Dances With The Daffodils

It's time. I sit up on top of the covers and make out Skofnung's faded shape across the room. A few bandages are now wrapped around its hilt. Given Loki was so serious about the sunlight thing, I thought I'd better not take any chances.

I check the clock — three am. Everyone should be asleep by now. Well, apart from Britt, who I suspect is more focused on emptying the horn than getting enough shut-eye.

I know I need to get rid of the Valkyrie before leaving for Califonia. It's the only way to be sure she won't follow me. Because if anyone finds out where I'm going, or what I'm trying to do, I won't get further than the doors to the plane.

Loki hasn't been around for almost twenty-four hours and I suspect he'll only show up again once Mrs Valk is gone. Then I can spin some story about heading to Chicago with my parents and, hopefully, by the time he realises what I'm up to, it'll be too late.

My plan tonight, however, isn't to kill Mrs Valk — of course not. I'll just tell her about the danger she's in, that if I don't kill her then Loki definitely will, and if she's got any sense, she'll be gone before sunrise. I'm still taking Skofnung along though. It would be naive to go unarmed.

Getting to my feet, I take the sword from where it leans against the wall. Despite its length, it's no heavier than plastic, but the glint from the blue-tinted edge confirms it's real, hard steel.

I've no idea how to use it so I simply grab the bandaged hilt and snake out into the hall. Then I stand for a moment, listening. There's barely a sound, just the distant howl of the wind through the mountains.

My progress is slow as my feet tiptoe along the rough floorboards. It feels as if Mrs Valk is lying in wait somewhere and every time I turn a corner. I can't help but imagine her running, screaming towards me with a dagger ready to wedge into my throat. Still, I don't turn on the light. It's not worth the risk.

After a few more minutes of creeping through the dark, freezing at every rattle of the window shutters or creak of a floorboard, I reach the stairs. This is where I need to be careful. The wood is old and weak and groans if you place too much weight on it.

So I go up one at a time, sticking to the edge and wincing each time they creak. It's nowhere near loud enough to wake anyone — unless Valkyries have super-hearing.

I reach the landing. So far, so good. Now a long, dark, corridor stretches out in front of me, ended only by a huge, rectangular window letting in the moonlight. It's wide open, and a cold wind buffers my bare arm.

I take a deep breath and focus. I think I remember where Mrs Clampton's — the other housekeeper's — old room is. It should be where the Valkyrie is staying.

Just before I edge forward a thought stops me. Henrik's voice echoes through my head.

Mrs Clampton's ill.

It's so obvious. Ill — at precisely the time Mrs Valk needed a way in.

What did she do to her?

I shake my head. That's not something to worry about now. I can find Mrs Clampton — if there's anything left of her — later. But first, the Valkyrie needs to go.

As I continue my quiet shuffle down the hall, there's a noise — a tired, painful moan. I turn, stumbling back into the dark and my foot trips over something... squidgy. With a muffled shout I tumble onto the floor and the object rolls out from under me.

My back hits the wood. I try not to cry out and as the pain fades, I listen. There's nothing but silence. Whoever, or whatever, was groaning is quiet. After a moment, I get to my feet and go to investigate the thing I tripped over.