The Viking Witch Cozy Mysteries Books 1-3

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I was never entirely out of it, I don't think, but I wasn't entirely there, either. My memories of those first few minutes are like they were printed on glass and then shattered, just jagged fragments that were missing key details. You could try to put them back together, but they didn't quite fit.

I remember brushing windshield glass out of my hair. It seemed important at the time, to get all of that out before I even tried to get out of the car. I don't know why. Already I could feel the growing goose egg on my left temple and was careful not to touch it in my glass-brushing efforts.

I remember the tree branch that had speared its way through the windshield like a knight's lance, coming to a rest mid-thrust through the space between the two car seats.

At first, I couldn't hear anything but the ringing of my own ears, muffled as if the cottony fog had penetrated my very skull.

Then there were voices all around me, and hands reaching for me, but I couldn't get my eyes to focus on anything. I tried to slap the grabbing hands away, but they were persistent, tugging and pulling at me. Then there was a click as someone finally unbuckled my seatbelt, and I was pulled out of the car.

And then I promptly fell to my knees on the wet grass. I didn't puke, but I really wanted to. All I could do was hold on with both hands to the crabgrass that grew on the side of the freeway, just holding on as the whole world kept spinning, and not in a fun way.

Then I remembered my cat.

"Mjolner?" I said and tried to crawl back to the car. This was complicated by the spinning and a complete lack of any idea about which way I should go to reach the car.

"What did she say?" a man asked.

"I think she means the cat," a woman said. "Look, there in the front seat."

"I've got him," another woman said, and I heard a car door open.

"Luke, help me," a different man than the first said as he slipped an arm around me and tried to hoist me to my feet. Whoever he was, he smelled really good. My mind wanted to linger in that fresh woodsy aroma, but my body kind of just wanted to melt back down into the ground. But then another arm was around me and between the two of them they got me walking. I lifted my head to look around, but my eyes were still fighting any attempts to get them to focus.

"Where?" I croaked. I couldn't get more than that one vague word out.

"We've got you," the man not named Luke said.

"Here," the second woman said, and I heard the sound of someone running over loose gravel. Then a door was squeaking open, and lights came on. I could see the doorway all lit up like a magic portal offering a way out of this world of fog and confusion and pain.

Then I was inside, and it was too bright to see anything at all.

"There's a couch in the café area over there," the second woman said. The two men walked me a little further along. They lowered me down, and I was sitting on firm cushions.

An eyeblink later, I was lying down on them. I hadn't meant to fall over, it just sort of happened. I hoped I wasn't too dirty from falling down on the grass outside. The couch under me was so firm it must have been brand spanking new, and I didn't want to ruin some stranger's new furniture.

"I brought the first aid kit from the restaurant," the first woman said, and I heard the door close behind her. "Here, take this little guy from me so I can use both my hands."

"Mjolner?" I asked, trying to squint into the light. I couldn't find him, but he meowed back at me. If he was mad at me for crashing the car with both of us in it, he didn't act like it. He didn't sound particularly concerned about me either, but then that was probably asking too much from a cat.

He had gotten into his transport crate when we'd left Grand Portage. Had he known this was going to happen?

No, that was crazy talk.

I mean, not crazier than hallucinating Vikings in the middle of the highway. Definitely not crazier than thinking I had almost hit a Norse god with my Volkswagen. But still. Crazy talk.

"Your cat is just fine, don't you worry," the second woman said.

"Wait, where did Todd go?" the man who wasn't Luke asked. "He was right here a minute ago."

"I sent him to get Nora," Luke said.

"Nora? Why?"

"Because this is Nora's granddaughter," he said as if this were plainly obvious. I never thought I looked like her much.

"Oh, right," the second woman said. "Red hair. Dead giveaway."

I wanted to say something, starting with telling them my name, but I couldn't get the words out, and the lights were still too bright, especially when someone gently brushed away the hand I was using to shield them.

"Okay, this might sting a little," the first woman said, and then a warm cloth was pressed over the goose egg on my temple. I hissed in a breath, but the pain actually wasn't too bad.

I tried opening my eyes again and could, with great effort, focus on the faces around me so long as I did it one at a time. They all looked about my age, so mid-twenties. The woman squatting beside my head on the couch had honey-brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and was wearing the sort of polyester uniform I had worn when I had waited tables back at the diner in St. Paul. Her name tag said MICHELLE.

The woman leaning over her shoulder with Mjolner in her arms had blonde hair in braids that wrapped around her head like a crown. She was wearing overalls over a tank top and had tons of flecks of paint all over her clothes and skin both. Once I saw it, I became instantly aware of the smell of fresh paint in my nostrils. Very fresh. Like the whole room around me had just gotten a coat, and it wasn't even dry yet.

The two men were standing together at the other end of the couch, watching Michelle dabbing at my head with their arms crossed. The one in front had dark blond hair and was wearing a fisherman's sweater covered with little bits of sawdust and thin curls of wood. He was the one I had smelled before, then. The scrunch of his shoulders and the way his eyes kept wincing as Michelle wiped away the last of the blood on my head and gently laid a wad of gauze over it spoke of real empathy.

