And yet . . . here they all were. Arguing. As if that would somehow fix their problem. It wouldn’t. It was simply a waste of their time.
Too bad Kera had no tolerance for any of that. She’d been to war-torn countries, fighting to protect others and the United States. So the old Viking ways were not sitting well with the newest Crow.
At least that’s what Jace assumed when her friend suddenly stood up and bellowed like the drill sergeant in Full Metal Jacket, “That is enough!”
Shocked that someone was interrupting what Erin called the Ritual of Yelling Vikings, the entire cavern fell silent, everyone focusing on the “new girl.”
“Do any of you understand what the fuck just happened today?” Kera demanded. “Gullveig is building an army with the Mara and the Carrion. And from what I can tell, the Carrion are the Nordic equivalent of the Red Army during the worst Eastern Front winter. So sitting here, listening to you bitches argue over bullshit is not something I’m willing to do.”
“Well,” the leader of the Silent, Brandt Lindgren, said, his voice dripping with condescension, “what would you suggest, since you seem to have such brilliant insight.”
“Watch your tone, Lindgren,” Vig growled. “Or I’ll tear out your tongue.”
“No,” Kera said, raising her hand at her boyfriend. “I want to answer this, Vig. Because you know what I won’t do?” she asked Lindgren. “I won’t waste my fucking time with your bullshit.”
Erin leaned over and whispered to Jace, “Okay, I kind of love her.”
Jace had to agree. Kera was cutting through all the usual ridiculousness and getting right to the heart of the matter. Her Marine sensibilities simply wouldn’t let her do anything else.
“We also can’t waste our time arguing here. In a cave.” Kera looked around at the Clan members. “We need to come up with a plan. We need to stop Gullveig.”
“How? Even the gods couldn’t.”
“They stopped her, they just couldn’t kill her.”
“And you think that we can?”
“I think that everything can be destroyed. You just gotta find what will do the job.”
“And you believe that with your eminent brilliance you can figure out what that is?”
Kera glanced back at Jace and Erin, and Erin nodded. “Yeah, sweetie, that was totally an insult.”
“Okay. Thanks. I just wanted to check before I snapped.”
But Kera didn’t have the chance to “snap,” because Inka, the leader of Holde’s Maids, did it for her. “Oh, shut up, Brandt. At least she’s trying to do something.”
“And she’s not wrong,” Ormi added. “Gullveig has to be stopped.”
“Then it is up to us,” Freida announced, standing and placing the head of her big hammer on her shoulder. “We shall call upon the mighty power of Thor to destroy her!”
“Oh my gawd,” Rada, leader of the Claws of Ran barked with a heavy, put-upon sigh. “What part of ‘even the gods couldn’t destroy her’ didn’t you understand, Freida? Like, how dumb are you?”
Again, Kera glanced back at Jace and Erin, and Erin whispered, “She’s from the Valley circa 1983.”
“Ohhh. Okay.”
“Our Thor can destroy anything!”
“Your Thor grabbed my tits at the Crow party.”
“Get over it,” Yardley told Rada. “He grabbed everyone’s tits at the Crow party. Even the guys’.” She glanced at her sister-Crows. “It was not pretty.”
Kera lifted her hands, palms out. “Okay, let’s stay focused. I’m sure if Thor could have gotten rid of her, he would have done so the first time they tried. Three times they killed her. Three times they burned her. She kept coming back.”
“Someone’s been reading Snorri Sturluson,” Erin joked to Jace.
“Except he didn’t write the Poetic Edda,” she told her friend, “which is where Gullveig is mentioned. He wrote the Prose Edda.”
“Jace, I’m a German Jew,” Erin sighed. “I know the Torah and I know the Bible. That’s about it. So stop killing my jokes.”
“Except it was incorrect.”
“What do you suggest, Crow?” Inka asked Kera. “What do you think we should do?”
Kera’s eyes widened a bit. “What do I think we should do?”
