beautiful men and women in designer outfits posed in front of the photographers. A group of security guards stood in front of a golden fence. Behind the fence hundreds of teenage girls crowded together, waiting for a glimpse of their idol.

"I feel like a celebrity." Sarah beamed when a guard let them inside.

The flashing lights from the cameras subsided while they strolled down the red carpet toward the entrance. Sarah stopped and turned to the photographers with a deliberate pose. She placed her hand steady on her hip, her head held high. The flashes momentarily intensified. For all they knew, she could be the next YouTube phenomena.

Svala took the opportunity to scan the place for Alva. As far as she could tell there was no sign of Liosálfar or Döckálfar presence. The only other immortal she noticed was a vampire. He'd spotted her instantly of course and stared at her from where he stood next to the large movie poster up by the entrance. He puffed on his cigarette and grinned, deliberately exposing his fangs as the smoke seeped out between his lips. Svala reached up to touch her silver pin. Most vampires knew better than to harm them in public.

When the photographers lost interest in Sarah, Megan grabbed Sarah's arm and pointed at a blonde girl further down the red carpet. A sparkling dress barely covered the girl's slim body and she stood impressively steady in a pair of black eleven inch heals with red soles. "Isn't that...?" Megan narrowed her eyes and leaned closer.

"Oh my God, I think it is." Sarah gasped and tried to see pass the photographers crowding around the woman.

"Seriously." Jen rolled her eyes, and continued toward the entrance. Her long, high pony tail was neatly placed over her left shoulder, falling down over the front of her olive green dress. "Try to act like you're not complete idiots." She reached out for Svala. "Come on, let's go inside and search for Viggo."

Jen had just finished her sentence when a white Bentley limousine pulled up outside the theater. All the photographers turned to the car and a sea of flashes lit up the night sky. The limo stood there for a couple of seconds, the flashes subsided, and all the teenage girls waiting outside moved in for a better view.

When the door opened Amanda Jones was the first to get out. The flashes from the cameras increased in intensity. Amanda's long red dress flooded over her perfect body, her black hair tucked up in an impressive knot on the back of her head. Her lips were painted as red as her dress and her eyes sparkled with excitement. She smiled to the cameras as if she loved the attention.

After Amanda, followed Viggo. He wore a black tailor made tuxedo which made him look several years older than he was. The last time Svala'd seen in him in a tuxedo was at their last wedding. She'd walked towards him, barefoot, wearing a white dress on a beach in Florida. That was over fifteen years ago. The distance between them now was almost the same as then and every part of her urged to be near him.

They were always drawn to each other, but this was different. An uncontrolled need rose inside of her and she didn't know how to control it. Her stomach turned to knots. She gasped for air and focused hard to control the natural urge to run up to him.

A bright spotlight was aimed at the two movie stars. Viggo squinted and gazed over the crowd, then reached for his co-star. Their hands intertwined and the camera flashes intensified yet again. Svala stared at their hands, a stab to her chest. The need to walk up to him intensified. But he wasn't supposed to see her, not like this, not now. She gathered all of her self control and stepped back where the shadow from a ticket booth disguised her face.

The girls on the street behind the fence screamed Viggo's name. Viggo acknowledged their presence for two seconds and the girls screamed straight out like they had gone mad. The short attention increased the volume of their admiration for a long while after and the guards were kept busy preventing some girls from climbing the fence.

Amanda leaned against Viggo's frame and whispered something into his ear. When their eyes met they smiled, and then both turned back to the cameras. Viggo met the flashes with a weightless gaze, his posture completely relaxed as if he was unaffected by the attention and unaware of Svala's presence.

Slowly, and as if controlled by someone else, Svala stepped out from the shadow. Viggo abandoned the cameras and his entire presence shifted. His posture perked and he scanned the place with a focused gaze. As the spotlight blinded him he squinted again and when their eyes met, Svala wasn't sure he had seen her with the light straight in his eyes. But she'd looked into his eyes, and she was no longer sure she could do this.

Chapter 5

A group of security guards cleared the way for Viggo and Amanda when they walked the red carpet. Occasionally, the couple stopped, allowed more pictures to be taken, or for journalists to ask questions. Their hands remained intertwined.

Svala'd eased back into the shadow. Her gaze fixed on their hands and something stabbed her heart. It was too much. She tore her gaze away and searched the crowd for Alva again. She wasn't there. No one from their world was there. Even the vampire had left.

Viggo abandoned the cameras and the journalists to look around the crowd again. Svala wondered if he'd seen her, or if he at least had sensed her. She felt him so strongly it almost took over everything else, but she was aware of his presence. He might not be aware of her.

"Come on, Svala. Let's get over to the other side. We'll see them better from over there." Jen reached for her. Sarah and Megan were already heading over.

Svala moved further back, glancing over at Viggo and Amanda with the lump still in her stomach. She could couldn't risk them seeing her.

"Actually, I need to go to the lady's room."

Jen frowned. "Are you serious? Now? We might not get another chance to see him up close."

"I'll be right back. Go ahead. I'll look for you."

With her friends gone, Svala took the time to study Viggo's face. He scanned the crowd, eyes narrowed, as if worried about something. That didn't help her much. He would be worried regardless of his reasons for being there.

She longed to go up to him, put her hand on his hip and lean into whisper how much she missed him. She hadn't been there in their Hollywood Mansion in the end of the day. They never did get married in their last life. Seconds after she turned around in the steamy bathroom the room had flashed like it always did when they started over, and she had ended up somewhere else. She didn't walk into their bedroom and she didn't get to feel his breath on her skin again. Instead she ended up in another room, in another house, in Washington D.C. She was fourteen years old and starting all over without him.

Viggo's hand tightened the grip on Amanda's and Svala blinked back the tears. Crying in a public place would draw too much attention. She had to control her feelings. She blinked again, excessively this time, but the tears won. Frustrated over her inability to control her emotions, she hurried inside the theatre and continued towards the lady's room.

Once the door closed behind her, the heartache subsided. She leaned against the door with a deep sigh, then realized she was not alone.

At the end of the long sink a woman applied more lipstick to her already ruby-red lips, another fixed her hair in place with a comb, and a third observed her own cleavage from the side, pushing her breasts together with a firm grip. They all registered Svala's presence, but then continued with what they had been doing.

Svala kept her head down and walked up to the sink. She dug into her purse for her lip gloss, pretending to have come in to fix her makeup, just like the others. She leaned over the sink, closer to the mirror, and lifted the brush to her lips. The spotlight from the upper edge mirror fell on her face, exposing her perfect fairy skin. She froze with the pink brush inches from her lips and her eyes widened. One contact had disappeared and she stared into one brown and one blue eye.

The woman beside her stopped fixing her hair, and studied her for a good long while. Svala eased back from the mirror, away from the light. She lowered her head, and removed the other contact. Different colored eyes would draw even more attention than her unnatural blue eyes.

The woman faced her, and placed a hand on her skinny hip. She lifted her chin to study Svala closer. "Are you someone's daughter?" she asked.

Svala knew that by someone she meant someone important, but couldn't stop herself from the obvious answer. "Well, yes, of course. Aren't you?"

The woman smirked, but let her gaze linger. Then her smirk grew uncertain, her lips twitched at the corner. Svala's cocky reply didn't rule out the possibility she was someone important.

Further down the powder room, the woman with the lipstick leaned back. She glanced over at them with an amused smile. The third woman offered them a quick bored look, like she didn't care either way.

Svala opened her bag and dropped her lip gloss back inside. The woman still studied her and it made her nervous.

"Look, I'm no one important. I won the ticket." She tried to keep her voice calm.

The woman stared at Svala. Her lips pressed into a thin line and her eyes narrowed, like she was insulted by Svala's nonchalance. Then, something changed in her eyes and her gaze shifted from annoyed to intrigued.

"Your eyes..." She leaned closer. "And your skin... You look like..."

Svala lowered her gaze in a beat.

"Are you related to Viggo Storm?"

Svala chortled. "I wish." She tapped her fingers against her purse. "Or not, you know." She rolled her eyes and raised her shoulders in feigned insecurity.

When the woman didn't reply, Svala changed her tactic. "I have to..." She nodded toward the door. "My friends are waiting."

The women in the bathroom scrutinized her as she scurried out, almost tripping over her own feet. Her heart drummed so hard it resonated in her head. She had to focus on why she was there.

The theatre was crowded. She couldn't find her friends but spotted Viggo and Amanda by one of the large movie posters, talking to a journalist. On the poster, Viggo held Amanda in his arms to a background of a Venice setting, gazing longingly into her eyes. Rather tacky and predictable, Svala thought, with self-noted jealousy.

Her friends were probably somewhere in the crowd closer to Viggo, which meant she had to stay away from them. She should try to position herself behind him, the best way to avoid being seen. To get there, she would have to go across the room, and pass him. Since Viggo was occupied with the journalist, that shouldn't be a problem.

If Alva or someone else didn't show up soon, she didn't know what she was supposed to do. With all these cameras and journalists around, making contact with Viggo would be too risky. She should stick around and observe until everyone was inside watching the movie, then she could sneak out.

Grabbing her bag with a firm grip, she walked out into the light. She kept her eyes on Viggo, and headed for the back of the room. A row of benches stretched along the wall back there. At the end of the row, the light had gone out, offering the perfect hiding place. She picked up her pace and walked until Viggo was dangerously close. With a turn of his head he would easily spot her. Determined to make it past him, she held her breath and took a long stride toward the benches. That was when she fell.

Somewhere in mid-fall, she realized what was happening. Her foot caught in a soda container carelessly tossed on the floor, and she lost balance. People around her yelped in surprise as they witnessed her fall. The loud murmur in the theater ceased, and garments rustled as everyone who hadn't seen her at first, turned to watch the scene. When she landed on the ground she dropped her purse and braced herself against the hard floor with both hands.

A man in a tuxedo quickly came to her aid. He knelt down and offered a hand. "Are you okay, Miss?" he asked.

"Thanks. I'm fine." She reached for her bag while the man still held her arm.

"Are you sure?"

Her eyes flickered over the floor, then stopped when she sensed Viggo watching her. Looking up, she meet his gaze. He stood only a few feet away, staring straight at her. She stopped breathing, and without noticing, her eyes welled up again. The moment felt like minutes but if she had counted the seconds, she would have stopped at three. Three seconds, then Viggo broke eye contact and continued his discussion with the journalist in front of him. Svala stared at him in shock. His gaze had been blank and uninterested, annoyed even. Like she was nothing but another screaming girl, desperate for his attention.

The man kneeling at her side studied her with concern. "Miss, are you sure you're okay? You look pale."

"I'm fine," she managed through a strained breath.

Viggo didn't turn to look at her again. Instead, he put his arm around Amanda and pulled her closer.

Chapter 6

Svala left the theatre in tears after her embarrassing fall and texted her friends she was feeling sick and had to leave. Back in the hotel room, she sat with Trym on the edge of the bed, her eyes swollen, her gaze distant. "He didn't recognize me. Why didn't he recognize me?"

Trym put one arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. "I don't know, sweetie." He kissed her temple. "Maybe he did. Maybe he only pretended not to for the same reason you didn't approach him."

"No, he looked straight at me, and he was..." She stared into the distance. "There was nothing there. Nothing."

Trym hugged her tight. His silence worried her as he usually knew the right thing to say.

"Do you think they got to him? Could they have erased me from his memory?"

Trym stroked her hair. "It'll do you no good, thinking like that."

She grew silent. He hadn't answered her question.

"Was this how it was with the two of you? Did Alrik forget who you were before? Did you ever meet after..."

