“A day and a night and the heavens turned. No, don’t roll your eyes. That was damn poetic, thank you very much.”
“Leave poetry to the greeting cards.”
“A day and a night,” he repeated, “and the heavens turned. Then this man, just this ordinary mortal man comes walking up. He picked his way across the battlefield. Looking for something, for someone. A friend. A child. A father. A son. I finally decided he was looking for his father. It was his eyes. They were the very same shade of gray-brown as the warrior the Valkyrie had carried to the sky.
“He called a name. His father’s name. His dead father’s name. There was something about that young man, with eyes so gray and brown. Something about the arc of his cheek, the cut of his chin. And his hair, golden as wings. As Valkyrie wings.”
His gaze held mine, and there was truth there.
“You think he was her child? Her child and the child of the warrior she took to Valhalla?”
“I’ve thought back on it a thousand times. It would be…rare. But children have been born. Love can be found in the strangest of places. Can be planted and grown in so many hearts.”
“Poetry?” I asked, intrigued by the catch in his voice.
He cleared his throat and shrugged. “Just truth.”
“Is that what that was? I didn’t recognize it coming out of your mouth.”
He shook his head and made his eyes wide, like he was surprised.
“As I was saying, the man was their child. I thought so, anyway. Over the years I’ve wondered if I made that part up, if I saw something I wanted to see.
“But the thing that matters was that he was mortal. I followed him the rest of his life, looked in on him now and then. He lived a very ordinary life. Died a very ordinary death.
“But on that battlefield, he saw the Feather. The Valkyrie’s Feather that not even a god could lift.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “He lifted it. Because unlike you, he was worthy. Geez, Crow. I’ve heard this story. It’s like Thor’s hammer.”
He scowled. “It’s nothing like Thor’s hammer. It’s a Valkyrie’s Feather. Delaney, Valkyries don’tshedfeathers. They are not birds. They don’t molt. Ask me how I know, and I’ll show you this scar I have right back here on my tight round—”
“—nope, not listening.”
“—calf. What did you think I was pointing at, Delaney? Oh, I see. You have a dirty mind, don’t you?”
“I get it,” I said. “Only worthy people can pick up Valkyrie Feathers.”
“No, only people Valkyriestrustcan pick up a Feather. The Feather is left to mark where it lands. Territory of death. Territory of life, maybe. Bertie’s Feather marks Ordinary as her own territory. Her own battlefield. She’d know if the Feather left Ordinary’s boundaries. And I’m pretty sure there are only a handful of people who could actually pick that Feather up and carry it around.”
“Which cuts down the list of possible suspects.”
He touched his nose with his pointer finger. “And good fucking luck to them. Having a Valkyrie on the hunt is a one-way ticket to the not-nice Valhalla, if you know what I mean.”
“Crap.”
“What?”
“I gotta go talk to Bertie.” I opened the driver’s door. “Before she decides to take justice into her own hands.”
“Thank you, Crow,” he said. “You just solved my case for me, Crow. I’m sure there’s a cash reward and you’ll be getting it as soon as I find the Feather and return it, Crow. I couldn’t have done this without you because you are brilliant and handsome andalwaysfunny.”
“Clean up those penguins!”
“Don’t forget your dinner with Ryder tonight! Six o’clock! I won’t be there!”
I sighed and wondered what it would be like to live in a town without nosey uncles.
Chapter Thirteen
