"I'm fine, alright?" Johan said, waving away a nurse. While the smoke damage to the young man's lungs wasn't too severe, the nurses weren't taking any chances. Anderson watched in amusement as Johan bickered with the nurses.
"Your opinion, sir?" Johnson asked, disrupting his thoughts.
"Such as?"
"Everything! The Niflhel's back from the dead, returning for revenge! Witnesses described their leader, Selim Vagh, with unsettling accuracy."
"That's yet to be confirmed. Regardless, Reine Beaufort needs to be behind bars." While Anderson understood the attacks against the Jotnar, why attack some random grocery store across Bifrost? They seemed more targeted toward causing fear and panic than anything else. What was Reine's game? At least Yareli was safe after they burned down Gramps' old shop. When he'd heard the report, Anderson had feared the worst.
"True that." Johnson gave a sage nod.
"Why did you have an Angra Armlet in your possession?" Johnson asked after the nurses gave permission to speak with the patient.
"I stole it from a dead Niflhel," Johan said, giving a practiced answer. "It was during the riots—during you-know-what. I needed something to protect myself."
"That right?" Johnson said, doubt evident in his tone. The attack on the station's evidence locker had rattled everyone in the department.
"We aren't accusing you of anything, Mr. Engel. As far as we're concerned, you're a hero. But some loose ends need clearing up," Anderson said. "Where were you at 3:00 this morning?"
"Where was I this morning? Sleeping, I guess? I crashed at an old electronic repair shop across town with some friends. I don't have a better alibi, alright?"
His partner didn't indicate whether this answer satisfied him. He showed a photo of Selim Vagh. "Was this person at the dinner?"
"Yes," Johan said with raw, undisguised hatred. "Somehow, the bastard's back from the grave."
"And he used an Angra Armlet to transform into a spider-like monster?"
"He tried to burn us alive!"
"What's your past history with Mr. Vagh? Any reason he might target you?"
"Plenty. The bastard's a jerk and a bully. He's been beefing with me since I joined the Jotnar."
"Were you at the Nidavellir's Pourhouse during the zombie attack?" Anderson asked. Scattered reports told of a boar monster there, too. Johan was honest and explained how he'd fought to protect the patrons. After some further grilling, they left the young man to recover.
"We'll contact you if we have any further questions, Mr. Engel," Anderson said before they left.
"He's lying," his partner said once they were out of earshot.
"About?"
"I doubt he has anything to do with the attack on the evidence locker. His armlet's serial number doesn't match the ones we confiscated. But I suspect his rivalry with Selim Vagh runs deeper than a mere beef. That's some genuine hatred, and my gut tells me Niflhel's leader targeted him specifically."
"It seems possible." It impressed Anderson how much his partner had grown as a detective. He had good instincts.
"We should monitor Johan Engel and the other Jotnar," his partner concluded. "It's possible the Niflhel might attack them again. They hit that electronic shop Mr. Engel mentioned, too."
"Shame they're refusing to return his armlet. He might need it to protect himself." What a setback. Johan was a great fighter.
"The chief would never allow that. Besides, we aren't toothless, as the media claims. Maybe we could use the Angra Armlets? I bet you'd be a natural, sir."
"No, thanks!" Anderson suppressed a shudder. "Still, we should honor the young man for his heroics." Anderson would speak to the chief about at least a medal. Johan deserved it. They continued to discuss the finer points of the case, but Anderson's mind wandered to other matters.
With the Jotnar under police watch, he wondered how long until Yareli's secret got exposed. The poor girl had been despondent since the destruction of her second father's shop. Not surprising, but they needed her. Without Johan, she was their best fighter.
"Excuse me, I need to make a call," Anderson said, leaving his partner. Johnson shrugged and walked toward a nearby vending machine for some coffee.
"Yes?" Halvorsen said.
"Is Ilma's new weapon ready?" Anderson asked without preamble.
A pause. "It is. But testing for Protect Brokkr takes—"
"Then you need to cut the family bullshit. People are getting slaughtered in the streets, Doctor Halvorsen. The world needs her ready to fight. Swallow your damn pride and talk with her already!"
A longer pause. "We planned to meet tomorrow, but it will be done." Halvorsen cut the line without even a goodbye.
His phone buzzed. It was a text from Investigation, its contents making his heart beat with excitement. They'd found the source of a strange energy drain. They'd uncovered Surtur's location.
///
"How are you holding up?" Rebecca asked as they sat in the hospital's waiting room.
"I'm okay. I just…"
"What?"
"Just wish things had gone differently." It was stupid to blame herself for Gramps' shop's destruction, but her apparent uselessness tormented her.
"Yeah," Rebecca said, listening as Yareli vented her troubles. "I never imagined they'd target us specifically."
Pensive, Rebecca glanced toward intensive care, where her mother still resided. She gave a grateful nod as Yareli took her hand and squeezed it. While it contained no human warmth, the kind gesture made up for it.
