That paw started to come down and Kera raised an arm and yelled out, “Wait!” The bear stopped, stared at her, its arm still raised. “Why don’t we talk about this?”
The bear growled.
“Or not,” she squeaked.
The bear pulled its arm back again, but Vig dropped from the sky onto its back. He yanked Kera’s blade out of the bear’s neck and tossed it to her before grabbing the bear by its muzzle and prying its jaw apart. Then he kept prying as the bear tried to swipe Vig off.
Kera took her blade and ran to the bear, sliding in the mud and blood and muck on her knees until she was between the bear’s legs. She stabbed up into its inner thigh, having to push hard to get past fur and skin and muscle and bury her weapon deep into the artery.
She pulled her blade out and did the same thing to its other inner thigh. When blood began to flow freely from both wounds, she scrambled back in time to see Vig yank the powerful jaws apart until the bone holding them together split. Vig lifted the top jaw up farther until he ripped it off. Then he jumped down and away, allowing the bear to fall dead in the mud.
“Hate shifters,” Vig muttered. “Tricky. They’re all tricky. Never forget that.”
“Thanks,” Kera said as she got to her feet. Then she punched Vig in the face. Hard.
Vig stumbled to the side, his hand reaching up to touch his jaw. “What the hell—”
“Don’t you ever leave me alone with rape-loving Vikings again.”
“But—”
“You just left me! Never again!”
Vig held his hands up, moved his jaw around. “Fine. But there was a purpose to—”
“I don’t care.”
“I would never have let anything happen to—”
“I don’t care!”
Vig leaned his head away from her yelling and promised, “Fine. Never again.”
In the distance, Kera heard a deep, resounding noise radiate throughout the valley. “What the hell is that?”
“The horn that calls the surviving warriors to the halls for the feast.”
“Good. I’m starving.” She started to follow the stream of warriors moving toward one of the shining castles in the distance, but Vig grabbed her by the back of her tank top and pulled her to his side.
“We should wash up first. Before we go in. Or we’ll be using the communal washbowl to—”
“That’s all you needed to say,” Kera cut in, pulling away from him and walking toward a creek. “Communal washbowl. There’s really no reason to even finish the rest of that sentence.”
Kera washed her hands, arms, and face in a spot where clean water flowed . . . away from the bodies that bled out nearby.
In silence, Vig did the same and, once done, together they walked toward the hall. It wasn’t a short walk and by the time they reached the Halls of Valhalla, most of the remaining warriors were sitting down and eating. But as soon as Kera walked in, they all stopped . . . and stared at her.
She immediately started to pull back, to walk away, but Vig placed his hand against her spine and pushed her forward.
“Show them no weakness,” he murmured against her ear as he pressed her forward with that warm hand against her back. “Never show them weakness. Show them that you’ll never back off. That you’ll never stop fighting. That you’ll take all of them with you if you have to.”
Using her Marine training, Kera kept her shoulders back, her chest out, and her spine stiff as she walked by all those men and women. As she was halfway through, wondering how she’d make it all the way across this enormous hall with all those eyes on her, she heard a caw from the rafters. She raised her eyes and saw crows and ravens watching her from above. The crows began to caw at her, pushing her on. The ravens joined in, their low croaks seeming to dance between the crows’ higher-pitched sounds. They were singing to her.
By the time Kera was across the hall, nearing the many tables that held her sisters and Vig’s Raven brothers, their horns, mugs of ale, or fists were slamming against the wooden surface, welcoming both her and Vig to join them.
Vig’s hand slipped to the back of her neck, and his thumb brushed a spot right behind her ear that nearly had her knees buckling. Then, just as quickly, his hand was gone and he moved over to the table with his brothers.
Kera was called to the table where the First Crow sat. Beside her was an East Indian Crow with beautiful long black hair and the darkest eyes Kera had ever seen.
“Hello, my beauty,” the East Indian Crow said, wrapping Kera in a warm hug. “I’ve heard so much about you today. I’m glad you’re here to join us.”
