The Undoing

  When the Crows just stared at her, she asked, “Aren’t you excited?”

  Erin yawned. “We don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh. Right!” Then she laughed.

  “I warned you guys,” Annalisa suddenly announced. “Having a normal sexual relationship with someone was going to push her over the edge.”

  “No, no,” Jace argued. “That’s been great. He loves me.”

  “Did he say that?” Erin asked, worried for her extremely naïve friend.

  “He said I drive him crazy.”

  “Well,” Erin said after a brief pause, “for Vikings . . .”

  “That is ‘I love you,’ ” the Crows said in unison.

  “If you haven’t gone over the proverbial edge,” Annalisa asked between sips of her morning coffee, “then why are you talking to us? You hate talking to people.”

  Jace’s grin was so wide you’d have thought she’d discovered a sustainable energy source that would make everyone happy and end oil wars.

  “I think I know how to send Gullveig out of this plane of existence.”

  “How?”

  “The spell I used to bullshit the Carrion?” Erin nodded since it had just happened a few hours ago. “It’s a spell I found in one of those old books the Protectors took from the Russians. In the same book, there were two spells that I think will work. The first will allow us to force Gullveig into a contained space surrounded by a protective circle that Gullveig will not be able to get out of. That circle is literally called the God Keeper.”

  “The second spell?”

  “That one will send her out of this world and trap her in another.”

  “Basically what Odin and the others did to her originally.”

  “Exactly. Once she’s there, we’ll have a little time to find a way to destroy her, so when she comes back—because we all know she’ll come back—we’ll be ready.”

  “Sounds great.”

  “Just one problem.”

  “Of course there is. So what’s the problem?”

  “It’s gonna cost us some favors.”

  “So? We’ll call in some favors.”

  “Not from any of us,” Jace admitted. “Believe it or not, I think only Betty can get us this level of favor in the shortest amount of time.”

  “Betty—who’s still in a coma? That Betty?”

  “We’ve tried everything,” Alessandra reminded her. “We can’t wake her up.”

  Jace cringed a little. “I think I know who has enough power to do that.”

  Erin remembered not being able to speak for a good five minutes. Like someone was pinching her voice box. It was a feeling she had not enjoyed.

  “I’m already unhappy,” Erin complained.

  Jace winced in sympathy. “Yeah . . . kinda knew you would be.”

  Jace watched her grandmother push her way into the Bird House.

  Chloe went to greet the elderly woman. “Hello, Mrs. . . . uh . . . what should I call you?”

  Nëna looked Chloe over, didn’t seem to like what she saw, and turned to Jace. “Where is she?”

  Jace didn’t bother chastising her grandmother. It was ineffective. So she simply led her up the stairs to Betty’s room.

  Nëna walked to the bed, carefully placing down her tote bag with “I heart quilting” silk-screened on it before putting her hand on Betty’s forehead, as if taking her temperature. She closed her eyes and Jace knew her grandmother was exploring, searching for wherever Betty might be.

  After about five minutes, Nëna opened her eyes and reached into her tote. The top of the bag held material one might use for a quilt, but she dug under the fabric squares until she found an old wooden box.

  Placing the box on the bed, she carefully unlatched the metal lock and lifted the top.

  She removed a bottle of oil and opened it. The oil was rose-scented. Rather pleasant.

  Nëna anointed Betty’s forehead, nose, and chin with the oil and put the stopper back in and returned it to the box. She closed the box, relocked it, and put the box back in the tote, covering it with her quilting material.

  She then leaned in and whispered into Betty’s ear, chanting something very ancient and powerful.

  When Nëna was done, she leaned back and waited.

  Betty’s eyes snapped open and Jace grinned.

  But Betty didn’t move. She didn’t blink. She just stared at the ceiling. She was still lost.

  If Jace’s grandmother couldn’t wake her, then no one—

  “What would you say to wake her up?” Nëna asked the group of Crows hanging outside the room. “Something that would catch her attention.”

  “Good attention or bad attention?” Jace asked.

  “Bad is always better in these cases.”

  “Oh, I can do that.” Yardley slipped into the room, placing her hands on Nëna’s shoulders to ease her away.

  Nëna’s hands went up and her entire body tensed. Jace realized she’d often looked like that when she’d been innocently touched.

  “God, I’m just like her,” Jace muttered.

  Yardley leaned over Betty, gently pushed her hair off her face, and softly smiled. Then she yelled, “Brianna stole your client list! And your Bentley limo!”

  Betty’s eyes suddenly moved and her hands were around Yardley’s throat. She was also already in the middle of screaming, “Bitchhhhhhhhhh!”

  As the other Crows dove on the bed to get Betty to release Yardley before she killed her, Nëna picked up her tote and walked out of the room. Jace followed.

  “Aren’t you going to let me thank you?” she asked her grandmother.

  “Why?”

  “If you didn’t want to help me, why did you?”

  Nëna faced her. “You called. I helped. We’re family.”

  “Even now?” Jace asked her. “After I took an oath to a god?”

  “It was stupid. You have the mind to be like me. That’s what I was grooming you for. But you chose. You can never choose. None of them. I told you that.”