But the guy behind him with hair in sinfully thick waves of chocolate brown? He was clearly crossing his arms in imitation of the first guy, scrunching his shoulders the same way. But his flinches were a fraction of a second later than the blond guy's, and he never stopped smirking. I realized he had been waiting for someone to notice him there, mimicking the other fellow's stance, and I quickly looked away. No need to reward that sort of childish behavior.

But someone was missing. Someone who ought to be there. And I didn't think it was anyone named Todd.

"Where's the Viking?" I asked. Michelle put a hand on my shoulder to discourage me from trying to sit up.

"What Viking?" the blond man in the sweater asked, that worried line between his brows deepening.

"I saw a Viking standing in the middle of the road," I said.

"I think she has a concussion," he said with a frown.

"You've barely started EMT classes, Andrew," the man behind him scoffed. If the blond one was Andrew, then the smirking one was Luke. Even with a head injury, I could deduce that much.

"I think he's right, though," Michelle said. "Did someone call 911?"

"I did," the woman with Mjolner in her arms said. "They're sending someone. But one of us should go out there and make sure they don't miss seeing us. Again."

"I'll go," Andrew said and turned towards the door. Watching him cross the room, I noticed more of the space around me. The couch I was on was surrounded by other new-looking pieces of furniture: deep, comfortable chairs and loveseats with assorted sizes of tables scattered throughout. But beyond that were bare shelves, several rows of them. Like I was in a bookstore or library, but someone had stolen all of the books.

Then I smelled the paint again. Okay, a new bookstore that didn't have the books on display yet. That made more sense.

Andrew opened the door, but rather than going outside, he backed up several steps to let someone else come in.

My grandmother. I knew her at once. She looked exactly the same as I remembered her, with long white hair that hung down her back in a single thick braid. She was wearing a bulky gray sweater with faded jeans and what could only be described as work boots.

These were her party clothes? I had the sudden urge to giggle, but the first few snickers that escaped me were met with several looks of alarm, and I quickly stifled the impulse.

"After midnight," Luke said, glancing at his wrist. If that statement was strange, the fact that he had no watch only made it stranger.

"What's happened?" my grandmother demanded. I thought she was talking to me, but it was Michelle that answered.

"Her car went off the road," she said. "We all heard it when she hit the tree. This was the closest place to take her, although I think we should've gone to the restaurant instead. I didn't realize Jessica was in here painting."

"It's nontoxic paint," Jessica said.

"I see lights," Andrew said as he peered down the road from the doorway.

"Go, Andrew," my grandmother said without turning to look. Then she noticed Luke still standing at the end of the couch. "Why are you here?"

"I heard the crash," he said with a shrug. The smirk was gone, but merriment still danced in his dark eyes.

"Let me see," my grandmother said, shooing Michelle out of her way. Then her face was close to mine as she examined the knot on my head.

"Hello, mormor," I said. She ignored me.

"She thinks she saw a Viking out in the road," Jessica said. I think it was meant to be a whisper, but in the empty bookshop, it carried loud and clear.

"A Viking?" my grandmother said, looking up at Luke for some reason.

"Don't look at me," he said, raising his hands as if in surrender. "You can see for yourself I'm dressed just like a normal person."

"Andrew thinks it might be a concussion," Jessica said. I was starting to agree. Half of what was happening around me made no sense, and my head was throbbing.

"I saw a man with red hair and a beard," I said, trying very hard to sound like I wasn't insane. "He was standing over a woman who was lying right in the middle of the road."

"What woman?" my grandmother asked as she looked at the others, but everyone was open-mouthed in shock. "No one else saw a woman?"

"We all ran straight to the car," Michelle said. "We didn't look for anything out on the road."

"I'll go," Luke said.

"Thank you, Luke," my grandmother said, then sat on the edge of the couch to lean over me. It was too aggressive of a movement for me, and I pulled away from her, pressing back against the cushions, not sure at first what she was doing. Then I realized she was looking at my pupils. "I think you're fine," she said. I didn't argue. My head hurt too much to try.

The yellowish glow of the overhead lights was joined by the brighter strobing lights from emergency vehicles, and the three women around me all straightened up to look out the window. I sat up to rest my chin on the back of the couch and look out the window myself. There were a couple of police cars - from the county sheriff's office, I thought, although I couldn't read what was written on the doors - and a single ambulance. The fog was as thick as ever, anything on the other side of the two-lane road lost in that grayness, but when Andrew pointed something out to the officers and paramedics, we all followed his finger and saw it too.

There was a woman lying in the middle of the road. I hadn't imagined that. But before I could feel too pleased with myself, I had to admit there weren't any Vikings or Norse gods out there.

Then the officers waved for Andrew to get out of the way, and he came running back to the bookshop, hands buried in his pockets. He met Luke on the way, and they both came in the door together.

"It's Lisa," Andrew said the minute they were inside.