Their eyes met. Trym offered a meek smile, then continued stroking her hair. "No." His voice was firm. "That was different."

She studied him, hoping to understand what went through his mind. Trym was the only one she knew who lost someone he loved to the Döckálfar.

"You would tell me, wouldn't you? If you knew they could erase his memory, you would say so. Wouldn't you?" she asked.

"Of course." He leaned in and kissed her forehead. "Try not to worry. We'll figure out what's going on. I mean you haven't done anything you are not supposed to do, right? There is no reason for them to punish you."

Svala shook her head but avoided the nightstand where she'd placed the box with the amber necklace. "No. Of course not." She swallowed hard.

"Good. Then you have nothing to worry about."

Trym rose and walked toward the door. For a second, Svala considered telling him she had gone to see her, but quickly decided against it. He had always been against them seeking her out, and he was obliged to report it to the powers that be if she told him.

"Trym?"

He stopped. "Yes?"

"What do we do now?"

When their eyes met, Svala could have sworn Trym saw right through her. That he knew she'd broken the rules by seeking out the one person they were forbidden to go after without approval from the High Council.

Trym reached up to rub his chin. "There is an autograph signing tomorrow at the mall. I'll reschedule our flights."

"What am I going to do there?"

If Viggo didn't recognize her, or didn't want to see her, what would it accomplish to seek him out again?

"Try again," he said. "That is what we do, isn't it? Try to get close enough to see if there is any change, anything that would indicate he's shifted sides. If anyone can see it, it's you."

***

The line at the shopping mall moved. They passed a beauty store and the scent of perfume intensified. At least it was better than the stench from the food court. Sarah leaned against a sturdy advertisement sign from H&M showing a skinny woman in a red bikini smiling on a beach.

"This is going to take forever," she sighed.

Svala agreed. They'd waited in line for over one hour, and they had hardly moved. She looked at the table up front. Viggo was bored and impatient. To those who didn't know him he probably gave a different impression, but she could tell. He didn't want to be here.

"If we don't make it, I might have to hurt someone," Jen muttered.

A group of eleven tween girls ahead of them sulked as they were forced to abandon the line. They walked over to a lady waiting by the Gucci store. One of the girls whined and told the woman she was being "completely unfair". The woman glanced at her wrist watch and shook her head, then urged the girls to move along.

The line moved.

Viggo signed another picture, smiled at another girl and tapped his fingers against the desk. He didn't seem to care that everyone was looking at him, but he'd always been good at blocking out attention. After signing another picture, he dropped the pen onto the table and flexed his hand. Before he grabbed it again, his hand went up to his neckline. Svala's heart stopped beating for a few seconds as he grabbed for a tie that wasn't there. When realization hit him, he smiled to himself and let his hand fall down over his chest.

Svala's heart beat faster.

That had been their sign when he needed her to rescue him out of a social situation. He'd touch the bow of his tie, as if adjusting it, or let his hand smooth over the length of it. Whenever he did that, Svala would come and request his attention elsewhere, thus getting him out of the situation without being rude. It had been especially useful in their life before last when Viggo had run for office and their attendance to dull functions and fund-raising events had seen no end.

Svala smiled. Even if he didn't recognize her, there was still hope. He remembered something.

Two hours later, they reached the end of the line. Svala urged her friends to go ahead so she could jot down a message on her hand: "Please nod if you recognize me. I'm worried about you."

Sarah stood in front of Viggo when Svala faced the table. She'd forgotten her speech and stared at Viggo with wide eyes. When he handed her the picture she yelped, but didn't move along. A security guard nudged her and told her to step aside for the next girl, Megan.

Svala faced Amanda Jones, Viggo's new girlfriend. Up close she was even more stunning. Her smile however, less honest than it had appeared further back in the line. Svala handed Amanda the promotional picture. Amanda signed it and offered Svala the same trained smile she'd given the other girls. Beside Svala, Megan lingered with Viggo.

"Move along, miss." The security guard shoved Megan to the side.

One step to the left and Svala finally faced him. She met his calm blue eyes, but his smile didn't differ from the one he'd offered all the girls before her. She handed him the picture, and her hand trembled while it hovered in the air in front of him.

Viggo looked at her hand, paused for a moment to read, then sighed annoyed and grabbed the picture with some force. She pulled back her hand and waited while he signed the photograph. Slower than before? She couldn't tell, she was too nervous, too anxious to get his nod of recognition.

The pen ended in a perfect 'm'. He slid the picture across the table, rather than picking it up and handing it to her, like he had with everyone else. He didn't look at her. He didn't even offer her the mandatory smile or the nod she expected. Instead, he leaned back and waited for her to pick up the picture. She waited. He looked past her out over the crowded mall, like he still sought someone out there.

"Miss." A security guard put his hand on her arm. "Move along."

Chapter 7

10th Century

Birka

"Don't lift your elbow." Trym positioned himself behind her and angled her elbow to the ground.

The autumn leaves in the forest rustled when the wind passed through. From the hill at the top of the forest they could see the ocean and better part of Birka. The air was fresh back in this century, the scents of the earth much more present.

Svala's eyes narrowed as she focused on the target ahead, a circle carved into a large tree. Her thick blonde braid fell over her shoulder, her fingers cramped around the bow. "Like this?"

"Better." Trym stepped back. "Now focus."

She drew the bow string and released the arrow. It hurled through the air and missed the target by several feet before disappearing into the bushes. Svala moaned and lowered her bow. "I'm never going to hit it."

"Not with that attitude." Trym agreed. He walked up to her, grabbed another handmade arrow from the leather pouch and handed it to her. "Again. And focus."

She didn't accept the arrow. "I'm focusing, but I don't see the point to this."

"The point is to focus, and get better."

"But we're not supposed to hurt anyone. Shouldn't I learn to focus by doing something else?"

"You have to be able to defend yourself. You have to learn independence. But if you don't learn how to hit the target you will increase the risk of killing your perpetrator, and that would be bad." He offered her the arrow once more.

Svala accepted it with a sigh. "It's not like I'll carry this bow and arrow around everywhere I go. Wouldn't it be more useful to learn how to throw a knife?"

Trym smiled, an evident gleam in his eyes. "Good thinking. One does not have to rule out the other. We'll practice that next week."

"Great," she muttered and positioned the arrow against the bow.

Her next attempt missed the target as well. She wanted to throw the bow on the ground, but figured Trym would not approve of such an outburst. Instead, she turned to him, her patience running out. "You told me I'd get to be with Viggo if I joined the Loissifar."

"Liosálfar," Trym corrected.

She took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds, annoyed with Trym's calm. "So, where is he?"

"I told you it would take time. You have to learn how to be patient. You have to accept waiting. And most importantly, you have to put the balance before everything. Even your love for Viggo."

Svala pressed her lips together. Three months had passed already, and all she'd done was train on how to focus and be patient.

"But how long will I have to wait?"

"Until you fulfill your assignment."

"Which is what exactly?"

He smiled but didn't answer her question. Later she learned her first assignment had been patience, a lesson she relearned with each and every life. In some lives patience came easier, in others it felt like she'd never learned it at all, like she was still standing on that hill, missing the target.

Chapter 8

Present Time

Washington D.C.

Trym and Svala went back to Washington empty handed and resigned. They didn't hear from Viggo or Alva and The High Council gave them nothing to go on. They weren't supposed to question The High Council, but even Trym grew impatient by their silence. He didn't say it out loud, but Svala knew him and she could tell he was worried.

Three weeks later

"Shut up, it's about to start!" Sarah aimed the remote at the TV and blared the volume.

Jen and Megan continued talking over the theme song bursting out of the speakers. Sarah glared at them with an exaggerated sigh, and Jen paused in mid-conversation to smirk, and threw a pillow at her. It flew across the living room and hit Sarah straight in the face with a muffled thud. The precision made Megan double over laughing. Sarah threw the pillow back at them with a scowl.

They sat in Svala's and Trym's living room. The live interview with Viggo Storm was about to air. After the announcement in the last episode of Interview that Viggo Storm would be the next week's guest in the studio the girls counted the days, and lately, the hours.

The show started. Svala leaned forward in her arm chair and bit her nails. Jen and Megan continued their conversation throughout the intro, but as Viggo's face filled up the screen they both fell quiet. The intro music faded into the background. Megan leaned against the armrest and clutched her hands over her lips. Sarah edged so far out on her seat, if she inched any further she would fall off.

Viggo's blue eyes met the four girls in the living room and Svala's friends whimpered. The camera shifted and the interviewer's bleached smile and tanned face met them instead. David Mathews had once been a teen movie star himself, but turned to entertainment journalism after a long list of bad casting choices followed by an even longer list of nasty reviews. Now, in his thirties, David Mathews was more famous as a host than he had ever been as a movie star.

Mathews gestured toward Viggo. "I would like to welcome Mr. Viggo Storm to the show."

The studio audience's loud applauds and whistles thundered through the speakers in their small living room, and Sarah lowered the volume. The camera focused on Viggo. He rubbed his left thigh with the palm of his hand in a nervous gesture, still smiling. While the audience cheered, the camera cut to the interviewer. He shifted his gaze between Viggo and the audience, strained amusement all over his face.

"You're quite the popular guy." His comment made the audience scream louder.

Mathews shook his head and struggled to keep a straight face. Viggo shrugged, like he didn't know what to do about the commotion. He was uncomfortable but hid it well.

"Okay, settle down." Mathews raised his hand toward his audience until the cheers subsided.

Silent expectation replaced the noisy admiration. Mathews wiped the amused smile off his face and turned to his guest. "Welcome, Viggo. It's nice to have you here."

"Thanks, David. It's nice to be here."

The audience roared again. Mathews shook his head and lifted his hand to his lips, to hide the smile, then motioned for the audience to stop cheering. When they continued screaming, he nodded to his crew behind the scene. The camera cut to Viggo, then to both of them. The cheers subsided.

Mathews leaned back in his seat. "That's some welcome. I imagine it hasn't always been like this."

"No, not quite."

Mathews studied Viggo with interest before he continued. "It's remarkable. A year ago, no one knew who you were and now this." He motioned to the audience. "How does that feel?"

"A bit strange, I'll admit."

"I bet it does." Mathews consulted his notes. "You were a high school student when they discovered you, and now you're here, a big movie star. How would you say your life has changed?"

Viggo smiled. "Where do I start?"

Before running for office in the nineties, he trained to meet the media. In comparison, this was nothing. The whole interview meant to boost his popularity, not question his motives.

"My life has changed dramatically, of course. People recognize me on the street and I receive a lot more mail than I did before."

The audience laughed.

"But as a person, I haven't changed all that much. I'm still me." He massaged the end of his ring finger where his wedding band used to be.

Svala touched her own finger and held her breath. He had to give her something, any sign that he hadn't forgotten her. But he released his finger and ran a hand through his hair, his blue eyes revealing nothing.

Mathews flipped through his notes. "I have some questions from our viewers. Let's see, there is one that came up a lot... There it is. Are your eyes really that blue or do you wear contacts?"

Mathews asked a series of similar questions and Viggo answered with ease and confidence. To Megan and Jen's annoyance, Sarah guessed the answers out loud before Viggo spoke. She read everything she could find on Viggo and to her defense she nailed most of the answers. It was unsettling to have another girl know this much about her eternal.

"Could you just shut it?" Jen spat and threw another pillow Sarah's way.

Sarah caught it in mid-air, eyes narrowed, but as Mathews continued reading his viewer questions, she returned to the TV.