With a flip of her hand, she moved a Crow out of the spot beside her so that Kera could sit next to her.
“I’m Aditi.”
“I may be the first crow,” the First Crow announced, reaching for the platter of ribs making its way down the table, “but Aditi is our mother. The one who gave us . . . what is that word you always use?”
“Empathy.”
“Yes. Empathy. For those besides ourselves.”
Aditi pushed Kera’s hair off her face and studied her eyes closely. After nearly a minute, Aditi smiled and leaned in to kiss Kera’s forehead.
“You will do well among us, sweet Kera,” Aditi said. “You have finally found where you belong.”
“I have?”
“I know it takes time to realize that. But no matter your people, the gods you worshiped, the kings you knelt to, or the army you keep talking about even though you’re no longer a part of it”—Kera at first thought Aditi meant her, but those beautiful brown eyes cut across the table to briefly focus on the Russian Crow Kera had met earlier—“your loyalty will always be to your sisters. Because you’ll know, in your soul, that in return, their loyalty will always be to you.”
Aditi dumped big chunks of pork onto Kera’s plate and the First Crow dropped several big ribs.
“Eat,” Aditi urged. “If you do not, after so much fighting today, you will drop like stone. It will not be pretty.”
Starving as she was, Kera didn’t need much more prompting. She dug in and was surprised the food wasn’t half bad. Actually, it was quite good. And she was relieved. She hated the thought of dying and having to eat crappy food for the rest of eternity. She briefly wondered why she’d have to eat at all if she were dead, but her hunger kept her from analyzing anything too much. She was offered wine, ale, or mead, but thankfully, there was water and she stuck with that. She’d always liked staying stone-cold sober in a room full of drunken men.
As Kera’s appetite was finally satiated after several plates of meat and bread, she heard a squealed, “Oh my gosh! Is that her?” from the other end of the table. Then two women ran over to her and hugged her.
“Welcome!” one cheered.
“Hello, sweetie!” said the other.
“Hello.”
“You don’t know us. But we were the first L.A. Crows. Back in the Stone Age of 1934.”
“How are our L.A. girls doing?” the other asked.
“Going strong.”
“That is so good to hear,” said the first. “You may not know this but we’ve always been known for having the most beautiful Crows.”
“And the most talented.”
“And we bet you are, too!” squeaked the first. “So, whenever you’re ready to meet the rest of the L.A. gang, you let us know, sweetie. We usually hang out at the other end of the table.”
“You can also find a bunch of us at Freyja’s hall. She has really good ribs.”
Kera looked down the table, frowned, then squinted. “Is that . . . is that Bette Davis?”
The two women smirked. “We’ll never tell.”
“Oh, my God,” Kera gasped. “Is that Dorothy Dandridge? My grandfather loved her.” Kera shook her head. “They were both Crows?”
“Told you. The best table . . . the most interesting people. You must join us.”
“She does not want your capitalist stars,” the Russian Crow cut in. “She
has seen war. She belongs with fierce warriors, not pretty people created to lull the masses into pathetic stupidity.”
“Oh my God!” Kera squealed. “Is that Katharine Hepburn?”
When Vig realized one of his great-great-great-great uncles was about to again tell the story of meeting Ivar the Boneless, he sneaked away in search of Kera. He walked to the table filled with Crows, but he couldn’t see Kera among them. One of the Crows, though, smiled and motioned toward a small doorway off to the side. Vig nodded his thanks and made his way outside. He found Kera playing with some of the dogs. She had a two-hundred-pound beast, blood still on its muzzle, on its back so that she could rub the dog’s stomach like he was a defenseless puppy.
“Having fun?” Vig asked, keeping his voice calm so that he didn’t startle her or those dogs. They hadn’t been chosen lightly by Odin. They were powerful battle dogs, bred specifically to fight and kill during wartime.
