Free Mist by Susan Krinard Page A

strength he had left after Hrimgrimir’s attack.
    Maybe that had been his problem all along. He couldn’t use magic without weakening himself to the point of—what? Burning himself out somehow?
    Mist was just becoming aware of how tired she felt.
    “I’m all right,” she said. “You?
    “It doesn’t matter.” Dainn touched the ash-Runes on his forehead. “I think I know where Loki has gone.”
    “Where?”
    “ ‘Gullin’ is its name,” he said.
    Golden. As in Golden Gate Park.
    “Then he did go back to the Park,” she said, starting into the hall. “There is another place by that name, is there not?”
    Gods. How stupid could she be? A golden passage. A bridge between worlds.
    The Golden Gate Bridge was nearly eight miles northwest of Dogpatch as the crow flies, farther on surface streets. Dawn was just breaking; traffic would be picking up, but that was the least of her worries. She had to hope the Volvo had one more gallop in her.
    “I know where it is,” she said. “Can you tell if Loki has left Midgard?”
    “No.”
    “I guess we’ll find out when we get there. I think it would be a good idea for you to have a weapon, just in case. I don’t have any firearms, but—”
    “No weapons.”
    “This isn’t the time to be stubborn,” she said. “If a frost giant could get the better of you, Loki could do a Hel of a lot worse.”
    “I will not let Loki harm you.”
    “That’s funny,” she said. “I’m more worried that I may not be able to protect you. ”
    “You will not be required to.”
    Further argument was a waste of time. Mist knew she was about to find out the hard way just how magically proficient Dainn really was.
    “All right,” she said. “Let’s go.”

4

     
    Mist dashed out the front door, barely pausing to lock it with a brief spell before continuing on to the driveway. She already had the Volvo in gear and was pulling out by the time Dainn had jumped into the passenger seat.
    “If you have any spells that can work on an engine,” she said, “you’d better use them.”
    “You know Alfar magic is not of a mechanical nature,” he said dryly.
    She was almost relieved he was back to sarcasm. Of course, he was right. Elf magic was of nature and growing things—or, apparently, in at least one case, digging into someone else’s thoughts. But even that had used imagery of nature.
    The Volvo coughed as she backed into Illinois Street. Dainn buckled in and braced himself on the dashboard and armrest as he had before. Mist kept her foot on the accelerator as they drove north on Highway 101, merged onto the Central Freeway, and continued north on Van Ness. The traffic was still light, but it took far too long to reach the Presidio and the bridge.
    “Can you feel anything?” she asked Dainn.
    He touched his forehead, still streaked with ash and sweat. “Somewhere over the water,” he said.
    “No,” she muttered sarcastically. But they were faced with a very real problem. Even though there was a pedestrian walkway across the bridge, there wasn’t any way to access it from the San Francisco side without attracting unwelcome attention. She sure as Hel didn’t want any mortals involved.
    “We’ll have to drive across,” she said. “You tell me where to stop.”
    She gunned the engine and sped for the toll plaza, slowing only to pay the toll and pretend she had no intention of breaking every speed law on the books. The moment she was on the bridge she ground her foot down on the gas pedal as if she were in a race against Odin’s mighty six-legged stallion Sleipnir himself.
    “Here,” Dainn said when they were half a mile across. Mist pulled up in the right lane and jumped out of the car.
    There was nothing to show that this span of the bridge was different from any other. Dainn vaulted over the railing that separated the pedestrian walkway from traffic. Mist followed him to the suicide barrier. Blue- gray water seethed far beneath them, choppy with a rising wind