"Now, this is one we're all curious to find out. Are you currently dating Amanda Jones?"

Svala held her breath.

Viggo avoided the camera and reached out for a sip of water. He leaned back, his gaze never settling. "Yes."

Sarah snorted. Svala's stomach dropped and her body went cold. Why was he dating another girl. They weren't allowed to do that.

The studio audience silenced with obvious disappointment. Mathews fingered his ear piece and leaned forward, eyes narrow. "I'm getting information there might be another girl in your life as well."

Viggo's brows drew together.

"Someone who made a lasting impression?" Mathews hinted.

Viggo slowly shook his head and shrugged. Svala eased closer to the screen. What was this guy up to?

"Okay, let's refresh your memory." Mathews nodded to his crew. "Mark, run the tape."

The big screen behind Viggo and Mathews, previously showing the Interview logotype, shifted to the scene from Viggo's first TV appearance. The footage filled the screen in their living room.

In the scene, Viggo walked over a tiled terrace, up to a large pool where he stopped, and removed his shirt. The studio audience roared, drowning out his first line. He stood by the pool with his back to the camera, looking at the girl floating on a red air mattress. The image froze and zoomed in on Viggo's shoulder blade, and his tattoo. The initial blurred image cleared up, and her name filled up the entire screen.

Svala couldn't breathe. The camera cut to Viggo in the studio. The color drained from his face.

Mathews leaned forward. "Who's Freja?"

Chapter 9

1965

Hampton

In 1965, Svala and Viggo lived in a large white Costal house on the beach in Hampton. They had been together for six years.

One Saturday morning, while Viggo was downstairs in his studio painting, Svala woke up nauseous. She sat by the edge of their large wicker framed bed, staring down at the walnut hardware floor for a few seconds before she had to make an acute run to the bathroom. She stumbled out of bed and ran the last few feet. Hunched over the toilet seat, sitting on the cold black and white tiles, she convulsed and emptied her stomach. When she leaned back to gather herself vertigo replaced the nausea and she clutched the seat with both hands, inhaling in one slow breath.

She only had one glass of wine the night before and hadn't eaten anything unusual. When her balance returned, she moved over to the sink and splashed her face with cold water. A pale reflection met her in the mirror and long strands of blonde hair fell over her shoulders. She collected them into a ponytail and reached for her toothbrush.

Downstairs in their kitchen, Viggo had left a half-full pot of coffee for her. The kitchen, which combined with the living room, showed no trace of the sixties, neither did the rest of the house. The house's entire interior was inspired by 1920's designer Syrie Maugham; primarily white surfaces with accents of color. It reminded them both of a time when they had both been happier, before the war, before that lesson of patience turned into actual torture.

A faint scent of fried eggs and bacon lingered in the air, mixing with java. The combination re-triggered her nausea. She grabbed the back of the white, scalloped-patterned couch in the living room and fought her repulsion. A few slow breaths and she straightened up, heading for the coffee. She didn't make it past the kitchen island before she had to run to the downstairs bathroom and repeat her morning activity.

She skipped the coffee, grabbed her calendar and went out to the porch facing the ocean. They'd painted the porch white as soon as they moved in and bought white wicker furniture with navy blue cushions. Wrapping her cream colored cardigan tightly around her she sat down in the large wicker armchair, opened the book and started counting. Backwards, then forward. Once, twice, then two more times to be sure. She paused and gazed out over the ocean. The waves slowly rolled onto the beach, creating that soothing ripple she and Viggo associated with their hometown Birka. Staring out into the distance, she didn't notice Viggo walk out onto the porch.

"You don't want breakfast?" he asked.

She flinched at the sound of his voice. He wiped his hands on his jeans; leaving stains of cerulean on the washed-out denim. His white tank top was smeared with paint in various colors, his hair, slightly longer than usual, stood on end. He walked up to her.

"I'll wait." She closed her calendar. "How's it going?"

"I don't know. I thought you could take a look." He knelt down in front of her and leaned in for a kiss, careful not to stain her clothes.

Her hands entangled his soft hair and she lingered on his lips before easing back. "Give me a minute."

The breeze from the ocean brought a faint scent of algae over the porch. She fought the repellence it provoked.

Viggo gazed out over the ocean, his arm against her lap, Svala's hand still in his hair. "Alva called this morning. She told me Haldur and Ingrid reunited. They're in sync with us. I thought we could invite them here."

She closed her eyes, swallowed hard and nodded. "Yeah, that would be great." Despite her efforts, her voice came out strained.

His brows furrowed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She shook her head and smiled.

His face tensed, his eyes searching hers. She reached out and caressed his cheek.

"It's nothing. I'm just nauseous. It'll pass."

His blue eyes filled with concern. She grabbed his chin and leaned in for another kiss. "I want to see your painting," she whispered against his lips.

***

Two weeks later, Svala went to the doctor for a checkup.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Storm. You're pregnant!"

She stared at him from where she sat on the hard gurney. The white sterile room appeared smaller, like the walls were closing in on her. This had to be some kind of a cruel joke.

"That's impossible. I can't get pregnant. I'm..." She stopped herself and the doctor waited for her continue. "Sterile," she managed.

He removed his stethoscope and placed it on his desk. "Well, congratulations all the more then, because you are indeed pregnant."

Thoughts crowded her head when she drove back to the house. As far as she knew, no other Liosálfar had given birth to a child before. Every Liosálfar she'd ever met was born mortal, like herself. Even Trym and Alva. She didn't think it possible with all the things to consider. What would happen to the child when they started over? Would it disappear, or worse, would it be left behind? What happened if they started over while she was still pregnant? Would she end up a fourteen-year old pregnant virgin or would the fetus disappear?

When she pulled up her light blue VW Beetle in their driveway, she didn't even remember the drive home. She clutched the steering wheel, took a deep breath and gathered her thoughts before she stepped out onto the gravel pathway outside their house.

Trym and his lover, Alrik, were at the house when she came home. She hung her white coat in the hallway and took pause before walking into the kitchen. It was best if she didn't say anything yet. Trym had a responsibility to report everything to the High Council, and she wasn't ready to find out what they'd do.

When she came into the kitchen, Viggo reached for another mug from the cupboard above the sink. "Was everything okay?" he asked.

Viggo, Trym and Alrik stood around the kitchen island. Alrik lowered his cup of coffee, exchanging a worried look with Trym.

"I've been to the doctor. Only a check up, I'm fine." She walked up, her black and white Spectator pumps making her feel taller next to him.

Alrik reached out, put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in. She moved her arm around his waist and leaned her head against him. Unlike most of the older Liosálfar generation, Alrik no longer had a protégé to look after and spent most his time with Trym and Svala. If Trym was the one who was suppose to keep her in control, Alrik was the fun uncle who let her get away with murder.

Viggo poured a cup of coffee and slid it across the kitchen island. "Didn't the doctor find anything?"

"No." She accepted the coffee and avoided his gaze. "Nothing wrong with me."

"Well, something's wrong. You've been throwing up for weeks." Viggo gestured to Trym. "We get sick like everyone else, right? I mean, we've all had the occasional cold, or stomach flu. We could contract cancer or any other deadly disease as likely as Mrs. Rowan next door."

"Yeah, technically, but it's very uncommon. It's practically unheard of," Trym said.

Viggo turned to the sink to rinse out some dishes piling up. Alrik's grip around Svala's waist tightened and she could tell how Trym and Alrik avoided looking at each other.

"What?" she asked.

Alrik leaned in to kiss her forehead. "Nothing." He smiled, but his eyes didn't follow. "If the doctor said you're fine, you're fine."

The blood drained from her face. Alrik's smile wavered.

"You have nothing to worry about." He rubbed her arm. "After what they put you through in your last life you're up for compensation, not punishment, right? They're not going to screw up twice."

Viggo's shoulders tensed up at the mention of their last life. It lasted over the second World War and they'd been kept apart for more years than they'd ever been apart before. Viggo still refused to talk about what had happened to him while he'd been captured.

She pushed back the awful memories of a time she rather soon forget and considered the odds of something bad happening to them again. This had to be a compensation, the High Council did owe them.

Viggo dried the wet dishes with a white kitchen cloth. The first couple of years in this life he'd been unable to relax, always on edge, always ready to defend himself. He still woke her up with terrible nightmares and he was constantly on guard but he hid it better as time passed. Between the painting, the peaceful ocean and the comfort of their love, he healed, little by little. But Svala doubted he'd ever be the same again.

Viggo placed the last plate on the kitchen island and offered her comforting smile. She held his gaze and felt the first flutter of excitement in her stomach. This was good news, it had to be. It was the perfect gift to Viggo after everything he'd been through and she couldn't wait to tell him. It made sense they'd grant them this and a child was always a blessing. Maybe it was the one thing that could heal him.

Chapter 10

Present Time

Washington D.C

Back in the living room in Washington D.C, Svala held her breath while everyone awaited Viggo's answer. As Mathews eased forward in his chair, her three friends stayed silent.

After a moment of stale staring, Viggo lowered his gaze. When he returned to the camera his eyes had completely lost their glimmer. Svala swallowed back a lump in her throat. He remembered.

"That's personal." Viggo's face tensed.

Svala closed her eyes. She couldn't stand to see the pain in his eyes.

"What do you mean?" Mathews asked.

Viggo grew silent again, as did the entire studio while waiting for him to elaborate. Mathews eased closer and let the uncomfortable silence linger. A staring contest began. Mathews held out for a few seconds longer than Svala anticipated.

"Seems like it concerns something painful." Mathews tilted his head to the side, pursing his lips together. "Wouldn't you much rather tell us than have us speculate? You know how viscous rumors can be."

Svala bit her tongue, wanting to hurt the guy for toying with Viggo's emotions. Some journalists had no class.

Viggo's eyes darted back and forward as Mathews' words sank in. His hand moved up to his neckline, and he kept it against the bare skin above the black v-necked shirt for a moment before letting it fall down into his lap.

Viggo fixed his gaze on his hands, his voice low. "She was someone I lost. Someone I loved very much."

A whimper spread through the audience and Svala's friends joined in. Svala fought the sickening feeling of having their trauma broadcasted like this.

Trym stood in the door opening behind them. His hand cupped his mouth, his shoulders slumped and his eyes fixed on the screen. When he caught Svala looking at him he straightened up and forced a smile, but not before she'd caught the tears welling up in his eyes.

***

1966

Hampton

Svala gave birth to Freja the summer of 1966. The little girl came out healthy with ten toes and ten fingers. According to Viggo, Trym and Alrik paced the floor in the hospital waiting room during Svala's four-hour labor.

"I don't know what they expected to come out. I've never seen Trym so pale." Viggo reached out and let Freja grab his finger with her tiny hand. He studied his daughter as she lay on her back in their bed, gazing up at him. She was beautiful with all the Liosálfar characteristics already in place. Intense blue eyes, skin that practically glowed and such delicate features she almost looked unreal.

Svala stood over by the white dresser watching them. A warmth spread inside of her and she savored the moment. She never thought she would experience anything like this.

Viggo shook his head slowly in disbelief. "She's so beautiful. I've only known her a couple of days and I already love her so much."

Svala walked up to the bed. Viggo reached out to circle her waist, and pulled her against him on the bed. They sat together, watching their daughter in stunned silence.

Half an hour later, Svala headed downstairs but stopped in the middle of the stairs when she overheard Trym and Alrik arguing.

"Why do you have to assume this is a bad thing? This could just as well be a compensation for the hell they put them through. It doesn't have to be a punishment. It's a child for God's sake!" Trym had trouble keeping his voice down.

