The Immortal's Mate

The smooth, green leather seat of Haldir's favorite booth in the back of the pub glided under the fisherman's leg as he sat down across from the ancient Viking warrior of island legend. "You never have told me how it all started." His arm covered the back of the seat, and his finger shot out to point at him. "When did you realize you were immortal or whatever?"

A low hum came from overhead, while steely blue eyes and an impressive reddish-blonde beard peered out the window to see the little hopper plane descend from the gray and white sky.

A rush of his hot breath fogged the glass as Haldir's mind stumbled back through long ago memories while his freckled fingers wiped a porthole big enough for him to peek through again. "That, my friend, is a very long story."

Bose spent many drunken nights listening to his tales. Yet, the man who never aged always skimmed over the beginning of his life. The slick material of Bose's parka made a flicking noise as he shrugged up his shoulder. "It isn't like I don't have the time."

The loneliness of his reality settled in Haldir's chest and made a miserable sigh pass through his nose as he glanced back and agreed with a nod. "Okay, then." The pack of white and red Marlboros came to his fingers, and he jerked it until a cigarette popped up. "Believe it or not, I was out fishing one day…"

Arctic Norway 1001 A.D.

Between two ice-covered cliffs sat a young man who peeked over the side of a boat into the still and dusky waters.

His dirty fingernails wiggled through his beard to scratch at his cheek as he glared up into the sky and cursed the cruel sun that beat down on him. In all his thirty-some years, he never experienced a day so warm as this.

As the sweat beaded on his body, Haldir pulled his shirt over his head and threw the tattered cloth to the other side of the tiny fishing boat. His long, strong arms and chest seemed as if they picked up a heavy object a few thousand times, the way they rippled and bulged in the blinding light.

After his chapped hands finished tying the knot in the frayed and rotted rope, Haldir tossed the net into the frigid waters and said his prayers to the gods for a plentiful catch.

He took a deep breath of the balmy air as he stared out over the fjord and a gnawing sensation filled his chest. It was days since he caught a single fish, and his empty belly made him anxious and sloppy.

If his fortune didn't change soon, he might be forced to move on to another village. Not that it would matter much. After the last skirmish with the neighboring town, there was barely anyone left who would miss him, not even a single woman to keep him company at night.

A curiously strong wind swept through the gap, and the haunting sounds of cracks came from the snow-capped cliffs above him.

Dread washed over the simple man as the mammoth chunks of melted ice crashed down into the surrounding waters. His trembling hands reached for the rope net, and he yanked it hand over hand until it caught on something below.

Like an animal that grunted and gritted its teeth, Haldir pulled with all his might. With a snap and a wail from high above his head, a chunk of ice slammed into the water ahead.

Like the hand of Njord himself, a dark, unforgiving wall of water rose out of the sea, and the breeze it made called out his name as it rushed for the narrow gap, where he was petrified by the horror of it. Haldir's eyes were a sea of black as he faced down the enormous surge that obliviated the space between them.

It slapped the rickety canoe onto its side, and he was tossed back into the icy waters as the wave crashed down over him.

When the ripples stilled, Haldir erupted from the blackness like a volcano as he gasped for breath and warmth. While he frantically tried to turn his boat right side up again, the cold abyss staked its claim on the doomed man inch by inch, and he sank back down into its deadly embrace.

The blood pressure drop from the blast of icy death made his heart desperately struggle to continue its right pace. When the final beats of life sparked across his chest, Haldir's fingers gave up and lost their grip, and sent him backward into the dark chasm.

Before his human eyes caught the last few images of this world for the last time, a burst of brilliant gold and white light came from above and comforted his panicked mind. No more worries, no more battles, no hunger. Only peace—or so he thought.

The frozen corpse floated face-down in the frigid waters and bobbed back and forth on the settling waves as they smacked against the rocky shore. While the bright, ethereal light of the princely Seraph warmed Haldir's back, the angel lifted him from the water and slung the pulseless man over his shoulder like he was nothing at all.

Tiny drops of water splashed up into the Viking's face as Michael walked across it. Although being dead, Haldir didn't mind at all. "Your struggles are only beginning now, my friend."

When he got to the humble, thatched-roofed shack, Michael dropped the body on the ground and kneeled beside him. Frozen hairs snapped like twigs as the Master angel pushed them from the poor soul's face.

The sound of a hundred blaring trumpets blasted through the land when Michael bent down and placed his mouth on Haldir's, and the breath of life filled his lungs again. His eyes fluttered open, and the reborn man threw up his hand to shield them from the light of a brand-new world.

He pushed himself to his elbows to catch a better look at the bronzed stranger bathed in gold who kneeled by the fireside and broke branches over his knee. "Who are you?"

As he offered him a kind grin, Michael answered back to him in Haldir's native tongue as he brought his hand to his chest. "I am Michael, the gatekeeper of the human world."