"I won't let them hurt your mother."
"Thanks."
Yareli wasn't sure how she'd accomplish that, but her scared friend needed reassurance. They chatted about nothing while they waited for Johan to be cleared. Samuel still hadn't returned from some errands, leaving them alone. While they talked, a man who had just entered the room caught her attention. It was Johan's stepfather.
Where the hell had he been? Hadn't he been with Johan when the attack happened? She wondered if Johan had good reason to dislike Friedel, when he hadn't bothered riding in the ambulance with his hurt stepson. He appeared genuinely concerned about Johan's condition, but still.
She brightened, noticing the man accompanying Friedel. It was Gramps. "Hey."
Instead of replying, the older man threw his arms around Yareli in a tight hug. "Thank goodness you're okay! When I heard about the fire…" He broke down, tears staining his cheeks.
"It's okay, Gramps. I didn't get hurt." She stroked his head, enjoying the embrace. "I'm sorry about the shop. You've had it for ages."
Gramps snorted. "Who cares about that? It's you I'm more worried about! Is it true that those Niflhel ruffians attacked you?"
His concern touched Yareli profoundly, dissolving some guilt. "Yeah, brought back to life by Reine."
"Sorry, what?" Friedel interrupted the conversation, giving them a baffled look.
"Johan will explain the rest," Yareli said, having little patience with the man. She'd be glaring if she still possessed a face.
"I'll leave you two alone," Friedel said, reading Yareli's hostility.
When Yareli returned her attention to Gramps, the older man wore a thoughtful expression. "That shop probably meant more to you than me. My home is back in Norway with my daughter, but that shop's been your home since your rebirth. I'm sorry, Yareli."
"It's just a place. The memories aren't gone."
"Still, such a shame. All your paintings got burned up. Those Niflhel are true villains."
"Not completely. I saved the first I painted after you found me. Well, mostly—it's a bit singed. It's in Rebecca's car."
"Thank goodness. You have such a passion. I'm glad you saved something."
"Like your shop, I'm not too sentimental about them. I can always paint new ones." To her, painting was about the journey. They shared a much-needed laugh and then another hug.
"Still, where will you live now?"
"I can live with an old friend until I find an apartment. And about the shop? Well, it gives me an excellent excuse to retire. With the insurance money, my retirement should be an enjoyable one. I could travel."
This sparked some interest in Yareli. "I could come with you."
"With an old fart like me?"
"I'm serious. I love traveling." She had fond memories of joining her father on business trips across the globe.
"You can't stay with me forever. You need to live your own life."
"I don't mind. It won't be forever." She squeezed his hand again. "You've been a second father to me. A better one."
"I doubt my daughter, Celine, would quite agree with you, but thank you." Gramps rubbed the back of his neck. He'd mentioned their rather turbulent relationship before, but never gotten into the specifics. It wasn't something Gramps enjoyed speaking about.
"Regardless, I'd like to meet her someday."
"I'd like that too. You have a great deal in common. Celine's sporty, like you are."
"I'm not sporty," Yareli said, protesting the analogy.
"I apologize for interrupting your conversation, but may I have a word," Anderson said, walking up to them.
"What's up?" Yareli asked.
"News—some good, some bad," the detective replied. "Good is that we've confirmed Surtur's location. The bad is the higher-ups are planning a full-out assault tonight. It's a joint operation with the military. The other Ilma is providing backup. It's premature, but they want this matter resolved quickly."
"I'll be there." Yareli noticed Gramps's silent surge of fear but kept quiet.
"I'd hope so," Anderson said. "We've confirmed Ms. Beaufort is there with him."
"Oh?"
"I'm ordering you to go to your father's place now. He's finished your new weapon."
Yareli kept silent for several long moments before speaking. "I see. Okay."
"Don't worry. Just be honest. He'll hear your words." Gramps gave her hand a tight squeeze.
"I hope so." But Yareli wasn't optimistic, knowing her father seldom changed his mind. Regardless, it was an encounter that needed to happen.
"You'd best get going. The attack takes place in four hours," Anderson said.
"Good luck, Yareli. I'll take care of Johan," Gramps said.
After saying her goodbyes and explaining the situation to the other Jotnars, Yareli sped off toward the coordinates the detective had given her.
///
"Typical," Yareli said as she approached the old, remote apartment building.
Her father was always paranoid about his work—even without literal monsters after his life. Nevertheless, she'd been careful to avoid getting followed. After making sure nobody was in sight, Yareli slipped inside.
"Yo!" Dino said as Yareli closed the front entrance hall door behind her.
"Hi," Yareli said, her tone neutral. She jerked in surprise as the Ymir goon slapped her on the back.
"Finally patching things up with the old man? Good for you, Ilma! Good luck!" After giving her a thumbs-up, he left.
"Is he under the impression we're friends or something? I don't get that guy," Yareli thought.