Svala frowned and slowly sat on the dark wooden stairs. She tried to breathe as silently as possible. Trym wasn't the type to get easily upset and he never discussed The High Council like this in front of her or Viggo.

"It's not meant for us to have children," Alrik hissed.

"For us?"

Svala detected the ridicule in Trym's voice. She wrapped her arms around her knees and leaned in closer.

"You know what I mean!" Alrik snorted. "It's not fair to us, and it's not fair to the child!"

"You don't know that. For all we know they could get a full life. They can move on to their next assignment when they're eighty and Freja will be an adult, believing her parents died of old age. That has to be their intention. It's the only reasonable explanation."

"And what about their last life? How do you explain that?" Alrik spoke through clenched teeth. "Does that prove they care about what's right? Or what's fair? And how can we even know this isn't something the Döckálfar have arranged. Another sick mind game to get us just where they want us. I don't trust it and neither should you."

Svala eased in closer, eager to hear Trym's response. The old wood in the stairs creaked and silence filled the room downstairs. She held her breath as she stood, clasping the banister. Now she would have to make her presence known or they'd know she'd been listening in on their conversation.

Both men smiled at her when she came into view. She smiled back, her eyes darting from Trym to Alrik.

"Is everything OK?" she asked.

"Of course." Alrik walked up to her, his green eyes filled with worry. "Shouldn't you be resting though?"

"I'm fine." She assured.

She was happier than she had been in centuries, and she didn't want their argument to ruin the tingling sensation throughout her all body, like a bliss that had no intention of ending. Trym was right, they did deserve it. They'd had enough pain and heart ache in their last life. This couldn't be anything else than a reward for what they were put through.

She never asked about the argument, too eager to believe they were rewarded for past injustices. She didn't want any other explanation.

***

1966-1971

Freja had her father's eyes and her mother's hair. Like most parents they thought her the prettiest child to ever have been born. They experienced her firsts with constant gratitude, her first laughter, her first step. Her first words.

About seven months after Freja was born, Viggo sat with her in his lap on a red blanket on the kitchen floor. Svala stood by the sink, cleaning up after dinner as Freja entertained her father. She tried to grab his nose and laughed in delight when Viggo pretended to bite her hand.

"Dada." Freja reached for his nose once more

Viggo's eyes widened in excitement. "Honey, did you hear that?"

Svala dropped the sponge into the foamy water and joined Viggo and their daughter on the floor. She reached out to run her hand over her daughter's blonde hair. "Did you say Daddy, sweetheart?"

Viggo grinned. "She did, didn't she?"

Svala nodded and her heart swelled. The light was back in his eyes, she never thought it would return.

He grabbed his daughter and lifted her over his head until the little girl wheezed with laughter. When he lowered her again, she reached for his nose repeating her first word. Viggo stared at her with a spontaneous laughter, his eyes sparkling with joy.

The years passed and they grew comfortable. They didn't consider the consequences or reason why they had been granted a child. They became parents who loved their child, like any other married couple.

Viggo painted pictures of them. Either separately or together, and Svala told him they would soon have to buy a bigger place to fit all the paintings. Trym often told them it was a waste of canvas and income as Viggo never sold a single painting.

"What do you say about giving this one to Trym for his birthday?" Viggo held up one of his early paintings. The canvas portrayed Svala out on the porch in a blue dress. She held her new born baby in her arms, her hair covering half her face.

"I've always liked that one." Svala sat down next to her daughter by the table and handed her a fork.

"You want to keep it?" Viggo asked.

"No. It's a good idea. Might shut him up for a while."

Freja inspected the art work and frowned. At five she was a hard critic of her father's work. "You use too much blue, Dad," she said.

Viggo tried to hold back a smile. "Really? You think so?"

Freja nodded with conviction.

He turned the painting to study it and sighed as he considered the criticism. Freja waited for her father's response with anticipation, her tiny hands clasping the back of her chair.

"You're right. You're absolutely right, honey," he said.

Freja turned back to the table. Her shoulders drew back, her chin tilted up and a proud smile on her pretty face. Svala and Viggo shared a smile.

"I have to go into town to buy more paint. Do you need anything?" Viggo put down the painting and leaned it against the wall.

"No, not that I can think of."

Freja abandoned her lunch, turning to her father. "I want to come too."

"You have to finish your lunch," Svala said. "Daddy will be back in an hour."

"But I want to go too," Freja whined and presented her best pout.

Viggo walked up to the table and ran his hand over his daughter's hair. "You have to eat, honey, how else will you grow?"

"Please, Daddy?" Her face contorted into a grimace, her lower lip shivering with the threat of tears.

Viggo suppressed another smile and leaned in to kiss her forehead. "I'll be back in an hour, sweetie."

"Promise?"

"I promise." He kissed her again. "And you have to stay here and take care of your mom for me. You think you can do that?"

She nodded but held a confrontational stance, her eyes narrow, shifting to Svala as if she doubted her mother needed to be taken care of.

The little girl sulked when her father left. She had entered the phase where her father was her whole world and her mother the one competing for his attention. It frustrated Svala at moments like this but most of the time she found it endearing.

"Freja, please eat your meatballs." Svala nodded to her plate.

"I'm not hungry." Freja crossed her arms over her chest, pressing her chin down. Her blonde pony tail bounced against the back of her white dress.

Svala stifled another sigh. Sometimes she lost her patience.

"Freja, please."

"I'm not hungry!"

The girl was so stubborn and Svala had no idea where she got it from. She had no idea how she'd been as a child and no one to ask. Moments like these, she missed her mother and her sisters.

"Fine." She grabbed the plate and rose. "Then there will be no ice cream later."

"But, Mom!"

Svala put the plate in the sink more forcefully than she intended, disappointed with herself for posing the threat. The constant struggle to make the child eat anything other than sweets overwhelmed her sometimes and she knew she had to be stronger than this. Exhaling deeply, Svala calmed herself and prepared to act like a responsible parent.

The sky outside the window had changed from blue to grey within minutes and more clouds moved in from the city. A strong wind rattled the large oak tree in their back garden and Freja's red swing was set in motion. The one thing she didn't like about living by the ocean were the storms. Those times the soothing rhythms of the waves rolling up on shore transformed into a thundering monster that crept closer and closer to their house.

Tiny rain drops pattered the window. She reached in and closed it with a shudder, hoping Viggo would return before the weather got too bad.

"Mom?" Freja's voice came out pitiful when Svala kept her back against her for too long.

She turned around and her daughter's large blue eyes made her heart melt. She sometimes wondered if she was too hard on her. It was hard to know as she had been raised in such a different time when children weren't children in the sense they were now.

The room flashed, as if someone snapped a picture and first she thought it was the weather outside. When the room flashed again, it stayed bright for too long and she understood what was happening. She panicked.

"No!"

The room flashed once more. Svala headed toward her daughter. If she could just get her arms around her in time maybe Freja would shift with her. Another flash blinded her momentarily and when her vision returned she was only inches from grabbing her daughter. The last thing she saw before the room shifted was her daughter's terrified gaze.

Chapter 11

1971

New Haven

The Hampton kitchen transformed into a small, bright room. Pink wallpaper, a bed in one corner, a desk in the other; a typical teenage room. There was no sign of Freja anywhere. She glanced down at her young, fourteen year old body, and the panic rose.

"No!" She shook her head. "No!"

"Svala!"

Trym stood in the hallway outside, pale and out of breath. He wore a black motorcycle gear with the label Triumph printed in big white letters on his back, the helmet tucked under his arm, his hair a tangled mess. Under normal circumstance, she would have laughed about it. Once in 1563 she shifted while horseback riding and the bizarre experience stayed with her a long time after.

"Is she with you?" he asked.

Svala shook her head, staring at him without seeing him.

"Was she with you when you shifted?"

"She was right in front of me." Svala drew a sharp breath and grabbed her chest. "She was sitting right in front of me. Oh my God..."

Trym rubbed his face with his free hand and sighed. "We'll figure this out. We just need to calm down. I'll contact the High Council. I'm sure they've kept her safe."

"We have to go back." She grabbed the door frame and pushed past him. "We have to go back right now."

"Wait!" He grabbed her arm. "Just wait."

She snatched back. "No! I'm not going to wait! We have to get there now! She's there all alone, she's scared and she needs me."

"We don't even know where we are!" Trym raised his voice. "We need to calm down and figure this out. I'll contact them--"

Svala shook her head. "No. I'm going to get her."

Trym reached out and fixed her face between his hands, holding her still. "Hear me out. I'll contact them and..."

"No! They're the ones who did this! I will not sit around waiting for them to tell us what to do. I'm going, with or without you."

She pried his hands from her face and ran over to the nearest window, hoping for some sign of their location. Their house was one of ten on a street filled with perfectly mowed lawns behind picket fences. Generous flowerbeds with large roses followed the front facade of each house. They could be anywhere.

A black Mercedes Roadster stood parked in their driveway. Svala trotted down the stairs and ended up in a large living room designed with contemporary furniture. Trym followed close behind asking her to slow down. She ignored him and moved past the pink swivel tub chairs and continued through a large colorful kitchen before she ended up in the entrance hall.

Trym stopped in the doorway as she searched the drawers of a brown mid-Century Credenza. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Looking for the car keys."

In the corner of the drawer a three-star Mercedes logo glimmered. She grabbed the key ring tight in her hand.

Trym reached out for the key but she held it behind her back.

"You're fourteen years old. You can't drive."

"I don't care. I'm going."

She waited him out. His breath uneven, his face tensed. Svala's lips tightened as she grew more impatient. She would not give him more time to consider it.

Trym caved. "Okay, I'll drive you. But you do as I tell you."

The shift had transported them to Fair Haven, a small town in New England, and the drive to Hampton took over six hours. It was three a.m when they pulled up outside their old beach house. The kitchen light was on, the rest of the house pitch dark.

Svala flung the car door open before they came to a full stop and stumbled out in the sand without closing the door. Trym called for her to slow down and, but she ignored him and ran up the stairs where she threw the front door open with force. The glass window inside the door rattled when it slammed against the wall.

The moonlight shed some light into the hallway. In the corner over by the stairs, markings of Freja's growth cluttered the white door seal with dates and years neatly written over each line. Her doll sat on the bench next to the large mirror where Freja used to parade around in Svala's heals and pearls.

Svala charged inside, her heart pounded, her hands trembled with fear and anticipation. All their furniture was still there, that had to be a good sign.

"Freja! Honey, Mommy's here!" Her voice broke. "Freja!"

She stormed through the large hallway and into the combined living room then further into kitchen, where she stopped. Alva, Viggo's mentor, stood by the window. When she turned, her blonde thick braid slid over her shoulder. Viggo sat on the dark hardwood floor by the kitchen island, his face buried in his hands. When Svala resumed walking past the living room couch he looked up. He was only a teenager now too and she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him so young. It was the boy she had once fallen desperately in love with so many years ago. Their eyes met and her tears streamed down her cheeks at the sight of his swollen red eyes. His gaze was completely bereft of hope.

"Where is she?" Her voice pitched.

Trym came up behind her. Viggo closed his eyes and shook his head, unable to fight the tears. Alva turned back to the window but not before her eyes welled up too. Svala walked swiftly up to Viggo and knelt before him.

"Where is she?" She placed a hand on his thigh.

Viggo reached out and pulled her into his arms, burying his face in the nape of her neck, crying even harder against her. His body trembled, and she wrapped her arms tight around him.

"Honey, where is she?" Panic filled her voice.

"She was gone when we arrived," Alva said calm.

