We stared at each other for a moment, letting the weight of his statement sink in. When he broke his gaze, the moment snapped, shattering to the ground like ice.
“What the hell is going on?” he whispered.
“I don’t know,” I lied.
“Am I insane?”
“No.” I let go of his hand and rested my palm on his shoulder. He stiffened under the touch, then nuzzled my hand with his chin. It sent sparks racing across my skin, but now was definitely not the time for romance. Do I tell him? Do I tell him the truth about Brad?
He sighed and looked at me. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this. I barely know you and now you’re going to think I’m crazy.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy,” I replied. “Actually . . . that actually makes you sound more sane.”
“Impossible.”
I didn’t want to go there. There was no way in hell I wanted to tell him about Brad and what happened after. But as we stood there in the snow, I felt like my life was at a terrible crossroads. I’d been doing all I could to avoid the gods ever since they gave me life in exchange for Brad’s. I thought I was an anomaly, some sort of freak. But here was Chris, standing before me looking naked and vulnerable, and I knew I couldn’t pass this off. Rule number one: Never ignore an omen.
“Do you mind if we keep walking?” I asked. He nodded.
I don’t know why I took his hand then. It felt fitting, a motion of solidarity rather than romance. There weren’t any sparks when our palms touched, and if he was taken aback by my sudden advance he didn’t show it. I think he felt it too, the importance of this. The strangeness. Whatever we were, we weren’t just two stupid teenagers fighting off a crush.
Guess it was time to figure out what that “something else” was.
“Remember when I told you I couldn’t date?” I asked. He nodded. “Well, I think it’s time you heard the full story.”
? ? ?
We made it down to the lake before stopping and staring out at the frozen expanse while I finished my story. I’d never told anyone about the suicide or the girl or Munin. Not even my mom. And yet the words came out easily around Chris. Not because I was exceptionally comfortable around him, but because, somehow, he’d experienced the same thing.
“What the hell is this debt?” he muttered when I finished.
“A life for a life,” I replied. “We were spared, so someone had to go in our place.”
“At least you got to choose yours.”
My anger was harsh and instantaneous, a flare I’d been holding back for years.
“Don’t you dare,” I hissed. “I didn’t want him to die. Not really. I was hurt and scared and stupid. Don’t you ever, ever accuse me of that.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just . . .” But before he could put his foot in his mouth again, he shook his head and whispered. “Never mind. I’m sorry. But whatever’s going on, we have to stop it.” He laughed. “This sounds so insane, you know that, right? We’re talking about gods here. Like, real-life mythical figures with magical powers meddling in human affairs. Killing people. It doesn’t make sense.”
“A few hundred years ago, it wouldn’t sound so insane.” I thought of Jonathan’s lessons on how gods and man used to walk side by side. And remembered I still had to meet with him at the stupid tutorial. How am I supposed to pretend everything’s normal after this?
“But this isn’t a few hundred years ago. This is now. In an art school. And our friends are paying whatever debt is out there. We need to stop it.”
I shuddered as, above us, the crows cawed out angrily.
“You don’t stop the gods,” I said gravely. “Neither of us asked to be saved. Neither of us asked for this. We aren’t special. We’re just lucky.”
Again, I knew it was a partial lie. I was being saved for something. To fight. But I wasn’t a fighter and neither was he.
“I don’t like that logic,” Chris said.
“I don’t have any other logic to give,” I said. “We’re not heroes, Chris. We’re kids. Whatever is going on is beyond us. We get involved, we get killed. It’s that simple.”
In the back of my mind, I knew this wasn’t over. Not yet. There wasn’t any settling in and waiting for it to pass. Dreams filtered back into my thoughts. The end times come. That’s what the girl had said. This wasn’t a series of deaths. This was the beginnings of a war. And if I gave over, if I became the violet-eyed girl’s vessel, I’d be on the front line. The crows above cawed again, and a new fear struck through me: Would Chris even be fighting on the same side as me? The girl kept mentioning the Aesir, and if Chris . . . I shook my head. No. No. No matter what, I wasn’t becoming embroiled in this—whatever war this was, it wasn’t mine. And it wasn’t his. This wasn’t our fight.