  “I couldn’t let him get away with what he’d done to me.”

  Nëna wagged a finger at her. “Always with the rage, little inat. Just like your father. Now you’re trapped with these”—her lip curled—“people.”

  “I love these people, Nëna.”

  “They’re not family. Not your family.”

  “They are now. They’re my family. I love every one of them. Just as much as I love you.”

  “They’re not blood.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Jace shrugged. “They’d all die for me. And I would for them.”

  “You would, wouldn’t you? Stupid girl.”

  “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

  “Good! There is nothing left to say.”

  Assuming her grandmother would leave, Jace was shocked when Nëna slapped her hand against Jace’s jaw, squeezing a bit.

  “Owwwww!Stophittingme, old woman!”

  Nëna removed her hand, but where her fingers had touched Jace’s skin, she could feel . . . power.

  “What did you do to me?” Jace covered the throbbing spot with her hand.

  “Do not forget where you come from, ridiculous child! Do not forget who you are. And never forget that you’re mine. My blood. Never forget. I have not forgotten. And protecting you is my only goal. Even when you are so damn stupid!”

  Then spinning on her tiny, bright-white Keds, Nëna stormed out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Kera walked into the overpriced LA gym. She’d tried to get a job at one of the chain’s other locations. Everyone had been very nice and seemed more than happy to get her a gym membership—as if she, fresh out of the military, could afford the two-thousand-a-month cost—but she’d had the distinct feeling that the fact her thighs touched meant she’d been too fat for a job there. Even picking up used towels or mopping floors.

  She’d never forget walking out with a membership application and passing some guy yelling at
sweaty rich people in an attempt to simulate a “boot camp.” Kera had actually gone through boot camp and could tell instantly that none of these people would have survived five minutes with a real drill sergeant calling the shots.

  At that moment, she’d sworn never to bother going back into a place like this, but desperate times and all that . . .

  “Are you sure she’s here?” Kera asked Vig.

  “That’s what my sister told me.”

  “But why?” She glanced around at all the people trying to desperately stay thin or get abs they weren’t genetically meant to have. “She’s a god. Would she really need to come to some pretentious gym to get in shape?”

  “I don’t think she’s here to get in shape.”

  Vig stepped in front of Kera, his brown eyes scanning. A few employees began to walk toward them, but one look at Vig and they all dropped their heads and walked away.

  Kera had seen it before and it never failed to entertain her. Little did they know . . . Vig was the sweetest guy on the planet. He just didn’t look it.

  “This way.”

  Vig walked off and Kera followed after him. He led her all the way down to the back of the first floor and into a darkly lit room.

  And there she was. Freyja—goddess of fertility, commander of the Valkyries, and a god of war because Odin tricked her—leading everyone in the room through an indoor cycling session.

  “Come on, everybody!” she shouted above the tech music, colored strobe lights flashing, a giant screen at the front of the room taking them through Icelandic vistas. “Push it! Last hill! You can do it!”

  Kera wasn’t so sure. There were people falling over their handlebars, slipping off their bikes, vomiting.

  “What the hell is she doing?”

  “Uh . . .”

  Blinking, Kera looked up at Vig. “What kind of answer is that?”

  “You’re not going to like my answer, so I paused.”

  “She’s killing them, isn’t she?”

  “I don’t think she’s using them as actual sacrifices, but . . . more like temporary offerings.”

  “Oh, my God!”

  Freyja, her eyes glowing gold, looked over her shoulder at Kera and grinned.

  Kera started to march up there so she could tell the goddess her very pointed thoughts about what was happening here but Vig grabbed her, placed his hand over her mouth, and his other arm around her waist.

  “We’ll meet you outside,” he told Freyja before carrying Kera out of the room.

  Polly loved her job. How could she not? She made a lot of money doing exactly what she enjoyed. And every day was new and exciting. She never knew who was going to come walking through their glass front doors. The biggest stars. Important politicians. Billionaires!

  The best of the best.

  Except when, like now, it was not the best of the best, but people like her.

  And even worse, this time she’d brought friends.

  “Ms. Lieberman. How nice to see you again.” And unable to help herself, she added, “How’s business?”

  Lieberman went for her, nearly clearing the glass counter, but one of the women with her yanked her back.

  “And Ms. King, I am so happy to see you again,” Polly said with real pleasure.

  “Hi, Polly.”

  “So what brings you here today?” Polly asked.

  “I need to see Efram,” Lieberman barked.

  “May I ask what’s this is in reference to?”

  The woman’s brown eyes narrowed on Polly, but before she could say something about “ruining your very existence, perky tits”—as she had said many times before—one of her friends cut between the two.

  “It’s business,” the woman said. “Private.”

  “Of course. I’ll see if Efram’s available.”

  Polly turned her back on Betty Lieberman even when she saw the woman raise her fist, ready to throttle her.

  “So what do you want?” Freyja asked. She had a towel around her neck and was drinking heavily from a water bottle.

  “Well—” Vig began.

  “What were you doing to those people?” Kera demanded, and Vig cringed. Not so much at the question, but at her tone. Freyja wasn’t as comfortable being questioned by mortals as Skuld and Odin were. In fact . . . she kind of hated it.

