CHAPTER TEN
A gain Jace was already in the Protector library by the time Ski woke up. Although he did get a later start than usual.
He was exhausted. As soon as he’d returned after dropping Jace off, he’d been pulled into another job with two teams.
It could be his imagination, but it seemed as if they were working more than usual. And the previous night had been messy, the group walking in on a sex rite that included an orgy and several human sacrifices.
It had been kind of horrifying. Not the sex part. Ski wasn’t against sex magic in general. But including death in rites that usually celebrated life and pleasure was . . . strange. Something not normally done. And these weren’t Satanists, who could be all kinds of trouble. These were pagans. Of different faiths.
Honestly, Ski didn’t know what to make of it all. He just knew that shutting the whole thing down before too many lives were taken had involved a lot more work than he’d expected.
But seeing Jace hunched over the table, pencil in hand, deep in translation work did nothing but cheer up his morning.
He felt that pang of regret again. Not quite sure why she wouldn’t go out with him. But he was part of the honorable Protectors. Unlike the Giant Slayers or Ravens, he wasn’t about to start pestering her until she finally gave in just to get him to stop. That was not his idea of the start of a healthy relationship.
Kilmar sat at the table also. He seemed to be doing the logging work that Jace had originally been hired for.
That didn’t bother Ski. He could tell she’d been dying to dive in to some of the books she’d had her hands on.
He did have one problem, though . . .
“You’re writing it out longhand?”
Slowly, sheepishly, Jace raised her gaze to his. “Well—”
“No. We have technology. You will use it.”
“But—”
“No,” Ski said again, determined on this point. “Kilmar, please get our guest another laptop.”
The younger Protector frowned. “But wouldn’t longhand look nicer?”
“Kilmar,” Ski pushed, tempted to slap his brother.
Kilmar shrugged at Jace. “Sorry.”
“Where’s that dog?”
“That dog,” she shot back, “is at the Bird House playing with Brodie.”
“Bear will be disappointed.”
“Is there a problem with my dog?”
“Not at all—until he chews up the first book. Then expect all Helheim to break loose.”
Sighing, she leaned back in her chair.
“So Kilmar knows Russian?” he asked, motioning to the book Ski’s brother had been logging in.
“No. Those books are all written in Latin. Strange, since they were published in the forties.” She waved her random thought away. “We all know that Kilmar has a basic understanding of Latin.”
Ski smirked. “That was mean.”
“Just a little.” She crinkled her nose, letting him know she was just teasing. Not surprising, since Ski was pretty sure she’d never let Kilmar near her if she didn’t like him. “You look a little tired today,” she noted.
“I am. Busy night. Ever heard of sex rites that involved human sacrifices?”
“Satanists?”
“No.”
She frowned. “That’s unusual.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“We had a job last night, too. We’ve had a lot of those lately. Each Strike Team usually only goes out once, maybe twice a month at the most. But lately, each team has been going out every week. That’s strange.”
“We’ve been busier than usual, too. I’ll mention it to Ormi.”
Kilmar returned with one of their most expensive laptops, still in the box and untouched. Ski smirked, realizing how much his brothers liked the Crow; they didn’t usually give out their best equipment to just anyone.
“Do you know how to type?” Ski asked, watching as Jace opened the box and pulled everything out.
“Yes.”
“Are you going to eat?”
“I’m not really—”
“I’ll make you something.”
“Why do you ask when you don’t even lis—”
“I’ll make you something hearty.”
“Jace? Jace.”
Jace looked up and saw that her Strike Team stood around her, dressed for battle.
She leaned back in her chair and cracked her knuckles. “What are you guys doing here?”
“We have a job.”
“Oh. Uh . . . yeah . . .” She went back to her work. “Just come get me when we have to go.”
“We have to go now.”
Surprised, she looked at her team leader. “In the day?”
Tessa stepped back, gesturing to the ceiling-to-floor windows the way Ski and Ormi had recently done. It was becoming a definite pattern. “It’s nighttime, sweetie.”
“Oh. Uh . . . okay.”
Nodding, Jace pushed her chair back and realized that she might have been sitting too long in one position because she couldn’t move her neck.
Leigh immediately saw Jace’s problem and gently placed her hands against the tight muscles. “Relax and breathe,” she told Jace.
Leigh’s First Life had been as a massage therapist. A good one, too. She immediately tweaked the tenseness out of Jace’s muscles with just the tips of her fingers.
As Jace felt the pain drift away, she saw Erin reaching toward the table. “Don’t touch the books!” she snapped.
