The Unyielding

  “You’ve got the Vatican keeping an eye on you. The priests don’t normally do that. They know better. So you need to talk to me.”

  “Actually,” Erin said, “I don’t. That is the beauty of being me.”

  “You’re hiding something.”

  “Probably.”

  Stieg leaned in closer, their faces nearly touching. “Tell me,” he ordered.

  Erin couldn’t help but smirk a little. “Make me.”

  His frown deepened and she thought for sure that he was going to kiss her.

  “Come on, Amsel,” he abruptly whined, eyes rolling in his head. “I don’t want to fight you.” He glanced at Hilda. “Not in front of the goat.”

  “Not in front of the . . .” Disgusted, Erin pushed her way out of Stieg’s hold. “I’m canceling breakfast. I need to get back to the house. Meet the new girls. Now, before I go, we need to get our stories straight.”

  “Our stories? About what?”

  “About what I was doing here last night.”

  “Hiding from the truth and lying to your friends?”

  “Are you going to be a dick about this?”

  “Only if I need to be. And since you’re not telling me the truth . . .”

  Sighing, Erin looked at her phone again and found the app to call her favorite car service. “I’m leaving,” she said once the app told her the car was on its way.

  “I can take you back.”

  “No thanks.” She walked toward the door. “But heads up. I’m telling everybody we slept together.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Because you’re my alibi for last night and no one would believe I was just hanging out with you.”

  “You tell them that, and it will not go well for you.”

  Erin stopped at the door, her hand on the knob. She looked back at Stieg. “Why would you say that?”

  “Because you’re you.”

  A little insulted, Erin faced him. “What does that mean?”

  “You tell everybody you slept with me, they’ll just think you took advantage. That will not go well for you. Trust me on this.”

  “Are you high?”

  “Honest.” When Erin just gawked at him, Stieg explained, “I’m the former street kid who is considered sensitive because of my tough upbringing and abusive father. You’re the Crow that every Clan male is warned to avoid. You tell your sisters that you slept with me, and it will not go well for you.”

  She laughed right in his face. “Okay. You believe that.” Rolling her eyes, she walked out the door.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” Stieg yelled after her.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Stieg walked into the main house on Raven territory.

  When he’d first arrived here, all those years ago, he’d hated this place. Hated everything about the Ravens. And told them so as often as he could manage. Every time he opened his mouth he told them. His first three months here he was called nothing but “the little asshole.”

  Honestly, he had no idea how he’d lasted as long as he had. The Ravens were rivaled only by the ancient Spartans when it came to training their brothers. And, over the centuries, they’d been accused of being abusive by other Clans like the Isa and Holde’s Maids. Even the Giant Killers. But Stieg had learned from his first brutal battle against demons that the Ravens had been preparing their young brothers for what they would face when they were old enough.

  Because of his training with the Ravens, Stieg had been able to survive a fight with a nine-foot Minotaur and beat a lesser fallen angel into a messy pulp of blood, brain, and shattered bones.

  Stieg no longer hated his brothers. He loved them and trusted them with his very life every day. He was grateful that they’d found him and that Odin had convinced him to join the Clan when the elders couldn’t. Taking his rightful place among the Ravens had been the best decision he’d ever made. Because now he was no longer some faceless street kid the beat cops were terrified of. He was no longer just the “idiot son of Agnarr Engstrom” as he was described by Agnarr Engstrom.

  Eventually, Stieg had made a name for himself among his brethren beyond “the little asshole.” Now he was Stieg the Always Angry. A title he’d gladly accepted without a smile because it had been true.

  He knew well that he was rude, cranky, short-tempered, with little patience for stupidity, and almost painfully stubborn.

