Arctic Dawn (The Norse Chronicles Book 2) by Karissa Laurel Page A

would do it for you, too. I wouldn’t leave you behind if they had taken you.”
    In the glow of my LED flashlight, Val’s eyebrow arched. “I wouldn’t ask you to save me.”
    “I’d do it anyway.”
    Val’s lips thinned, and his nostrils flared. He folded his arms over his chest and glared at me. When I didn’t back down, he finally nodded. “Okay. But at the first sign of trouble, I’m grabbing you up and throwing you over my shoulder. You can burn me to ashes if you want, but your life comes first.”
    Security lights illuminated several guards on patrol inside an industrial compound made up of seven or eight large corrugated-metal warehouses. The sentries—all toting mean black rifles—walked the inside perimeter of a huge chain-link fence topped by three strands of barbed wire. Crouched in the darkness behind a convenient patch of prickly desert vegetation, Val and I watched the guards stroll back and forth along the fence.
    I pulled my hood up and balled my hands together in my hoodie’s kangaroo pocket. The desert was surprisingly cold at night, and it smelled of dust, horse manure, engine exhaust, and wood smoke.
    “Did you learn anything useful about this place before you came back to get me?” I whispered to Val.
    He motioned farther down the fence line. “I don’t know where they’re being kept. The place is full of guards, so whatever we’re going to do, we gotta do it fast.”
    “How did Baldur and Thorin get past this fence and all those guards?”
    Val peered at me from the corner of his eye. “They have their ways. Ways not available to you, unfortunately.”
    “Can you get through the fence? Without being caught?”
    Val put a hand over his heart and huffed. “You offend me.”
    “We need a distraction,” I said, ignoring his theatrics. “You got a holocaust cloak on you?”
    “A what?”
    “Never mind. Something big-go-boom would be good. Something to draw the guards’ attention away from the fence long enough for me to get inside.”
    “There’s a propane tank next to the rear building. See it?” Val gripped my shoulders and turned me in the direction he wanted me to look. Next to an outlying building, illuminated by the security light’s yellow glow, sat a familiar white tank.
    “Yeah, I see it,” I said.
    Val turned toward the warehouses and studied the patrol’s movements. “You can handle the flame part. Once that thing blows, I’ll slip around and try to help Thorin and Baldur.”
    I heaved a groan. “I don’t know, Val. I’m pretty pooped. I haven’t eaten, and I’ve slept like crap.” Actually, I trusted my fire, but I wanted to save it for a dire situation, not use it up on a special effects show. Besides, Val had deserted Thorin and Baldur once already. I didn’t want to give him the chance to do it again.
    Val huffed. “What other ideas do you have?”
    “I don’t know. If we had a lighter at least.” An idea struck me. “Will a flare do it?”
    Val shrugged. “Possibly.”
    “There were roadside flares in the kit in the truck.”
    Val squared his shoulders and looked off in the direction of the Yukon, parked almost a mile’s hike away. “Give me the keys and stay here. I’ll be back.”
    I handed them over. “Even if you distract the guards, how am I going to get over the fence?”
    Val rubbed his chin as he pondered the question. His brows rose, and he smiled. “Gotcha covered.”
    “Val, what are you—”
    He stepped forward into the darkness, and poof , he vanished. I shone my flashlight in his direction, but the beam illuminated nothing. A moment later, Val reappeared in my light. He jogged forward and presented his treasures: a roadside flare and a rolled-up floor mat that must have come from the Yukon’s rear cargo section.
    “How do you do that?” I asked, aghast.
    Val waggled his eyebrows. “I’m a god, Solina. You keep forgetting. There have to be some perks to this job.”
    I pointed at the flare. “Do you think you can do