  “Giving them the ride of their lives.”

  “Yeah,” Kera muttered back. “I’ve heard that about you.”

  Vig quickly stepped in front of the woman he loved with all his heart but was suddenly afraid he was going to lose forever, and said to the god, “We need your help, Freyja.”

  “My help?” She pointed at Kera. “I gave you one of my magnificient weapons and you gave me nothing back. And now you come to me asking for more?”

  “Do you want your necklace or not?” Kera snarled.

  “Watch how you speak to me, human. I’ll rip that haggard soul from your body and turn it into dust.”

  “Ladies, please,” Vig begged, doing his best to keep the pair separated.

  The door to the exercise room Freyja had been in opened and the participants began to stumble out. She’d drained most of them very close to death. Probably taking years of their lives just so she could get the high she once got when seasonal sacrifices were all the rage.

  Some made it out on their own steam, although they tripped every few feet and some had to stop and lean against the wall, panting desperately. A few, though, had to be helped by others.

  One of them, a woman, with her arms around the shoulders of two men, stopped when she neared Freyja. There was such love in her eyes as she gazed at the goddess.

  “That session was amazing,” she gasped out to Freyja.

  “Why, thank you, sweetheart.”

  “Marry me. I’ll give you anything.”

  “Aren’t you just darling?”

  Laughing, Freyja waved the woman off before informing Kera and Vig, “If I snapped my fingers, she’d be on her knees in a second . . . and she’s not even gay.”

  “Are you?” Kera asked.

  “If you insist on using labels, I prefer flexible.”

  “I just bet you are.”

  “Anyway,” Vig quickly cut in, “we have a way to get Brísingamen back to you.” The powerful torc had been stolen from Freyja in order to assist in the return of Gullveig. Freyja had given Kera a rune-covered axe to help in the retrieval of the item, but in the confusion of that day, they’d forgotten about it and now they were sure Gullveig had it.

  To Vig’s surprise, though, Freyja had not demanded the return of her axe due to Kera’s failure to do what she’d promised, and now he understood why. She really wanted that necklace and she wanted the Crows to get it for her. She wasn’t about to risk one of her precious Valkyries on such a petty mission, but she’d risk all the Crows in the universe.

  The whole thing annoyed Vig, but if they could use Freyja’s obsession with that damn torc to get what they needed, then fine. That’s what they would do.

  “What do you need from me?” Freyja asked.

  “Your power.”

  Freyja gazed at the pair for a moment, then admitted, “Well . . . I am incredibly powerful.”

  “And humble!” Kera barked sarcastically before he managed to cover her mouth with his hand again.

  Jace slapped Betty’s fist down. “What is wrong with you? You’re acting like me just before I snap.”

  “She was pissing me off,” she snarled, eyes locked on Polly’s retreating form.

  “Everyone is pissing you off,” Erin noted. “Calm the fuck down. We’re here for a reason.”

  Leigh looked around the store, her mouth hanging open.

  “Nice, huh?” Yardley asked.

  Diamonds and rubies and every other kind of rare, expensive gem glittered at them in the perfect lighting of the store.

  “This stuff is amazing,” Leigh gushed. She randomly pointed at one of the jewels in a stand-alone case in the middle of the floor. “Like, how much does
something like this cost?”

  “More than you’ll ever be able to afford,” Erin told her.

  Yardley pointed at another beautiful necklace. “I wore this to last year’s Oscars.”

  “I forgot,” Annalisa lied, “did you win anything then?”

  Jace cringed. Annalisa knew well enough to never ask an actor that question unless one already knew the answer was going to be “yes.”

  Honestly! The woman never stopped testing the mental health of everyone around her!

  “No. But I’m ever hopeful,” Yardley replied. A practiced phrase she’d used with reporters who’d asked similar questions.

  “You should do one of those movies where you pretend to be unattractive or plain,” Erin told her. “That usually wins a hot girl like you lots of awards.”

  Efram walked out of the back. Unlike Polly, who clearly loathed every breath Betty took, Efram’s smile was warm and very real.

  “My sweet Betty!” he said, throwing his arms wide. “I am so glad to see you!”

  The big man hugged Betty tight. “I’d heard such terrible things. I should have known everyone was lying to me.”

  “Of course they were.” Betty pointedly looked at Polly before telling Efram, “We need to talk. Alone.”

  Seeing Yardley with Betty, Efram gave Polly and the rest of his staff the day off.

  Once they were alone, the doors locked, and the windows electronically darkened so no one could look in, Efram returned to Betty.

  “What do you need?” he asked.

  “We need your store.”

  “It’s yours!” he said, arms thrown wide. “Tell me what you’re looking for.”

  Betty shook her head. “No. We need your store. All of it.”

  “What are you talking about? For a film?”

  “No. To get a god.”

  Efram stepped back, eyed them all. “Is this about Gullveig?” he finally asked.

  Erin’s body tensed. “What?”

  “Ladies . . . I’ve been in this business a long time. You think she’s the only god who loves her jewelry? I just sold Ares a Breitling watch. You know, something that can take a serious beating.” He glanced at Jace and explained, “He is the god of war.”