“You opened your big yap,” Erin reminded her.
“Well, I think the first thing we need to do is come up with an action plan,” Ski interjected before giving Kera a sweet, encouraging smile. “Don’t you think so, Kera?”
“Action plan?” Kera appeared confused for a moment, but her expression cleared quickly. The woman did love active participation. “Yes! An action plan. First we need to list our main goals.”
Chloe suddenly reached into her backpack and pulled out a clipboard with a notepad and a rollerball pen. She handed them over to an eager Kera.
“You brought her a clipboard?” Erin demanded, her lip curling in disgust.
“Do you know what makes me a good leader?” she asked Erin.
“Using others to get your work done?”
“Yes. That is it exactly.”
“First and main goal,” Kera said, writing it down on her pad, “is to destroy Gullveig. But, of course, we can’t do that right away. But that’s our main goal. Our overall objective. Now, all our other goals need to come from this main goal.”
Erin looked at her sister-Crows. “I told you guys, and I told you guys. We should beat her into submission from the beginning. But nooooo. Couldn’t do that! And now look at the situation we’re in! She has a clipboard!”
Ski had to admit once Kera Watson had her own personal goal—getting everything organized—she was a hell of a wartime general. Of course, she didn’t really understand that yet. She didn’t understand that not only had Skuld chosen her as a Crow, but it seemed she’d chosen her to lead the human armies of the Nordic gods into battle, but Kera would figure that out soon enough.
Until then, though, Ski had no problem helping her.
He liked her directness. Her no-nonsense attitude. And her intolerance for others’ bullshit.
She now stood in the middle of the cavern, with the rest of the Clans staring down at her. She’d passed her clipboard off to Yardley, who, although a movie superstar, was happily taking notes for her sister-Crow.
The plan was simple in design but not exactly in execution. There were lots of moving parts, and a lot of relying on sometimes unreliable people and gods getting things done.
The thing was, Ski knew that Kera would make sure things got done. It was in her nature.
“What about the Carrion?” Lindgren asked. Now that everyone else had begun to take Kera seriously, so had the Silent leader. Not that it made him any less of a dick.
“It’ll be up to the Crows and the Ravens to keep them off the Maids’ backs.”
“And us,” Freida called out.
Kera glanced over at Vig, but he could only shrug. If the Giant Killers wanted in, the Ravens and Crows couldn’t really stop them. Besides, they needed all the Clans involved in this.
“Of course,” Kera finally said, forcing a smile. “That would be”—she cleared her throat—“awesome.”
Erin’s snort filled the cavern and when everyone turned to look at her, she put her head down and pretended to have a little coughing fit.
“Anything else I might be missing?” Kera asked. When she didn’t get an answer, she said, “Okay. Guess that’s it.”
The meeting broke up, everyone going their separate ways. There was another small skirmish between Chloe and Josef, but that was broken up quickly and the groups headed down available tunnels to reach the ocean.
Ski pushed through the others to get to Jace’s side. He slipped his hand into hers and she turned, fist raised. But when she saw who it was, she smiled and put her hand down.
“Hi!”
“What was that?”
“What?”
“You were about to hit me.”
“No. Not you.”
/> Still holding hands, they started walking.
“Come home with me?” he asked.
“I’ll be back in the morning. We have a list of things we have to research.”
“I’m not talking about research, Jacinda.”
“I should go home first. I have to feed the dog.”
“I can feed him,” Kera offered from behind them. She walked with Erin and Yardley, while her Raven boyfriend and the two idiots who traveled with him brought up the rear.
“Maybe you shouldn’t listen to my private conversations.”
Rundstöm wrapped his arms around Kera’s waist and lifted her off the floor. She squealed and laughed, as Erin pushed past them to say to Jace, “Cut Kera some slack, Jace. She’s just trying to get you laid.”
Jace abruptly stopped and faced her friend, her hand still in Ski’s.