Viggo drew a sharp breath and tightened his grip around her. Svala reached up to caress the hair on the back of his head.

Trym's Motorcycle boots clunked against the hardwood floor. He stopped as he reached the kitchen area.

"Do you know where she is?" he asked.

Alva's strained sigh told Svala the information would displease them.

"I talked to them. They said she's safe."

Svala closed her eyes and pressed her face against Viggo's shoulder.

"What does that mean?" Trym raised his voice.

"I asked. They wouldn't say. They told me to let it go."

"Let it go?" Trym scoffed.

Viggo eased back and Svala leaned away to study him. His soft face was marked with sorrow but when he glared at Alva his gaze darkened.

Alva's face softened. She tilted her head to the side. "Viggo, I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you, but we have to follow orders. You know that."

"I don't care about their fucking orders." The muscles in his face twitched.

Svala reached up and touched his cheek. His eyes flickered with insecurity when he looked at her. "We'll find her. Promise me we'll find her," he said.

She stroked his soft teenage cheek. Yesterday, it had been rough with bristles.

"We'll find her," she whispered.

"You will do no such thing!" Alva's voice was firm.

Trym stayed silent. Svala and Viggo shared a look of determination. There was nothing anyone could do or say to change their minds. Nothing would prevent them from trying to find their daughter.

Chapter 12

Present Time

Washington D.C.

Sarah played with the straw in her soda, her eyes shifting sideways. "I think she was his mother."

The high school cafeteria was noisier than usual. The heavy scent of fried food and gravy lingered in the stale air. Air conditioning could not have been a priority during the recent renovations.

Svala and her friends sat at their usual table in the end of the room by a window facing the school yard. Jen's boyfriend, Noah, and his friends joined them. The boys discussed last night's game and the fact that audience attendance had been exceptionally low.

"Who?" Jen followed Sarah's gaze.

"Freja." Sarah leaned in over the table, looking very serious. "I think Freja was Viggo's mother."

Noah and the other guys groaned and rolled their eyes. Svala sighed and poked around in her mashed potatoes. She wished people would stop speculating. It was already all over Social Media after the show last night. There were even polls floating around on Facebook: vote A for sister, B for mother and C for ex-lover.

"No way." Megan shook her head. "If it had been his mother, or his sister, he would have said so. It's so obviously an ex-lover. Why else would he hide it?"

Jayden eased closer to Svala and dropped his voice. "Please, tell me you're not obsessed with that idiot too."

She forced a smile and shook her head, not sure why she still cared what Jayden thought of her. She shouldn't even be hanging out with him. Three months before Viggo made his first public appearance she and Jayden had engaged in some innocent flirting. For some reason he reminded her of Viggo with the same strong features, similar dark hair and blue eyes. He even laughed the same way.

The whole thing had been harmless until the two of them ended up making out at a party. She'd been drinking, and lost her judgment. When his lips landed on hers, she'd closed her eyes and imagined it was Viggo. When Jayden tried pushing his hand into her jeans, she'd pulled away, embarrassed and filled with remorse. She'd never gone that far with any other guy except Viggo. The teenage hormones and sexual frustration had taken over. She'd been avoiding him ever since but her lack of attention only fueled his interest in her.

Her friends continued speculating about Freja and Svala blocked out their conversation, focusing on the background noise in the messy cafeteria. Every time she closed her eyes the image of her daughter's terrified gaze returned and she relived the pain of that day. The public display did not help.

Sarah argued her case while Megan and Jen stood united. Sarah could be so stupid sometimes. She didn't understand when they wound her up. Svala pushed away her hard plastic tray, the plate half full. A group of girls took a seat by the end of their long table. Their chairs scraped loud against the floor when they pulled them out at the same time.

Jayden observed her. She pretended she didn't notice him. When her cell phone buzzed in her pocket, she saw the perfect excuse to ignore him. She hauled up the phone. An unknown number sent a text.

I'm so sorry, I didn't know they would bring that up.

She stared at the display, her breath caught in her throat. The loud commotion in the cafeteria faded to the background along with her friends' voices. It was like she'd stepped into a vacuum. She didn't know how long she sat there, staring at the phone before Sarah insisted on her attention.

"Svala?"

She looked up, disoriented. Her friends studied her, eyebrows raised.

"What?" She managed gasping, out of breath.

"What do you think?" Sarah asked.

"About what?"

"About Freja. Who do you think she is?"

"I don't know...." She locked her phone and pushed it into her pocket. "I need to make a phone call. I'll meet you outside before class, okay?"

Svala walked outside. Her hands trembled when she unlocked the phone and pushed to call the number showing on the display. As she walked over the lawn and continued into the parking lot she surveyed her surroundings to secure no one was around. It took five rings before Viggo answered.

"You shouldn't be calling." Was the first thing he said.

A door closed behind him with a muffled thud.

"Viggo?" she whispered. Her voice barely held.

"Yes?"

The softness of his voice made her cry. She faced away from the school building, scared someone would see her and come out to check on her.

"Don't cry, honey," Viggo whispered. "You know I can't stand to see you cry."

"You can't see me," she whispered.

"You know what I mean."

Svala wiped the tears from her face and walked further out on the parking lot. She stopped behind a row of cars parked at the end of the lot. Her head was spinning, her legs grew weak.

"God, I miss you so much," he whispered.

She leaned against a lamppost and tried to slow her breath along with her heart beat. Relief mixed with an uncontrollable need to be with him, her heart swelled like it was about to explode.

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I knew you would be watching that interview. I never considered they'd bring her up," Viggo said.

She nodded into the phone even though he couldn't see. The relief of knowing he was still hers lifted a huge weight of her chest.

"Viggo, what's going on? Why didn't you acknowledge me in New York? What are you up to?"

He fell silent. Svala surveyed the parking lot, afraid someone would come out and overhear her.

"I was protecting you." He kept his voice low.

"From who?"

He didn't answer.

"From the Döckálfar?" she asked.

"I can't tell you."

"Viggo, what's going on?" She lowered her voice and her heartbeat raced inside her chest.

"I can't tell you." He repeated.

"You have to."

"I don't want to risk your safety. Just trust me."

She paused, not one bit secure about what was going on.

"Why can't you trust me instead?" she asked.

"I do."

She waited for him to continue.

"Listen, honey, even if I wanted to, I can't tell you everything. Not only because I'm not allowed to, but because we're not sure what's going on yet. We suspect something's not right."

Her hand tightened around the phone, her entire body turned rigid. "We?"

He paused. "Alva and I."

She was even more confused now than she was before. Viggo had a tendency to get emotionally involved to the point where he had trouble seeing things for what they were. "What do you mean? What's not right?"

He took his time before he responded. "Haven't you noticed things have been off the last century?"

"Off? What do you mean off?" she asked.

"The rhythm. Our lives. Even the missions have been different. Things haven't made sense."

"Well, things change. We know that better than anyone," she said.

He sighed in frustration. "No, it's something else. First the war, then losing her, waiting for each other for so many years and then starting over too quickly. Alrik disappearing. The Döckálfar are up to something. They have to be behind it. I have to find out what's going on. I have to fix it."

He never told her what happened during the war, all those years apart. She had no idea where he'd been. All she knew was that the Döckálfar were behind it, and he'd never been able to let it go. Her heart stopped. The thought that entered her mind seemed unimaginable.

Her voice trembled. "What are you saying? Have you involved yourself with them somehow?"

He silenced.

"Are you out of your mind?" She raised her voice. "What are you thinking?"

"Shh," he reminded her.

"Viggo, you're scaring me," she whispered. "Please, stop this. It's not worth it. We already lost her, we lost Alrik. I don't want to lose you too."

"I'm being careful."

She snapped. "What? Making movies? Being all over the Internet for the world to see you? You're all everybody is talking about. Did you really have to go and become a movie star in order to find out the truth?"

"It wasn't my first choice, believe me. I needed the access."

Her eyes narrowed. "Is this your assignment? Becoming a movie star?"

Since no one told them about the nature of their assignments they usually didn't understand what it was about until it was over; sometimes not even then. Sometimes they never knew what they had accomplished. But Viggo had to have clearance from The High Council to go into the public light like this.

"Not really."

"What do you mean not really?"

"I can't say."

"Why?"

He squirmed. "I can't tell you."

"What do you mean? You don't trust me enough to tell me?"

"No," he objected as if it was ridiculous to suggest such a thing. "It's not that, it's..."

She waited.

"It's because of a lot of things. Trym for one."

Her brows shot up, her posture straightening. "What? Trym? What about Trym?"

"We don't know if we can trust him."

"Bullshit!" She remembered to keep her voice down but spoke through clenched teeth. "It's Trym. Of course you can trust him. What are you saying? That he's with them?"

Viggo sighed out loud. "Not him, but someone he loves."

She shook her head. "Trym would never betray us. He had the chance once to go over to their side and he didn't take it. You don't know what you're talking about."

"I hope I'm wrong. I do, but until I know, it would be wise if you didn't mention this to him."

She didn't answer.

"Can you promise me that?" he prompted.

"I promise I won't tell him," she said. "But I'm not happy about it."

The wind blew straight into the phone, and she moved to shield herself. Viggo didn't say a word.

"You still there?" she asked.

"I'm here."

"About Freja, you should say something about it. Tell them she was your mother, or your sister. I don't want to listen to people speculating about it."

"I know. I just..." He sighed. "I was so upset about the whole thing, I didn't want to give them anything."

She nodded. That was how he dealt with anger. He could be so stubborn.

"I told you, you shouldn't have gotten that tattoo," she said.

"I know."

"It was a stupid decision...."

"I know. That doesn't help much now, does it?"

She didn't mean to place guilt and hated when they fought, but she had a point. No one supported that decision -- least of all Trym and Alva.

"So, have you found anything yet?" she asked.

He lowered his voice. "Not yet."

She took pause, not sure she should ask. "Vig, I...." Her heart pounded.

"What, honey?" his voice softened

"Are you and Amanda..."

Viggo waited for her to finish but she couldn't.

"I love you," he whispered.

She nodded and fought back the tears. "So you're not..."

"I love you," he repeated.

She took a deep breath. The tears won.

"Listen honey, I have to go. It's not safe." Viggo spoke softly. "I'll try and contact you when I can."

When the call ended, she stared at the phone for five long minutes before returning to the main building.

Chapter 13

Present Time

Washington D.C

After her phone call with Viggo, Svala's couldn't focus. She paid no attention during class and spent the remaining hours of school obsessing over the nature of Viggo's relationship with Amanda Jones. Up until the interview last night, she'd disregarded the relationship as a rumor. After the interview, she still convinced herself it was a PR stunt. But as he didn't deny it, she didn't know what to believe.

She came home from school and hurried past the kitchen where Trym was loading groceries into the fridge. She picked up her pace and headed for the stairs, pretending she didn't see him follow her into the living room.

"Svala!" Trym called out.

His footsteps closed in behind her.

"Can we talk?"

She stopped but didn't turn. "About what?"

His silence crept in under her skin. She waited for a moment, then grabbed the rail and took one step up the stairs. "I have homework."

"Have you talked to Viggo?"

She stopped again and clasped the rail hard.

"No." She lied, afraid to turn and show her face.

"Do you promise?"

She sighed, audibly. "Why do you ask, if you don't believe me?"

"I'm trying to protect you. You know that. You know what will happen if you break the rules..."

She swirled around. "No. I don't. I know something will happen because you keep telling me but I have no idea what."

Trym slouched. "Svala..."

"No. Don't 'Svala' me, I'm sick of this! They took my child away from me, they kept us apart for six years and gave us three lousy weeks together. They keep toying with us. I don't know what could possibly be worse than this!"