Leigh’s hands stopped moving and everyone froze.
Jace sighed. “I’m not raging. I just don’t want anyone to touch anything.”
“Oh,” they all said together, going back to what they were doing, except for Erin, who’d been the one about to touch the books.
“I have everything where I need it,” Jace went on. “And some of these books are ancient. They need to be handled carefully. Not by someone who uses their hands to force ink into the flesh of another.”
Erin’s brows peaked. “You have one of my tattoos.”
“So I know what I’m talking about.”
Tessa looked around the now-empty room. “Were the Protectors nice to you?”
“They’re great to me.”
“Because they leave you alone?”
“Pretty much.”
“And you like that,” Annalisa noted.
“It was heaven.”
“Why didn’t you just tell us?” she asked.
“Tell you what?”
“That you’re an introvert. It would have made life easier for those of us—”
“She means Rachel,” Erin muttered.
“—who thought you were just shy.”
“I don’t know. It seemed rude to just come out with, ‘I’m not a people person. Get the hell away from me.’ I’m pretty sure the only one who wouldn’t have been insulted by that was Erin.”
Erin nodded. “She’s right. I’m the only one who wouldn’t have been insulted by that.”
Once she felt she could move her neck without screaming, Jace stood, taking the clothes handed to her by Kera.
She quickly changed from her blue jeans, black T-shirt, and running shoes into the Crow combat outfit. Black jeans, steel-toed black work boots, black bra, and black racing-back tank top that allowed her to easily unleash her wings.
Once dressed, she carefully folded the clothing she’d just removed and looked at her team. That’s when she realized they were staring at her. Almost gawking.
“What?” she asked.
“Wow,” Alessandra announced. “You are really not shy.”
Erin handed Jace her two blades and she placed her foot on the seat of her chair so that she could strap the weapons to her leg.
Jace tugged her jeans down to cover the leather holster and dropped her leg back to the floor. She then unleashed her wings, shaking them out and loosening up her shoulders so that flying would be easier.
“I can’t believe the Protectors left you alone in their precious library.”
“They had a job tonight. And I’m not really alone.”
Jace motioned to the top of one of the book stacks. Ski’s cat, Salka, sat there, licking her paw and keeping a close eye on her.
“She’s been watching me since Eriksen left. I get the feeling if I tried to do anything to destroy even one of these books, she’d rip my throat out.”
Erin nodded. “That’s a good cat.”
The team headed toward the exit.
“What’s the job tonight?” Jace asked, hoping she wouldn’t be out too late. Having several gods-related assignments in one week was unusual and exhausting. Plus her mind was already thinking of the books she’d left behind. She couldn’t wait to get back to it all in the morning.
“This should be an easy job,” Tessa told her. “In and out.”
In the fetal position, Jace hit the window and went through it, glass exploding around her and falling to the ground thirty stories below.
She spun out into the air, floating for a few seconds before gravity stepped in and her body dropped.
She loosened her shoulders and unleashed her wings, catching the air and immediately heading back up. She tilted forward and dived through the now-open window and into the midst of the battle.
Jace rammed her body into the man who’d thrown her, wrapping her arms and legs around him and dropping them both to the floor.
He threw her off again and Jace flipped across the carpeted floor. Once she stopped, she rolled over onto her stomach, then up on all fours, and charged again.
“Fuck!” the man screamed out, quickly crab-walking back, away from her. “Get this bitch away from me!”
Jace landed on him again, placing her hands against his shoulders and shoving him to the ground. She pinned him there by his throat and grabbed hold of her fighting blade with her free hand.
“Wait—”
She cut off his words by ramming her blade into the side of his neck, severing the artery. She yanked the weapon out, then slammed it in again. Just to be sure.
That’s when another set of hands grabbed Jace by the hair and yanked her up and off, tossing her away.
“You bitch!” someone screamed. “You killed him! You killed him!”
Jace was just getting to her feet when she was kicked and sent flying into a ceiling-to-floor glass mirror.
The glass shattered and she went down with all the pieces crashing around her. She closed her eyes and tried to cover her face to protect it, but she could still feel her body being cut.
“Jace!” she heard Kera call out. But Kera was in her own fight. They all were.
Ski gazed up at the ceiling. “How did they get all those bodies pinned up there?”
“No idea,” Gundo replied. “But it is one of the more interesting sacrifices I’ve seen in a while.”
“Now we know why Ormi sent you out with us.” Borgsten walked around the ten-thousand-dollar-a-night bungalow, looking for more clues. “Is it just me, or does this seem like too nice a place for a sacrifice?”
