“I am not high. You just can’t . . .”
“What? Walk away? Yeah. I can. And I am.”
“Why?” He knew it wasn’t because she hadn’t had a great time. Her cheeks were still flushed, she was still a little out of breath, and she just seemed . . . satisfied. So what was the problem?
“Because I’d break you. That’s why.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“No, sweetie. That’s me being honest. The bottom line is you’re kind of a nice guy.”
“Kind of?”
“A little rough around the edges. Definitely rude. But at your core, nice. And I am a horrible girlfriend. I’m sarcastic. I never take anything seriously. And I mock everything. I need a good sociopath or narcissist who I can tear down until he’s nothing but a nub of his former self. While you need a nice girl like . . . Karen. She’s so sweet. She’d make you dinner, be happy when you came home, not make it her life’s work to torment you just for the fuck of it.”
Erin’s phone vibrated and she took a quick look. “Wow. That was fast. My car’s already here.” She waved at him. “See you later!”
Then she was gone! Out his front door, down the hall, and into the elevator.
Through an open window, he heard her get into the car and heard the vehicle drive off.
Mouth open, his dick still out, condom still on, Stieg looked around the room, until he demanded of whatever gods were listening, “What the fuck just happened?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The car stopped in front of the driveway that led to the Bird House. The driver leaned down to look through the passenger window at the large sign outside the gates before glancing back at Erin. “You work here?”
“Yeah,” she replied, reaching for the door handle.
“I’d hope so. Not sure a patient should look like they’re coming in from an all-night bender.”
Erin frowned, momentarily confused, then she remembered that what was the Bird House to the Clans was the Malibu base of world-renowned Giant Strides Rehabilitation Centers to the rest of the Unknowing.
“Yeah. I better sneak in the back. Can’t let those booze-hounds and pill poppers see me looking like this, huh?”
“Good plan, sweetie.”
Chuckling, Erin stepped out of the car and headed to the large gate that blocked the driveway. She hit the buzzer and waited. One of her sisters appeared on the screen. “Erin! Hey, girl.”
“Hey. Open up, would ya?”
“Sure. And Kera’s looking for you.”
Erin rolled her eyes. “This isn’t about Engstrom, is it?” She was not in the mood to hear any more on that subject. She’d had a great night. Why ruin it?
“Don’t think so, but you can ask her yourself.”
The gate slowly opened and Erin walked in, stopping just on the other side to make sure no one followed her. The paparazzi were persistent assholes. Always trying to get in and snap pictures of their most famous residents. That was a dangerous game for the photogs to play, though. This particular parcel of land was not only protected by Erin’s sisters, it was also protected by actual crows and ravens. More than one paparazzo over the years had had an eye pecked out or was knocked from a tree or suffered heavy blood loss because he got too close to the house. Without even being asked, the crows provided protection, and as the insanity that was fan-worship grew, Erin and her sisters were extremely grateful.
Once the gate was firmly closed behind her, Erin began the long walk up the driveway. By the time she reached the house, the sun was out, and several black town cars were waiting at the front to take a few of the actress-Crows to the sets of their TV shows, commercials, or movies. Some of the models were just getting home from long nights of partying.
As Erin neared her sisters, she listened to their conversations.
“Why do you insist on all that makeup when you know they’re just going to redo it all when you get to the set?”
“You want me to look my best, don’t you?”
“Not really.”
“Did you read the trades? Now that Betty’s awake, she’s on a rampage. I heard there are producers going on sudden, long-term vacations in Eastern Europe just to avoid her.”
“You’ve gotta be pretty scary as a human being if your enemies are running to Russia just to get away from you.”
“I’m getting tons of modeling work, but all the jobs are for plus-size clothes.”
“So?”
“I’m a size ten.”
“Welcome to America. That is plus-sized, kid.”
As Erin passed her sisters, they briefly stopped their conversations to greet her. Two of them said, “Kera’s been looking for you.”
