Perfekt Control (The Ære Saga Book 2) by S.T. Bende

she’s right.
Brynn, Heimdall can drop the Bifrost on the east side of the
waterfall. It’s secure enough. Take the dust to the safe house, and
come back when Tyr has new orders.”
    “You want me to leave without you?” I balked.
Raging fire giants, spear-throwing jotuns, and homicidal dwarves I
could handle. But bailing on your partner in the middle of a recon
mission? That was unprecedented. And so unacceptable.
    Finnea thrust the pouch at me, and I snatched
it up with a scowl.
    “A deal’s a deal.” Henrik sounded resigned,
but he gave me a firm nod. “If you’re not back within three hours,
I’ll meet you at the compound.”
    Finnea looked absolutely giddy. I felt well
beyond nauseated.
    “Whatever, Henrik. It’s your funeral.” I
turned around.
    “Heimdall,” Henrik called out. “Open the
Bifrost.”
    A brilliant beam shot across the sky and over
the waterfall, and landed just behind the pond. I didn’t feel my
legs move as I covered the ground. Without a backward glance, I
stepped into the rainbow’s light and gripped the straps of my
shouldered backpack. “To the safe house,” I said in a level tone,
no longer caring that perfect Finnea was twirling her perfect hair
and positioning her perfect body as close to Henrik as inhumanly
possible. I’d bypassed anger as I sped through mortification, and I
was officially over it. Hundreds of years of love and friendship
stuffed themselves firmly into the black box in my chest, to be
dealt with later. Or never. I didn’t care.
    When the Bifrost failed to transport me, I
repeated myself, slightly louder this time. “To the safe house.
Fast.”
    Black boxes were indestructible, ja .
But just in case mine had a leak, a timely departure from this
stupid realm would be nice.
    The wind began with a deafening roar as I was
sucked into the sky. But it wasn’t loud enough to drown out the
tinkling giggles I heard beneath me. Or the low murmur of the voice
I wanted reassurance from more than anything in all the realms,
whispering sweet nothings to a girl who was my opposite in every
conceivable way.

CHAPTER
SIX
     
     
    “ THAT WAS FAST.” TYR looked up from
his tinkering as I stormed across the porch and yanked open the
door. He sat at the kitchen table of his house in the compound. The
time freezer lay in front of him, casing open and wires spilling
out.
    “ Ja .” I ripped the charm blocker off
my wrist and reached behind me to shove it into my backpack,
catching the door with my hip. Stupid fairy charms.
    “Oh my god, Brynn. Are you okay?” Mia jumped
up from her seat next to Tyr and raced to my side. She threw her
arms around me in a characteristic display of warmth, and pulled me
through the French doors that separated the thick grey boards of
the porch from the honey wood floors of the beach house. I wiped my
feet on the rug as I walked, not wanting to track sand into Tyr’s
pristine abode. He and Mia were sticklers for tidiness. And Hel
hath no fury like two obsessive cleaners thwarted.
    “ Hei ,” I mumbled into Mia’s shoulder.
“I got the dust.”
    Mia released me, and I tossed the small pink
bag toward the table. It sprouted the paper-thin wings of a
butterfly and fluttered onto the surface with a delicate plink . Mia’s eyes only widened a little.
    “You’re getting used to all the weird, aren’t
you?” I asked.
    “Not in the slightest.” She shook her head.
“But I’m getting a better poker face.”
    Behind her, Tyr snorted.
    “Hush your mouth, Fredriksen.” Mia shot him a
glare that was more adoring than she probably intended. “Sit down,
Brynn. I’ll get you something to eat. You must be starving. And
exhausted. And… upset? Why are you crying? Where’s Henrik? Is he
okay? Oh my god, what happened?”
    “Henrik’s fine.” Better than fine. “And I’m not crying.” I touched my cheeks, checking for evidence.
Nope. Dry.
    “I can still see the tire marks where your
mascara drove the getaway car down your face.” Mia