As usual, her father's lab was a mess. While he enjoyed the finer things at home, his lab was purely functional. She caught him tapping some calculations on a laptop. What they meant, Yareli hadn't a clue. She'd never possessed a mind for science or math. Few could match her father's genius, regardless.
"Hey," Yareli said, her tone flatter than when she'd spoken with Dino.
"You've arrived. Excellent," her father replied, his tone neutral. "I wish I had more time for testing, but your new weapon is complete. It's that bundle over there." He pointed to something covered in a blue sheet.
"I'll need it. The police confiscated Johan's Angra key. They've found Surtur's hideaway. They're planning an assault tonight. Whatever miracle device you've made, it better be ready."
"Unfortunate. Brokkr's primary field test will also be its first operation. At least I'll get some useful data."
"Right." Yareli bent down to retrieve her new weapon—a sword. Despite its size, it was surprisingly light in her hand. It had a strap that Yareli used to sling her father's gift across her shoulder.
"I better leave. I'll need to practice with my new weapon before the battle with Surtur." She peeled away a USB drive taped to its casing. "This contains its instructions?"
"It does. It also contains its specifications. I'm hoping for Davidson's opinion. He has a magical eye for machines."
"Sure." Much went unsaid between them, almost choking the air. Yareli hesitated, unsure if she wanted to spark another argument. Despite the prompting by everyone, she was reluctant to patch matters up with her father. Too much had happened.
Similar thoughts passed through her father, and an awkward silence stretched between them. Then he spoke.
"I saw Fenrir on the news—saving people from rubble after Surtur's attack."
"A lecture again, no doubt. That I should be more circumspect with your secret weapon?" Yareli replied sarcastically.
"No. Believe it or not, I created the Ragnadriver to help people."
"As slaves to Ymir."
"We wanted to create a world order free of war and conflict. I realize what you might think, but sometimes extreme force is necessary to bring change."
"It's tyranny, no matter how you phrase it."
"Stubborn girl." Her father rubbed a hand through his hair. "Always so stubborn."
A dam broke within Yareli, finally unleashing the anger she'd had pent-up for years. "You know what's best? Such bullshit! When I wanted to play with dolls, you insisted I wear a training gi instead. You've never trusted me to make my own decisions."
"They were necessary. You've just never realized it."
"Lies! You can't stand not being in control!" The rage grew brighter within her. "Sometimes, I think the accident was a blessing in disguise. It gave me a chance to live my own life for once. Despite being a skeleton, I'm happy. It's like I can breathe again."
Her father flinched when she mentioned the accident. "You truly believe that?"
"Yes."
His breathing intensified. "I see."
"Why do you care, anyway? It's not like you actually think I'm your daughter. I'm a monster, remember?" To this, her father had no response. Yareli said nothing either, brooding.
"I should just leave." Tears of anger stung her eye sockets. She turned to go again, but an arm stopped her.
"I don't think you're a monster."
"Bullshit. You said it yourself!"
"I…" Her father paused, unsure what to say. "I was scared."
"Huh?"
"When you returned, I was at a loss. It seemed so impossible. When I lost you the first time, I went insane. No— that happened when your mother died. I've always thought the best part of me died with her."
He continued, "Everything I did was to protect you. If you were strong, then nothing in this world would hurt you. Ridiculous, but I couldn't help myself. When you returned from the dead, I feared it wasn't you. I feared what it meant. Your body's a construct created by your faulty Uhyre key. In every sense of the word, you aren't human."
Yareli said nothing, listening with rapt attention. She'd never seen her father break down before.
"And if you aren't human, what happens next? I was scared—afraid of the implications. What if your Uhyre key malfunctioned even further? Remember what happened when you went berserk?"
"I…" Yareli lowered her head.
"I kept thinking, what if she becomes a monster? What if she's only a delusional program? I couldn't bear losing you a second time. It seemed easier to ignore your existence."
"Well, I'm Ilma Halvorsen," Yareli said firmly. "I'm tired of questioning my existence."
"Program or not, it really is you. Same stubbornness and everything. But the heart as well. When you rescued those people, I couldn't have been prouder. You're a better person than I ever was."
"Father."
"I'm sorry, Ilma. I'm sorry for being a terrible father. You're right to hate me." He sighed, turning away. "I don't blame you for not wanting me in your life."
"But we're family, right?" Yareli said, grabbing his hand. "Despite everything, I still love you. Always have."
"Oh, Ilma." Her father sobbed into her suit's shoulder, gripping her tight. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" She accepted the hug, returning his embrace. While she hadn't forgotten his crimes, Yareli decided she'd forgive him. No—she needed to forgive him. She was tired of being angry at him.
"I love you, Father."
"I love you, Ilma."
They shared a long embrace—something they hadn't done in years. It was long overdue, for both their sakes. They needed to heal from the hurt, the anger, and the self-loathing, as father and daughter.