Erin heard the same as she made her way inside and down the hall toward the kitchen. She grabbed a bowl, poured herself some cereal and milk, and after taking a spoon from the drawer, headed out the back.
If Kera was at the Bird House—rather than at her Viking boyfriend’s house—she’d be outside meditating at that time of the morning. She had learned relaxation techniques while in the military and started off with meditation and then went into yoga.
Erin didn’t actually see evidence that any of that relaxed Kera—a very uptight woman, in Erin’s estimation—but it horrified her to think that without it, her sister-Crow would be even more uptight.
She found Kera—eyes closed, breathing even, in what Erin assumed was the “lotus pose” common in meditation—on a purple mat out on the big backyard lawn.
Having gotten yelled at more than once for interrupting Kera’s meditation time, Erin sat down across from her sister-Crow and quietly ate her cereal. While waiting, she stared. She stared until Kera’s eyes opened and she saw Erin sitting there . . . staring.
Kera let out a panicked, tiny squeal. “What the fuck are you doing, Amsel?”
Erin gave a small shrug and softly replied, “Just waiting for you to die . . .”
Kera’s entire face contorted into a mix of panic, rage, and extreme concern. “What?”
* * *
“You missed the meeting.”
Stieg finger-combed his wet hair off his face while staring at Vig Rundstöm at his front door. “I don’t care.”
“Josef’s pissed,” Rolf added, coming up behind Vig with Siggy.
“Care even less.” Stieg walked away.
Vig followed. “It was important.”
“I’m sure it was.”
“It was about—”
“End of the world, blah blah blah. Yeah. I know.”
Rolf closed the door. “Blah blah blah? Seriously?”
“Where is she?” Siggy asked.
Facing the big idiot, Stieg felt the urge to start hitting. “I can’t believe you’re asking me that right now,” he growled.
“Why?”
“I don’t want to talk about her!”
“But I want to see her.”
“You see her nearly every day.”
“No. I haven’t.”
Stieg stared at his friend. “What are you talking about?”
“The goat.”
“Oh.” Stieg went to his refrigerator, pulling out a gallon of orange juice. “She’s still in the bedroom.”
Siggy strode toward the bedroom and Vig asked Stieg, “You sleep with your goat?”
“She likes to be comfortable.”
“Why are you barking at me? What’s wrong with you?”
Before Stieg could answer Vig, there was a squeal from the bedroom.
“By Odin’s beard,” Rolf muttered, “what’s he doing to that goat?”
Siggy walked out of the bedroom—or maybe it was more a skip—with Hilda in his arms, holding her like a baby. “She’s so cute!”
“Oh,” Rolf added, sitting at the kitchen bar. “Based on the high frequency of that sentence . . . that squeal wasn’t from the goat.”
“That’s disturbing.” Vig sat next to Rolf and looked at Stieg. “Anyway, you need to know what’s going on.”
Sti
eg slammed the juice carton on the counter, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Besides our doom, Rundstöm. . . what else is there to tell me?”
* * *
Kera’s eye twitched as Erin dropped her empty bowl and spoon on the grass and fell back against the ground, laughing hysterically. If nothing else, the woman knew how to entertain herself.
Deciding to ignore Erin’s ridiculous behavior, Kera grabbed her phone and texted Jace, who was somewhere in the house.
When Erin finally managed to sit up and act like an adult, Kera forced a smile in the hopes of keeping Erin focused and less annoying during this conversation.
The redhead cringed. “What the hell was that?”
“What was what?”
“That thing you just did with your face.”
“A smile?”
“Yeah. Don’t do that anymore. It is not your friend.” Always full of energy, Erin sort of bounced around while sitting, her fingers twitching at Kera, urging her on. “So . . . talk to me. What’s going on? What do ya need? What do you want?” she asked with rapid speed. Her mind already a thousand miles away.
Kera had known this conversation wouldn’t be easy, but now she realized it would be even worse than she’d imagined. Because Erin was full of energy. Unfocused energy.