Borgsten was right. Most sacrifices they’d come upon over the years were either done out in nature or in the cheapest hotel or motels that could be found. Because no one asked questions in those places. Not when there were drug dealers and gunrunners in the other rooms.
But a five-star hotel-and-bungalow complex in Palm Springs?
“We need to find out who rented this room.”
“And why they needed so many offerings.”
“How many do you count?” Ski asked. There were whole bodies pinned to the ceiling with thick metal spikes, but there were also some body parts scattered across the floor.
Gundo sighed. “I don’t know. Ten. Twelve.”
“Thirteen?”
“Maybe.”
“Thirteen is usually the anti-Christians,” Bear reminded them. He never wanted to call them Satanists, but Ski had no idea why. Maybe he thought the term was too limiting.
“Should we call the Pope?” Gundo asked and they all turned to face him. That’s when he laughed and added, “Just kidding.”
Borgsten shook his head. “You know the Protectors haven’t dealt with a Pope since the Crusades.”
“That was an ugly time.”
“It wasn’t our fault!” Bear argued. Like he always did. “Things just got a little out of hand.”
“Do we have to go over this again?” Ski asked. “Really? It was nearly a thousand years ago. I can’t believe we’re still talking about this.” Everyone fell silent but then Ski just had to add, “And it was totally our fault. The Inquisition was not our fault. But the Crusades . . . all of them . . . absolutely our fault.”
“But—”
“Let’s just leave it at that.”
They went back to searching for evidence when Gundo suddenly gasped, “Holy shit!”
“What?”
“You need to see this.”
Ski walked into the sunken living room. There was a gorgeous fire pit right in the middle surrounded by big, comfortable couches and a fur rug. As he stepped around the couches, he saw all the jewelry. Had to be millions of dollars’ worth.
“Is that stuff . . . is it real?” he asked. He knew watches, but he’d never been big on sparkly jewelry and he’d never dated women who were into much of that, either.
Gundo crouched beside the mound and picked one piece up. He held it up to the light, head tilting, eyes adjusting.
“I don’t have a loupe but . . . I think so.”
“So they offered up humans . . . and gold and diamonds?”
Bear now stood beside him, arms crossed over his massive chest. “Are the Crows really sure they got rid of Gullveig?”
Ski scratched his head. “Ormi’s going to have to go back to Chloe. Because I’m not doing it.”
“That won’t go well,” Gundo guessed. And he was most likely right. Chloe did not like to be questioned by the other Clans. About anything.
Still staring down, Gundo gave a small grunt.
“What?” Ski asked.
He reached down and picked something up from under the jewels. “Is this . . . is this straw?”
“Why would there be straw on the floor of a ten-thousand-dollar-a-night bungalow?”
“I think we need to let Ormi know what’s going on,” Borgsten said from the doorway.
Ski nodded. “Yeah. I want to get back and—”
He turned, head tilting until he’d almost turned it upside down. But it was that sound. What was that sound? And where was it coming—
She appeared from smoke, ramming her hand into Bear’s chest, sending the big man flying across the room and into Borgsten; the pair disappearing from view.
She turned toward Ski, but he heard something behind him and spun around. His hand shot out and he grabbed the neck of another female. With just a twist of his fingers, he had her screeching and bent awkwardly at the waist.
It was the Mardröm—the Mara for short—female demons who made their victims physically experience the nightmares they gave them. They were powerful and ancient and Ski had never seen one before, but he’d heard that the Crows and Ravens had fought them when they’d gone to stop Gullveig’s reincarnation on this plane. The two Clans believed they’d destroyed them all.
Apparently they’d been wrong.
How these idiot dude-bros, as Erin called them, could get their hands on a powerful Rhine gold necklace forged by the gods, Jace didn’t know. Even more fascinating was their decision to cut the necklace into pieces and sew it right into their bodies. That move gave them enhanced strength and fighting ability.
Human bodies weren’t really made for that sort of power, though, and at some point, they’d probably burn themselves out. Until then, however, they could still do a lot of damage so the Crows couldn’t risk them getting out of here like this.
“You killed him!” she heard again before being lifted and thrown to the other side of the room.
Jace hit a door and went through it. She flew right over a bed and into the far wall.
Her attacker followed. It seemed that bit of gold sewn into his chest gave him a steroid-like anger.
He again grabbed her by the hair and dragged her to her feet. While he held her hair with one hand, he slapped her with the other. The whole time chanting, with each hit, “You killed him! You killed him! You killed him!”