“Yeah,” Kera replied easily. “I’m having a blast!” On her knees, she placed both hands against the dog’s chest and began scratching him from under his chin down to his belly. “I got to talk to . . .” she stopped, glanced back at the hall, “a certain actress for a good thirty minutes.”
“Do you mean Kat—”
“Sssssssh. She doesn’t like to make a big deal of it,” Kera whispered.
“Except here,” Vig whispered back, “it isn’t a big deal.”
“It is to me. It’s huge!” She laughed and patted the dog on his chest before standing up. “Thank you, Vig. This was amazing. I met the First Crow. I met Aditi.”
“I like her.”
“And there’s a whole goddamn group of Nachthexen!”
Vig chuckled. “Who?”
“Night Witches! Nachthexen were what the Germans called them during World War II. They were Red pilots and deadly. They still seem to be fans of Stalin, which is definitely off-putting, but other than that . . .”
“Do you want to go back in? You haven’t even met Eleanor Roosevelt yet. Although I didn’t actually see her, so she may be at Freya’s hall tonight. Better ribs.”
“Eleanor Roo . . . ? She was a Crow, too?”
“Yeah. Skuld likes them smart and she is definitely smart. Big on reason and logic. So you two have a lot in common.”
“No.” Kera shook her head, adamant. “I don’t want to ruin it. I want this as a wonderful memory. You start learning too much about people, or meeting your greatest heroes, and you suddenly find out what dicks they really are.” She brushed dirt off her knees. “And apparently, after I die, I’ll have until Ragnarok comes to learn the good and bad of even the amazing Eleanor Roosevelt!” She grabbed Vig’s arm and her voice went up twelve octaves when she asked, “How cool is that?”
Vig laughed, remembering how excited he’d been when he’d met the Vikings he’d grown up hearing about all his life. A few he’d even managed to defeat in battle, which gave him a bit of remorse as well as a sense of superiority he hadn’t had before.
This was why he’d brought Kera here. Why he’d risked her life and his own on Odin’s field of battle. Because if she could survive here, then the human world would be much less of a challenge.
“Are you still angry at me, or do you want to go for a walk?”
“I’m furious, but my sister-Crows have put me in a surprisingly good mood.”
“Aren’t you afraid you’ll find out what a dick I really am?”
“Aw, sweetie, I already know. And so far . . . I’m not too bothered.”
While Kera waited outside, Vig sneaked back into the hall and retrieved a few clean bedrolls and some extra food. He then led them away from Odin’s hall and deep into the surrounding territories of Asgard.
First he took her to a field filled with winged horses of every color and size. Their offspring would be given to Valkyries throughout the world. One of the stallions came right up to Kera and let her pet him. When Vig got too close, though, the horse tried to bite his hand off. It was funny only because Vig was extremely quick and didn’t actually lose his hand.
After that, one of the mares led them down a steep path until they hit a very small, intimate lake. The water was heated by underground volcanos, Vig said, and the surrounding area had lush greenery and no snow. Kera was grateful. She wasn’t in the mood to sleep on ice if she could help it.
Vig rolled out the bedding and dropped to the ground with a happy sigh. He pulled off his boots and socks and sighed again when he wiggled his toes.
Kera sat down beside him. “It’s really beautiful here.”
“It is. It reminds me of home.”
Kera glanced over at him. “Do you ever think about going back to Sweden?”
“Sometimes. Especially during the World Cup.”
“World Cup? That’s soccer, right?”
He chuckled. “Yes. That’s soccer.”
“I hear that tone. Don’t think I don’t hear that tone.”
“The most popular game in the entire world and Americans are like, ‘eh.’ ”
“Because we have American football. Of the two, I think your Old World Vikings were built more for that rather than soccer.”
“They wouldn’t like all the padding.”
“Have you seen some of our football players? If they didn’t have the padding, they’d all be up on murder charges. Some are anyway,” she added, “but for a completely different reason.”
Kera had her own boots and socks off now and she unstrapped the sheath from her ankle. She stretched her legs out and, like Vig, wiggled her toes.