“We’re waiting for Jace,” Kera replied, keeping her voice very controlled. “She’s coming.”
“Okay.” Erin relaxed a bit, her gaze sweeping the extensive backyard of the Bird House. Then, “How ’bout I come back?”
“How about you wait?”
Her head dropped back and she let out an annoyed sigh. “I’m bored!”
“It’s been less than thirty seconds!”
“So? What’s your point?”
“Have you been tested for ADHD?”
“I know . . . maybe . . . oh, wait . . . yeah . . . well . . . yeah! Okay!”
Kera opened her mouth to reply then changed her mind. What would be the point?
After another minute or so of Erin’s sounds of extreme boredom—mostly sighing—Jace came around the corner, her now-giant puppy, Lev, held in her arms.
“Look at that thing,” Erin muttered. “Is it really necessary for her to still hold it when it’s that size?”
“Considering all four legs work . . . no.”
Originally, Chloe had wanted a meeting that would involve a lot more people. Erin’s entire Strike Team; Betty, Erin’s onetime mentor; and Chloe. But Kera had a gut feeling that was not the way to come at Erin. Actually, she felt like having more than one or two people was giving Erin an audience. For this discussion, it was the last thing any of them needed.
Jace placed her puppy on the ground, sending him off to play with Kera’s dog, Brodie Hawaii. She watched the two dogs for a moment before joining Kera and Erin. She sat down, cross-legged, and tried her best to give Erin a smile.
Didn’t work. Erin saw right through it.
“Okay,” Erin sighed out. “What’s going on?”
Kera glanced at Jace, but her friend could barely look at either of them. Jace blamed herself for this, but, really, if anyone was to blame, it was Gullveig.
But Kera didn’t have time to sit around, complaining about that bitch. “We were going to wait to tell everyone this, including you, but now that we hear the Vatican is involved—”
Erin chuckled. “Yeah.”
“—and you didn’t tell us.”
The chuckling stopped and green eyes widened a bit. “Oh. Uh . . . well, the Vatican—”
“Shut up.”
“Okay then.”
“Now that we know about the Vatican despite you—”
“Wow,” Erin muttered, “not lettin’ that go.”
“—we’ve decided to get everyone up to speed since it seems things are moving forward quicker than we thought.”
“Okay . . . and?”
“We think we have a way to kill Gullveig.”
“To actually kill her? Put her down for good? Not just send her somewhere else?”
“Yeah.”
“Great. What will I need to do?” When Kera only stared at her, “I’m assuming you’re having this conversation with me— and only me—because I’m the one who can do it. Whatever it is.”
“It’s a risk.”
“Life is risk.”
“Erin—”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Kera!” she exclaimed, hands thrown up. “Just tell me!”
“We need you to get the Fire Sword.”
“What Fire Sword?”
“The—” Kera glanced at Jace again but her friend’s head hung even lower. It was like she was trying to turn herself into a ball and roll away. “The flaming sword of the fire giant Surtr.”
Erin thought a moment before asking, “Do you mean the sword protected by the dragon? The dragon who hates all humans? That dragon?”
Kera cleared her throat, now wishing that Chloe was there so she could do the explaining.
Why had Kera insisted on doing it? She didn’t know how to handle Erin Amsel. She liked her. She was a close friend. But they didn’t actually get along except in battle. Erin thought Kera was too uptight and Kera could barely tolerate Erin’s ability to be a goddamn human Ping-Pong ball.
“Yeah,” Kera finally said. “That’s the one.”
Erin glanced off, lips pursed, before she stated, “Of course it is.”
Then Jace burst into hysterical tears . . . which seemed about right.
* * *
Stieg stared at his Raven brothers until Rolf leaned forward and asked, “Are you all right? You haven’t said a word in ten minutes.”
“I’m trying to decide,” Stieg said carefully, “the level of my rage.”
Rolf nodded. “That’s a fair answer.”
“Are they trying to kill her?” Stieg asked, still feeling surprisingly calm. “Because there are lots of people who want her dead.”