While he struggled to remember what happened, the cold man pushed his numb fingers through his crunchy hair. "I thought I was dead."

Another pile of sticks dropped into the fire. The angel received many orders over the entirety of his existence. Still, giving life back to a mortal was never requested of him before. "You were."

If it weren't for the pain that radiated from his wakening nerves, Haldir would swear he was dreaming. "But I'm sitting here talking to you now."

Though the day was warm, the dirt floor under Michael's bottom was frozen, and he shifted from side to side to relieve himself of it. "The human you once were is gone, and you are something else now."

The truth never was so hard to swallow for Haldir as he tried to make sense of his guest's words. He was merely a simple man; the only education afforded him was the survival skills he picked up as he went along in this life. "I'm a spirit? A sorcerer? A god?"

Michael's lips curled under as his shoulders came to his ears. "A bit of all of those things, maybe. I can't give you many answers, I'm afraid. I only follow orders. Your new gods and my God made an arrangement. You, my friend, are the recipient of their covenant. A gift, if you will."

Haldir's eyes darted around his shabby hovel as his humble mind searched for something tangible. No one ever gave him anything that he didn't have to pry from their dead hands. "What gift?"

A similar endowment was thrust on him many millennia ago, and Michael's apologetic look spoke volumes about what living forever was really like. "You will live among the Others in their world. Since you can never truly be like them because you were born of human blood, the gods gifted you immortality. No weapon ever used against you will succeed, you will not age, and you will never fall ill."

The sound of Haldir's raspy laugh bounced around the shack as he nodded, and his finger pointed to the ceiling. "That is quite a gift. Give them my thanks."

Michael sighed as he gazed into the flames. "Is it? I have lived since the beginning of all things, and it can be horribly lonely." A finger that glowed in a warm glimmer pointed at the Immortal. "Someday, you will have to leave this little island and seek out people like yourself. I will be back to check on you from time to time until you grow used to your new life."

With his hand pulling down his still thawing beard, Haldir thought about the possibility of a new life outside this unforgiving land. The loneliness of the island was unbearable in his living days, and the idea of meeting different, exciting people sparked his curiosity. "So, there are others like me, you say?"

Michael shook his head no. "There are supernaturals in the world, but there are none like you. However, the gods did not forsake you to be alone forever; you may travel to their world at will and seek out adventures amongst them. It will be difficult for you to continue living among the humans you'll find. I caution you to never become too close to them; it will only lead to pain."

Little spurts of white mist left his nose with each shiver of his body as the man hugged at his legs for warmth, and he couldn’t imagine anything more painful than his life to that point in time. But he was wrong, very wrong.

Two rough hands tossed up from his glass before one slapped to the chest of his green field jacket. "And that's how it came to be. Hand to God."

The salt-and-pepper hair of Bose's short beard brushed his shoulder as he went back to the bar for another cup of coffee. "That has to be the saddest thing I ever heard." While he filled his mug, a finger wagged back and forth over his shoulder. "For some reason, I was expecting you to regale me with a hearty tale of plundering and fighting and pillaging and chesty wenches. Believe it or not, I'm already up to my ears with my own terrible fishing stories."

The day it all ended and began was still fresh in his mind, and the cold lip of his glass of vodka came to Haldir's mouth while he gazed out through the foggy window of the pub.

Impossible, he thought, that he’d fought hundreds of battles and traveled both worlds many times over. But as he sat in the exact same spot he did every day before noon on another gloomy morning, he couldn't dredge up of a single noteworthy adventure to speak of. "I told you it was a long story, not an exciting one."

While he tried to convince the island's most interesting man there must be more to the long years of his life, Bose nodded his head and rolled his hand in the air in front of him. "Yeah, I know, but" — he curled his arm into a muscleman's pose — "you're a Viking, goddammit."

Little faint snorts huffed through his nose as he chuckled at Bose's interpretation of his early days. "But I told you all those stories a few times."

Since he left the supernatural world two years ago in search of the woman the ancient psychic King spoke of, he hadn't seen a single member of his family. The ache to be close to them again made the loneliness even more unbearable. Every day that went by on the barren and pitiless island reminded him he may wait forever.

He considered leaving it up to the Fates and going back to the magical realm to be with his children. The two of them never stayed out of trouble for long, and not knowing what happened in their lives tore him apart little by little.

Eventually, his mate would make her way to him, and they'd find each other someday if the Fates were generous. But a sigh sent a fresh plume of condensation to the window at the thought of the gods ever doing something kind without a stack of heartbreaks attached to it.

Although Haldir's heart and body ached for the mystery woman, wherever she was, he had waited long enough. A man can only stand to be alone for so long, and even one as patient as the Immortal reached his limit.

In the last booth of the pub, bathed in teak wood and brass fixtures, Haldir awaited the outsiders who arrived from the airport. Being the only inn on the island, every traveler came there first to check in. All he had to do was wait—and that's precisely what he did every day for the last two years.

