“Let her go,” Kera said, shocking everyone in the room.
“Are you serious?”
“If we leave her here, doing nothing, she’ll tear this place apart. Plus, anyone who is truly out looking for her will know where to find her if we try to hide her. We have to assume anyone that invested in the end of the world knows all the safe houses any of the Clans have in Southern California, and we can’t afford to send her too far away. But if she sticks with Stieg—who seems to have become sadly attached—”
“It’s my charisma.”
“Shut up. She should be just fine. And this way she won’t be a sitting duck.”
“Yes! A sitting duck,” Erin said solemnly. “Rather than a mighty crow meant to fly majestic—”
“Erin, shut up,” Kera said without even looking at her. “Just shut up.”
* * *
Vig walked into the open front door of the Bird House. Closing the door, he found Stieg standing behind it. Vig stared at his friend and Raven brother. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Waiting.”
“For what?”
“Erin. She’s going to try and sneak out. To get past me. She probably thinks I’m out back, so she’ll try and slip through here. This is where I’ll nab her.”
Vig crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s going on with you two?”
“Nothing. Why?”
“Why? Because you’re lying in wait for Erin Amsel. Piss her off and she won’t just kick your ass. She’ll set you on fire. I’ve watched her do it. It is not pretty.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
Vig tipped his head to the side. “Do you?”
Erin and several Crows came down the hall. As they neared, the other Crows split off just as Stieg pulled the door open again so that it blocked any view of him. Erin, a backpack swinging from one shoulder, didn’t see; she was waving at her sisters, laughing at something they said to her.
“Hey, Vig,” she said as she neared.
“Erin.”
“Kera’s in the back.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
As she passed the door, she paused long enough to bang her fist against it as hard as possible. “Let’s go, stalker. We’re on a tight schedule.” She strutted out of the house
Stieg eased out from behind the door, eyes sheepishly downcast as he moved past Vig.
“Still think you know what you’re doing, brother?” Vig asked.
“Shut up.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Stieg went to put his key in his front door, but it opened from the other side and Karen stepped out.
“Oh. You’re home.” She pointed into the apartment. “I left papers for you to sign in your kitchen.”
“Okay.” He walked past her. If Erin didn’t know better, she’d swear the man was mad at his friend. But he wasn’t. As her mother would often say about Erin’s quiet grandfather, “That’s just his way.”
“Hey, Karen.”
“Hey, Erin. Everything okay?”
“With him?” she asked, gesturing at Stieg.
“No. With you. You look a little stressed.”
“I do? I never look stressed.”
“You don’t seem the kind of person who lets the little things bother her.”
“I’m not.”
Erin started to walk into the apartment when Karen asked, “Hey, I called your shop and they were talking about an appointment eight months from now. And I thought maybe—”
“Actually . . .” Erin began, ready to put Stieg’s friend off. She didn’t really have time to work on anyone’s tattoo. As far as her shop staff was concerned, she was on leave for the next month, and with the appointments she already had on the books, she wasn’t surprised by the response Karen had received.
But Erin paused in the doorway, thought a moment. “Can you be there at nine tomorrow?” she asked.
Karen spun to face her, mouth wide in a grin. “Yes! Yes, I can!”
“Bring your art. I’ll see you there!”
Karen squealed and hugged Erin, making her laugh. “You are the best!” Then she was gone, down the hall to her own place.
Still smiling, Erin turned to head into Stieg’s apartment, but found his giant chest blocking the way.
“What are you doing?”
“Setting up an appointment with your friend to give her a tattoo.”
Stieg reached over Erin—which was a lot easier to do than she’d have liked—and closed the door so Karen couldn’t hear. “Do you have time for that?” he demanded. “You know, with Ragnarok and all.”
“First off, I’m trying to prevent Ragnarok. If I fail, you guys will be on deck to stop it. Until then . . . it’s all on me.”
“Right, which is why I’m wondering why you’re setting up tattoo appointments.”
“Because I figured this will probably be my last tattoo.”
“That’s sad.”
“You know what’s funny? Your ‘that’s sad’ face looks exactly like your ‘this is the best news’ ever face. In other words, your face does not change. It’s like stone.” She stepped around him, headed for the couch, and saw his goat peeking out from the bedroom door.
Spotting Erin, the goat bounded out, hopping into the room on all four legs. She pushed against Erin’s leg with her entire body until Erin petted her head and neck.
“You ready or what?” Erin asked.
Stieg threw up his arms. “I just got here.”
“And I’m ready to go.”
“Do we even have a location?” he asked, heading to his bedroom to change into his Raven gear.
“Yes. Yardley texted me an address.”
“Well, that’s something.”
Erin began pacing around the room, the goat right by her side.
“Let’s go, Engstrom!” she called out when she felt he’d taken long enough.
“I’m coming! Good Lord, woman!”
He walked out of the bedroom, just pulling his tank top on. Erin had a moment to catch those superb abs before they were covered completely. He unleashed his wings, moved them around a bit, then retracted them. Since the sun had already gone down, Crows and Ravens could unleash their wings without question or concern. Their gods would protect them from the sight of others and modern technology.