“My muscles are pleasantly sore,” she murmured.
“They’ll be worse tomorrow.”
Kera looked over at him. Stared.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing.” Kera glanced off and noted, “Not a lot of Nazis.”
Vig seemed confused by that statement, so he asked, “Pardon?”
“I thought among the warriors here there’d be a lot of . . . ya know . . . Nazis.”
“Oh. I see. Well . . . Odin wasn’t a fan.”
“Because he’s so open-minded and liberal thinking?”
“No. Because nothing irritates gods more than humans who think they are gods. You won’t find Napoleon or Stalin or Idi Amin here either. Let their own gods sort them out; our gods have bigger issues to deal with.”
Kera placed her hands behind her, palms flat, and leaned back.
“So,” she finally asked after several minutes of silence, “have you been stalking me since you saw me the first time at the coffeehouse or did it start recently?”
“I have not been stalking you.”
“Oh really?”
“A few hours of slaughter and someone has become kind of full of herself, thinking guys are running around stalking her.”
“Not guys. Just you. And if you didn’t stalk me, how did you know where my apartment was?”
Vig’s jaw twitched. “Huh?”
“Don’t ‘huh’ me, Ludvig. The day when The Silent came to my place, I told you I was going to my apartment but didn’t give you my address, but you still showed up. How did you know where I lived?”
“You know, Kera—”
“Lie to me, and I’ll crush you.”
Vig began rubbing his nose and she knew he was embarrassed, but she didn’t care. He should be a little embarrassed.
“Okay. When I first saw you, I asked one of my Raven brothers to find out what he could about you. He’s got a security company and has access to that sort of information. He gave me a dossier—”
“A dossier?” Kera sat up straight. “You got a dossier on me? You’re starting to sound like my Navy SEAL ex.”
“It sounds bad, I know,” he admitted. “But,” he quickly went on, “I didn’t use it for anything weird. That day with The Silent was the first time I ever went to your apartment and it was just to help you move. I swear.”
“How many girls have you gotten dossiers on?”
“None. Except you.”
>
“Why didn’t you just ask me out . . . like a normal person?”
“To be honest, I didn’t think you’d stay at that job as long as you did. I wanted the info so I could track you down if you disappeared on me before I worked up the balls to ask you on a date.”
“Vig, you don’t seem shy. Introverted, definitely. But not shy. Why was it so hard for you to just ask me out?”
“Because I knew you wouldn’t say yes. I just wasn’t sure why at that time, but now I know it was because you thought I’d . . . what did you call it? That I’d gotten my brain scrambled.”
Kera bit the inside of her mouth. She didn’t want to laugh in his face, but he was absolutely right. From the first day she’d seen him, she’d felt bad for him and wanted nothing more than to get him into a good VA program. That was it. So his instincts had been right—she’d never have agreed to go out with him then.
“You really want to laugh at me right now, don’t you?”
Kera busted out laughing, dropping her head into Vig’s lap and rolling on her back, her hands covering her face.
“Treacherous female,” he muttered, even as he stroked her hair.
When she finally finished laughing at him—which took a little longer than Vig would have liked—he asked, “Can we just forget how badly I screwed up here?”
Kera lowered her hands. “Forget? No. Because this will make excellent dinner party conversation years from now. But now that I know you better, I won’t hold it against you.”
“Thank you.”
Kera reached up and wrapped Vig’s hair around her finger.
“I like your new tattoo,” he told her.
“Thank you. Erin did that for me.”
“A lot of the Ravens go to her for their work. I’ve always heard that she was good.”
“She is. And she’s been wanting to cover my ex’s name since the first day I got to the Bird House. It seemed to really bother her.”
“Then I owe her one because I hated that his name was on you.”
“I wouldn’t give it much thought. I was really toasted when I got it. So was he. It was just a bad night in Taiwan. I always intended to get it covered but I didn’t have the money.”