it make more sense if, instead of recruiting stepdaughters, it was the descendants of the true Valkyries who enlarged our force? Our daughters and granddaughters could learn the shield maiden way from an early age.”
Once Brynhild had recovered from the shock that Maja had dared to speak of such a topic, she had taken her sister’s hand. Her expression had been the half-resigned, half-bemused one she reserved only for Maja. “You must never speak of this matter again. It is unseemly and unwise. The decree about virginity dates back to the very first Valkyrie ride. There was an incident that took place after the fighters were brought to the great hall—” Brynhild had shuddered as though the memory was still distasteful to her. “The warriors felt that the duties of the Valkyries included meeting their carnal needs. Sadly, some of our older sisters did not refuse their demands, and the result resembled an orgy. It was so shocking that Odin was forced to introduce the death penalty to ensure there would be no repeat. The distance between the men of Valhalla and the Valkyries must be maintained.” She shook her head. “We will not dwell on the past, but these things are decided for good reasons.”
The Valkyries lived a separate existence from the gods, but Maja had caught glimpses now and then of pregnant women. In addition to the scandal Brynhild had alluded to, she supposed sex, childbirth and babies would interfere with the smooth running of Valhalla.
Now she had joined the ranks of those who brought that look of horror to Brynhild’s face.
I have no defense. If I met Adam once more, I would do it all over again.
It was something she could never explain to Brynhild, Odin or to anyone else, partly because she couldn’t understand it herself. The magic of that all-too-brief time she had spent in Adam’s arms lingered in the thrill that trembled through her body. It really had felt like magic. As if an incredible, heart-stopping spell had been cast upon her. She would die as a punishment and as an example to other Valkyries who might be tempted to stray from the path of purity, but the brief life that was left to her had been changed forever by the touch of a mortal.
The office building in which she had first met Adam had not fared well. Only one wall remained in place and that was leaning precariously outward. Twisted iron girders pointed skyward like gnarled, accusing fingers and the entrance doors hung on damaged hinges. Maja, probably the only individual in Syria who could not be harmed by any of the warring factions, stepped into the deserted foyer and felt a chill finger of dread track its way down her spine.
Magtfuld was gone.
* * *
When Adam woke some hours later, it was to the discovery that he had been right. Maja had disappeared and the room was in semidarkness. The light told him it was early morning. He lay still, wondering what, apart from her absence, had changed. Then he realized the bombing and gunfire that had continued intermittently throughout the previous day seemed to have finally stopped.
His shoulder throbbed unbearably; his whole body was tense and weary, yet at the same time he was experiencing a curious sense of peace. Aware that his zipper was undone, he attempted to fasten himself up one-handed. Feeling the evidence of his release on his body, he grimaced. What sort of fantasy had that been? While the imaginary sex had been better than anything he had ever experienced in reality, it had been over too soon. Shouldn’t a man be the superhuman, lasts-for-hours star of his own dreams?
Just as well it was a dream, since I didn’t give a thought to protection.
He spent a few minutes wishing he could summon her again. It was a foolish hope. Dreams like that came along once in a lifetime, and he supposed Maja had answered a deep-seated need inside him during a combination of terror and trauma. For someone who had always been rigorously in command of every aspect of his life, it was a strange sensation. I lost control. A smile touched his lips. And I liked it.
It was just as well that the corporate world would never discover that the bad boy of the boardroom had a weakness. Finding the time to leave the helm of his vast media conglomerate of newspapers, magazines, TV and internet news publishers, and publishing houses had been difficult enough. If it had been for anyone other than Danny it wouldn’t have happened. Getting shot was an added complication. Hopefully, his injury wouldn’t put him out of action for too long once he got home. Adam had built a global brand on the strength of his personal charisma. He couldn’t spare even a minute to let that slide.
Struggling to his feet, he made his way to the curtained-off commode. With normality restored, he returned to the bed and propped himself against pillows that were as hard as bags of cement. It was impossible to get comfortable, so he settled for the best he could do...which was somewhere between discomfort and agony.
He would be leaving Syria today. For the sake of his battered body and his damaged psyche—anyone who needed the sort of illusion he had created for himself in the form of Maja had a few unresolved issues—it was time to go. He thought of the beautiful countryside he had seen on his travels, with its rolling hills full of olive and lemon trees. Everyone he encountered had been warmhearted and helpful. This was a heartbreaking land and he would leave it with regret. For the first time ever, he felt the need to do something with his life other than make money. Although he had no idea what it would mean in practice, being here had unleashed a need within him that he intended to explore on his return home. The worst thing about leaving Syria was that he would be going without having accomplished what he had come here for. He still hadn’t found any information about Danny.
Danny had battled with learning difficulties all his life. It infuriated Adam that some people couldn’t figure out that didn’t mean Danny was dumb. He was a whole lot smarter than Adam in so many ways; it just took him longer to learn things. Their father had died when Danny was a baby and their mother had remarried almost immediately. Although their lifestyle was privileged, their stepfather was not a warm man, and despite their age difference, the two brothers had grown closer than ever. When their mother died, Adam had been twenty-one. He hadn’t needed her deathbed reminder to care for Danny. His eleven-year-old brother had moved in with him. Adam had found a school that specialized in helping students with Danny’s needs. Even though the diagnosis of severe dyslexia had come late, the teachers had supported him well and Danny had thrived. He had graduated high school and, refusing Adam’s offers of help, had found himself a job in a charitable foundation working with refugees.
Adam had done his best to talk him out of coming to Syria, but Danny had a stubborn streak a mile wide. Adam smiled. It was a Lyon trait. His own was several miles wider. His mind conjured up an image of his brother in the days before he’d left. So sure of what he was doing, so dedicated, so determined.
“That’s where we differ, Danny. You have strong principles, and are prepared to stand up for them.” Adam remembered his own words just before Danny left.
Danny had returned his gaze steadily. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re the person who raised me.”
Adam had given a self-deprecating laugh. “I have no illusions about myself.”
Once Danny got to Syria, the brothers had maintained a regular communication. Calling, messaging, emailing whenever they could. Then Danny’s attitude had started to change. He had always been upset about what was happening in Syria. Suddenly, instead of wanting to help in a humanitarian way, he began to talk about taking real action. That was when Adam started to get concerned about him. When the communication stopped, his concern turned to fear.
He found out from the organizers of the charity that Danny had gotten friendly with a group of men he’d met in one of the local villages. It was only after Danny left the nonprofit that the organizers discovered his new friends were mercenaries.
Adam withdrew the photograph