"You can lose him."

She bit her tongue before she said something that would reveal she had been in contact with him.

"Svala, please."

She took two steps up the stairs.

"I don't want you to go through what I went through," Trym said.

She stopped again, and turned abruptly. "And what exactly was that? What exactly happened to Alrik?"

Their eyes met for a second. Trym evaded her gaze but she kept staring at him, challenging him. He said nothing.

"I thought so." She shook her head, then hurried up the stairs.

***

1971

New Haven

Alrik and Trym fought constantly after they lost Freja. Svala escaped to her room on the second floor in their house in New Haven, blocking their yelling out with Cat Stevens or Led Zeppelin, depending on the volume of their arguments.

The fights usually ended with someone leaving the house in anger. A door slammed shut, and silence replaced the shouting. When that happened, Svala further increased the volume of her music, detesting the silence even more.

One time after a fight, Alrik came to her room. He knocked softly on her door and waited for a few seconds before he entered. Svala sat on her bed, The First Cut is the Deepest bursting out of the speakers, creating a slight vibration in the floor. Alrik walked up to her record player, lowered the volume, then frowned and shook his head at the cover of a Led Zeppelin album leaned against the bookshelf.

"You do realize there is no stairway to heaven, don't you?" He offered a lopsided smiled.

Svala stared into space. Fighting the tears proved futile. Alrik pressed his lips together and walked up to her bed. He sat down next to her and pulled her into his arms. She abandoned her closed up position and welcomed the warmth of his embrace.

"At some point you have to stop crying, sweetie." He pressed his lips against her hair line.

Alrik always sided with her. On a normal day, his comfort and support eased her pain. During this time, nothing did.

He tucked back her hair and let it fall over her back, then rested his chin on the top of her head. "It's not fair," he whispered.

She let him hold her for a while, then eased back. "Why are we being punished? What did we do?"

"I don't know. They refuse to talk to me." He offered a mirthless smile. "Same old same old."

Four hundred years ago, Alrik had a protégé too but was disqualified as mentor as he 'did not abide by the rules'. He never talked about it, and Svala showed respect by not asking.

"What are you two fighting about?" she asked instead.

He reached out to caress her cheek. "Nothing." His green eyes wavered.

Most of the older Liosálfar had blue eyes. Green was uncommon.

"Alrik..."

He sighed. "We're in disagreement."

"Well, obviously." She pursed her lips, waiting.

Alrik eased away, and his eyes lacked their usual energy. "I think he should be fighting harder."

"He's not?" Her voice pitched.

Alrik bit his lip and lingered before he answered. "He's doing what he can, following protocol. He's too afraid to do anything else."

"Why?"

"He's afraid he'll lose you, or that you'll lose Viggo if he pushes too hard."

Her eyes widened and Alrik's gaze changed. He arched his brows and nodded slowly.

"Yeah, maybe he's right. Maybe it's not worth risking all and losing all," he said.

Her body went cold. She stared at him in horror. He took her hand in his and added. "Don't worry, sweetie. Lucky for you, I'm not in charge."

***

1972

New Haven

Svala and Viggo waited one year to be together. When they reunited, Svala was fifteen, Viggo sixteen. For appearance they had to stay under supervision until Svala turned eighteen. This made searching for Freja far more difficult.

In the early seventies, tracking people was complicated -- tracking children, even more so. Without the internet there was no way to gather information for someone who was not of age. Going through regular channels required identification. Even then it was tricky to get anything released.

Trym and Alva refused to help, so they turned to Alrik.

They ambushed him in the laundry room one day when Trym was out. The rhythmic buzz of the tumble dryer shifting their clothes around had to suffice to drown out their voices in case Trym returned. Alrik folded the last turtle neck shirt when they came inside.

He offered an apologetic smile even before they said anything and once they'd presented their request he backed up against the counter and pushed his hands into his pockets. His shoulders slumped. "I want to help you, but I can't."

"Please," Svala begged.

Viggo ran a hand through his hair with a frustrated sigh. He shook his head and tightened his lips as if to tell Svala he'd already suspected they'd get nowhere with Alrik.

Alrik's gaze shifted between the two of them. "I'm sorry. I promised Trym I wouldn't get involved. If I did, and they found out, things could get ugly. You could lose each other. Is that what you want?"

"We want our daughter back." Viggo sneered. "That's what we want."

"I'm sorry. I wish I could help you, but my hands are tied."

***

Svala and Viggo drove to their old house in Hampton. A married couple with two children, lived there now. The mantelpiece was cluttered with framed pictures of the whole family on various vacation trips, or posing for a Christmas picture. On the side table stood head shot photos of a little boy and girl, smiling happily into the camera.

The woman, Mrs. Wilson, invited them in for coffee under the pretense they came searching for a previous owner.

"We bought this house from an old lady. I should have her number somewhere," Mrs. Wilson said.

They sat in the kitchen, waiting for the pot of coffee to brew. The gurgling of the machine broke through the silence as Mrs. Wilson rummaged around in a drawer. In the background, the waves rolled onto the shore in soothing strokes. The sound enhanced Svala's anxiety.

"I was sure I put it in here." Mrs. Wilson lifted a paper and shook her head, then put a hand on her hip and pursed her lips.

The kitchen, along with the rest of the house, had been remodeled to more contemporary standards. They sat on uncomfortable wooden chairs around a brown, round dinner table, surrounded by the kitchen's new and hideous orange cabinet doors. The wallpaper matched the cabinets in color with traces of orange in the otherwise brown and yellow flowers. Nothing connected to Svala's memory of the place she'd last seen her daughter.

The Wilsons had even painted the facade of the house from modest grey to a bright yellow color. The markings of Freja's height in the hallway were gone, probably removed with a fresh layer of paint. She hated what they had done to their home, the place where they had been so happy raising their daughter.

The new kitchen table stood in the exact spot Freja sat when it shifted. Svala had trouble hiding her resentment to the nice lady, who in all fairness could not be blamed for anything. She must have failed to hide her feelings as Viggo smiled and reached under the table for her hand, squeezing it tight.

"Do you know how long the previous owner lived here?" he asked.

"No, I'm afraid not." Mrs. Wilson closed the drawer, her gaze clouded. "I might have left the number in the study, though. I'll go look."

Left alone in the kitchen, they both exhaled. Viggo squeezed her hand again, lifting it to his lips. "We'll find her. I promise."

"Then what?" Svala asked. "What do we do when we find her?"

He let go of her hand. "Well, at least we'll know what happened to her."

Mrs. Wilson found the number to the previous owner, a Mrs. Gerda Johansson.

Outside, Svala gazed up at the house and shook her head, her lips pressing tight together. "Our beautiful house. They've ruined it."

Viggo nodded and gazed up at the yellow house. It looked more like something out of Pippi Longstocking than the home they'd grown to love.

They went over to Mrs. Rowan next door, relieved to find she was still alive and well. She invited them in for tea and biscuits.

"The previous owner only lived there for a couple of months," Mrs. Rowan said. "Before that a lovely young couple and their daughter lived there. They died in a tragic accident. I hope that's not who you're looking for."

They sat out on the veranda facing the ocean. Svala remembered the flower print on the cushions in the antique wicker furniture. Freja loved coming here, as Mrs. Rowan never had a shortage of cookies.

"They were such a beautiful couple." She smiled at them. "Like the two of you." Mrs. Rowan put down her cup of tea; it clinked when it met the glass table. "The father used to come over and help me if I needed anything done around the house. I didn't even have to ask, he'd just come by and offer to help. He'd bring his little girl. She loved her father that one. Adored him. And she was such a wonderful little girl. Stubborn, but polite. I used to watch them from out here. They'd often sit out on their porch, the three of them, enjoying each other's company like they didn't need anything else. I've ever met a happier family." She trailed off and her gaze went distant. "Curious, I can't seem to remember their names, or how long they lived there."

"How did they die?" Svala's asked.

Mrs. Rowan pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, giving it some thought. "I think a car accident, but again, my memory is not what it used to be."

"All three?" Viggo's eyes widened.

"No. Only the parents." She reached out for the blue ceramic pot on the table. "More tea?" she asked.

Svala shook her head and raised her hand. "What happened to the daughter?" Her hand trembled when she lowered it. She never expected to get this much information.

"Well, social services took care of her, I guess. She had no relatives. There was an uncle but I suspect he was not an appropriate candidate to care for the child. He had a male companion, if you know what I mean. Now, what was his name again..."

After their visit to Mrs. Rowan they sat in their car for several minutes outside their old house without turning the key. Svala considered everything that could have happened to their daughter. How did someone recover from such a tragic event so early in life? What happened to her and where was she now?

"They told her we're dead." Svala stared out over the ocean. "She watched me vanish before her eyes and then they told a five-year old her parents died. And they let social services take her."

"We don't know if that is what happened. Mrs. Rowan is old. She could hardly remember anything."

"She could hardly remember anything because that is how it's programmed! We sat right in front of her, she talked about us and she didn't even recognize us!"

"Well, this is not the first time that's happened. We know how it works. They're not supposed to recognize us." Viggo reached for the ignition. "We should follow up with our only lead."

He started the car and pulled on to the main road. Svala gazed out the window, only now realizing one thing she had chosen to ignore. Freja wouldn't recognize them either.

Chapter 14

Present Time

Washington D.C.

Svala sat on Sarah's bed and gawked at the adjoining wall. It was covered with pictures of Viggo, mostly posters and magazine cut-outs. The signed image from New York broke the messy pattern of overlapping images cluttering the wall. Placed in a gold-colored frame, it centered the wall of worship.

Sarah came out from her walk-in closet wearing the fifth dress change in less than twenty minutes. Svala tore her gaze from the images of Viggo while Sarah studied her own back in the full length mirror next to the closet.

"How does this look?" she asked. The green, short dress barely covered essential parts of her body.

Svala concealed her impatience with a smile. "It looks fine."

"Better than the red?"

Svala nodded, not recalling there had been a red. She fingered her iPhone. The first text from Viggo had been the last, and she didn't dare to text or call him back again. She shouldn't even have saved his number in case Trym checked up on her.

Sarah scrutinized herself over in the mirror, smoothed her hands over her hips and bit her lower lip with indecision. "I don't know..."

The boredom of waiting made Svala open the old text message from Viggo to stare at it for the hundredth time. "We're just going out for coffee, you know," she mumbled.

Sarah lifted her hands to pull back her hair but stopped in mid action. Svala looked up from her text. Sarah bit her lip again, then pressed a hand to her stomach and walked toward Svala. "Okay, you have to promise not to tell anyone."

Svala lowered her phone. "What?"

"Okay, listen." Sarah moved a few steps closer, her face flush, eyes glittering. "I saw something on Twitter this morning. Viggo Storm moved to D.C this weekend."

Sarah's smile widened while the blood drained from Svala's face.

"A few others confirmed it, writing they'd seen him in various places around town." She bounced from foot to foot with a muffled whimper.

"He moved to Washington?" Svala asked.

Sarah stopped bouncing and clasped her hands together. "Yeah, isn't that amazing? Now there is a real chance I'll run into him, and that means I have to look my best. Like, always."

Svala bit her tongue and forced a smile. Sarah swirled around and went back to the mirror next to her closet.

"I'm changing into the red. I've read somewhere that he likes red and this is no time to be modest," she said.

While Sarah disappeared into the closet again, Svala gave in and texted Viggo.

Did you move to Washington?