Erin looked away and tried to get control of her libido. Between that shaggy blond hair, those black jeans, black tank top, and black wings, she was having a really hard time focusing on anything else.
“You can’t stand still,” Stieg accused as he grabbed his keys and wallet off the kitchen counter.
“I can if I want to.”
“I’m doubting it. Every time I see you, your ass is moving.”
“It’s a fabulous ass. The whole world should enjoy.”
He sighed. “I have no idea how to respond to that.” He stood in front of her, towering over her. The giant Viking.
They stared at each other until he demanded, “Where are we going?”
“Huh?”
“Erin,” he growled. “For the love of Odin, focus.”
“Oh. Oh! Yeah.” She looked down at her phone. “Laguna Beach.”
“Nice area.”
“Where did you expect Ambrosio to live? The Valley?”
“The Valley has some nice—”
“Don’t even.”
“Fine. Let’s just go.”
He walked to the sliding glass doors that led to his balcony and stepped outside. After dropping her bag on the couch and petting Hilda on the head one more time, Erin followed, jumping up on the balcony railing.
Once Stieg stood beside her, she smiled at him, enjoying the way his eyes narrowed until he appeared completely paranoid.
“Why are you smiling at me?” he barked.
“You haven’t noticed?”
“Noticed what?”
“That now we’re a ‘we,’” she gushed. “You’re so into me, you don’t even know what to—Hey!” she barked when he placed his
hand against her back and shoved her off the railing.
* * *
Stieg stared at the absolutely giant mansion that belonged to Jourdan Ambrosio. He’d bet anything that Karen would kill to have her as a client. Not that he’d blame her.
The home alone must be worth twenty, maybe thirty million. Four floors, views of the Pacific, lots of glass and an Olympic-size pool almost as big as the one the Ravens had.
“It’s super quiet,” Erin noted from her spot on the limb above him.
“There could still be people inside.”
“Think we should wait?”
He thought a moment, then shook his head. “Nah. Let’s go.”
They unleashed their wings and flew to the roof of the house, landing silently. They walked along the edge, looking for any sign of Ambrosio’s entourage. When she didn’t see anyone, they let their wings take them down to a third-floor balcony. The window was locked, but Stieg jerked it open without much effort.
“It seems like you’ve done this before,” she whispered.
“A little B and E when I was younger,” he whispered back. “The Ravens beat that out of me, though.”
“Delightful.”
They walked into a bedroom that had Erin noting, “That is a lot of . . . tacky.”
“This entire floor must be the master bedroom. She’s actually knocked out walls.”
Erin held her hands up, elaborately gesturing to one of the walls across from the double king-size bed. “Who has a giant painting of themselves, naked, on their bedroom wall?”
“A follower of Gullveig?”
“I told you,” she whispered dramatically. “I’m from Staten Island. I know tacky. I can be tacky. But this”—she again motioned to the painting—“is a whole ’nother level of tacky. An unholy level.”
Stieg couldn’t disagree with her. He couldn’t imagine living in a place like this. It wasn’t the decadence. He could handle decadent. Versailles was decadent, but this . . . would be like living in one of those big Vegas hotels forever.
They made their way through the bedroom until Erin stopped and turned into one of the side rooms.
He heard her squeak and quickly followed her inside. “What?” he asked, still whispering. Neither of them knew if people might be sleeping somewhere on another floor.
“This is her closet!” It was nearly the size of Ambrosio’s bedroom.
Erin pointed. “Who needs that many shoes?”
Stieg didn’t know. He had steel-toed boots for fighting and a couple pairs of running shoes for everything else. He didn’t understand who would need more than that. Even women.
“Can we keep this moving?” he asked while Erin briefly went through the woman’s underwear drawer.
“So much tacky lingerie,” she muttered, walking past him. Searching for the stairs, she stopped again, pointing at the shag carpet. “What is that?”
Stieg leaned in to get a close look. “That is small dog shit.”
She shook her head, mouth open. Appalled. “Rich people are nasty.”
“Erin—”
“Nas-tee.”
“Walk,” he ordered her, knowing they could be there all night with her critiquing the useless woman’s house. “Just walk.”
They finally found the stairs and headed down to the second floor. It was much more normal. A long hallway with several rooms, each with its own bathroom. They split, Erin walking down one way and Stieg going the other.
He went into each room, doing a quick search to see if he could find anything that would tell him where Ambrosio and her ridiculous friends might be. The woman had no idea what she was meddling with. Gullveig would feel no loyalty to her. And the Carrion . . . ? But just by looking at this woman’s tacky home told Stieg Ambrosio wasn’t a very logical or even a very smart person.
He reached the last room and walked in just as the lights in the house shut off. He stopped, his fingers curling into fists. He glanced down at his feet, realizing he was standing on something strange.
Straw. Straw inside some rich bitch’s home?
No. Not even if she had horses on the property. There would be only one reason why straw would be on the bedroom floor of someone like Ambrosio.
He spun toward the door, about to yell out to Erin, when they were on him, their bodies wrapped around him, their hands gripping his head.