  So stubborn, he’d refused to see his father when he’d come to the door looking for him, drunkenly yelling from the front of the house. Agnarr had thought he was still a Raven although his wings had been torn from his back by his own fight team and he’d been left bleeding on the streets of downtown Los Angeles. Of course, Agnarr blamed everyone for his troubles but himself and his weakness for drink. It had been bad enough living with the man when his mother lived, but once she’d died, Stieg knew his time at his father’s San Fernado Valley home would be short. Not willing to go back into the foster system—as he knew he would—Stieg had bailed at fourteen, unable to stand a moment more of the bastard.

  He’d lived on the streets until Odin came. He offered the usual. Women. Fights. Drink. A really nice car. All the things Ravens loved. Stieg had turned him down, too. But Odin was, among many things, smart. Or, as the Maids called it, devious. He found Stieg’s weak spot—Karen—and exploited it. A move that worked.

  And, all those years ago, as Stieg had stood on the second-floor landing of the Raven House, listening to his father bellow and curse and demand he “come down here and face me, you little pussy!” his brothers never moved. They never let the man in. Agnarr was no longer a Raven. He had no honor, and he no longer had a son.

  But Stieg had brothers. Loyal to him and to Odin unto death.

  He also had a fight team he’d been part of since he’d been ready for battle. His Elder brothers had placed Stieg with those whose temperament fit him perfectly.

  Vig Rundstöm. The nicest, shyest six-foot-seven-inch man Stieg had ever met who could lay waste to an entire battalion of demons without much effort.

  Siggy Kaspersen. Stieg’s best friend and drinking buddy who wasn’t as stupid as everyone thought, but didn’t really try hard to be smart, either. The guy loved a good beer, a good video game, and gods, he knew how to dance. Not easy for a six-four, three hundred and twenty pound man raised by a single-mom Valkyrie with a dance studio.

  Rolf Landvik. The brains of their team and the smallest, at only six-three and two hundred and sixty pounds. He could read runes, hear the dead speak, and found the Crows “charming.” He also loved a good bottle of wine and knew languages that weren’t Germanic in origin.

  As a team, they were awesome. With them as friends and Raven brothers, Stieg couldn’t be happier.

  Stieg walked down the marble halls of his Raven home but, as he neared the normally unused library—the books they had in there came with the original house—he slowed his gait, finally stopping right outside the open doors.

  He stopped and he listened.

  “Of all the people we have to count on . . . why is it her?” complained Josef, their leader.

  “The gods have always been cruel. Why should things change now?” That came from Vestarr Claesson. One of the oldest local Elders. When Stieg had first seen him out in the practice ring, he’d made the mistake of taking his age for a weakness, wondering why his trainer was forcing him to fight some old man.

  When Stieg woke up from his coma a day later . . . he knew why.

  Just hearing the man’s voice made Stieg’s right eye throb. That was the eye a healer had to force back in because it had popped out during the fight. There had been a worry Stieg would never see out of that eye again, but so far . . . you know . . . so good.

  “Should she be told?”

  “What if she runs?”

  “Crows don’t run.”

  “No. But they protect their own,” another Elder said. “They’ll die before they let anything happen to her. And we can’t even hope to win this wit
hout the Crows. So we wait and let them handle it.”

  “Fine. But . . .”

  The voices faded off and Stieg realized he now stood in front of the doors, watching the men he respected so much, with an intense distrust he hadn’t felt in years.

  “Stieg.” Josef glanced around at the others, wondering how much Stieg had heard. “Need something?”

  “Yes. I need a house. With a yard.”

  “We just moved you into that apartment.”

  “Yeah. But now I have the goat. And the goat needs a yard.”

  “You have a goat?” Josef asked. “Why do you have a goat?”

  “I don’t know. I came home one day . . . and there was a goat. Her name is Hilda. So I need a house.”

  Josef let out an annoyed sigh. “Fine. We’ll get you a house. I’ll talk to Danny. He’s got some local properties that might work.”

  Stieg nodded. “Okay.” He stood there and waited.

  Finally, Josef asked, “Why are you just standing there?”

  “Why can’t I just stand here?”

