Page 13 of Between Broomsticks and Beating Wings
She nodded again, and that slight movement of her head made my lips twist. I stole a deep breath, trying to collect myself to avoid showing her my growing frustration.
“So, I’m dead then.”
“You’re not dead,” she said with a sigh.
“I don’t understand!” I finally let loose, my hand flying up in between us. “How did I get shot by an arrow during battle and brought to the heavens by a valkyrie, yet I’m still alive? I simply don't believe you.”
“There’s a lot…to understand, to explain, but you shouldn’t worry about all of that now. You’re still healing, and?—”
“Where’s my cat?” I interrupted, daring to glance around the room, my eyes scanning the floor for my orange fur ball.
“Your what?” She stared at me as if she’d never heard of such a thing. One of her brows had a scar running through it, and it slowly pulled toward its no-so-matching partner.
“My cat. Where is he?” I’d almost forgotten about the throbbing in my shoulder, but her flicking gaze toward the wound demanded I remember.
“Safe. Let me draw you a bath, and then I’ll bring him to you,” she said. “Alright?”
“Bring him now, and then I will bathe.” I didn’t know who this valkyrie was, or why she insisted I bathed before seeing Tove. Did residents of the heavens even need to bathe?
“Fine, but I must warn you…” she said, trailing off as her hand clenched and released at her side.
“Warn me of what?” I stepped forward, a pang of unease rattling me. My eyes shot to the bench in the corner, and I’d wondered if I could lean on the back of it without causing any suspicion.
“Nothing. You’ll see for yourself soon enough.” When she left, her words sat in my gut and festered.
What was she going to warn me of? What had happened to Tove?
She said he was safe. I played those words over and over, pacing the stone floors until she came back into the room. In trotted a little orange cat, chubby and perfect. Chubby, perfect, and…not blue?
I stared at him, and he at me.
“Tove…” I whispered, my fingers over my lips. The cat let out the loudest meow I’d ever heard, and then he launched himself right at me. I didn’t scream, I didn’t move. All I could do, for the first time, was beg the gods he wouldn’t pass through me like he had every day for the past two years.
When claws sank into my nightgown, I dropped to my knees.
“Tove!” I wrapped my arms around him, feeling his soft fur on my cheek and along the nape of my neck. I buried my face into him, feeling the vibrations of his purrs as tears fell freely from my eyes.
“How?” I asked. “Please, I know you said you’d explain everything, but how can I not be dead? I need answers…Please.” I begged, tears rolling down my sodden cheeks. I was on my knees begging this woman, this valkyrie, for information, because what other choice did I have? My mind was spiraling,trying to make sense of everything that had occurred since I first opened my eyes. Everything I’d ever been taught about the gods, about the heavens and underworld, was spinning around my mind—unstable as ever.
All this time, had it been a lie?
“Please, sit.” She motioned to the padded bench. She pulled over a small table, on it a cup of tea I hadn’t noticed before. “You like tea, don’t you? Mugwort?”
I stared at the cup, then at her. The back of my hand found my cheek, and I wiped at the dampness lingering there, now embarrassed this stranger had seen me break, all while maintaining an even disposition herself. I cleared my throat, holding Tove tight to my chest as I rose.
I approached the seat, my eyes locked on the tea cup, more even and smooth than I’d ever seen a clay creation. The scent of mugwort wafted into the air, and while it should have eased me, I couldn’t help but wonder how she knew I drank tea, specificallythistea. It wasn’t the most common brew, definitely not for pleasure, as the flavor was quite bitter. It was a strange guess indeed.
“I drink Mugwort at night, yes.” I eyed her as I stiffly sat, more questions swirling in my mind now than when I was splayed out on the floor.
“Good,” she said with a pleased nod of her head before joining me on the padded seat. Her vision trailed down my ruined nightgown splattered in blood and mud, and then she motioned toward the tea. I guessed I had no need to fear poison, as poison had very little use on the dead. I took a sip of the warm drink, letting it wet my dry lips and mouth.
“Why am I here and not with my family? I assume they are in Helheim?”
“You’re not with your family because you’re not dead. I’m not quite sure how many times I need to tell you this.” She smoothedher hand down her leathers, almost as if sensing her cold tone. “I understand this is all very confusing, and for that, I’m sorry. As for your feline, well, spirits are all corporeal across the heavens and the underworld.”
I set the teacup down on the tiny plate resting upon the golden table, my shoulder aching with the movement. The incision site was more tender than any wound I’d ever had, but I tried not to show how much pain I was truly in. “Okay, that makes sense when it comes to Tove, but how is it that a living mortal is in Valhalla?”
“You were dying. You would have, had I left you on the steps of your neighbor’s longhouse. I wasn’t expecting a raid last night. I was simply in a nearby village collecting souls. I saw your act of heroism, and I couldn’t let you die. I brought you here to heal, nothing more.”
