Dead Radiance by T. G. Ayer Read Free Book Online Page A

door slammed somewhere down the street and a bucket of cold reality washed over me. Aidan could return at any moment. The grumbling bike would announce him, but I could be caught. Such was the fortune of Bryn Halbrook.
    Still, I turned another page and delved deeper into the translations, holding my breath as page after beautiful page told some misty story of a time long past. Excitement and nerves bubbled within me for Aidan. How amazing would it be to have this accolade?
    Another page turned and a painting sprang at me: a Valkyrie, elegant in an ankle-length white dress, draped with chainmail, a deep red cloak, a bronze helmet. At the top right corner, a small etching revealed a much more basic drawing of this creature of myth.
    A Valkyrie. The beautiful maiden who rides to Midgard to collect the bodies of Warriors fit to serve in Valhalla, brave and courageous Warriors who would fight for Odin in the Great War of Ragnarok.
    The artist had retained only a small part of the Valkyrie's personality though, making more of her voluptuous body than her classical features. A few more pages showed a similar theme. Ancient drawings on which the old painters had modeled their renditions. Painters who'd lived and died at least five hundred years ago.
    The next page sent me into shock.
    I gasped, all the breath leaving my lungs in one incredible, horrified whoosh. The picture, painted in the style of Da Vinci, all soft hues and natural touches, held my gaze.
    The woman stood, spine erect, chin up, a sword extending from her hand as if it were a part of her own body. Flanked by a horse whose white pelt glowed pearlescent. Behind her, a pair of beautiful red-bronze wings rose majestically above her shoulders. The curve of the wings provided a natural frame for a face that stilled the blood in my veins.
    Post-its in various colors tagged the yellowed paper; hundreds of notes framed the margins and a name written in red and circled so deeply a small rip ran among the repeated lines of ink.
    Brunhilde.
    And even if it were not for the coincidence of the name, my ears would have still thrummed with the thunderous beat of my heart as I stared at the painting.
    If I didn't know any better I would have sworn it was me.

 
    Chapter 8
     
    Aidan didn't come back until the early hours of the morning. So I indulged my curiosity. I snuck back down again to get a second look, wishing I could make a copy of the picture. The best I could do was take a picture with my phone and scurry back to bed in relief.
    I fell asleep looking at the screen of my phone and wondering at the mystery of it all.
    On my way out of the room the next morning, my reflection stopped me in mid-stride. I leaned close, studying the contours of my face in the mirror. I turned on all the lights to be sure. Traced the lines of my nose and chin. The resemblance was eerie and scary.
    I tried not to focus on the face of the Valkyrie, but that meant my mind circled on my Aidan problem.
    For days I kept my silence, showing up late for breakfast each morning and sneaking away to my room whenever possible. On one such sneaking, Aidan's and Ms. Custer 's evening conversation filtered through the closed kitchen door and stopped me in my tracks. I could hear almost every word.
    "How was your day, dear," my foster mom asked him. Or had she said "date"?
    Aidan mumbled something and I strained my ears. ". . . too busy," he said.
    My heart lurched. Aidan, to my amazement, hadn't gone out with Cherise! But I didn't dare hope. Who knew what other plans the happy couple had already made? There were many more Saturday nights to come and if I knew Cherise at all, I knew she never gave up when she wanted a guy.
    Aidan spent the evenings and nights poring over his books. And scowling at me when I stalked past him, a cool and indifferent smile pasted on my face.
    ***
    Sunday morning hovered like a calming mist over Craven. The house creaked and groaned as it warmed in the lukewarm fall sunshine. Ms.