As he reached his hand back to slap her for the fourth time, Jace remembered she still had her blade tight in her fist. She brought it up, ramming it into his groin and ripping up.
She tore a line right up his gut until she reached his chest bone. She tilted the blade and dug it in deeper, tearing into the man’s heart. She moved the blade around, then yanked it out.
He released her then, stumbling back, his hands over his bleeding stomach and groin.
“I killed him,” Jace said, her breath harsh. “And now you.”
She plunged her weapon into his eye. Then the other eye. He moved his hands to his head, screaming as he stumbled away from her.
Jace shoved him to the ground and tore open his T-shirt. She saw the scar left after he’d put the gold inside his body. She used her talon to rip that flesh open and plucked the item from his chest.
As soon as she did, he stopped screaming, he stopped fighting, and his body seemed to deflate into the floor.
Now holding one piece from the necklace, Jace closed her fingers over it and began to chant an ancient incantation she’d read in an old Nordic grimoire.
She chanted, eyes closed. She chanted and ignored the new screams she now heard. The shocked gasps of her sisters. She chanted and waited until the one gold piece in her hand was joined by all the others.
Panting, she opened her eyes. The necklace was covered in blood and flesh, but it was whole again.
Slowly she walked back into the living room. The other dude-bros were on the ground, the parts of their bodies where they’d sewn in the gold now torn open.
Tessa took the necklace from Jace. Smiled. “Nice work, sweetie. See how well you do when you don’t flip out all the time?”
“Couldn’t you have just left it at ‘nice work’?”
“Coulda . . . didn’t.”
Kera approached, her face cringing.
“What?” Jace asked. “Why do you have that look?”
“We need to get you home. And . . . sewn up.”
Jace blinked. “Wait . . . what?”
Another Mara landed on Ski’s back, her legs around his waist, her hands digging into his hair.
Then the two females sort of . . . waited. Like they expected him to do something specific.
That’s when he twisted his fingers more and snapped the one Mara’s neck. It didn’t kill her, but it seemed to hurt like a bitch. Her screech rang out, but stopped when Ski kept twisting and pulling until he’d yanked the witch’s head off, black blood flying.
The female still on his back screeched and dug her claws into Ski’s face. The tips extending into his flesh.
He roared in pain and caught the Mara’s hands, yanking them away and flipping her off his back. He slammed her into the ground, lifted her, and slammed her. Lifted. Slammed. Lifted. Slammed. Until she was nothing but broken pieces.
That’s when the hissing sound intensified and smoke began to fill the large room.
“Out,” he ordered his brothers. “Out. Now.”
He backed away, toward the exit, as the Mara appeared. From smoke to something almost human. Except for those rows of tiny black fangs, meant to tear and rend their victims. Some of the Mara crawled on all fours across the ceiling, while others eased along the walls. One led them. Naked, covered in blood, she moved across the room toward Ski.
“So beautiful,” she hissed at him. “And what is your name, pretty Viking? What can I call you when I come to you at night? When I take you inside me? When I make you mine?”
Ski gave a small smile. “You? You can call me the Viking who took your heart.”
With that, Ski rammed his right hand—the hand his god, Tyr, had sacrificed in the mouth of Fenrir the Wolf—into her chest. Ripping past bone and flesh until he could grip her heart. Holding it, he continued on until he’d torn out to the other side.
Shocked and gasping, she gawked down at the part of his arm she could still see and then, slowly looked up at him.
Her heart still beat in his hand, so Ski silently squeezed until it turned to pulp in his grip and oozed down to his wrist.
The lead Mara gasped one final time and dropped, hanging from his forearm.
He pushed her off and looked at the others. Taking a step back so that he was on the other side of the doorway, Ski unfurled his wings, spreading them wide.
“Protector!” one cried in a panic.
The Mara began to back up, some beginning to turn to smoke, others rushing toward the walls they’d already come through.
“In the name of the mighty Tyr,” Ski intoned, his blood-and-heart-covered right hand now drawing his god’s rune in the air, “I bring you justice . . . and I bring you death.”
The walls turned black and the lights overhead turned red. Everything shook and the walls crumbled in, trapping the Mara underneath the rubble. Until there was nothing but darkness and their far-off screeching.
Ski let out a breath and faced his brethren. Each closed his eyes, nodded his head, silently praising their god and giving Ski their blessing for his actions.
He walked out of the crumbling bungalow and once outside, spread his wings again and took to the skies, his brothers behind him.