Three minutes passed without a reply. Sarah came out from the closet, adjusting her cleavage. She stopped in front of the mirror and studied herself from every angle. Obviously not happy with her appearance, she adjusted her bra again and checked herself over in the mirror once more before satisfied with the result. "Come on. Let's go look for Viggo Storm."

Svala checked her phone every other minute on their way to the coffee shop but Viggo hadn't returned her text. Sarah was preoccupied searching the crowd in hopes of spotting Viggo on the street, and didn't even notice Svala's obsession with her phone.

It was Saturday afternoon and the streets were crowded. Even if Viggo walked past them, they would probably miss him in the sea of faces. Regardless, the whole thing was ridiculous. Unless Viggo was following Svala around, it was unlikely he would show up where they were.

The thought made Svala slow down and glance over her shoulder.

"What?" Sarah stopped, grabbed Svala's arm and followed her gaze. "Did you see him?"

A couple of feet behind, a guy wearing sun glasses and a blue sweater with the hood pulled over his head slowed down. He lowered his head but Svala had already caught the visible parts of his face and she certainly didn't have to look twice. She lied through a smile.

"No. Let's hurry before Jen and Megan get tired of waiting."

The coffee shop was crowded. A murmur of voices and clattering dishes filled the room and then the whirr from the frothing machine cut through the buzz. Svala gazed through the full-length windows but no longer spotted Viggo in the crowd outside.

"I see Jen and Megan. They're sitting with Jayden and Noah over there." Sarah pointed toward a table by the windows facing the street.

Reluctantly, Svala followed Sarah over to their friends, keeping an eye out for Viggo. Jayden searched Svala's attention as they approached in and slid further in on the black couch to make room. Svala forced a smile as she met his gaze, willing herself to stop looking for Viggo before anyone caught on.

Jen eyed Sarah with a cocked eyebrow. "What are you all dressed up for?"

"No reason." Sarah smirked, then made a quick survey of the room.

The general customer group in the coffee shop consisted of teenagers, mostly girls. A group of girls from their school waved a friendly hello before returning to their conversation in the end of the room. By the table next to them sat four girls, all staring into their iPhones, not talking to each other at all.

Jayden patted the empty space next to him. "Hey, Svala. You can sit here."

Behind her, Viggo walked through the double doors and into the coffee shop. She didn't have to turn around, she felt his presence throughout her entire body, like a heat wave surging through her. Even so, she glanced his way, to make sure. He shot her a quick glance, his hoodie up and his sun glasses still on. Her heart raced.

"Svala?" Jayden asked again.

Her face was flush when she met his gaze. "Yeah, I..." Her eyes darted back to Viggo.

Viggo stayed undetected by anyone else but she recognized every little movement he made, the way he walked up to the counter, the way he reached up and scratched his neck once he stopped and waited for her to come to him. She knew every bit of him as well as she knew herself and she ached to go up to him and have him put his arms around her. She needed to feel him so much it was all she could think of.

Giving in to that urge would be disastrous on so many levels, so instead, she focused on resisting him, eased out of her jacket and sat next to Jayden.

The black leather imitation in the seating squeaked when she moved. Viggo tensed and crossed his arms over his chest. She fixed her gaze on Jen, but kept an eye on Viggo from the corner of her eye.

Sarah seated herself next to Megan and peered out over the room. "Where is the waitress?"

"They're understaffed. You have to go up to the counter to order. It takes forever to get anything," Megan said.

"I'll do it." Svala stood up so fast she knocked over the menu on the table.

They all gawked at her in surprise. She forced a smile and leaned in to readjust the menu, trying not to stare in Viggo's direction.

She had to pass three rows of tables between the window seats and the counter. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and milled beans filled the room. A waitress came out from behind the counter to clean the abandoned tables and make room for more customers. She sighed and pushed past a group of girls with her black plastic tray lifted over her head. Like all the waitresses, she wore a short plaid skirt and a tight white t-shirt along with a pair of comfortable white sneakers. Svala stopped and waited for her to pass, fiddling impatient with her bracelet as the girl took forever to get out of the way.

Viggo stood by the end of the empty counter. Behind it, a girl was preparing the espresso machine for her next order. She pushed a button and the steamer made three short whizzing noises, like it was about to give up on her.

"Damn!" The waitress mumbled under her breath, then motioned with one hand toward Viggo without turning. "I'll be with you in a moment."

"Take your time," Viggo said.

Svala leaned against the counter next to him. Their arms brushed up against each other and Svala's lips unconsciously parted with a quiet gasp. Viggo angled his head slightly toward her, his voice above a whisper. "I was going to tell you."

"When?"

He didn't answer. Svala glanced back at her friends. Jayden observed Svala closely while Sarah waved her hands dramatically in the air as she talked. Noah stared down into his phone and sighed.

"Have you been following me?" she asked.

"Yes, but only today." He smiled shyly.

When she didn't say anything, he gently pushed against her. Her stomach fluttered and heart beat escalated.

"Why did you move here?" she whispered.

He exhaled, lowered his gaze and lingered for five seconds before he answered. "I found out where you lived..."

She swallowed hard. "Vig, you shouldn't have done that."

"I know, I..." He paused, then drew a sharp breath and gently touched the inside of her hand with the tip of his fingers.

She gasped as the touch trigged a jolt of electricity through her entire body. Some dirty dishes on the counter next to her rattled gently against the cold metallic surface as her heart raced.

The waitress turned to them, and Svala pulled back. The dishes stopped moving on the counter as the young girl wiped her hands on her apron and pulled out her notebook from her green apron, unaware of what had happened. Viggo nodded for her to attend to Svala first and they both stood silent while the girl jotted down their orders and went back to the machine.

"So, are you going to tell me about Amanda?" Svala asked.

His voice grew serious. "There's nothing to tell."

Her lips pursed into a thin line. "What, are you afraid I'll blow up this place if I find out what's going on?"

"No, it's nothing like that."

"Why are you dating her? What does that have to do with anything?"

"I can't tell you."

She snorted, annoyed with his secrecy. "Sure sounds like you're cheating on me."

"Please, Svala. Let's not do this. This is not why I looked you up."

"Then why did you? We're not supposed to do this. If they find out..."

"They won't." He cut her off. "I'm being careful. I only wanted to see you."

She wished he would remove those sunglasses so she could see his eyes.

He smiled, the warm adoring smile he always offered her when she caught him studying her. "God, you're so beautiful. I miss you so much," he whispered.

His words made it difficult to control her need to touch him and it scared her how little self control she had when it came to him. "This is dangerous, Vig." She scanned their surroundings. "We shouldn't be seeing each other like this."

"I know." He nodded. "I needed to ask you..." He lowered his head and sighed.

"What?" Her heart almost stopped.

"It's stupid, I..." He paused and inhaled deeply. "When we talked, I told you I loved you."

She nodded, not sure what he was getting at.

"You didn't say it back."

She frowned.

"I know, I'm stupid, but it freaked me out. With everything I put you through in New York, not making you secure about us, and then that guy bringing up Freja, your worries about Amanda, I just..." He shook his head, smiling. "I needed to hear you say it. With everything else going on, I just needed to hear it."

"You could have called." She pointed out.

He nodded. "I guess."

"This is dangerous."

If the touch of his fingertips against her hand made her lose her control like that, she feared what would happen if she put words on how she felt about him when she wanted him this much.

Viggo bit down on his lip, waiting.

Before she had time to say anything at all, Jayden came up behind her, put his hands on her hips and leaned into rest his chin on her shoulder. He pressed his body tight against her.

"You need help?" he asked.

Viggo tensed, and even behind those sunglasses she could tell his gaze was fixed on Jayden's hand on her hip.

"No, thanks. I got it." She tried to ease away but Jayden had locked her between his body and the counter.

A vein in Viggo's temples twitched, his jaws clenched. When Jayden pushed one hand down Svala's front pocket Viggo's face reddened.

"I thought we could talk," Jayden whispered into her ear.

"Okay, sure." She wanted to push him away but didn't want to make a scene. "I'll be back with you guys in a minute."

Viggo's hand curled into a fist at his side. His body shook with obvious restrain.

"Not here. What are you doing after?" Jayden brushed his lips against her ear.

She tilted her head away from him. "I... I... have plans."

Jayden sighed and took half a step back. "Is it just me, or have you been avoiding me since we..."

"No." She interrupted.

Viggo froze, then breathed audibly through his nose. A glass jar filled with almond biscotti slid straight off the counter and down on the tiled floor where it smashed into a thousand pieces. The waitress leapt back at the sudden crash then frowned as she measured the distance between her nearest customers and the location of the shattered jar.

Jayden shuffled back at the crash too and stared at the waitress with his lips parted in surprise. Svala closed her eyes and sighed inwardly. Jayden reached for her again but she moved out of his way, raising her hands to show him she didn't want to be touched.

"Just go back to the table. I'll be there in a moment." She forced a smile, to make up for the obvious irritation in her voice.

Jayden eyed her oddly, then offered a resigned smile and went back to the others.

The waitress ordered one of the younger girls to clean up the mess and as soon as Jayden was out of range, Viggo spoke through clenched teeth. "Ever since you what?"

She turned away, ashamed.

"Ever since you what?" He leaned his arm on the counter and leaned closer, looking directly at her behind his sunglasses.

"Nothing," she whispered. "It's not what you think."

"Did you sleep with that guy?" His voice was strained.

"No! God, no! It was nothing like that. I'd been drinking, he kissed me, I pushed him away. That's all."

That was all but it still wasn't the truth. She hated lying to him, but she couldn't send him to Amanda knowing she'd been flirting with some other guy, or that it had taken over one minute before she indeed pushed him away.

Viggo stepped back from the counter, his face flush. "He took advantage of you?" He glanced back at Jayden.

"No, honey, it doesn't matter. Don't do anything stupid and expose yourself. You should leave before anyone sees you."

His breath slowed. He stepped back to the counter. "If I see him near you again, I will hurt him."

She clamped her lips together, preventing a smile. They weren't supposed to hurt people.

"Does that mean you'll keep stalking me?" she asked.

His face softened. "I don't like that guy," he said.

"I don't like Amanda," she sneered.

He paused, and moved closer. "Let's go some place we can talk in private. Where we can't be found out."

"Viggo, no." She shook her head, knowing very well what that would lead to.

"Just for a minute. We could meet up in the restroom. No one would find out."

She grew light-headed imagining his hands on her body, his lips against hers.

"It's too risky."

The waitress placed her order on the counter in front of Svala. "There you go. Two cortados." She reached back and then placed another in front of Viggo. "And one coffee. Are you paying together or separately?"

Viggo reached for his wallet. "I got it."

Svala fidgeted with a napkin on the counter and waited for the waitress to leave before she spoke again. "You should go. It's only a matter of time before my friends will recognize you."

"Come on, honey." He leaned in closer. "Just a minute. One minute won't matter."

"I can't. I can't control these damn teenage hormones, and by the looks of it, neither can you."

He reached out and stroke the end of her sweater between his thumb and index finger. His hand grazed against her stomach. She whimpered.

"Please," he whispered.

She closed her eyes, believing for a moment they could handle one minute, one kiss, if they focused. They had before, and they knew what was at stake. They wouldn't do anything to jeopardize their future together. One kiss didn't matter.

Viggo shifted his hand to her hip and Svala's eyes flung open at the touch. She gasped, now glad she couldn't see his eyes behind those sunglasses.

"No." She pulled away. "It's too risky. Please just leave." And with that, she walked back to her table.

Chapter 15

1972

New York

The previous owner of their Hampton beach house, Gerda Johansson, resided in an impressive penthouse apartment in New York.