Ski stood there, watching her stare down her smaller friend until Erin finally asked, “I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me with this stare.”
“She’s telling you,” Stieg Engstrom explained, “to mind your own business. It’s called discretion. You should try it sometime.”
Engstrom winked at Jace, but when he looked up at Ski, his expression changed to one of . . . well . . . hhhmm . . . yeah. Hatred. Definite hatred. Then he was gone, down the tunnel and out the exit.
Kera moved past them, now attached to Rundstöm’s back. Her arms around his disturbingly thick neck, her legs around his surprisingly narrow waist. She seemed happy, though. Ski couldn’t deny that she did seem happy.
“We’ll take care of Lev, and we’ll touch base tomorrow,” Kera said.
“You sure?”
“Of course.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“Any time.”
As the two Crows chatted amiably, Rundstöm stared at Ski and Ski smiled.
Rundstöm was moving toward him when Kera grabbed a chunk of the Raven’s hair and barked, “No!”
“But—”
“No! Just go.”
“What did you do?” Jace asked when Kera and the Raven were gone.
“Just smiled pleasantly.”
She shook her head as they neared the exit. “Always instigating. You’re almost as bad as Erin!”
As they walked down the tunnel, the stragglers passed them and disappeared into the night. Those with wings took to the skies. Claws grabbed their surfboards and went night-surfin’. Those without wings went to their cars, motorcycles, and trucks.
By the time Jace and Ski reached the exit, they were alone and quiet.
Ski hoped that last night hadn’t scared her. The excitement one felt right after sex tended to wear off, leaving one feeling. . . regretful? Was that what Jace’s silence meant? That she regretted their time together?
He hoped not. But if she did, he’d make it up to her tonight.
He’d take it slow. Maybe make her dinner. They’d discuss philosophers or something. He’d let her know that she meant more to him than just someone new to sleep with.
And he would definitely not jump on her as soon as they walked into the house.
They landed in the Protectors’ backyard and Jace shook out her wings before retracting them.
“You hungry?” Ski asked after doing the same.
“Well . . . yeah . . . I guess.”
He chuckled. “If you’re not hungry yet, Jace, we can do something else. Watch TV. Hit the bookstore down the street. They have cupcakes. Do you like cupcakes? I love cup—”
He loved cupcakes. She didn’t know many men who would happily admit that unless they were trying to show exactly how tough they were. “Yeah. I like cupcakes. What about it?” But not Ski. He loved cupcakes. Going to a bookstore was a fun thing to suggest for two people in a romantic relationship.
She didn’t know if it was the bookstore or the cupcake talk, but one of them prompted her to stick her tongue down Danski Eriksen’s throat.
There was just something about him that made her so crazy. Like hot and cold and itchy. Normally these would be considered signs of an infection. But these weren’t unpleasant experiences for her, just something different.
Still kissing him, Jace pushed him against the closest wall, which turned out to be more of a pillar. Their house had pillars? Well, this was LA, so of course their house had pillars.
Ski dug his hands into her hair, tilting her head to the side and massaging her scalp with the tips of his fingers, and wow! Did that feel good.
For a woman who did not like to be touched—and she really didn’t—she was surprisingly happy to have Ski put his hands all over her. She couldn’t think of one place on her body that she didn’t want his hands to explore. And his mouth.
That thought had her growling—she wasn’t even angry!—and reaching for his jeans. They should do this in his bedroom, but that would have to wait until they got this first one out of the way and—
“There you two are!” Bear said, following a smirking Salka over to them.
And Jace knew that cat was smirking! Evil cat!
Pulling back, Jace unnecessarily adjusted her clothes, but that bit of insecurity didn’t last long once Bear shoved a stack of books into her arms.
“Here. Translate these.” He looked at Ski. “You’ll want to order food in.”
Then he walked away. Just like that. Did he not see what he’d walked in on? Did he not care?