And the nightmares began . . .
* * *
A Mara landed on Erin’s back and slapped her hands against Erin’s head. Three others crouched in the dark corners of the house to watch, their wide grins showing their small, sharp black fangs.
Erin sighed. “Are you done?”
The grins faded, their brows furrowing in matching confusion. The Mara were demons who used their victim’s worst nightmares against them. They simply touched a person’s forehead and a Mara could torture the victim for hours, until death brought sweet relief.
The problem with Erin was that she didn’t really dream.
She reached behind her with one hand, grabbed the screeching Mara by the hair, and flipped her over her shoulder. Still holding onto her hair, Erin slammed her foot down on the Mara’s head twice before one of the others attacked.
Erin batted the new one away with her free hand and kicked the one at her feet across the room to slam into another. She crouched down and pulled her blades from the holster tied to her ankle. Before she could even stand, she had to slam one of the weapons into the gut of another attacking Mara. The move didn’t kill it, though, and the Mara continued trying to bite her with those tiny black fangs.
Erin took a very brief moment to watch the Mara opening and closing its mouth, trying to bite her face. It took her seconds to get the timing right and when she did, Erin shoved the other blade into the Mara’s open maw, pushing until the tip came out the back of its skull. Then she twisted and moved the blade back and forth until she severed any muscles her weapon could possibly reach. The Mara dropped, blood pouring from its mouth.
A roar from down the hallway had Erin running toward the door. Several Mara tried to block her, but she shoved them aside.
As she ran, more Mara came out from rooms or slid through walls like smoke.
Erin ignored them, slapping arms away, dodging their grasping claws. A Mara jumped in front of her and Erin simply kept running. She slammed right into it, knocking it down, and ran until she slid to a stop by the last open door that led into the room where they had Stieg on his knees . . .
* * *
Stieg was standing in front of his mother, who was already ill from cancer but refused to back down to his father or the illness. Though he was only ten, Stieg was using his body to protect her. His father’s entire arm pulled back, fist cocked.
The fist came down, connecting with Stieg’s head.
Now Stieg was twelve, his body wrapped around his father’s back, trying his best to fight a man so much bigger, doing his best to protect his mother, who was clearly dying. His father was drunk again, and logic didn’t get through that thick skull when he was drunk.
His father yanked Stieg off, threw him into a wall, came after him. Pummeling his only son with fists, kicking him. Stieg didn’t feel it. Stieg didn’t care anymore.
He just wanted out. He just wanted out. He just wanted—
Stieg heard the screech. A female screech, not the sound his father made. He blinked, panting, bending over, his hands against the expensive rug rich people had paid a fortune for.
“Get up, Raven!” ordered a voice he recognized. “Get up or I’ll burn this goddamn house down with you in it!” Erin Amsel.
Thank Odin. Other than his Raven brothers, the only warrior he’d ever want by his side when facing the Mara was Erin.
Stieg pushed himself up, struggled to his feet. Another Mara came for him. He didn’t let her hands get to his head. He grabbed her arms, snapping them midforearm with a twitch of his fingers.
More screeching. He didn’t care. He let that sound wash over him. It reminded him
he was no longer trapped in the San Fernando trailer his father had had the nerve to call a home.
Stieg unleashed his wings, using their power to batter the Mara away from him, tossing the she-demons around the room like toys.
He glanced at Erin. She was using her blades with an expertise he’d only seen among the Elder sister-Crows. All that gymnastic and ballet training combined with the skills given to her by Skuld made her entire body a weapon.
What really impressed Stieg was that even in the close-quarter fight, Erin still used basic logic. Her blade didn’t cut throats. It cut the facial muscles that controlled the Mara’s jaws. When she was done, their mouths hung open, black spit oozing down their chins.
A few put their claws on Erin’s head, but she only laughed and tossed them off.
But still, the Mara tried until they suddenly stopped, all of them scurrying away. Some disappeared back into the walls, dragging their fallen companions with them.
Stieg and Erin stood in the middle of the room, staring at each other. Confused.
“Freeze!” Cops held guns on them, ready to open fire.
At least that’s what Stieg thought until Erin asked, “Who the fuck gave you two idiots badges?”
The two Claws of Ran warriors grinned.
“The city of Laguna Beach,” one replied.
“That is so sad.”
The Claws lowered their guns. “And what are you two pretty birdies doing here?” the other asked.
“Trying to save the world,” Erin shot back. “And you?”
“With that rich bitch and her friends disappearing, we’ve been assigned to watch the house.”
“Good job,” Stieg mocked.
“Well, we weren’t looking to the skies to see if some scavengers were sneaking in to steal the woman’s panties to sell online.”
Stieg took a step toward the ocean-loving bastards, but Erin placed her hand against his chest, halting him.
“Most days,” she told him, “I’d be more than happy for a bird-fish fight, but we don’t have time for that.”
“Erin Amsel the rational one? The world really is ending.”
Erin grinned at the Claw. “Be nice, Flipper, or I’ll burn your lips off.”
“You better go,” the other Claw pushed when distant sirens came closer. “You two idiots set off the silent alarm.”