  Josef took in a breath and looked down at the ground, which meant he was getting angry. So Stieg wasn’t surprised when he suddenly barked, “Siggy!”

  Big steps charged down the stairs and Siggy slid to a stop in front of Stieg. “Hey!” he greeted Stieg. “What’s going on?”

  But when Siggy looked over at Josef and the Elders, his happy grin faded, and he took Stieg’s arm. “Come on, brother. Let’s go . . . away.”

  * * *

  “So, what do you know about them?” Erin asked her team leader and the LA Crows’ second in command, Tessa.

  They stood right by the open sliding doors that looked out over their enormous backyard with the Olympic-size pool.

  The twins, Ailey and Aisling O’Reily, were very pretty, tall, thin twenty-year-old girls with long blond hair and big blue eyes. Even with opposite arms in casts, they looked like something out of a “Come to Ireland” tourist ad. They sat at one of the round, metal picnic tables that dotted the backyard. Several of the sister-Crows sat around them, explaining their new life.

  As the girls listened, they had that stunned expression new Crows often had. As if seeing the world for the first time.

  In a way they were. They were no longer average women going about their average day. Simply worrying about the bills, the kids, the husband. Now they had to worry about those sorts of things and the end of the world. About the gods and their wars. About hatred and revenge and the desperation of those who feel they’re losing their power. Because all those things were part of the eventual destruction of the existence they all knew.

  Or, as Erin liked to call it among her sister-Crows, “What happens when men become assholes.”

  “So I heard Betty’s going to be their mentor,” Erin said.

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?” Erin thought their leader had been prepping her to become a mentor to the new Crows.

  Betty Lieberman had done it for many years, but she was an Elder Crow now, semi-retired, and spent less time at the Bird House and more time keeping her creative agency flying high. Plus, Betty had been out of her gods-induced coma for only about three weeks now. It seemed she’d need a bit of rest rather than jumping in with two new girls.

  “I thought I did okay with Kera.”

  “You did great, Erin. Kera’s already a War General. The fastest in Clan history.”

  Erin knew she was feeling a little sensitive after her conversation with Stieg, but she still had to ask, “Then what’s the problem?”

  Tessa shrugged. “They are.”

  Erin didn’t understand what Tessa was talking about. The twins were just sitting there, listening to everyone as Jace placed a tray of fresh-squeezed orange juice and Danishes on the table. Without looking at each other, the twins reached for the same glass, their fingers barely grazing—that’s when twin number one suddenly hauled off and punched twin number two, sending the girl flipping back off the bench.

  Twin number two hit the ground hard, but she was up and on her sister in seconds, the pair knocking over the big table, sending the other sister-Crows scrambling to get out of their way. Juice and Danishes flew every which way.

  “Holy shit!” Erin yelped, laughing out loud. “What the fuck?”

  “Yeahhhhh.” Tessa sighed. “Yeah.”

  Erin watched the bloody brawl, her fellow sister-Crows trying to haul the twins apart, but neither girl was having it.

  “Are they always like this?” Erin had to ask.

  “Apparently so. That’s how they died.”

  “Wait . . . what?”

  Tessa nodded. “It somehow started off as a brief knife fight—involving bread knives—at their mother’s house, which led to a car chase, which led to a car accident, which led to road rage, which led to them fighting on the 101 overpass near Studio City, which led to them fighting off the overpass before the cops and fire department could get to them. They died on scene but Skuld brought them back. Now they’re being called ‘lucky’ in the news that they only had a few scrapes and broken bones. They just got out of the hospital. Found out from one of my old nursing buddies they had to separate them during their recovery. A lot. And they’ve had their casts replaced twice, I think.”

  Loving this, Erin asked, “Is it over some guy? It’s over some guy, isn’t it?”