Of course he didn’t. He was Marbjörn Ingolfsson. The most clueless Bear of them all.
“Is everyone here?” Ski asked his Protector brother’s back.
“Yep. So get a lot of food. We’re hungry.”
Ski’s head dropped, chin against his chest. “I’m so sorry, Jace.”
“It’s okay,” she told him around the stack of books, making it a little hard to see.
He took more than half the books from her. “Maybe later—” Ski began.
But it was like Bear knew, and he stuck his head out the glass doors to add, “It’s going to be a late night. Make sure there’s coffee on.”
“By Tyr’s missing hand!” Ski snarled before walking into the house.
Jace stopped long enough to look down at the cat that was walking beside her.
“I know this was you,” she accused. “And you’d better get used to having me around, little miss.”
Salka circled her legs, purring and rubbing herself against Jace for a few seconds before stepping away. That’s when Jace saw the cat’s tail rise up.
“And don’t even think of spraying me!”
Jace watched the cat saunter away, tail flicking at her, and she remembered why she was a dog person.
Kera sat down at the counter in Vig’s kitchen and poured out two glasses of wine. One for her and one for Vig.
“So, how does it feel?” he asked her from the kitchen, where he was whipping up something delicious, she was sure. He was a great cook, but she couldn’t hang with his love of Swedish cooking. French, Italian, Greek . . . fine. But Swedish . . . no. She’d tried, but no.
“How does what feel?”
“Being a war general.”
Kera choked on her wine as Vig walked out of the kitchen, a dish towel tossed over his shoulder. He stared at her through all that hair.
“Something I said?” he asked.
“I’m . . . I’m not a war general.”
“You are now.”
“That’s Chloe.”
“No. Chloe’s the leader of the LA Crows. And she’s that leader all the time. But a war general will lead our Clans into battle. All our Clans. And when you stepped up tonight, that’s what you became. A war general.”
He gazed at her for a bit before asking, “You’re going to throw up, aren’t you?”
Kara shook her head but she guessed he didn’t believe her when he stuck the small trash can by the counter under her face.
“I don’t have to throw up,” she reassured him.
“You sure? When you first got here—”
“I know what I di
d when I first got here, and no, I don’t have to throw up. I just . . . I’m not a war general. I’m logistics. That’s what I do. I make things happen.”
“For the Clans . . . that’s a war general. If we left it up to everyone else, it would be nothing but fighting and fucking.” He leaned over the basket and kissed her forehead. “You’ll be fine.”
“I hope so. Because if I’m not fine, apparently the world will blow up.”
“No. It won’t blow up. Just nearly everything and everyone will be destroyed in a cataclysm of fire, battle, and blood between the gods, the giants, and Jörmungandr the Midgard serpent, who’ll wrap himself around our world and crush it.”
Kera grabbed the trash can.
“What?” Vig asked her over the heaving. “What did I say?”
His parishioners thought he was being foolish. Coming back here. But he had to know the truth. He had to know what he was dealing with.
He made his way onto the property and kept to the bushes, moving slowly and carefully. It took him ages.
Women sat out in the backyard at tables, talking and laughing. Enjoying themselves while music played. Some danced with each other. Some drank beer or hard liquor poured straight from the bottle.
At a rehab center?
And above them all were crows. Hundreds of them, in the trees. Watching over them.
That was enough for Braddock. He needed to rescue his wife from this. He needed to bring her back safely into the fold and away from these whores.
But before he could move, a large pit bull ran over to the bushes that grew around the house itself and began digging. After a few minutes, she grabbed hold of something and began to pull. Before long, she pulled out a leg bone.
A leg bone still attached to something that was once human.
He knew who it was. One of his people. The one who’d disappeared while Jacinda’s mother was here. Braddock knew this even though there was no more flesh or skin on the bones.
Placing her front paw against a hip bone, the dog pulled and pulled, head dramatically twisting from side to side, growling as she tried to separate the leg from the rest of the skeleton.