“No. We actually need her to survive. Her death would ensure Ragnarok, so we’re trying to avoid that.”
“By sending her to the lowest pits of the World Tree to face the dragon Nidhogg and take the sword from him, which will undoubtedly piss that dragon off? Is that the plan?”
“When you put it like that . . .”
“What other way would you put it?”
His brothers glanced off, trying to find an acceptable answer, but Stieg knew there was no acceptable answer.
“She could say no,” Siggy suggested, still holding Stieg’s goat in his arms like a newborn.
“She won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“How do I know?” Stieg leaned across the counter so his friends would understand his words clearly. “Because she’s insane!”
* * *
“Okay,” Erin said, getting to her feet. “I’m gonna go.”
Kera grabbed her arm and yanked her back down. “You’re gonna go?” she asked, brown eyes boring into her.
Erin glanced at a sobbing Jace. “Yeah. She’s . . . uh . . . crying. So I’m just gonna go.” She tried to get up again, but Kera yanked her back.
“Because your friend is crying? Because she’s allowing herself to show emotion?”
“Yes.”
“You’re pathetic.”
“You’re a bitch.”
Then Erin was rolling around the yard with Kera, the two of them trying to punch each other and calling each other names a priest would be horrified by.
“Stop it!” Jace screeched, grabbing at them. “Stop it now!”
Jace yanked them apart, the three of them on their knees, panting. Erin glaring at Kera. Kera glaring at her. And Jace glaring at all of them.
Her tears were gone, but her eyes were tinged red. At one time, not even a few weeks ago, eyes that color would have signaled it was too late to pull her back from the brink of Berserker-ness, but lately, she’d found a way to manage it.
“I can’t believe you two,” she chastised, working to get control. “I can’t believ
e you’re acting like this.”
Brodie Hawaii, Kera’s pit bull, apparently agreed. She circled them, barking. And Lev crawled into Jace’s lap, licking her face. He was definitely trying to calm her.
Erin opened her mouth to speak but Jace cut her off. “If you say that Kera started it, I’m going to beat you to death and let the world burn.”
Since that was exactly what Erin was going to say, she pressed her lips together and remained silent.
Jace, breathing heavy, jerked her hand at Kera. “Your nose is bleeding.”
Kera wiped her face with the back of her hand, eyes growing wide at the sight of blood on her knuckles. “You punched me in the nose?” she growled at Erin.
“It’s such a wide target, I could barely miss.”
They were reaching for each other again when Lev, still on Jace’s lap, gave a low warning growl that startled them both.
They stared at the dog, then each other, before quickly turning completely away, afraid they’d start laughing and really send Jace over the edge.
When Erin felt confident she wouldn’t laugh, she said, “Sorry, Kera.”
“Yeah.” Kera swallowed, her voice a tad higher as she struggled not to laugh at the overwhelming cuteness of Jace’s funny-looking dog. “Me, too.”
Jace kissed her dog on the head and sent him off to continue playing with Brodie. She laid her folded hands in her lap, let out a very long breath, and said softly, “I know you both have a very distinct way of dealing with intense emotions, and that it often involves hitting each other or calling each other fat ass.”
“I’ve never called Erin a fat ass.”
“No, but you have called her a tiny leprechaun you could step on.”
Kera shrugged. “Yeah. I have said that.”
“I’m suggesting we try a different way of dealing with this.”
Erin opened her mouth to reply.
“No!” Jace barked, cutting Erin off before she could say a word. “Part of this different way is for you not to say the first thing that comes into your head, because although it will make you laugh, it will do nothing but send me into a crazed Berserker rage.”
Erin shrugged. “Then that’s probably a good plan.”
* * *
Rolf watched Stieg pull on a sweatshirt and sneakers and head toward his front door.
“Where are you going?” Vig asked from the kitchen, where all of them were eating Stieg’s cereal and milk, probably leaving nothing for him when they were done.