"Viggo, Svala. I wish we could have met under better circumstances," she said as she opened the door.

Viggo and Svala exchanged a look of surprise. They hadn't introduced themselves yet. But then again, Gerda was no longer an old lady as Mrs. Wilson had claimed. The woman who opened the door was young, presumably in her early twenties. Her blue eyes, blonde hair, and perfect skin was a dead giveaway. She invited them in.

The large living room held an amazing view over Central Park. Gerda politely offered them coffee which they declined. Meeting other Liosálfar was usually warm and pleasant, but Gerda had trouble hiding her reluctance to their presence.

"I trust Trym and Alva already told you to leave it be." Gerda's slim body almost disappeared in the large purple arm chair. She wore a white Chanel suit contrasted by a black shirt underneath.

Viggo straightened beside Svala on the couch. "She's our daughter," he said.

Gerda studied him for a few seconds, her eyes flickering over his face and down over his body. A subtle smile passed her lips, then disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Svala reached over and placed her hand on Viggo's thigh, uncomfortable with an elder Liosálfar staring at her husband like that.

"How are Alrik and Trym these days?" Gerda sipped on her coffee. "I haven't seen them in ages."

"They're fine," Svala answered cold.

"Tell me, was it Alrik who provided you with my contact information?" She placed her Royal Copenhagen cup on the round antique table and tilted her head to the side. "I can't imagine it was Trym."

"It was neither." Viggo kept his gaze calm.

"Oh?" She moved back slightly, increasing her personal space. It was obvious she didn't believe them.

"We got your number from the current house owner in Hampton," Svala explained. The last thing she wanted was for Alrik or Trym to get into trouble over their recklessness. "We asked Alrik, but he refused to help us."

Gerda tilted her head to the side with a smile that slowly built. She crossed her arms over her chest and raised her shoulders. "Well, I suppose he feels he's done enough damage to last him a life time."

Svala offered a fake smile and maintained an even tone. "I imagine that is a matter of perspective."

Gerda studied them both, then leaned back in her chair. No one spoke. Svala and Viggo didn't dare to say anything else that could compromise Alrik and Trym.

The older Liosálfar leaned forward again. "Out of respect to Trym, I won't report your visit. But only if you promise to stop searching for her."

"Why?" Viggo asked.

"Because that is what they decided."

Viggo raised his voice slightly. "So you know what happened to her. Where is she? What have you done to her?"

Gerda paused while holding his gaze, then rose. "It's better if you leave now."

Svala stood too. Her shoulders curled and her voice wavered with desperation. "He didn't mean to... We only want to know she's okay. Can't you at least tell us that?"

The wooden clock on the wall ticked through the silence that followed. Gerda walked out from the sitting area and gestured toward the hallway "As I said. I think it's better if you leave."

"Please," Svala said. "We need to know she's okay."

Gerda's eyes narrowed. "But you already know that, don't you? It's obvious that knowing more will not stifle your determination to find her. Now you have to decide if you care about Trym and what might happen to him if you continue to disobey his direct orders. Selfishness is not a Liosálfar trait."

"Neither is refusing to help those in need when you are able to do so," Viggo said.

They went home, resigned, and out of hope. No matter how much they wanted to find Freja, they had exhausted all their resources. Another three years passed before they located her.

***

1975

New Haven

With no more leads to follow and nowhere to start searching, Svala and Viggo went on with their lives. They bought a house in New Haven to stay close to Trym and Alrik and tried their best to move on.

One afternoon, Svala went through the mail in the kitchen when she spotted a large brown envelope. She put aside the bills and tore open the tattered package. A picture of Freja fell out; she was ten, dressed in a school uniform and waiting by a bus stop. A back pack hung precariously over one shoulder as she gazed out over the road. Svala grabbed the picture with both hands and gasped, glad she was already sitting down.

"Honey!" She shouted into the house, reached for the envelope and poured the rest of the contents all over the kitchen table.

It was all there, all they needed; a copy of Freja's birth certificate, reports of her time in foster care, her new adoptive parents' name and address, school records and grade cards covered the kitchen table. Svala clasped her mouth with one hand, stifling another gasp.

Viggo found her crying with panic short gasps. "What's wrong, honey?" He kneeled beside her.

"Look." She lifted five sheets towards him, not sure which one to start with. "It's her, it's all her."

Viggo grabbed the picture of Freja, and his gaze fixed on her face. "Who sent these?" He reached out into the pile and grabbed the thick padded envelope.

While Viggo flipped the envelope over in his hand, Svala searched for the latest school records.

Viggo pulled out a chair and sat, his eyes stirring over the empty back of the envelope. "There is no return address. Who could have sent this? And why now?"

Svala handed him a paper. "She's in New York. She's there right now. At that school." She pointed at the logo at the top. "We have to go there, before someone finds out we have this."

***

The longest drive of their life ensued. They hadn't discussed what to do if they found her, their shared understanding needed no words.

School was still in session when they drove up and parked on the street right outside. They held their breathes as they stared up at the tall auburn building with its double arched windows. Neither one of them dared to believe Freja was actually inside.

Svala pulled down the sun blind to access the mirror. To herself she appeared exactly the same she'd done back then, the same she'd always looked, but she wouldn't to Freja. She put on the same lipstick she used to wear in the late 60's and dabbed some more perfume on her neck.

"I should have gotten a haircut. My hair is too long. She won't remember me like this." She pulled it back from her face, considering if she should wear it up.

Viggo placed a gentle hand on her lap and leaned in to kiss her temple. "You look fine. She'll be fine."

Svala clasped her purse and stared out at the school building. "What if we scare her?"

"Hey!" Viggo placed a hand on her chin and forced her to gaze into his calm blue eyes. Her eyes stirred so he placed both hands on each side of her face and smiled. "Relax, honey. We'll be fine. She'll know it's us. She has to."

After the bell rang it took another five minutes before the first children left the school building. Svala and Viggo stepped out of the car and crossed the street. Viggo reached for her hand and squeezed it tight. Svala's gaze was fixes on the school and when Freja finally walked through the heavy double doors of the main building, Svala squeezed Viggo's hand back so tight she must have cut off his blood circulation.

Their daughter was beautiful. Her long, blonde hair was pulled from her face with a blue head band that matched her eyes. She walked next to another girl, talking and laughing. A boy jogged down the stairs behind her and reached out to pull her hair as he passed. Freja told him off, shifting her hair to the other side, out of his reach. Her friend offered support, sticking out her tongue, but the boy ignored her, his attention still on Freja. Svala smiled but Viggo stared at the scene, not amused.

Svala stopped and placed her hand on his chest. "Stay here, honey. I'll go talk to her. We don't want to scare her."

He nodded, but kept his eyes on Freja, his face tense.

The autumn leaves whirled around Svala's brown t-form platform shoes and the wind caught her olive green skirt so strong she had to hold it down. When Svala closed in on the stairs, Freja spotted her. She smiled and fought the tears as Freja tilted her head to the side and crumpled her face, as if trying to place her.

"Freja?" she said.

Freja walked down the last steps and nodded slowly. Her friend studied Svala too and followed after Freja.

"Do you recognize me?" Svala kneeled to face her daughter. The urge to reach out and touch her was overwhelming, but she fought it.

"I don't know." Freja narrowed her eyes. "I think I do, but I don't know from where." She lifted her gaze and stared at Viggo for a few seconds. "I recognize him too."

Svala glanced at Viggo. He approached with caution, and Svala reached out for him before turning to Freja.

"We're family." She clasped Viggo's hand.

Freja's brows drew together. "What do you mean?"

Svala hesitated. With the age difference, she couldn't claim to be Freja's mother. "I'm your aunt. Your mother was my sister."

Freja took a step back. "My mother is dead."

Viggo squeezed Svala's hand.

"I know." Svala forced a smile while the tears burned under her eyelashes. Her voice broke. "But we're here."

Freja's friend tugged her shirt. "We should go. We'll miss the bus."

Freja stepped back, but lingered.

"Freja, come on!" The girl studied Svala and Viggo with a suspicious frown.

"We'll drive you home if you want," Svala said. "We just want to talk to you. Is that okay?"

Freja observed Viggo. Her friend grabbed her arm but she didn't move. She studied her father with a curious expression. Viggo squeezed Svala's hand again, hard.

"Okay." Freja nodded, eyes still on Viggo.

Her friend left, but kept looking over her shoulder until she crossed the yard and disappeared around the corner. Viggo let go of Svala's hand and knelt in front of his daughter. The gravel crunched under his sneakers. "Look at you, you've grown so much."

"Did you know my parents too?" Freja asked.

He nodded. "And I knew you. When you were a baby. Do you remember that?"

She shook her head.

Svala knelt too. "What do you remember, sweetie?"

"I remember... " She focused, eyes narrow. "I remember the ocean."

"That's right." Viggo smiled. "You lived by the ocean. What else do you remember?"

"The smell of paint." She searched Viggo's gaze for approval.

He smiled wider, and nodded.

Freja agreed to come with them, and go for a ride. Svala sensed she understood what that meant, but that she didn't mind. She followed them to the car, and slid into the backseat without questioning it.

Out on the school yard, Freja's friend returned with an older woman. The girl pointed at Viggo and Svala, and the woman walked briskly in their direction. Viggo opened the front door and got in, Svala joined Freja in the backseat.

Svala and Viggo's eyes met in agreement in the rearview mirror. Svala reached over and secured her daughter's seat belt. "We're going for a ride, okay sweetie?"

"Okay." Freja studied her with interest.

Viggo pulled out from the curb so abruptly, Svala knocked her head against the front seat. The woman outside ran the last few feet to the sidewalk and shouted for them to stop. Viggo pushed the gas pedal hard and the wheels screeched against the asphalt, leaving marks as the car accelerated.

"It's okay." Svala reached out and grabbed Freja's hand. "You don't have to be afraid."

Freja watched the woman running down the street, still shouting for them to stop. People on the sidewalk stopped walking and gazed after the speeding car. One man waved for them to slow down, but Viggo kept driving faster and faster.

He reached a junction and made the mistake of checking the rearview mirror again. The crash was sudden; they never had time to register it. A black SUV hit them from the side, and their Volvo spun out of control. Viggo hit the brakes, and when the car jerked to a stop, he catapulted through the windshield and flew several feet in the air before landing on the road. Svala smacked against the front seat and then the back window, breaking her neck instantly.

Death meant starting over.

***

Present Time

Washington D.C

Svala left the coffee shop, half regretting she didn't follow Viggo into the restroom. Her friends went downtown to catch a movie, but she needed to be alone, and took the first bus home.

Trym was out. She opened the freezer and searched for comfort food when a hard knock on the front door made her jerk back. She leaned against the cold freezer and closed her eyes. He made resisting him into an impossible task.

She considered staying where she was, but didn't want him thinking she'd ignored him, so she walked into the hallway, but stopped a few feet from the door.

"Vig, please leave. Don't make this harder than it is." She slouched against the wall.

"It's not Viggo."

Svala snapped to attention and straightened up. She hadn't heard that voice in years. Her heart pounded. She hurried up to the door, unlocked it, and swung it open.

She gasped. "Alrik?"

"Hi, sweetheart."

She stared at his familiar face, then peeked over his shoulder. "What are you doing here?"

He took a moment to study her before he spoke. "I've come to tell you the truth."

Author's Note

Thank you for reading Nordic Fairies, I hope you enjoyed reading about Viggo & Svala. The next part of Nordic Fairies novella series is already available if you want to find out what happens next. Find information on the other parts on my website.

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Kind Regards,

Saga Berg