"Lisa Sorensen?" Jessica asked, and Andrew nodded gravely. Jessica hugged Mjolner tight as she half sat down on, half collapsed into one of the puffy chairs. Then she looked up with a desperate sort of hope on her face. "Is she-?"

Luke shook his head. "Dead," he said.

"Did she... was she...?" Jessica stammered but always leaving her thoughts unfinished as she sent a nervous look my way.

"She was like that when I got here," I said. "That's why I swerved. To not hit her."

"I didn't see a mark on her," Andrew said. "No blood, not even any dirt. It's like she walked out there, laid down and went to sleep."

"Only she's not breathing," Luke added.

"Why would she do that?" Jessica asked. "Walk out onto the highway? She wouldn't even try to cross that road in this weather, let alone stop in the middle. What happened?"

"I'm sure we'll know more in the morning," my grandmother said, putting a hand on the younger woman's shoulder. "I should get Ingrid down to the village. Michelle, can you stay with Jessica?"

"Of course," Michelle said.

"I'm okay," Jessica said, but she didn't sound okay. Not at all. She sounded like she was about to completely fall apart. Like the grief was about to overwhelm her in a tsunami of tears.

I knew the feeling.

"Tell the police I saw a man," I said, sitting up straighter on the couch.

"A Viking?" Michelle said skeptically.

"Maybe leave that out," I said. My head ached terribly, and without thinking, I pressed a hand to my forehead then flinched when a fingertip brushed that swollen knot. "There was a man there. Maybe leave out what I thought he might be wearing. I must have been confused."

"You're not confused," my grandmother said. Then she turned to shoot a glare at Luke, who was standing behind her with that big grin back on his face. Why was he so amused? And why did that irritate my grandmother so much?

Actually, scratch that second question. I had been in his company for less than ten minutes, but I could already see that Luke was more of an acquired taste, personality-wise.

"We should let the paramedics look at Ingrid," Andrew said as I took my grandmother's offered hand and let her pull me to my feet.

"No, I'll see to her myself," my grandmother said.

"Wait, all of my stuff is in my car," I said.

"It's fine," Andrew said. "My father's garage is just across the street. We'll tow it inside when the police are done. Your stuff will be perfectly safe."

"We'll come back for anything you need in the morning," my grandmother said. "For now, we should get you to bed."

"Mjolner," I said. My grandmother's eyebrows went up in surprise, but then Jessica stood up and held out the cat.

"This is Mjolner," she said, managing with some difficulty to unhook each of the cat's claws from her overalls and transfer him to my grandmother's arms. "Her cat."

"Oh, I see," my grandmother said, looking over the cat's face as if she expected to find him familiar somehow. "I thought perhaps he was yours. Bookshops should have cats."

"I'll keep that in mind," Jessica said, but the smile on her lips wasn't reaching her eyes.

The minute I stepped out of the bookshop and back into that fog, it was like the fog was in my brain too. My grandmother seemed to realize it. She tucked Mjolner under her left arm so she could keep her right hand close to my elbow as she led me alongside the highway towards a bridge I hadn't even noticed before, although I must have driven across it earlier in the evening.

But we didn't cross it. Instead, we veered away from the highway and a little closer to the lake. It looked like an unbroken row of brambles in front of us, but then a path just sort of opened up before us.

I followed my grandmother down that path, but I had to keep my eyes on the ground in front of me. It was all I could do to focus on taking one step after another as the path made a zig-zag pattern down the side of a steep hill.

I could hear the rushing of a river pouring over rocks and into pools, the sound growing as we descended, but I never caught a glimpse of it. Then the path leveled out, and we were walking down a road, past some houses or buildings, their shapes only the roughest of outlines in the darkness. They had lights on them, but those lights only made glowing spheres in the fog that illuminated nothing.

Then I was going in another door, but it was like I was bringing the fog in with me. My thoughts were muddled, and I couldn't make my deadened feet move without tripping over everything. My grandmother's hand on my elbow was my only guide up a flight of narrow, steep stairs and then into a room and then at last onto a bed covered in a fluffy warm duvet.

I sank into that duvet and fell asleep at once, just sprawled face down on top of the bed like that. But my grandmother came back just a few minutes later and woke me up again.

"Drink this," she said, pressing a warm mug into my hands. I took an eager sip, expecting the tea sweetened with fresh honey that I remembered from my childhood. The memories felt closer now, although my mind couldn't hold onto any of them. But this wasn't that tea at all, and I immediately tried to push it back to her.

"Ick," I said. "Bitter." Crushed aspirin was less bitter. What was in that tea?

"Drink. You need it," she said and tipped the cup to my lips like I was a small child. "I'm not leaving until it's gone."

I sipped at the drink but couldn't manage more than small amounts at a time with a lot of wrestling with my gag reflex between sips. While I worked at it, my grandmother took off my shoes and got the duvet out from under me.

When at last the foul drink was gone, she let me fall back onto the pillows. I think I was mostly asleep before the duvet had even drifted down around me.

Then, like he always did, Mjolner climbed up onto the pillow behind my head and turned around and around before settling down, his spine pressed against the back of my neck, and began to purr.

After that, I knew no more.