  “Apparently no.” Tessa watched their sister-Crows attempting to pull the O’Reily twins apart, but now that they had their newfound strength, they were determined to kill each other all over again. “Chloe called their mother—offering the services of our wonderful rehab and our skills at managing those with anger issues blah blah blah—and apparently they’ve been like this since they were inside her. She actually has no desire to see them again. Not when she has six other kids who are normal and have children of their own and everyone is happier without the twins around.”

  “Damn. Dude . . . damn.”

  “I know, right?”

  Two Crows fell into the pool when one of the twins shoved them off so she could wrap her hands around her twin’s throat and attempt to choke the life out of her.

  “Huh,” Erin said, her mind turning.

  “What? What’s that look for?”

  “Well . . . I could be wrong, but you know how we can’t die the same way we died in our first life?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m just wondering if for them, it isn’t just a matter of not being able to die falling off another bridge . . . or if no matter what they do to each other . . . they can never kill each other again.”

  Tessa gawked at Erin. “Why would you say that?”

  “Because it’s kind of true. It wasn’t the fall that killed them as much as it was each other. I mean, they could have died in the car accident. They could have died during the knife fight in their mother’s house. So it’s not just the manner of death, but what actually caused it. Which would be . . . them.”

  Tessa buried her face in her hands and Erin could hear her whispering “Fuck” over and over again.

  Not that Erin blamed her.

  One twin got the better of another and had her in a brutal headlock; the other began to turn blue, but it was competing with the red hue of her rage.

  Erin was completely enthralled by all this. She couldn’t look away! Watching twins battling each other for what appeared to be no real reason was like watching professional wrestling. Or a documentary on two wild animals trying to survive life on the African plains.

  “What are we watching?” a voice asked from behind them, causing both Erin and Tessa to let out yips of surprise.

  It wasn’t easy to sneak up behind Crows, but they’d been so distracted by the twins...

  “Vig,” Tessa greeted the dark pile of hair and muscle standing behind them.

  One of the first things that had impressed Erin about Kera was that she saw past the terrifying visage that was and always would be Ludvig Rundstöm. Before any of them even knew Kera Watson exis
ted, Kera had met Vig at the coffee shop where she worked, and had been kind to him when most everyone else avoided the man. Not surprising. He looked like a mass murderer waiting to happen.

  But he wasn’t. He simply came from a long line of brutal Vikings who raped and pillaged their way up and down the European coasts. And that was before any of them were chosen as Ravens for Odin. Although he battled like his ancestors, Vig had managed to avoid the raping and pillaging pretty well for most of his life.

  “We’re watching the two new girls,” Erin explained, motioning to the battling twins.

  “Huh,” was all Vig replied as he watched the fight, not saying another word for about two full minutes. Finally, he turned to Erin and asked, “What were you doing at Stieg’s place last night?”

  Tessa’s head snapped around, dark eyes locking on Erin. “What? You were you at Stieg’s last night? Why? Why were you at Stieg’s last night?”

  While Vig was calm with his question—more curious than anything—Tessa sounded panicked.

  Erin just didn’t know why. “Well—”

  “Oh, Erin . . . you didn’t sleep with him, did you?”

  “Uh—”

  “Did you take advantage of that boy?”

  Erin blinked, not even bothering to hide her smile. “Pardon me? Take advantage of Stieg Engstrom? Seriously?”

  “Erin. You know he’s been through a lot.” Tessa sounded so disappointed in her.

  “Why are you whispering? He’s not here.” Considering all the crap Erin had pulled over the years, sleeping with a Raven wasn’t something she thought she’d ever get in trouble for. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

  “For you, maybe. But what about him? What about Stieg?”

  “What about him? He got laid. Do you really think anything else matters to a guy?”

  Sadly tsk-tsk-tsking, Tessa turned away from Erin and walked past the sliding doors to help get control of the twins.

  “Is she really mad?” Erin asked Vig.

  “I don’t know if I’d say that she’s mad as much as disappointed in you as a fellow Crow and disgusted by you as a human being.”

  “Wait . . . what?”

  * * *

  “I think they’re hiding something from us.”