CHAPTER FIFTEEN
He didn’t take her back to the Bird House, but Stieg Engstrom didn’t spirit her away to far-off northern shores, either. Instead, they stopped at a nearby In-N-Out burger place.
“I’m hungry,” he informed her before getting out of his truck.
Erin didn’t follow him inside the fast-food restaurant, but she found an empty table outside under a big red and yellow umbrella and sat down. Grabbing a few napkins out of the container, she took a small pencil out of her pocket and began to draw on the napkin. She didn’t really think about what she was going to draw. She just let her hand do what it did best.
It was lunchtime, so the place was pretty busy, but Erin didn’t mind. It gave her time to relax. Although her shoulder still hurt like a bitch, it was already healing. Besides, it wasn’t the first time it had been yanked out of its socket. Hell, it hadn’t been the first time Stieg was the one who’d yanked it.
An open cardboard container filled with food landed in front of her and Erin finally looked up. Stieg had his own open container. Actually, he had two of them. And chocolate shakes for each of them.
Erin focused on the food. “You got me two Double-Doubles and two fries? That doesn’t seem excessive to you?”
“I figured you were hungry,” he said simply.
“Well . . . thank you.”
He shrugged and began to eat like a Viking. Other patrons turned around to watch until Stieg caught them—and growled.
Most everyone spun back around and, as he dropped his head to continue feeding, Stieg smiled. A real one. Erin didn’t remember him ever smiling before. He mostly sneered or stared. Smiling was not his thing.
Except, apparently, when he was terrorizing others.
Of course, that just made Erin actually like the big idiot. She chuckled a little. Maybe Kera was right. There had to be something wrong with her.
Stieg, having finished off two Double-Double burgers, could enjoy the third more slowly. While he consumed the burger, he used his free hand to reach over and picked up the napkin, frowning at Erin’s artwork. “Jace’s grandmother does not have horns. Or a crown. Or seven heads.”
“Are we sure?”
He studied the napkin a little longer. “It’s nice, though. Disturbing, but nice.”
“Thanks.”
“I like how each of her faces is just another example of her hateful disdain.”
“It’s all I saw.”
He pointed at her food. “Eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You have to eat.”
“Why?”
Stieg gazed at her a bit before he finally answered. “I don’t know. Isn’t that what people say? You know, when bad things happen?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never been asked before to go to the fiery pits of Helheim.”
“Helheim isn’t fiery. It’s just boring, with no chance for honor. It’s the Christians who have to burn.”
“But what if somebody is truly evil?”
“That’s a concept my people didn’t really worry about. If you betrayed your own men in battle or unjustly murdered someone, then you . . .” His voice tapered off and he quickly focused on something in the distance. But he didn’t really see anything; he was just avoiding her.
“What?” she pushed.
“Uh . . . if you are deemed by the gods to be truly evil, your bloated corpse is devoured until Ragnarok by . . . uh . . .”
“By who?”
He finally looked at her, face cringing before he spoke. “Nidhogg.”
“The dragon that has the sword I need to get?”
“Yeahhhh . . . I didn’t really think this conversation through,” he muttered.
* * *
Stieg watched Erin grab her container of fries and shovel them in her mouth.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” he told her.
“Liar.”
“I thought you didn’t let the little things bother you.”
“I don’t. But facing a dragon that feeds on the corpses of the dead . . . not really a little thing, is it?”
“War just fixed your arm while you chatted with Death. I’m sure you can handle this, too.”
“That was different.”
“How? ”
“They clearly don’t want the end of the world. They are too happy surfing and sleeping with people who have no idea that beneath their beautiful façades are nightmare scenarios.”
“So? What’s your point?”
“I’m comfortable around the Four Horsemen because I know what they want. I’ve looked them in the eyes. I’ve talked to them.”
“You were able to size them up.”
“Exactly. I don’t know anything about this dragon. No one does. He’s been living outside of Muspellheim—”
“Niflheim.”
Erin scratched her forehead. “Honestly, dude, there are too many heims with you people, but fine. He’s been living outside Niflheim for an age and even Odin won’t go near him. Only Ratatosk talks to him. Ratatosk. How can I handle that when I don’t know what I’m facing?”
“I don’t know.”
She frowned. “Shockingly . . . I appreciate your honesty. Doesn’t help me, but I appreciate it.”
Stieg ate another burger and ran through some ideas. “What about the gods?” he asked, wiping his hands on a paper napkin.
“What about them?”
“Maybe they can help. Provide knowledge.”
“Do you really think Odin will help?”
“No. Of course not.”
“Freyja?”
“Probably not.”
“Idunn?”
“Not after you juggled her golden apples.”
“They were just sitting there . . . what did she expect me to do?”
“Not juggle her golden apples?”
“Whatever?” Erin dismissed him with a hand wave and a grab at more fries. “Heimdall?”
“He’ll never leave his post on Bifrost to come here and help humans.”
“Frigg?”
“Not since you referred to her as one of Odin’s whores and asked her if she was a stripper, too.”
“I still don’t see what the big deal is about that.”
“She’s his wife.”
A few more fries, then, “Sif?”
“Not since the fistfight.”
“Ull?”
“Not since the fistfight.”
“Hoenir?”
“You and the god of silence? You?”
“All right. Fine. Forseti?”
“Not since you called him a lawyer and spit at him.”
“He’s the god of justice and reconciliation, which is kind of a lawyer, and I did not spit at him. I was coughing and I—.”
They stared at each other a moment, until she finally admitted, “Fine. I spit at him.”
She reached for more fries but she’d finished them, so Stieg pushed his fries over.
After eating a few more, Erin asked, “Well, who does that leave?”
“A lot. We Vikings have a lot of gods.”
“Any of those gods willing to help us?”
“Well, it’s not just you being you, which doesn’t help—”
“Thank you.”
“—but also you’re a . . . well . . . a . . .”
“A Jew?”
“No! They don’t care about that. But you are a Crow. And that they can’t let go.”
“That is what they have a problem with? The fact that I’m a Crow?”
“They’re not fans of Crows. You’ve been known to kill their human representatives.”
“Fights they started.”
“And you’re all descendants of . . . um . . .”
“Say it.”
“Our slaves.”
“There you go.”
“I’m not saying that’s okay,” Stieg argued. “I’m just saying what their logic is.”
“So because of some petty feelings they have over the Crows, they’re going to let the world burn?”
“Probably. But they’re gods. What do you expect? Petty is what they do.”
Erin pushed the remainder of fries away and wiped her hands off with a napkin. “Well, there is one god you haven’t mentioned. A god who might help.”
“A god you haven’t pissed off?”
“Actually . . . yeah. There is one.”
“Who?”
Erin smiled and Stieg’s shoulders slumped. “No.”
“We don’t have a choice.”
“You could apologize to one of the others.”
“Could. Won’t. Besides, even when I do apologize, no one ever believes me.”
“Gee, I wonder why.”
“Come on,” Erin coaxed, getting to her feet and picking up what was left of their food and containers to put in the trash. “Might as well get this over with.”
“You better appreciate what I’m doing for you.”
“Nope,” she immediately replied, finally laughing again. “Don’t appreciate it at all!”