The American-born fisherman who wore an off-white cable-knit sweater sat down across from Haldir again and set his cup of coffee on the table. "So, did your friend give you a hint of what she might look like?"

While he swung his beard side to side over his coat, he eyed his glass and swirled the last of the liquid. The Darke King Daniel was a mysterious and complicated man. Whatever his reason for being so vague about his mate's identity, Haldir had to believe it was for the best. "Not a crumb of information to go on" — a finger tapped on the tabletop — "other than I'd find her here."

A stream of air blew across Bose's coffee before he carefully slurped it. As he sucked back a cool breath to chase away the burn on his tongue, his brows drew together while he tried to figure out the puzzle of his friend's life. "Well, we don't get many beautiful young women here on the island, do we? So, I guess that will make it a little easier to spot her when she finally shows up."

There was always an indifferent puff of air and a smart-ass comment to cover the pain in the old man's heart, and his palm tossed upward as he served it. "The thing is, he never said she was young or beautiful. With my luck, she has a face like yours and stinks worse than whatever Ingrid is making over in the kitchen right now."

As Bose nodded to the man who rushed by the window to escape the brutal blast of wind, Haldir drank the last of his vodka. "Don't worry yourself too much; nothing can possibly smell that bad."

The crisp cold scattered through the bar when Dr. Carter ducked inside. A series of angry squalls began their attack on the island before dawn, and when the next gust came, the doctor battled the invisible force on the other side of the door until he slammed it shut with his hip.

The slaps of his hand knocking off the powdery snow from his parka sent shrill wisps through the otherwise quiet air as he glanced over at the two men who sat at the booth and stared at him. "How are you folks doing this morning?"

The leather seat squelched under Bose as he turned around to give him the ball-busting greeting only another American could construe as friendly banter. "A little early for the town's only doctor to be hitting up the bar for a drink, isn't it?"

As he poured himself a cup of coffee, Dr. Carter smirked at the accusation. "My new nurse from America is arriving this morning, and I wanted to catch her as soon as she came in."

The whole room grew heavier as Haldir's gasp sucked the air from it, and when his jittery hands began to shake, he balled them into fists to hide it.

But his hopeful friend turned to shoot a toothy grin across the table as Bose nodded at the good news. "Hot damn. Did you say a new nurse from the States?"

One of the few decent things Ingrid could make steamed in the cup in the doctor's hands, and he narrowed his eyes to the both of them before he sipped on it. "I did say that, yes. Needed to bring in a ringer to whip these amateurs into shape; figured we should have at least one person on the nursing staff who knows what the hell they're doing."

A thumb pointed over his shoulder as James continued his complaints about the employees the town afforded him. "This bunch, I'll tell you what, I wouldn't trust them to take care of a cat, much less someone I cared about."

When he leaned out of the booth, Bose rested his elbows on his knees. "Where would this sweet little lady of yours be coming from?"

While James groaned at his sore back as he reached across the counter, he grabbed a magazine from the unchanging stack that sat in the corner year-round. "Believe it or not, she's from my hometown up in the mountains. Her last job was as a school nurse, but" — he flipped through the first few pages and sniffed at one of the perfume inserts — "she's more than qualified to run this ship. She was a highly decorated officer in the Army and spent a lot of time on the front lines. Tough as nails, as I understand it. The last commanding officer she served under assured me I wouldn't find a more competent person on the planet."

Like a televangelist who danced for a dollar, his hands rose in the air and shook as the old country doctor sang out in his exaggerated Southern drawl. "Hallelujah. Thank you, sweet Jesus, for answering my prayers." The next page flipped over, and he cringed at the model’s expression. “What the hell a nurse with her experience is doing in a shithole like this, I’ll never understand.” The shoulder of his parka jerked upward. “But whatever. Maybe this one will stick.”

A wind-burned cheek puffed as Bose shrugged at Haldir. "Hard as nails Army combat nurse. Any chance she looks anything like me?"

The brown, corduroy Ushanka hat James wore pushed back on his head, and his white hair peeked out as he stared at them both from the top of his gold, wire-rimmed glasses. While he took a minute to jokingly compare them, his head wagged. "Un-un, that would be a tremendously big no."

After he gave his phone another check for the time, he ducked from side to side to peek out the windows in the reflection of the mirror above the bar. "I've talked to that young woman more than once on video chat, and I don't mind telling you it was no hardship on my eyes at all. No, sir. She's a beauty, fellas." A finger wagged in the air at the two men who sat behind him. "That pretty, young thing will knock your socks clean off."

A warmth spread through his chest as Haldir licked his lips, and for the first time in years, a twinge of hope made his palms sweaty. A shaky hand pushed through his messy blonde hair as he caught his reflection and wished he were a little more careful with his appearance this morning. "What's her name, Doc?"

The magazine he already read a hundred times flew back across the bar, and James grabbed the remote for the television from the bar top. "Captain Morana Faye."